I Was Already Gone novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Open Mic

The Kettle and Spoon smelled like burnt sugar, and every table was full.

I stood in the doorway on Thursday with four quarters in my fist and my guitar case at my feet.

"You're not going in," Gus said behind me.

My roommate had followed me from our apartment, in his hoodie, eating a granola bar.

"I'm returning quarters."

"With a guitar."

"In case there's a line."

"There's no line, Elliott. It's a coffee shop."

He steered me inside by the elbow.

Roxie was at the front by a little wooden stage, tuning a ukulele for somebody's nervous cousin.

She saw me and pointed at the clipboard on a stool.

"You came back," she said. "The machine will be thrilled."

I held out the quarters.

She looked at them, then at the guitar case, then at me.

"Okay, that's a lot of luggage for four quarters."

"I wasn't going to play," I said.

"Sure." She wrote on the clipboard. "You're fifth. Between the poet and the man who does the bird sounds."

"Roxie."

"I'm kidding about the bird man. He's fourth."

Gus put a hand over his mouth.

I opened mine to argue, and by the time I found the sentence, she had already gone back to the ukulele.

The poet read a long poem about her ex's toothbrush.

The bird man was better than I expected.

I sat at the back table with my hands under my thighs, and I did not breathe properly until Roxie called my name.

"Elliott Marlow," she said into the mic. "Fresh from the dryer. Be nice."

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