Rock and Roll Country (Jesse's Girl #1) by Kandice Michelle Young

Sophie
     
    Nothing’s as hot as Beale Street on a Friday afternoon in late June. Breathing heavily in protest from the humidity, I park my car, a nineteen ninety-two Honda Civic with no air conditioning, in the lot a few feet from my job. Skin pinching against the cracked leather seat, I pull myself out of the car. Blonde hair caked to my neck with sweat, I drag my exhausted body toward Tony’s, the bar and grill where I bust my ass working for next to nothing in the hopes of one day having it all.
    On Friday nights we have open mic night, and Tony usually lets me play for free at some point during my shift. Otherwise, I would have never agreed to the double. I’ve been up for 32 hours straight, and worked 24 of those. People think I’m crazy for working like I do. They don’t understand that I don’t have a choice, not since TJ anyway. TJ or That Black Boy as my momma called him came into my life at the best/worst time possible.
    We met at a nightclub after my friends and I snuck in with fake IDs. I was pissed at my momma and daddy for reasons that I can’t even remember now. All I know is that TJ was the perfect payback. I wasn’t counting on falling for him, but I fell fast regardless. Within three months of that meeting I was head over heels. It didn’t matter that he was older, I didn’t care that he had more life experience. All I knew was I would follow him wherever he led. He led me straight to being knocked up at sixteen. Even then, he tried to do the right thing and marry me. Well-bred southern gentlemen couldn’t have their daughters dating African Americans though. There was no way my daddy was going to tell the fellas at the country club that his baby girl was pregnant by one. He insisted that I take care of the problem. Momma agreed.
    TJ and I couldn’t do that. It was a baby — our baby — and we loved it no matter what. He took on a second job to help out with things, but that wasn’t enough for my daddy. He swore he’d handle the situation and he did. TJ died in a car accident on the bridge just shy of the Tennessee/Arkansas state line. I was eight weeks pregnant at the time. The official report claimed that his transmission got stuck and the car accelerated on its own. I’ve always known it was more though. No one crosses men like my daddy, especially not when those men play golf with the mayor on Saturdays. Even if I can’t prove it, I know without a doubt what’s true. Hair rising on the back of my neck, I try to erase the thought from my mind. My daddy, once known to me as the greatest man who ever lived, had TJ murdered.
    Regardless, I had our baby, Marcus Kenton James. We left my momma and daddy’s just a few weeks after the accident. I had nothing and no one but myself, my guitar, and a backpack full of clothes. That’s how I ended up in Prospect Park. It’s where TJ was from, and I only wanted to be close to him again. His sister let me live with her until I could scrape up enough to live on my own.
    One night alone, listening to gunshots just outside of my crummy little one-bedroom apartment was enough for me to know I didn’t want to spend any more there. It’s been five years now, and I still haven’t saved enough to get out.
    “Earth to Sophie.” I hear Lacey, my coworker, say.
    “Huh?” I ask, tying my apron around my waist.
    “Dreaming about Nashville again?” She teases.
    “You know it,” I reply.
    Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “Get your head out of the clouds, Country, and take your ass to table six.” 
    Lacey is TJ’s sister, Markita’s, roommate. They call me Country because of my dreams of moving to Nashville and starting my music career. To people like them, who’ve lived in Prospect Park all their lives, escaping seems unfathomable. I know better though. I’m always on the lookout for my moment, and when it comes I’ll be ready.
     

Jesse 
     
    If someone would’ve told me how bloody country the damn bar would be, perhaps I wouldn’t have