Plink. Plunk. Plink. Twang. Holly starts every concert off the same way, now. It invites knowing laughter from the regulars and confused looks of concern from the newbies. She goes on like that for a few minutes, sounding just like Jenny remembers her from their early college days. Without the broken string this time, though.
When she’s done putting her tongue firmly in cheek, the rest of the band kicks in and the concert starts in earnest. They’re mostly there for back up. Holly is the star, guitar and vocals. The house is packed because of her: nearly five-thousand, all told. Jenny is in front of almost all of them, in the seat Holly reserves at every show in the USA.
Jenny thinks back to those first days, when they first met. She hadn’t imagined then where it would all go. She remembers how close she came to screaming at Holly, telling her to knock it off, telling her she’d never amount to anything musically. How much difference a moment of graciousness might have made.
Sproing-crack. A string on Holly’s guitar breaks. Instead of screaming, she just smiles and keeps on playing, improvising as she goes. Her eyes turn to Jenny and, together, they laugh.