She'd thought she might cry when her set was over, which would be awkward for the audience since they didn't know this was the end of an era, but she felt strangely calm when it was over, as if it wasn't real. She felt almost happy. Relieved.

Olivia walked off stage to a smattering of applause. She got a beer and leaned against the back wall, collecting her thoughts.

A man walked over to her. He looked a few years older than her, maybe mid-thirties. He wore tinted glasses and had one of those gigantic hipster beards. He had a small bandage on his neck. "Great set," he said.

"Thank you."

He switched his own bottle of beer from his right hand to his left before reaching out to her. "Greg."

She shook his hand. "Olivia."

"Really impressive stuff up there."

"Thanks. Hey, I'm not trying to be bitchy, but I need to decompress a little, and I'm not looking to get hit on right now."

Greg held up his left hand and tapped his wedding ring. "Not my intention."

"And being married would stop you?"

"I swear I'm not trying to bang you. All I want is sixty seconds of your time. Who's your manager?"

"I don't have one."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then I'm glad I came over to talk to you. I'm not sure where you're looking to go with your career, but I'll bet you have higher aspirations than playing at this place."

Olivia shrugged. Though Greg seemed nice enough, he was one performance too late.

He reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, and withdrew a business card. It said Gregory Coffer – Artist Representation with a phone number and website. There were a couple of musical notes in the upper right corner. He tucked his wallet back into his pocket while Olivia stared at the card.

"You handle musicians?" she asked.

"Yep."

She handed the card back to him. "Thanks. I've been through this before. No offense, but I've had managers promise me the world."

"I'm not promising you the world. I'm not saying I can get you into Madison Square Garden. I'm saying that I can get you way better gigs than this one. You write all of your own songs, right?"

Olivia nodded.

"I can tell. There's a certain energy when a performer does her own material, songs that she created, that she's passionate about. You've got too much talent to be playing to a dozen people who are too busy checking their phones to experience what you have to offer. You should be opening for bigger acts at better venues. And then other people should be opening for you. It'll be done in baby steps, and it'll be a lot of hard work, but you've got something special. I can help you."

Olivia laughed. She couldn't help herself.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "I don't get the joke."

"I quit," she said. "Tonight was my farewell performance. I'm done with this business."