I raked my teeth over my bottom lip and tinkered on the guitar as I leaned into the mic. “I was told very recently by a bossy little boy to promote the fact that I’m playing at the music festival outside of Murfreesboro next weekend, so I think we can cross that off the list now.” I got some chuckles from that, at least, and I heard Camden’s laughter.

With that out of the way, I glanced over my shoulder and gave the guys a nod before I started the first song.

I wouldn’t impress anyone with the guitar, not with these songs. It was an easy rhythm that stayed out of the limelight, giving more focus to my voice. And as I sang the first couple lines, I knew the lukewarm welcome I’d just received would change. It always did. Nobody expected real talent at these events.

I’d give Nonna one thing. My voice was a gift. Unlike with all the instruments I played, I hadn’t busted my ass to become good at singing. I treated it as a gift too; I was grateful, because I didn’t know if I was gonna lose it one day. I’d tried vocal coaches and herbal teas, I’d smoked and I’d given up smoking over the years, and my voice stayed the same. No better, no worse, regardless of my lifestyle.

I had the ability to shift between high and low notes, and my voice was as clear and strong as it was gravelly and strained. Nicky claimed I sang with my morning voice.

Either way…I had their attention now.

The tempo increased before we slowed it down. Then, just as some in the crowd began cheering, I played the beginning of Rising Sun, causing everyone to go silent again.

“There is a house in New Orleans—” I stayed close to the mic and peered down at the strings. “—they call the Rising Sun.”

Someone whistled sharply, and it was followed by some hollering.

“It’s been the ruin of many a boy.” I plucked quietly at the strings. “And me, oh Lord, I’m one.” Closing my eyes, I sang the rest of the verse. “My mama was a tailor… She sewed my new blue jeans. My daddy was…a drinkin’ man… Oh we lived, down in New Orleans.”

We stopped playing altogether, and I sang everything one more time without any music comping me.

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

It’s been the ruin of many a boy

And me, oh Lord, I’m one

My mama was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My daddy was a drinkin’ man

Oh we lived down in New Orleans…