I heard Eileen, and suddenly I knew her.  Or wanted to.

The night passed in this way, me washing and her playing sets.  In between we shared cigarettes in the alleyway and traded small talk.  But there was something in her eyes… something more than small talk.  It was if I could see her contemplating something, formulating a question.

As for my part, I could have cared less about the bottle of rum and completely forgot my recent rejection slip.  In fact, I let all my failures slip away into the darkness replaced by thoughts of this lovely woman.

It was 2 AM when we finally got everyone cleared out and everything cleaned to Sam’s satisfaction.  She handed me my bottle and slipped about fifty bucks into my pocket.

“Your cut of the tips,” she lied.  Sam always was good to me.  Hence I haven’t starved to death yet.

“Can you carry one of these?” asked Eileen.  She had two battered guitar cases, one in each hand.  I’d watched her wheel out the amp for the electric one earlier in the evening.

“Yeah, no problem.  But…”

“Yeah?” she said, looking at me.

“You said you’d play something for me.”

“Just like a man.  You want somethin’ for nothin’.”  She smiled and handed me a case.  We began walking to her car.

“What do you mean?”

“You ever been up to North Carolina?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“I got a show tomorrow night in Chapel Hill and I think I’m too worn out to drive.  Want to drive me?”

“You mean, like, to Chapel Hill?  That’s about 7 hours, I think.”

She gave me a sly look.

“Sam tells me you’re a freelancer.  Like me. Sell your services to the highest bidder.”

I shrugged.  It didn’t sound like much of a life, but that about summed it up.

“Yeah.  That’s me.”

“You had any better offers tonight than mine?”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t… but, then again, I wasn’t quite sure what she meant.