Sing for Their Supper - 4

"So he gave me a ride to the shelter and that was the end of it," Sam said.

"He didn't try anything?" Jolie looked at him in disbelief when Sam shook his head.

"How'd you get so lucky?" Mace asked, leaning against the concrete wall at the back of a downtown plaza where the three of them had set up.

"I'm skinny and look needy?" Sam replied with a grin.

"Don't we all," Mace muttered. "I don't see anyone coming to my rescue then offering me a ride without wanting something in return."

"Them's the breaks," Sam told him, while tuning his guitar as best he could.

"What song?" Jolie wanted to know. She and Mace had hooked up with Sam a couple of days before to form a trio, since Sam had told them he made a bit more by entertaining the passersby then he did just sitting there with a sign and a cup. She told him she had sung in the school choir before she'd run away a year ago. Mace wasn't a singer, he claimed, but it turned out he could carry a tune, which was what counted in Sam's book.

"Something bluesy. It'll make people feel sorry for us. Do you know 'Stormy Monday'?"

"Had a few, but that was rain, not a song," Mace quipped. "Start, and I'll try to pick up the words as you go."

Sam did a riff then began singing. Jolie added her sweet soprano to balance his baritone. Mace hummed along at first, then began drumming out the beat on the pavement with a piece of pipe he kept in his backpack for protection.

Some people stopped for a moment to listen, then continued walking. Others stayed longer. Most of them tossed a few coins or a bill into Sam's open guitar case. The trio moved on to other songs—Sam playing a few notes first to let Jolie and Mace know what was next.

Mace sang when he knew the words, his bass blending well with Josie's and Sam's voices. They took a break when Jolie started hitting a few sour notes.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she looked it. "It's just…" She rubbed her throat.

"You're out of practice," Sam replied with a smile. "That's okay." He checked the guitar case after the crowd dispersed, then counted their earnings and whistled. "Not bad for our first day as a team. We can afford a decent meal—or whatever you two want to spend your share on," he added, divvying out the money.

"Food works for me," Mace said. "And we have our choice today." He gestured toward the corners where a side street crossed the one they were on. There were food carts on three of the four corners—hotdog, burrito, and Philly cheese steak ones. Normally there were the ubiquitous hotdog and taco vendors and nothing more.

*****

Tuck watched the trio head to the food carts. He'd come looking for Sam—not to talk, just to see if he was in his semi-normal spot by the plaza. He'd been surprised to see, and hear, the trio.

They need training. Even Sam. But they are pretty dammed good for street singers. I wonder if this is going to become something regular for them, or was it a one-time thing because they were all in the same place at the same time?

He wasn't about to accost them and ask. First off, if he did, Sam would undoubtedly take his being there the wrong way, so soon after they'd met. Secondly, he didn't have the time. He was supposed to meet Brent in ten minutes so they could take one more look at the building they wanted for the theater, before finalizing the deal. He'd sort of fudged the truth the previous night when he told Sam he as a part owner of the Vale Lake Theater. He would be, once he and Brent bought the place on the lake.

And turn it into a theater. And hire a designer and costumer and tech people and… He sighed to himself. It wasn't going to be easy, but if it worked, it could give a lot of the kids and young adults like Sam a job and a reason to get off the streets.