Read Chloe for Free Online Page B

deflates, huffing
a loose strand of hair away from her lips.
    “Really could have used the extra money,” she mourns.
    James should not blame himself, but he does. In fact, James
assumes a great deal of responsibility on himself when it comes to Chloe. The
setback with the car took them at least five minutes. Had that not happened,
they would have been here before it closed, only to be kicked out again. One
disappointment for another. He wants to make it up to her. His mind races. “I
know another place,” he suggests. “Orion’s Club. It’s across town. They’re open
late.”
    Chloe narrows her eyes incredulously. “I sense a but .”
    James cringes, lifting his meaty shoulders in earnest. He
can find no better way to say, “They don’t pay.” Chloe sighs, discouraged. She
starts pouting. “I could just take you home,” James offers, feeling slightly
defeated on top of guilty.
    Chloe shakes her head, setting her lips into a determined
line. “Orion’s Club. Could use the extra exposure.” James smiles and pulls away
from the curb.
    Orion’s is a shabby little western style dive. The air is
fragrant with cologne, dirt, and beer. There are two old televisions above the
liquor shelves and a dusty jukebox in the far corner, no longer in working
order. The bar is dotted with several high round tables ringed by mismatched
chairs. It is not a full house, but a modest audience is better than none at
all.
    Chloe stands at a microphone on a small lit stage,
performing an original poem.
    Patrons dressed for an evening of fun sit in a semi lit area
around the tables. Some stand against the walls. Mixed drinks and pints of
frothing beer are being served by waitresses in short skirts, tied blouses, and
cowgirl hats. They call everyone “sugar” in harsh, phony southern accents. The
customers are either distracted, or just not interested in the night’s
entertainment.
    Chloe takes a deep breath and makes to speak above the buzz
of their chatter. Some of them glance up. One of them whistles. She begins with
the title.
    “The Agony of Being Me.
    I fear I might not make it to eternity.
    Everything I touch spoils,
    Can’t seem to say it right,
    can’t stop ma’self from annoying friends,
    who say they care.
    Can’t accept ma’self,
    but expect others to
    and to ma’ best friends
    I say,
    If I don’t make it,
    it’s not because you never tried, but help—
    —didn’t come.”
    The bar has gone silent—quiet enough for her to hear the
crickets outside, as cliché as it sounds. Chloe waits for applause, but only
gets one. James shows his appreciation, but does so alone. The others stare,
blank faced and unmoved. Chloe steps down from the stage, disappointed and
flushed with embarrassment.
    After the double whammy of let-downs, James treats Chloe to
ice cream from a street side vender a few blocks from Orion’s. He orders pistachio.
She orders mint chocolate chip. The traffic is largely absent at this time of
night, namely in this part of town so near to the outskirts of the city.
    As they stroll side by side down the sidewalk, Chloe tries
to rationalize the reaction at Orion’s, or rather lack thereof. She purses her
lips thoughtfully. “Maybe I need to work on ma’ delivery. Probably not enough
emotions. Facial expression. Physical gestures.” This could be a problem.
Unlike James, Chloe is not an animated or eccentric individual. She is mellow
and a little morbid with raw talent and wry wit.
    “I liked it,” James chimes in, as if his approvable should
be enough for her.
    Chloe purses her lips tighter, scolding him with her eyes.
As if saying that he does not count, precisely the opposite of how James wishes
their relations went, “You like everything I do.”
    James pretends to be insulted and adopts a pout. “I thought
it was good,” he justifies. His smile leaps back into place. “Really solid.”
    Chloe smirks and gently bumps up against his arm. Playfully,
“Your mother know you tell