One
Tenor’s Journey
When the reader first meets Jamie
Logan, he is at the lowest point in his young life. How he moves beyond that
and eventually to a career as an opera singer is a compelling story. Jamie’s
path is not easy. He faces personal and professional challenges, including
family crises, a jealous rival who attempts to undermine him, a hate crime.
Striving to overcome his own self-doubts is a continual struggle for him.
Here is the opening chapter of You Are My Song. The book is available
on Amazon in paperback and Kindle, and paperback copies can be purchased
locally at the Pocono Community Theater whenever the theater is open. The purchase price at the PCT is $12.00.
Please visit my Amazon author page:
PROLOGUE
Jamie Logan found a parking spot not far from Al’s Bar and sat in
his car for a long moment before leaving the air-conditioned comfort of the ’58
Chrysler Three Hundred. It wasn’t his car; it belonged to the dealership, and
he’d just grabbed the keys because he needed wheels. His car, a ’54 Dodge
Royal, was in the shop awaiting repairs.
It was a sweltering, steamy
evening in East Tennessee, and even though Jamie had only a short distance to
walk, he had just left his office and was dressed in a suit and tie, hardly
comfortable attire for the weather.
He’d found himself making this
stop more and more frequently over the past six months or so, reluctant to go
home, now that “home” consisted of his old bedroom in his parents’ house.
Walking into that house was a daily reminder of the marriage which had ended so
badly after beginning with such high hopes.
He sighed, opened the car door
and stepped into the heat, pushing his way through the door to Al’s into what
was inevitably a smoky atmosphere. It wasn’t much cooler than it was outside;
the air conditioner in Al’s never seemed to work very well. The jukebox was
turned down but he recognized the tune; Jerry Lee Lewis, “Great Balls O’ Fire.”
Regulars in the bar waved at him as he came in; they seemed to regard him as
one of them.
He returned the waves, walked to
the bar and ordered a draft, whatever was on tap. It didn’t matter; beer was
beer. The envelope in his inside jacket pocket felt bulky. When he got home
he’d take it out and look at the divorce papers inside.
Jamie glanced around the room and
realized he was quite possibly the youngest man there. How had he come to this;
how was it that at twenty-two he was dealing with a situation which seemed to
happen more to men at least twice his age?
The beer was icy cold and tasted
good to Jamie. He wasn’t going to rush to sign the papers. It was a formality
anyway; the marriage was over. After what
Sarah put me through, she can damn well wait.
The song on the jukebox changed;
Dean Martin, “Return to Me.”
“Hey, Jamie! How about helpin’
ol’ Dean out? You gotta know this one!” Jamie didn’t even turn around.
“Throat’s kinda sore, Les.
Anyway, Dean’s doin’ just fine on his own.” This happened from time to time;
people who remembered Jamie as a singer from four years earlier, when he’d had
the lead in the high school musical. He’d loved to sing back then, and people
liked to hear him. But Sarah hadn’t wanted him to sing, and whatever Sarah
wanted, he had tried to give her.
Jamie drained his beer mug and
ordered another. Summertime, he
thought. I always loved summers when I
was a kid.
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