Me and Bobbie McGee
Copyright© 2025 by JRyter
Chapter 6
Young Adult Sex Story: Chapter 6 - A young man, aspiring to be a Country Music performer, happens to run into a young girl his age, who is also hoping to make it big in Country Music. After a scuffle in a Truck Stop, he helps her escape her father and step mother. They manage to hitch a ride with a trucker going to Nashville. Once there they lease a room together, and begin to explore Music Row. Their first big break comes when they are allowed to perform on a WSM Radio Sidewalk Broadcast.
Caution: This Young Adult Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa
“Yes, I’ll pay you according to scale for first time artists. You’ll make enough to pay your bills. If you don’t already have them, you’ll both need to get cellphones so you can start giving out your phone numbers to agents and record labels...
“Even though you just sang for over an hour and those folks were late going back to work, just to stay and hear you, it’s still going to take a lot of work on your part. You’ll both be traveling soon, playing some clubs, then some of the bigger hotels and casino’s. Getting your names all over out there...
“Least ways, that better be what happens when you get an agent. I want both of you to let me read any contract, before you sign it. I’ll even show it to my attorney and have him read it before you sign it. I don’t want to see either of you working for nothing all your life.”
“Thanks Ruthie, if all that happens, we’ll come sing and play here for free, if you’ll let us,” I told her.
“Then, this is what we’ll do ... When you both have an agent and a contract with a record label, come back here and give me one full night of your songs and your time, it’ll be worth it to me, just to see you both hit the big time.”
“We’ll do that, won’t we Beau?”
“Heck yeah, and then some. When did you want us to come back again? “Tomorrow did you say?”
“Tomorrow morning. Like I said, come about 10:30 and ask for me, if I happen not to be out front.”
“Thanks Ruthie,” Bobbie said and jumped up to hug Ruthie.
I shook her hand, and she kinda smiled at me.
When we left Ruthie’s Dixie Bar and Grill, Bobbie and I were up in the clouds, we were so happy. Bobbie would do her little dancin’ jig on the sidewalk every now and then, and folks would look at her kinda funny, then smile as she dances past them.
We laughed and talked all the way up and down the streets, looking in stores, and bars and grills, along the way. We went in Tootsie’s Orchid Bar and Grill and it’s still almost full, even after lunch.
There was a group on the stage, playing and singing and we saw their names on the window signs. They play here all the time I reckon ... That would really be something, to see a sign with our names on it like that.
We walked past a pawn shop with guitars and fiddles in the window, behind the iron bars. I pointed to the windows and nodded to Bobbie. She nodded too, so we turned around and went in to look at the instruments. There has be a dozens and dozens of different musical instruments on the shelves, and hanging on all the walls. Some have cases beside them, some don’t.
There are lots of acoustical guitars, and that many more electric guitars. I saw some banjo’s and fiddles on one wall and went over to look. One whole wall over there on the other side, has nothing but horns of some kind, from clarinets to trombones, and trumpets.
Bobbie was looking on the wall, behind the glass cases.
This entire wall is covered with fiddles, violins and guitars. I couldn’t tell the difference between a good fiddle or a cheap one.
They all look so lonesome hanging there, just waiting for somebody to come along to take them down and play music on them. No telling who hocked them, or the story behind them. Someone came here looking for fame and now their instrument hangs on the wall of a pawnshop, next to the other instruments collecting dust, like nameless tombstones of musicians who never made it. It’s sad for me to look at them, and think that, but I’m sure it’s true.
Bobbie came over and started looking them over. She saw a fiddle just like the one her daddy owned, before that bitch woman hocked it for some whiskey money. She walked around the counter and looked at the price tag.
She turned to look at me, with her eyes locked wide open. I stepped around to look, and I couldn’t believe the price on this fiddle. It has two broken strings and it’s worn really bad where it has been played so much. The little leather chin-pad is faded, and the bow looks frazzled, with the resin covered horse-hairs shredded, hanging loose and strung out. Yet, it still stands out from all the others up here.
“Ask the man if we can pay something down and make payments to pay it out of hock. He sure has a lot of them, and I bet he’d love to sell one or two.”
“I can’t even afford this one, Beau! As cheap as it is, I can’t be spending money like that,” she whispered as the short, skinny man walked over to stand behind the counter, smiling as he looks at us.
“You know some about fiddle?” He asked Bobbie, in an accent I’ve never heard before.
“Well, my Pa owned one just like this one and I learned to play it. I was just looking at it. But there’s no way I can afford to buy a fiddle right now,” she told him.
“I can take down payment, you can pay out, then it be yours.”
“I still don’t have the money to spare right now. I’d love to have this one though, it looks just like my Pa’s, and it needs to be played,” Bobbie told him as she reached up and ran her fingers down the strings.
“I give new set of strings, if you pay down now.”
Bobbie looked at me, and her eyes looked so sad, like she’s lost and about to cry.
She pulled me over, away from the pawnshop man and we whispered.
“Beau, I wish I had the money to spend. I’d get this fiddle, then we’d have more to offer than just your harmonica and me singing. Don’t you think a fiddle would help us in our singing and playing?” She still looks like she’s about to cry as she looks at the fiddle on the wall, then back at me.
“Bobbie, I heard you play the fiddle after you tuned Darlene’s. We really could use some more backup to your singing, other than my harmonica. You can teach me to play it too, and I’ll play one, then the other as you sing.”
“Beau, will you get a guitar next, when we start getting paid at Ruthie’s? I’d hate to spend my money, and you still don’t have another instrument.”
“Let’s ask him if he’ll make us a deal on a guitar and the fiddle, just to see if we can afford it.”
“Beau, I’m scared. We’re talking about spending money again.”
“Bobbie, Ruthie is going to pay both of us to sing and play at her place. If we have a guitar and a fiddle, we’ll sound a lot better, and folks will keep coming back to hear us.”
“I know you’re right ... Let’s see what he’ll do. If we don’t like his deal, we’ll just save up and come back later to buy one, and pay for it all at once ... Then come back again for the other one.”
“Come on, I’ll ask him. If you think I need to say something else, jump in and help me.”
The little man is still standing where we left him, he’s been dusting the same place over and over, with a feather duster, looking up at us as we talk.
“Sir, we’d like to make a deal with you, if you can. We want this fiddle, and a cheap guitar too, but we don’t have a lot of money right now. We need to pay some down like you said, and pay you some along as we get paid. Will you let us do that?”
“We can make deal like that, you come find guitar you like. I take this fiddle over to cash register now, then we make that deal for both.”
“Thank you Sir, but we can’t pay for either of them, all at once right now. We just want to find a cheap guitar and have you hold both of them until we can pay for them.”
“We can do this, come with me.”
He pointed over to the far wall where there had to be over fifty guitars. We followed him across the room, and he started pointing out his guitars.
“Here is good guitar, it is used and it is worn, but it is still good solid guitar. I let this one go for twenty dollar and give you new set of strings.”
“Let me see it. Maybe I can make this one work.”
He took the strap from the peg and handed it to me. The wide strap is worn and faded, but the guitar is still in good solid condition otherwise.
I felt the weight and size of it as I held it against me. It feels good and solid resting against my side.
“Here, you put new string on it, then play some. Then, if it sound good to you, we make really good deal.”
He gave me a complete set of new strings, in a plastic wrapper with Gibson on it.
I looked at Bobbie and she’s grinning as she loosened the two strings that’s broken, then pulled them out. She gave me one of the replacement strings and smiled.
This girl knows her musical instruments.
When I had the two strings replaced, I tried to tune it, but I don’t know diddly-squat about what I’m doing.
Bobbie just reached over and took it from me, then put her foot up on a wooden crate. She propped the guitar on her right thigh and bent over to start tuning.
She would do just like she did Darlene’s fiddle this morning, she turned and twisted knobs, then she strummed the strings. She started on the bottom string and worked her way down to the top. Then she strummed all five strings and twisted some more.
She smiled as she passed it back to me, and I looked at the pawnshop man. He’s smiling too.
I played Dixie on it, and the old man was grinning as I played. Bobbie clapped her hands when I stopped playing.
“Dang Beau, you’re good! I mean, you-are-really-really-good with that guitar.”
“Bo really, really good,” the man said, and we laughed.
“Put string on fiddle, you play fiddle and hear how good it sound.”
He held it out to me with a package of strings.
I looked at Bobbie and she’s smiling. She wants to hear this fiddle, and I don’t blame her.
I replaced the two broken strings and gave it to her. She worked with it for a long time, then she ran the ragged, frazzled-out bow across the strings until she made that fiddle come back to life, and sound as good as a new one.
Bobbie played a fast little tune, that I’ve never heard. She’s grinning as she plays, then started doing her little jig.
The pawnshop man started doing a slow, soft-shoe tap-dance of his own.
Bobbie danced a circle around him as she played.
The man is laughing and clapping his hands as she plays, while he does his soft-shoe.
When Bobbie stopped, the man stood, looking at us for a close to a minute, before speaking.
“I make you really, really good deal now! You put new string on all guitar, and fiddle that broke.” He waved wide, all the way back to the wall full of guitars.
Then told he us, “I give you fiddle and guitar too, for $10.00.”
“You just made a deal Sir. Where are those strings?” I asked as I laid the guitar on the counter.
He went through the curtains and came out with two cardboard boxes, stacked one on top of the other. Both are nearly full of strings sets. Some in small flat, cardboard packages, some in plastic wrappers.
Bobbie started picking through the sets. Some are fiddle strings, some are guitar and some are just loose strings in the box. We sat there for nearly two hours, putting new strings on forty guitars and fifteen fiddles.
We even put new strings on five banjo’s before we ran out of strings, which Bobbie knew for sure what they were for.
He’s really happy that Bobbie tuned each one before giving it back to him. He dusted each of them, then wiped them good before putting them back on the wall.
We were about to leave, when I looked up to see an old radio on a shelf higher than my head. When I walked over to stretch up and take it down to have a look, the old man walked over.
“Beau like radio in deal too?”
“I’ve been looking for one, and happened to see this one ... How much?”
“For my new friend Beau Billy, this radio is yours.”
He’s as happy as we are about our instrument deal, and getting new strings on most all of his instruments.
He went to the back and returned with a worn, black leather covered, guitar case with the handle loose on it. He has a fiddle case in his other hand, that’s worn and scratched, but still in good shape inside. He even gave Bobbie a complete set of new fiddle strings.
“We make deal better now. I give you two cases, I take $10.00 for fiddle, radio, and guitar...
“Is really good deal for my two friend Beau Billy and Bobbie McGee, yes?”
We agreed, it really is a really good deal, and we shook hands with him.
I have the money on me and paid him the ten dollars, when we had the instruments in the cases. I looked at the handle on the guitar case and it has four small screws missing.
I knew I can fix that.
We made our way back over to Broadway and walked three blocks toward our rooming house. I saw a hardware store, down one side street and went in to find my screws.
When we got back to our Millie’s, there was a note on the door to our room from her, to come see her. I put the screws in the handle on my guitar case, before I lose them, and they tightened up just fine, with the point of my pocketknife blade.
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