Savanah's Swan Song (Part I) (Patreon)

"We love you, Savanah!"

"I love you, too!"

Twenty-nine-year-old pop star Savanah Georgia waved to the jubilant crowd outside Rick's, Atlanta's most exclusive honky-tonk.  After posing for the paparazzi, Savanah beckoned to her longtime boyfriend, Chad Sampson, who trailed her like a puppy past a velvet-roped stanchion and through a solid oak door held open by an equally solid-looking bouncer.  Crossing its threshold, Savanah pivoted to give a final address to her adoring fans—

"God bless you all!"

"Fucking leeches," Savanah muttered as she continued down the dark corridor that led into the brightly lit club.  Fortunately, her harsh words were drowned by the sounds of The Dixies, the upscale juke joint's house band.

"Good evening, Ms. Georgia."  Guss Davidson, the club's maître d', greeted the couple with a nervous smile.  "Your usual table?"

"As long as no one's sitting in it tonight."

Guss chuckled, then cleared his throat.  "No, not tonight."

The well-heeled host guided the couple through the throngs to an elevated corner booth overlooking the stage.  As the singer slid into her seat, she spied the proliferation of flesh jiggling on the dance floor.  "Tonight must be pig night."

"I don't think so," Guss said with a confused cock of his head.  "But our chef makes a killer pulled pork."  Then he beat a hasty retreat adding, "I'll bring menus."

"This place is going to hell.  Look at those fat hags."  As Savanah lambasted Rick's portly patrons, she undid the snap of her leather trousers.  She took pride in the fact that she was almost thirty and still fit into a size zero.  That is as long as she didn't sit, eat, or breathe.

Chad dutifully turned in his seat to observe the girls on the floor.   They looked OK to him.  "What can you do?"  He said with a shrug.  "It's open to the public."

"Yes, but not the GENERAL public.  I'll talk to Rick about beefing up security."

"And not the dancers?"  Chad smiled at his joke, but it quickly wilted under Savanah's darkened gaze.

"Guss said you wanted menus?"  A chubby girl about twenty, with a wide grin and an even wider waistline, appeared tableside holding two laminated menus.  She was clothed in the club's traditional waitress wear: straw cowboy hat, blue jeans, and a checkerboard flannel button-down tied in the front to show a suggestion of belly.  Of course, in her case, it was less of a suggestion and more of a demand.

"Hell in a handbasket," Savanah said, snatching the menus from the girl's fleshy fingers.

"It's an honor to serve you tonight, Ms. Georgia," the not-so-waifish waitress gushed.  "I'm your biggest fan."

Savanah eyed the pasty muffin top rimming the waitress' skintight Levi's.  "Probably close to it.  Where's Lisa?"

"Uh, she's off tonight."

"Lucky me.  Look..."

"Amy."

"Amy.  Just bring him a beer and bring me a white wine spritzer."

"You don't want to eat?"

"No."  Savanah returned the menus by poking them against the server's stomach.  "I've lost my appetite."

The waitress managed a polite smile, then retreated from the table even faster than Guss did.

"You were a little rough on her," Chad said after Amy had disappeared into the kitchen.

"When I was her age, a record exec once called me a talentless harpy.  What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

"Maybe you should have ordered something?  I think you're hangry."

"When I want your opinion, Chad, I'll give it to you."

Chad ducked Savanah's dagger stare by focusing on the band.  The Dixies were a tight six-piece and one of the few things he still enjoyed about coming.  At one point, the couple would've joined the merry masses on the dance floor and Savanah might even have performed a song or two with the sextet.  But that was several years and platinum albums ago.

"Thank you!" The band's burly fiddle player, known affectionately as Big Mike, shouted into the microphone after his spirited solo brought the song to its crescendoed conclusion.  "Thank you so much!  What a great-looking crowd we have tonight."

Hoots and hollers from the women Savanah had called pigs joined the enthusiastic applause.

"And it just got even prettier," the bearded musician continued, pointing his bow toward the newly occupied booth.  "Please join Rick's and The Dixies in welcoming our state's prettiest and most talented peach, Savanah Georgia!"

The crowd went crazy.  Savanah seemed genuinely surprised by the acknowledgment, placing a hand over her heart and blowing kisses to both the band and the crowd.  Chad applauded, too.  His girlfriend's performance was Oscar-worthy.   The only thing she couldn't do with her pants undone was take a bow.

"Care to join us?"  The musician gestured towards the rest of the band.  "For old time's sake?"

If the request, or the crowd's raucous response, fazed Savanah she didn't let on.  She simply smiled and shook her head, then she clutched Chad's hand as if she were in the middle of an intimate date.  It was only when Mike whispered into the microphone, "I think she's getting too big for her britches" that panic flashed across her face.

"I'm just teasin'," the big man added playfully.  "Maybe after a few drinks!"

Once it became clear the pop star wasn't budging, the crowd returned their attention to the band and Mike pressed on with the show—

"Since we can't cajole the real Savanah, let's bring up the next best thing.  She's been serving you all night, now it's time to show her some love.  Please welcome the newest member of Ricky's talented team...Amy Adamson!"

The crowd gave an enthusiastic ovation, but it quickly faded when no one appeared onstage.

"Amy, where you at baby?" Mike added after his invitation went unanswered.

Just as he was about to give up, Amy pushed through the kitchen's double doors like a gunslinger entering a saloon.  She looked proud.  Confident.  Only her teary eyes belied her cocksure strut to the stage.

Following an embrace with Mike, Amy stepped to the mic to renewed applause and the strains of a lone guitar.  Savanah recognized the tune immediately. "Unbroken" was her first hit.  She'd written it on a six-string when she was sixteen.

"You took away our choices, but we have many voices--"

Amy's voice started thin but gained power as the verse continued.  By the time she reached the chorus, it was as full-bodied as she was.

"We won't be broken.  We won't be shattered.  We won't be told, that what we say don't matter!"

The band swelled behind her as the song climaxed, then faded away for a delicate acapella outro—

"We are unbroken."

The crowd erupted in wild applause.  Most in attendance were already standing, but anyone who wasn't quickly found their feet.  Chad sprang up so enthusiastically he winced, fearing Savanah had stayed seated for reasons both personal and practical.  But as he turned his head, he was surprised to find the starlet had done up her pants and was standing in ovation like everyone else.  There was even a tear in her eye, though he wasn't sure if it was due to the tenderness of the tune or the tightness of her trousers.

After another quick embrace with Mike and a wave to the jubilant crowd, Amy returned to the kitchen and The Dixies began their next song.  A few minutes later, the songbird was back on the floor serving drinks.

"That was awesome," Chad said once Amy arrived at their table with her tray.  "You're very talented."

"Thank you so much.  I was so nervous."

Amy placed the beer in front of Chad and the spritzer in front of Savanah, who sported a proud smile.

"Can I give you a little advice?"  Savanah said, leaning in like she was about to divulge a trade secret.

"Of course."

"The next time you decide to butcher one of my songs, at least have enough sense to bring me my drink first."