Painted in desert hues and sitting on a dusty corner at the far end of Main Street, the Sacred Song is indistinguishable from many of the other buildings downtown. Opened in the early 70s as a spiritual book store, it had evolved over the years into a café, music venue, and, most importantly, a safe space for those who felt rootless or outcast. When Rey slips through the beaded curtains into the shop, Ahsoka is behind the counter measuring tea into sample containers. Her white hair falls down her back in two thick braids and she wears a loose sundress despite the outside chill. It helps that her shop is always toasty, for the sake of the dozens of plants scattered throughout the shop. Rey has spent many a long evening here, nursing a tea or hot cocoa on days when her trailer is too cold.

"Rey!" she says, warm smile cracking her face. "It's been far too long."

"I know," Rey says, taking a seat on a stool at the counter. "And I feel bad coming now, because I need a favor."

"Honey," Ahsoka says as she screws the lid on the jar of tea. "Favors aren't like a house or a new guitar. You don't have to save up for them, and you're always welcome here. What do you need?"

"I need to play a show here on Saturday, and I need as many people to show up as possible."

"People always come out when you play, but it might not be as many on two days' notice. What's the rush?" She takes a jar of dried lavender from the shelf and gets out two scoops, handing one to Rey.

Rey has to concentrate to keep her hands steady as she scoops the dried buds into the sample cups. "Yesterday I talked to an A&R guy from First Order Records."

"Oh, that's marvelous!" Ahsoka says. She reaches out and stroke's Rey's cheek. "I suppose he wants to see a live performance before he makes any offers?"

"Exactly!"

"It's a good sign if he's willing to come out here."

"I know. Do you think we can get a good crowd?"

"I'll try my best, Rey. First Order, hmm?"

"I'm trying so hard not to freak out."

"Well, I'm glad I'll be able to get a good look at your A&R man. I've known a few in my day. Some are absolute gems but others aren't worth the paper they write the contracts on."

"I'm sort of glad you'll get to check him out, too."

"I know how easy it is to lose yourself in the things they promise you."

"Did you ever think about going back, after you got here?"

Ahsoka's laugh rings out, rich and pure. "The first few months here I wanted to tear my hair out. I missed the beach, and the parties. Hell, I even missed the traffic. But then I actually started reading the books I was selling and talking to the people who bought them, and I found a beautiful balance. Learned to love that silence. You know the one, right before sunrise? As for the music, it's always going to be a part of my life, but here it doesn't own my life."

"But you think I should go out there? If they ask?"

"Of course. Because your life is yours, and you've already experienced this part of it. You've learned to be responsible and you know who you are. That'll make a big difference."

Ahsoka puts the lid on the last of the sample cups and stacks them on a tray by the register. "Now, I'm going to start making some phone calls. You'd better go to the back and fire up that computer, see if you can get a flier made up."

As Rey boots up Ahsoka's office computer and waits for the Internet to connect, her stomach dips again as she remembers her conversation with Finn Storm.

It had taken her several tries before she'd dialed the number completely, and she'd hung up the first time someone had answered. After putting her head down on the desk and spending a few minutes picking at the tape holding the edging onto the desk, she'd sat up, squared her shoulders, and picked up the phone again. The same quick, efficient voice answered on the second ring.

"Finn Storm's office."

"Oh. Hi. May I speak to Mr. Storm, please?"

"Who's calling?"

"Rey Kenobi. I had an email? From Mr. Storm?"

"Just a moment."

She sat on hold for most of one song, a Muzak version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit." The song had cut off and she thought the connection was lost, but then a voice came through.

"Rey Kenobi! I was hoping I'd hear from you today." Finn sounded quite a bit younger than she'd expected, but he was confident and cheerful, which helped ease her nerves.

"I just got your email about half an hour ago."

"Listen, Rey, I don't have much time to talk but I want to come see you play ASAP. Do you have a gig this weekend?"

"Oh. Um. I can if you need me to?"

"Sweet. I can come in on Saturday. I'll hook you back up with Robyn and you can give her the details."

He'd transferred her before she could respond and she'd found herself telling his assistant that she would be playing at the Sacred Song at seven on Saturday night. After she'd put the phone down, she'd gone into the bathroom, taken a few deep breaths and thrown up.

"Fuck."

"Sweetie, you okay in there?"

"Yeah Sosh. Just nerves." Nerves and an overfull stomach and dread that Ahsoka may not have an opening for her on Saturday. She rinsed out her mouth and stared in the mirror until a smidgen of her former giddiness came back.

When she came out of the bathroom, Soshanna had sent her home.

"You won't be any good for me today. Your head's a million miles away. Go get some rest and practice or whatever it is you need to do."

She'd gone straight to the Sacred Song, but the shop had been closed. The note on the door said she was away on a buying trip. Rey had swallowed her panic and gone home, where she took two shots from the bottle of Old Grandad she kept in the back of her closet, gotten her guitar out and practiced until her throat was raw and there were angry red grooves in her callouses. She poked at them with her thumbnail as she tried to go to sleep, the dull ache somehow soothing. Finally, she'd taken another shot to knock herself out.

This morning, she'd barely taken the time to run a comb through her hair before rushing over, and she'd nearly cried when she saw the "Open" sign on the shop's door. Ahsoka hadn't given her time to cry after she'd agreed to help her.

A few of her past fliers are saved on the computer so it doesn't take long to create a new one. She prints a dozen out, kisses Ahsoka on the cheek and flies out the door to go hang them at the usual places. She saves the last one for the community board at the pawn shop. After hanging it, and before she unlocks the door, Rey stands in the middle of the sales floor and looks around.

The rows of guitars hanging on the wall gleam in a multitude of colors. She used to think of them as broken dreams, but now she thinks of them as dreams in limbo. Five years ago, she'd carefully chosen her Taylor from this very wall, hands trembling as she handed over the cash she'd saved from her babysitting jobs. Her foster father at the time had thought it a silly waste, but her foster mother, the one who made the grilled cheese sandwiches, told him to hush. That everyone needs something a little silly. In the almost two years that Rey has been out on her own, she's gone hungry many times, but she's never been able to bring herself to hock that guitar.

She turns on the lights, unlocks the door, and flips the sign. As she takes her place behind the counter, she lets herself wonder how many more times she'll do this. She lets a tiny part of her imagine what it might feel like to put her feet in the ocean, and what a full cupboard is like. Something stirs inside, and the place she's worked for so long seems slightly strange, as though she's already given notice.