Chapter 2

True to his word, Dave took him all the way to Los Angeles. However, he dropped him off at a truck stop just outside the city because, as he said, he wasn't supposed to give rides and he wasn't going to face any kind of a reprimand for it by taking a hitchhiker to his final destination.

And that was completely fine. As he gathered his stuff to get out of the cab, Dave suddenly made himself different from the other rides.

"Hey, Joel," he said.

"Yeah?"

"If you're really looking for a place to get a job in music, there's a place with a lot of little dive bars about two miles west of here. I can't guarantee that they'll want you, but if you're genuine, that's a place to start."

He smiled at the sudden advice.

"I'm genuine," he said. "And I'm grateful. Thanks for the ride and the suggestion, Dave."

"Good luck."

He gave a thumbs up and jumped out of the cab. Dave pointed in the right direction and then pulled out of the truck stop. He started walking in the indicated direction. As he did, he thought about the name he'd been giving people. Joel. It wasn't his name. However, the name in his head (and on the ID in his wallet) was Joel Williams and it was ridiculous because it was like Billy Joel backwards, only slightly dressed up, and that was just stupid. However, he had no other name in his head and he needed something to tell people. So even though it wasn't his name, he decided that he'd just start thinking of himself that way. If he had nothing in his head to tell him who he was, he'd be Joel, a wannabe musician. Even if he knew there was more to what had happened, he had nothing to tell him what the more was and he had no one he dared ask to tell him what the more was.

So whatever his past was, he'd leave it in the east and just focus on becoming Joel Williams.

Nodding to himself, Joel kept walking and after a couple of miles, just as Dave had said, he was in an area with a number of small locally owned bars and restaurants. Well, nothing to do now but see if he could find a place that would give him a job.

For the next few hours, he gave it a shot, but he struck out over and over again. The problem was that, as the rudest owners had said, Joel was a nobody, and why would they want to hire a nobody? It was far too true, but Joel kept trying.

He was about to give up for the day when he came by a small bar. Just as he approached, the door opened and a large man was dragging a smaller man out by his arm.

"No way, Louis. No way. I told you that if you showed up drunk one more time, you were out."

The obviously drunk man swayed.

"Come on, man! I'm your family! Your own flesh and blood!"

"It's diluted by all that alcohol you're drinking and we're only cousins. I gave you a chance and I told you exactly what you had to do. I gave you more second chances than you deserved, and you squandered every single one of them. You're out and don't come back. If you sober up, maybe we can talk."

"But..."

"No! Out! What do you want?" the larger man asked, turning on Joel.

"Uh...I was going to ask about a job, but I can come back later, if you're busy."

"Jack, I..."

The man turned back on the drunk, clearly angry. "Louis, I'm not talking about this anymore. You're out. Just because I run a bar doesn't mean I want my staff drunk." Then, he spun back to Joel. "You want to talk about a job?"

"Yeah," Joel said, a little uncertainly.

"Good. Come inside. But if you're a drunk, I don't want you."

"I'm not a drunk."

Joel wasn't sure about this with how gruff the man seemed to be, but it might be a perfect opportunity. After all, if he decided that this guy wasn't someone he wanted to work for, he could always say no.

As they went into the bar, Joel was encouraged by the sight of a piano in the corner. It wasn't big and fancy, just an upright, but that was okay. It was a good sign.

"What kind of a job are you wanting?" the man asked.

"Playing that thing over there, if I can," Joel said, pointing to the piano.

"You're a musician?"

"Yep."

"Prove it. Play something."

"Sure, okay."

Joel walked over and sat down at the piano. For just a moment, he felt a stab of stage fright. Could he do this so that he'd get a job? Then, he shoved all that aside and his usual confidence came back. In fact, he grinned and started playing. He did a short introduction and then, he started to sing.

"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday.
The regular crowd shuffles in.
There's an old man sitting next to me,
Makin' love to his tonic and gin."

He let himself fall into the rhythm of the song, all the while waiting for the bar owner to tell him to stop.

"He said, Son, can you play me a memory?
I'm not really sure how it goes.
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes."

"Okay, okay. That's enough. Show off," the owner said.

Joel stopped in a moment but when he turned around, the man was smiling.

"So you want to sing in my bar, huh?"

"Yep."

"Why this bar?"

"No one else would give me a chance," Joel said, honestly.

"Why not?"

"I'm a nobody. Just got into town. No one knows who I am or if I'm worth spending time on."

"Are you a nobody?"

"Here, I am," Joel said. "But I could be somebody... if someone gave me a chance."

The man walked over to him and stuck out his hand.

"Name's Jack."

"Joel."

"Really."

"Yep. Joel Williams."

"Yeah, right."

Joel forced himself to grin cheekily.

"Gotta get my inspiration from somewhere. Why do you think I picked Billy Joel?"

"Uh-huh. You willing to be here every night? It's a time commitment, and I can't pay much. I'm open until 2 a.m. Open at four, but I don't want you showing up before seven. You willing to do that? I'll pay by the hour, and you get two breaks. Discount on food, but no drinking on the job. You come to work drunk once or get drunk while you're working and you're out."

"Enough to live on?" Joel asked.

"Probably not, but if you want to come earlier and do some waiting, you'll make more. If you're any good, you might get some money from tips. You want to find a day job and work here, too, that's fine, but don't expect me to cut you slack if you're here tired. I pay you to work for me. I don't pay you to work for someone else."

"Gotcha."

"You interested?"

"Sure."

"Can you start tonight?"

"Sure. Any suggestions of a cheap place I could stay? Funds are a little low at the moment."

"You don't have a place to stay yet?"

"Just got here."

"How just?"

"This morning."

Jack's brow furrowed.

"You don't look young enough to be like this."

"Huh?"

"You're acting like some dumb kid who thinks that he's going to make it big instead of going to college, but you're not a kid. You've got to be at least in your thirties. What's your deal?"

Joel smiled and shrugged.

"Trying to find myself," he said.

"Uh-huh. Well, I've got a little place upstairs. It's not much."

"Does it cost much?"

"No. It's only a bed, a three-piece bath and a counter with a hot plate and a bar fridge."

"Sounds great. Better than I've had."

Again, Jack's brow furrowed and his eyes drifted to Joel's bag. Joel saw it and knew that he was probably wondering if he was taking on someone worse than a drunk.

"No drugs. No weapons," he said. He held out his bag. "You can search it if you'd like. I promise."

To his slight surprise, Jack took the bag and opened it. No one else he'd offered it to had done it. Jack took everything out of it and paused on the bandages and antiseptic. He looked up, the question obvious in his eyes.

Joel shrugged and rolled up his sleeve to show the wound on his arm, knowing that the nature of the injury wouldn't be obvious with the bandage covering it.

"Had an accident a couple of weeks ago," he said. "I don't have insurance, can't afford to get an infection. One of those free clinics helped me out. I'm hoping the bandages last until it heals up."

Jack looked at him for a long moment, and Joel figured he was about to change his mind.

Then, suddenly, Jack carefully and neatly returned everything to the bag and handed it back to Joel.

"Okay, Joel. I'll try you out. Let me show you the room, but it really does suck."

"Better than the great outdoors," Joel said, cheerfully. "Especially the great outdoors in a big city."

He followed Jack up the stairs to a second floor that was clearly mostly being used for storage.

"You own the building?" Joel asked.

"Yeah. Haven't got the extra money to develop this part yet. I lived in this place when I first bought the business. The key to this door doesn't get you into the bar, just so you know."

Joel raised an eyebrow.

"Keeps you honest," Jack said.

He unlocked a door and let Joel into the room he'd offered.

"You're right," Joel said. "It sucks."

The room was tiny. It was clean enough, but the bed was a twin. The "counter" had a bar sink, a two-burner hot plate and below it was a tiny bar fridge. The bathroom looked slightly larger than an airplane bathroom.

"Told you. You still want it?"

"Are you kidding? Absolutely. Thanks."

Jack looked skeptical, but he just nodded and handed over the key.

"You've got three hours before I'll want you in there. You come in earlier, I'm not paying you for it."

"Okay."

Then, Jack turned and left. Joel took a breath and let it out with relief. Jack seemed like a hard-nosed guy, but if he ran a tight ship, then, strict or not, he'd probably be a good person to work for, even if he wouldn't likely make as much as he might at other places. Well, for now, this would work, and he could start trying to make a bit of money and see if he could get a bit more other places. But getting a gig his first day was great.

For now, he decided to unload his bag.

First, he pulled out the clothes he'd been given. Two changes of clothes. Nothing special about them, although he did need to wash them. He looked toward the tiny bathroom. He could get away with using the shower for his washing machine for the moment. Maybe he'd try to track down a Goodwill or Salvation Army or something where he could get some cheap clothes.

Then, he looked through the things that seemed to be connected to whoever he'd been before. A button with some fabric attached to it. Obviously, it had been torn from someone's clothes. His own? Maybe. Maybe not. He'd had it in his hand and they'd said that it had been hard to get him to let go of it. So it was at least somewhat important.

The key on a keychain. He didn't know what it went to, but it looked like it was just a regular key. The problem was that he wasn't going to be able to figure out what door it went to. There was a small piece of tape on the key, but whatever had been written on the tape had been smeared to illegibility by his time in the water. The keychain itself was a simple metallic rectangle. It was smaller than the key was. He set it down on the bed.

He had told one genuine lie to Jack. Carefully, Joel reached down to his ankle and pulled a knife from a hidden sheath. It wasn't a large knife, but it looked like a serious one. It was definitely sharp. Why was he carrying a knife? ...but there was something in his mind that said it was expected that he would. Who would expect that? What normal person would be expected to carry a knife at all times? What if he was a criminal of some kind? Still, he wasn't going to tell anyone about it.

Then, the cheap wallet. His ID said that his name was Joel Williams, but he knew it was fake. The town listed as his residence didn't exist. He'd looked that up. Still, it was an ID which meant he could get paid.

There was some cash in the wallet, and a piece of paper that had been written on but was also smeared to illegibility by the water. He kept it thinking that maybe having something that had been his before would suddenly jog his memory.

Not so far.

But then, there was the stuff that was still in his head. All that music. Every time he thought of a song, he knew it and could sing it. Why did he remember all this music but not his identity? It was so strange.

Most importantly, why had someone tried to kill him?

And why had he decided that California was the place to go?

He couldn't answer any of the questions he had about himself, but he didn't dare let anyone know that he couldn't, either. It was just so much safer to keep it to himself until he could maybe get something of his memory back. Something. He sighed and put everything back into his bag again.

Maybe after he was able to hide for a while and get settled, he'd be able to relax enough to think about this stuff and get an answer.

Maybe he'd find someone he could trust enough to ask for help.

But not right now. Definitely not right now.

For now, he decided to relax a little while before he went down to start his first night of work.

Everything else could wait.