Going nowhere fast, and with his reputation strong to accomplish his desired goal, Chance Macallister sat on the graffiti-covered MTA bus bench on the northeast corner of Demonbreun Street and 5th Avenue South. His legs stretched out, Chance's steer-inlaid Tony Lamas crossed.

Complaining never did Chance any good. The truth was this had been his hardest year. So many things had gone wrong he didn't know which troubles to pay attention to. So, he ignored them all. None of them disappeared. Compounded with interest, they just grew deeper and deeper.

Formidable grey clouds threatened an afternoon monsoon. Pop-up showers were common in Music City. Chance noticed the obligatory rust on the bench's metal back and wooden slats on the seat with various initials of previous vagrants engraved on them.

"Get out of the way!" Chance said.

He shoved a feral cat off the seat as a delivery truck whizzed by. The cat landed on its back. Ker-Splat! The tail-less feline gathered itself and hissed at him.

Chance did not know if the cat lost the appendage in an altercation or not. He snarled back at the noise maker and said, "Go meow somewhere else. This corner's taken."

As if offended, the calico bolted down the cracked sidewalk.

Chance sat his tin cup down on the bench and waited for some people to come by to fill it up. From his vantage point he observed the Country Music Hall of Fame with its diamond-shaped replica WSM radio tower, unique piano keyboard-cast frontal facade, bass clef-fashioned front wall, and sweeping Cadillac finned arch. All of which he was well versed in.

Nikons hung around their necks, happy tourists strolled out of the museum. They chatted among themselves about all the regalia they'd observed inside the glorified attraction. Others soon tagged along. Chance liked to guess where he imagined day-trippers originated from.

As they passed Chance's location, Tweed City declared to Pepto-Bismol Pink, "My favorite was the Brooks and Dunn: Kings of Neon exhibit. I really liked seeing all the Grammy, ACM, and CMA awards. Kix Brooks' guitar was another. That thing was awesome." Big Mouth further elaborated, "It's a Neon Circus and Wild West-themed Les Paul electric. The cowgirl on the fingerboard stood out."

Straightening up his posture, the almost always cynical Chance muttered to himself in a low voice, "Obvious New Yorker. You can spot an out-of-towner. You just can't tell gaga-eyed fans very much."

Hung on Herringbone's every word, Pinko popped his arm with a loud smack. She studied his navy blue, tropical button down shirt, the muscles that rippled underneath, and replied with a wink, "I'll scoot your boots when we get back to the hotel."

Chance rolled his azures. He scoffed and said under his breath, "Dream on. Maybe one day your dreams will come true. Somehow, I doubt this is your lucky day though. Phi Jamma Slamma looks like he's about to leave you in another world."

The nonresonant sound of coins clanked in Chance's cup. A wry grin came to his face.

"Every little bit helps," he smirked.

Chance glanced at the timepiece on his left wrist, a plain dial on a black band. Imitation leather, no doubt.
Lifting the Timex had been a breeze that involved a couple beers and a slight of hand. Chance claimed he had gained the watch through "survival of the fittest". When you're on the street you make do any way you have to. Chance had learned his lessons well.

A light sprinkle began. Chance stood up and removed the money out of his tin cup. He stuffed the dinero deep in his pocket. The possibility of a brighter future in reach, Chance retrieved the manila folder off the bench seat he'd placed there when he sat down earlier. If he hustled he thought maybe he could beat the downpour.

Chance highballed past the Walk of Fame Park and the Downtown Hilton. Reaching Broadway, he turned right to Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. The Bandaleroos played loud as he entered the crowded famous establishment. Chance had patronized the club on several previous occasions. Grabbing a boozehound shooter off the counter, Roger Brumlee nodded at him from behind the bar.

As Chance made his way across the floor he noticed a beer pong game set up on a table in the far side of the room. Chance's mouth watered. Tempted, their laughter made him yearn to join in the festivities. Perhaps there would be time for celebration later.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)