Taylor’s P.O.V.
I fumbled with my fingers, as I was nervously standing backstage of the Ranch House, waiting for the band to be announced for our weekly performance here once again. Just like any other night, I couldn’t wait to walk out there and finally be able to sing again, standing in front of an audience who liked to hear us perform. One performance a week seemed so little right now, but it was still better than nothing. God, if it was up to me, I would be singing every night of the week and be able to skip the music lessons that were still very much needed to pay the bills. But as long as we did not get the publicity or the fan base that was needed in order to fill up a room, sell drinks, and pay all four of us, there wouldn’t be anything of that sort in our near future.
So instea
