London Harmony: Doghouse (9 page)

I just watched her grin as she chewed and I blurted, “Argh!”  Then looked down and motioned at my feet. “She likes cowboys and I think I just bought these boots to wear for her.  I don't do things like that!”

She had to cover her mouth as she laughed, to stop from spraying pizza chunks.  I narrowed my eyes at her.  “What?”

She looked at her crust, and grinned at it, refusing to look at me.  “You've got it real bad if you are asking me for girl advice.”  Then she met my eyes, shes twinkling with humor.  “Sound's like the great Eliza Montrose has finally met her match.”  Then she leaned forward slightly and looked around then whispered, “Is she cute?”

I blushed and sat back into my chair in resignation.  “Exceedingly, and annoyingly so.  The little pipsqueak is half a bubble off plumb and I'm drawn to it.  She's obtuse and obstinate and unyielding.”

The smirk I received made me grin as she said, “And she gets your motor purring.”

I exhaled and said, “God yes, and I don't know why.  She's like my nemesis, the anti-Liza if you will.”  I ate the last bite of my pizza and sat back and chewed.

She nodded and said, “Opposites attract Liza.  Someone once told me that we can't choose who we are attracted to.”

I grinned and tossed a piece of crust lazily at her for throwing my words back at me.  “Whatever lady.”

We spent a few more minutes discussing the girls who were making us nervous wrecks before she had to go back to work.  I kissed her cheek. “Okay, I'll see you tomorrow.”  Then I thought of something.  “I can leave your name at Ronnie Scott's if you want to come hear me play.”

She brightened. “That would be brill!  I'll see you tonight then.”

The rest of the day went by in a shot, and before I knew it, I was setting up with the band on the stage on one end of the club.  The place was fantastic, with booths and seating all around and a small expanse of hardwood for those adventuresome enough to dance.  Pictures lined every wall of the bands and Jazz greats that have played the club over the years.

The band was all old timers, led by the sax man, none other than Mason Briggs.  He had played with my uncle a few times back in the day.  Mason stopped setting up his music stand when I unzipped my ragged bass' semi-rigid case and pulled her out, I lovingly looked over her battered and worn body, inspecting her curves before I extended her endpin.

Mason stepped to my side and whistled low and said in a gravelly voice that was well worn by singing and playing for decades in smoky bars.  “I never thought I'd see Audrey again.”  The look of appreciation on his face spoke a thousand words.

I smiled at him and leaned her toward him.  He looked surprised and hesitant like she would burn him if he touched her.  Then he touched his lower lip and dropped his hand, “May I?”

I smiled and nodded. “Of course.  From how Slade spoke of you and the good old days, you may as well be extended family.”  I leaned her toward him again and he hesitantly took her.  He marveled at her and that brought pride swelling up in me, she was indeed a gorgeous bass even with how well worn and loved she was.

He plucked experimentally with her, closing his eyes to take in her rich tone that was unparalleled by any other bass.  He basked in the thrum then opened his eyes and scanned her.  “She looks exactly the same as the day I first laid eyes on her.”  He gave a half smirk grin.  “Couple decades before you were even born I expect.”

Mason looked around, his other two bandmates we busy setting up the drums so he leaned in.  “You know the secret Audrey is keeping?”  Indeed, I did, very few knew of it and I wanted to keep it that way to honor Uncle Slade.  If he didn't want people knowing, then neither did I.

I nodded and he shook his head in disbelief.  “I never understood why Walker kept her in this shape, so people would never know.  But he said that her sound did her speaking, and if people listened, they would know.”

I said, “I agree with him on that, people should love her for her voice, not for what she is.”

He sighed as he leaned her back to me.  “You're just like him.  The music comes first.”  Then he smirked.  “Earl says you have a touch of ol' Walker in you.  It's the only reason I let you sub for Mickey while he recovers from knee surgery.”

I took his extended challenge.  I smirked as I adjusted the tuning pegs.  Then I channeled Ray Brown and Black Orpheus, closed my eyes and let Audrey guide me as my fingers danced on the strings.  It really did feel like a dance to me every time I played, as my left hand slid along the fingerboard, caressing her neck.

I opened my eyes as I let the last note thrum out.  I more felt it, vibrating up trough my feet and into my arms to hum throughout my body, than heard it.  I couldn't decipher the look in Mason's eyes, they looked a little watery.  Someone started clapping, it was Earl, Mr. Raisin.  A few others joined in.  The people setting things up in the club, getting ready to open the doors at seven, and the other band members.

Mason shook his head, his darker freckles showing through his light ebony complexion.  “Damn.  You have Walker's touch girl.”

I rolled my eyes at him.  As if.

We had about ten minutes to go over the six pieces we would be performing.  I was familiar with them all, and we practiced one number so the band and I could get a feel for each other.

But the incredible thing about Jazz is that it is more of a medium where you play by feel, and any jazz musician can adapt to any band they are playing with.  It is all art and emotion in your playing rather than rigid technical adherence to the piece.  That is why there is so much ad-libbing and freestyle solos in jazz, you play to the mood and what moves you.

That's what makes jazz so great. You are living in the moment and the music comes from deep down inside you, as you share a bit of your soul with the audience, making them a part of the music as well.

We stopped in mid-number and the drummer, a Welshman named Rhett, asked in his thick Welsh accent, “You got any pipes Lil' Walker?”

I hesitated at the name but nodded.

He said, “Then don't be afraid to use what the good lord gave ya.'  We could use a little higher voice in the mix.”

The others nodded.  Usually when I subbed in for another musician, all they wanted was my bass.  I shrugged and they started up again.  I lent my voice, to their nods of appreciation and silly man grins.  Mason inclined his head at me, I took my cue from the band leader and moved forward slightly and soloed with Audrey and sang, only Rhett's brushes on his drums lending support.  I was grateful for Mason's nod that signaled me that the band was stepping back in.

Then the lights all dimmed and Mr. Raisin was clapping at his staff who all started rushing to their stations.  He looked back at the band and said loudly, “Doors are open in five, you are on in fifteen.”  Mason nodded in understanding and piped in jazz started playing through the speakers in the ceiling.

Mason said to us, “Last chance for bodily functions for an hour.”  The three other men nodded, mumbled, and started off for the restrooms.

I chuckled at them and was about to joke about old men and their bladders when I realized that I had to go too.  I leaned Audrey into the little fold out stand from her case and hurried after the men who were looking back and now chuckling at me.  I waggled a fist at them, they didn't seem intimidated.

When I returned to the stage, people were starting to stream into the doors and the sound level started doubling every minute as the crowd grew.  I saw a familiar auburn haired gatekeeper wander in, her eyes scanning the room quickly.  I swallowed, she was in a sequined black dress and heels that let me see more of her delightful curves.

I waved and she squinted in my direction then lifted her specs on their lanyard and slid them on.  Then she brightened as she looked to my left and returned my wave.  I motioned for her to come over and she navigated the crowd as it wasn't there.  I think people sensed she was a pipsqueak on a mission and just parted for her.

She arrived at the stage and I squatted to give her a hug.  “Glad you made it runt.”  I countered her crinkled nose with a wink.

She parried, “Well you owe me six songs, this is probably the only way I'll be able to collect.”

Six? It was my turn to crinkle my nose at her.

I smiled and said, “Well sit back and enjoy the show lady.  I'm on in less than ten, they'll give me some heat on my own music just after our set.”

She nodded and turned to leave and almost tripped when she hesitated at the sight of my cowboy boots.  She stared at them unblinking for two heartbeats then she turned away as a huge smile bloomed on her face.  I'm sure mine matched.  Take that you evil pixie.  I mentally added one point in the Liza column.

When we received the five-minute warning signal from Earl, I noted a woman in a green dress step into the club.  She shrank away into her white vest jacket as she started moving toward a wall near the bar.  I looked at the band and said, “Back in a jiff.”  Then hopped off the stage and made a beeline for Gina.

I caught her elbow from behind as she made her way through the crowd.  She turned and her nervous look turned into a glowing smile as she blurted, “Hi!”

I greeted her with a hug, then chastised her for hiding away as I looped my arm in hers and dragged her toward Amy's table.  I swayed to the piped in music as we went, and faltered at the glare Amy was giving us.  Oh dear lord, was she jealous?  I fought off a smile at the thought.  Two points for Liza!

I got to the table and made quick introductions before Amy could burn a hole in us with her glare.  “Amy, I'd like you to meet my best friend in London, Gina Stapleton.  Gina, this is Amarissa Hoyte, my... Amy's my, something.  Could Gina sit with you?”

Gina brightened and Amy visibly relaxed, motioned a hand to a chair, and Gina asked me as she sat, “This is the one?  She's as pretty as you said.”  Then she turned to Amy and shook her hand, “I'm pleased to meet Liza's 'something'.  She won't shut up about you.”

Good god, what was she trying to do to me?

I sputtered, but the sly smile from Amarissa shut me up.

She looked at me as she spoke to Gina, “The pleasure is mine Gina, I have all sorts of questions for you.”

I paled but glanced at the clock.  Damn.  I hustled back to the stage with dread in my heart over leaving the two gossips together.  I grudgingly moved one point over to the Amy column.

Moments, after I took the stage, the piped in music stopped, and Earl, was on stage introducing the band.  I paled when he used the nickname that Rhett had bestowed upon me earlier, Eliza, Lil' Walker, Montrose.  Was I going to be saddled with that name now?  Why can't we choose our own nicknames?  Then I'd be Strings Montrose.  Lil' Walker reminded me that Slade was no longer with us.

We slipped into some smooth jazz and that made everything alright.  I forgot all my troubles and just closed my eyes and swayed with the groove.  I opened my eyes again and the world was much brighter for having the smoky tones of the beat we played.

The piece was meant to showcase each instrument, like an introduction of each musician.  Mason would single each of us out and we would ad lib a solo, letting the music take us.  Jonsey was a master on the ivories.  Mason's sweet tones on the reed were honeyed silk. The crowd applauded for each solo.

I let Audrey guide me when I stepped forward.  My body couldn't help but sway to the music as something greater than myself took hold of me and set me free.  It was the spirit of jazz, the soul of the music.  It always completed me in some way I never understood.  All the hurt and pain in my life just bled away as I plucked the strings.

Then the band joined in and we feathered the beat at the tag.  The cheers were some of the best I had encountered in my European walking tour.  I smiled at the other band members as we started the second number, this one was meant to try to get people out on the dance floor.  It had some swing to it and a diggity bump for me.

I smiled over at Amy and Gina's table.  Amy had just turned back around toward me, and shot me a dreamy smile.  Damn it, how could she get under my skin so easily.  I followed her previous gaze back to the bar and almost missed a string.  Friggin' Scratch was there with J8 right next to her.  Scratch noticed my scrutiny and held up my passport before pocketing it in her black hoodie.

I looked back to the table and Amarissa had an wicked toothy grin on her face.  I told you the woman was evil.  I absently wondered how Scratch and June got in, since it was a members club, and I certainly hadn't put their names on the list at the door.  I almost snorted at myself at my own naivety.  She was J friggin' 8, she didn't need to be on a list anywhere.

I quickly forgot my troubles as the music swept me away in its current.  I sang on this one and could have slapped the band when none of them sang through it, they just lent dynamic backup to my voice in places.  Mason just grinned smugly at the death glare I shot him.

The other numbers pushed me farther and farther under the spell of the jazz we played.  I was in my element, I felt like the music cradled me, insulated me from the world, insulated me from my own self-destructive nature.  I was safe inside that music and Audrey's smooth, smokey tone rose to the occasion.

When our set was over; far too soon in my book; we took our bows to the cheering crowd.  Earl retook the stage and announced a five-minute intermission for the band to break down their equipment before the modern jazz fusion styling of Lil' Walker, followed by the headline act, Charlie Hammer.  I had heard of Charlie H.  He was supposedly a magician on the trumpet.

I helped the men break down their gear.  I was still hopped up on the music we had just played and was in such a good mood that not even Scratch mocking me in the back could derail me.  I took a moment to re-tune my strings before Earl announced, “Everyone, put your hands together for Lil' Walker.  I promise, this is jazz as you've never heard it before.”

I got some applause, a screeching whistle cut through it.  Both Amy and Gina were standing.  Gina was clapping and Amy was removing her fingers from her lips; damn she could whistle, and she clapped too.  I blushed and gave them a little wave.

I grinned evilly and said into my mic, “This is for the pipsqueak, she knows who she is.”  Then I played my best piece.  I took the most famous song in the history of rock, Mandy Fay Harris', ‘Oceans of Blue’ and forged it into a jazz number.  This was always my favorite because there isn't a song out there that can touch all the complex emotions that Mandy had somehow imbued in the words of the song.

My eyes were closed through the entire piece as I danced with my Audrey.  We let the music flow out to the people gathered in the club.  Sharing our own empathy for the words in the song as I sang them.  It was something I never thought I could touch.  Above all, it was a song of hope.

I had always imagined that the oceans of blue that she sang about, were the feelings that washed over you when you got lost in the eyes of someone you felt you didn't deserve.  Or maybe I was just reading too much into it.  I admitted to myself that I felt that way whenever I looked into Amarissa's eyes.