EXCERPT, NANOWRIMO DAY 16: [Lord discovers that Shelley is more than a rock singer....] He walked down the hallway, beginning to hear the soft music coming from deeper in the house. It was Shelley’s music, and it even sounded like her voice. The closer he got to the living room, he knew it was. She stood close to the stacked stereo in the corner. She was softly warbling with a record she had just put on. She wore a full body leotard, black, and mid-height pumps. Her profile was visible under her shiny, straight, jet black hair. She held an album cover. Hearing Lord, she looked up to see him. “Do you like it?” she asked. “The music, or that outfit?” he responded. Shelley smiled, with a hint of sadness. “Everything.” Lord moved to her. “Yes, I like everything.” “Are you going to wear that to a gig?” “No,” she said. “It’s for you. I’ve missed you.” “I missed you, too,” said Lord. “Are you in the mood to go out?” “I don’t know. Is that what you were planning?” she faced him and touched the zipper tag on his flight suit. “Are you tired?” “A little. I just flew back from Sacramento. But I have an idea. I want you to see my crowd.” He brushed back her hair to see both of her icy blue eyes. “Your crowd? You mean those other pilots?” She bit her lip. “Can I take a rain check on that? They are not exactly my type.” “But I am?” said Lord. “You are becoming my type. So yes, you am.” “I’m not talking about those other pilots. My crowd is a bunch of jazz musicians. Sometimes before I come home, I stop by a place that you probably have never even heard of. The Garden City Casino.” “Isn’t that the place with the tall sign on Saratoga-Sunnyvale Road?” “Yes, near the Two Eighty. Why don’t you come with me tonight?” Shelley cocked her head. “Jazz. Do you ever play there?” “I sit in occasionally, but I am not a professional like the house band. They really have it down. I can hang with them for a few standards, and then I have to get off the stage. I can’t hold a candle to them.” “I will go if you promise me to play something. Something nice.” “Like what?” “I don’t know, a good one. Not that stuff you used to play around here to annoy Beth.” Lord laughed. “You mean my Scott Joplin pieces? What, you don’t like Heliotrope Bouquet?” “It just looks funny. An astronaut should not be playing ragtime.” She pinched his cheek. “You are too old fashioned. How can you be a spaceman?” “Easy. I just do it,” said Lord. “Now will you get dressed and come with me?” “I am dressed,” said Shelley. Lord stood back and studied her. Shelley was built spectacularly, and filled the catsuit appropriately from top to bottom. “At least put on a jacket. This is a class joint.” “How about my fur coat?” “That’s fine,” said Lord, noting that the first sight of her would drive his buddies wild. So be it. But… so soon after Beth’s departure, it may cause eyebrows to raise. But only from those who remember Beth. He considered who in that group would have recalled the last time he brought Beth into the Casino. It was almost two years before. Then he thought, they won’t remember. “Yes, Shell, you get that fur coat and let’s head out.” She did, and they zoomed down the mountain road to Saratoga Avenue. Speeding through the twilight, Lord took every opportunity to glance her way. She was ravishing. Ivory skin, red lips, piercing blue eyes. He was beginning to ease up on his self-imposed reservations about allowing her into his psyche. Beth would have wanted him to proceed. She didn’t say so, but in effect, she had given up her rights. But that wasn’t fair, he thought. She didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter. He wondered what she was doing right then, at that moment…. Shelley broke his reverie. “Lord! Turn here. Wow, you almost missed it. Are you sure you are not too tired?” “I’m fine. Just thinking.” “You know what I am thinking?” “What?” She licked her lips. “There’s a Hof Brau right next to this Casino.” Lord cringed. Oh, no, he thought, not Hof Brau. Too much too soon. “Ah, you know they have dinner in the Casino.” “Oh! Then I can order something inside? Good. I am starving.” “I know you are, Black Cat. That’s why you can fit into that stocking you’re wearing. I must keep you peckish, or else I might be sitting next to a Black Cow.” She hit his arm. “Shut up, Lord. Now get me inside and feed me!” “I know,” he said, “time to feed the Cat.” They walked into the dark bar area. Musicians were assembling their gear on the stage. Lord looked around and spied Smith. He was putting cables into the back of his Rhodes suitcase piano. “Please tell me they aren’t going to let you guys perform again,” said Lord. “That last time you cleared the house pretty quick.” “How are you doing, Lord,” said Smith. “Gonna play some tonight?” “Maybe later, after you send most everybody home.” “Oh, that could be a while. Mal’s going to be here tonight.” Lord looked at Shelley. “You are in for a treat, my dear.” She smiled at his use of the affectionate term, taking it on speculation that he truly meant it of her. Smith Dobson rose from his cable work and saw Shelley for the first time. “Well…my goodness, who have we here, Lord?” “Smith, this is Shelley. She sits in with the Blind Jefferson Spaceship. Practically a member.” He pointed to Smith. “Shelly, this is the best piano player I have ever known.” “I am the only piano player he knows, beside himself. Pleased to meet you.” She shook his hand. “Have you ever heard Big Brother?” “And the Holding Company? Yes, of course,” said Smith. “I sit in for Janice sometimes.” “Wow! You must have some powerful pipes.” “She does,” said Lord. “I heard them last week and Shelley killed.” “Well, maybe you’d like to take the mic later on tonight?” “Oh,” said Shelley, “I don’t know any jazz music. I’m a rock and roll girl.” “You will know jazz before we leave,” said Lord. “You will want to do this kind of music from now on.” “Sure, Lord.” She bent close to his ear. “But only if you play it.” He grinned and said, “Come on, let’s go get a table and leave Smith to his chores. Otherwise they’ll never get the show on the road.” “I’ll tap you around the third set, okay, Lord. Or sooner if we don’t have much of an audience.” “Thanks for that vote of confidence,” said Lord. At a booth on the perimeter of the room and facing the band, Shelly removed her fur coat. Lord picked up the sudden stares of the band members. The drummer stopped what he was doing and shook his head, smiling. The lights were low, but it was still easy to register the easy curves of Shelley’s body. She scooted along the semi-circular naugahyde bench to the center. Lord sat close to her, then backed off a few inches. “No,” she said and grabbed his hand. “Stay close to me.” “What,” said Lord. “Scared of something?” “No. Just want them to see it. Not in the mood to fend anybody off tonight.” “Ha!” said Lord. “What do you expect, wearing that outfit? People are going to look.” “I don’t mind if they look,” she said. “I just want them to know they can’t have any.” This seemed familiar to Lord. It was exactly the type of thing she would say to him at home when Beth was…alive. Shelley ordered a steak and potato, with all the trimmings. Lord said, “But we haven’t had cocktails yet.” “I don’t care,” she said. “I’m hungry.” He ordered two martinis and looked over at the bar. He saw an old familiar hat, a red pointed felt cap. Its wearer sported a goatee and black horn-rimmed glasses. Lord waited for the man to turn his direction, and then waved. The man came over. Shelley noticed he was wearing a blue coverall with some kind of English coat of arms over the right breast pocket. The man wore an almost silly smile, and he exuded…fun. “Man, I didn’t think you’d ever come back here after last time! Didn’t they take your union card away?” Lord stood up and grabbed the man’s hand, and shook it hard. “They tried to, but I had left it at home.” “You gonna play tonight?” said the man. “Maybe,” said Lord. The man swiveled his head and rested his gaze on Shelley. “Well, you better play, man. Cause while you are, I’m going to come over here and steal this slinky thing.” He held out his hand to Shelley. “Jazzbo here. And who are you, lovely lady?” “Jazzbo?” said Shelley, shaking his hand. “Jazzbo?” “Yeah, well you know, when they passed around the hat for monikers, that’s the slip of paper that I drew,” he said. “Real name is Al Collins. Did you ever see me on ‘The Tonight Show’?” “No,” said Shelley. “Are you a musician?” Lord shot out exaggerated laughter. “Oh, that is rich.” “Now, hold on a second, Lord. If I hadn’t introduced you to Smith, your musical career would be on permanent hiatus. By the way, how is that musical career?” Lord held out his hand, palm down and swiveled it at the wrist. Jazzbo cracked, “Stop flying in space so much and we’ll make a jazz man out of you yet.” He walked off with a wave, and went to talk to Smith and the band. Shelley sipped her martini. So far Lord’s friends bored her. She didn’t expect anything more exciting for the rest of the night. Besides, what could she expect of an astronaut who spent so much time training and getting ready for his next mission. He would never live the free life that she led, would never know the peace of waking up each day without any obligation, without any whip cracking overhead as the slavemaster barked each successive order. She looked at his eyes, the corners of which showed the cracks and wrinkles of intense concentration. She hoped that she never had those kinds of wrinkles. The only concentration she knew was when she was learning a new song. And that, to her, was joyful. She wondered how anyone could experience joy from life-threatening occupations. She swallowed hard as a new realization came over her. “Lord,” she said. “I have a question.” “Okay, shoot.” “It makes me nervous to ask this, but I just thought about it. What if something happens to you up there?” “Oh, you mean, what if I don’t come back?” “Yeah.” Lord finished his martini, and signaled to the bar for another one. “Let’s consider that I have been up there seven times already, and I have a pretty good record of coming back.” His mind flashed with the thought of Klaus as his co-pilot, and the mystery mission that he could not reveal to a soul. “But you are right to ask. And we need to talk about it. Now is a good time.” “I don’t want to spoil the evening, but you’re going to be gone next week. And I don’t know what I am supposed to do.” She looked down at the table. “This is different.” “It is.” “I’ll keep the house clean. I won’t invite anybody over.” Lord laughed. “Thanks. You are right, I haven’t even thought about this. With Beth around, I always figured she would keep you under control, and keep you from inviting your psychedlic friends over.” Shelley smirked. “But I wouldn’t mind if you just had Paul or Grace over. That would be okay,” said Lord. “You know that is not how they operate. If they come, others will show up. So…” She look sadly at Lord. “I won’t invite anybody over. Our house is a sanctuary.” Lord’s eyebrows went up. “A sanctuary… I like that.” “And it feels funny to have visitors without Beth there. It just doesn’t feel right. And, it is your house. Not mine. I am sure you will lock your door while you are gone.” “Maybe,” said Lord. “So, Lord, what would you want me to do if…if you, hmm.” “If I die on my mission?” “I wouldn’t know what to do. They moved Beth’s stuff out of there and now it’s like she never lived there. It’s like she ever existed. I feel so sad everytime I walk by her room. And it’s so empty. If you didn’t come back, I guess I would leave. Go somewhere else.” “Where?” “I don’t know. Maybe I could stay with the Blind Jefferson Spaceship. They used to have a mansion on Fulton Street in San Francisco, but that was years ago. I don’t think they have it anymore. Or, I could go home.” “Where is home?” “New York,” said Shelley. “I thought you knew that.” “No,” said Lord. “But I can see you in New York. You would make out well there.” “No, I wouldn’t. I am a California girl now. Besides, I can’t stand being around the shiksas in my family,” she said. “I would go nuts within twenty-four hours. Guaranteed.” “Shelley, what makes you think you’d have to move?” “I couldn’t stay there with both you and Beth gone. It would be too depressing.” “I can understand that.” The waiter brought his second martini. “Better get me another one, too,” said Shelley, and the waiter went off with her order. Lord said, “I hadn’t thought about what to do with the house. I don’t like to think about what would happen if I didn’t come back. But I know it’s a possibility. I’ve only paid two years into the mortgage. I don’t really ‘own’ it.” “It’s like glorified rent, huh,” said Shelley. “Yeah.” Lord sipped his martini, and pursed his lips. “You know, I would leave it to you, if you could pay the mortgage payment.” “I can’t. I couldn’t. I don’t know how to make that kind of money.” She squeezed his hand. “Just come back.” “I will.” Their dinners came, and Shelley ate ravenously. Lord, surprised at his loss of appetite, only ate half his steak before pushing his plate away. The mission, and its odd circumstances, were taking a toll on him. Music erupted from the combo on the stage. It was “Laura”. Lord hummed along. “This is your music, huh,” said Shelley. “Yes, it is,” said Lord. “I like it. It suits you.” She touched his shoulder. “Would you like to dance?” “Yes, indeed, Black Cat.” She led him to the floor in front of the band. He held her close, ensuring that he rotated her out of view of the musicians most of the time. He caught their looks. They had had enough, in Lord’s book. He allowed the martinis to dictate his moves. She didn’t know how to dance, he observed. Her motions were unlearned, instinctive, but he could tell she had never heard this music, and didn’t know what to do with it. He, however, knew what to do with her. He led with gentle pushes, and looked at her eyes. She smiled and bowed her head onto his shoulder. When the song finished, Lord looked around the room. A thin crowd, to be sure. He looked up at Smith, seated at the keyboard. Smith gave him a quick jerk of the head, signalling Lord’s turn at the helm. Shelley stood by as Lord stepped to the back of the stage platform, elevated only five inches above the surrounding floor. She clasped her hands and noticed the stares of the musicians, the men behind the bar, and upon a slow scan of the audience, saw that she had the attention of the entire room. As Lord positioned himself behind the Rhodes, Shelly ran over to him. “Girl from Ipanema!” she said to him. Lord replied, startled, “Ah…what key?” He looked at the upright bass player. “‘A’ flat,” said the bass player. “Okay,” Lord said, confounded. “I thought you said you didn’t know any jazz.” “I just said I didn’t like it,” said Shelley. She got behind the mic. And then, to the drummer, in a forced whisper, “One, two, one, two, three and…” The drums came in with a bossa nova rhythm. The bass player started in with an intro. Lord came in on the keys. Shelley spun around to the bass player. “Vamp,” she said. “Yes, you are,” said the bass player. “And I will.” The band went into a susstained groove. Shelly took the mic in her hand. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Garden Spot - “ she heard Lord correcting her - “Garden City, that is. Here is a number I am sure you all have heard before. I may have heard it once before myself.” She began to sing…. “Tall and tan and young and lovely, The girl from Ipanema goes walking And when she passes, each one she passes goes, ‘Aaah…’” Lord, playing accompaniment, dropped his jaw. She had never let on that she knew how to sing like that. And it was pitch perfect. Her style was breathy, much like Julie London, to his recollection. She swayed to the music as she sang, hitting all the accents exactly where one would have thought. And in that moment, Lord lost all remaining resistance to her. He was most certainly hopelessly in love with Shelley. All at once, he visualized hundreds, thousands of nights on which he would play for her while she sang. He caught himself, considering that this was probably just an act, and that she really had no feeling for the music. But if it was an act, it was a hell of an act. “Oh, but he sees her so sadly - How can he tell her he loves her? Yes, he would give his heart gladly, But each day when she walks to the sea, She looks straight ahead – not at he…” Shelley looked back at Lord with this line. He was smiling giddily as she finished the refrain. First solo was his, and he let it flow, hitting some of the some of the more overused modal scales and filling in with fairly standard substitutions. He knew Smith was standing at the bar taking notes, and would give him good constructive feedback, later. The bass player took a round, as did the drummer, and then Shelley took them back to the head, singing a new verse, one that Lord had never heard. He looked at the drummer, who feigned shock. Then he looked back over at Smith. The master piano player was standing as if at attention. His mouth was agape. Lord knew he was calculating possibilities. The song ended, and a polite, if not exuberant round of applause ensued. The loudest clapping came from Smith Dobson. Shelley paused a second. Smith issued her forth with a roll of his hand. She turned to the band and said, “Sweet and Lovely.” Lord said, “Key?” The bass player said, “B natural.” And Shelley launched the band into another old standard, singing with the same lovely, smokey voice. Lord was captivated. He had trouble keeping up on the keys, having forgotten the transition, but the bass player got him through, quietly calling chords to him until they reached the head again. Smith walked over and leaned down to Lord. “Who is she?” Lord said, “She’s mine.”
Posted on: Sun, 17 Nov 2013 01:35:50 +0000
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