Opening Image: A ‘before’ snapshot of your hero and their world.”
– Jessica Brody, Save The Cat! Writes A Novel
The Midnight Room ran hot on Friday nights. Conversation hummed beneath the clink of ice and the soft percussion of glasses meeting tables. Smoke from the cigarettes drifted in thin ribbons, mixing with cologne and the faint sweetness of spilled bourbon. I knew the rhythm of the place the way I knew the Great American Songbook. I was part of a standard tune…filled with predictable sharps and flats.
I finished the last bars of “Sophisticated Lady” and let the final chord hang. Applause came in right on cue. Wallets came out for tips. Tourists had become predictable to me. They clapped, they danced, they paid, they left. Most of them had a good time before going back to their ordinary lives.
Mabel slid a whiskey onto the table beside my bench. She didn’t say anything. She never had to. But tonight she let her hand rest on the piano’s edge for a moment, fingertips touching the wood. I caught her eye and nodded. She didn’t nod back.
Behind the bar, mounted where everyone could see it, my face smiled down at the room. It was the new Havener Cigarettes poster. There I was, The Man with the Million Dollar Smile. A cigarette perched between two fingers I’d never used for smoking.
Mabel hated the sign.
I wasn’t crazy about it either.
Marty said it stayed. Marty’s word was law.
I closed the fallboard and moved to the merchandise table. A guy in an expensive jacket that didn’t quite fit put down a twenty for a CD.
“Didn’t know Vegas had jazz musicians this good,” he said. “I write a column for the Village Voice.“
“That so?”
“You’ve got conservatory hands playing casino music. Somebody should write that story.”
I signed the CD. “I grew up studying the greats. Duke. Dave. Oscar. Ahmad. Casino or not, the hands are real.”
He handed me a business card. “Seriously. Reach out. I’d love to feature you.”
I looked at the card. It was a New York number. Jazz capital of the world, as they say. I’d only been there twice, and never to play piano. I slipped his card into my jacket pocket.
“I’ll talk to my manager.”
“Manager,” he muttered. He shook my hand. Then he drifted off toward the bar.
That’s when I noticed the blonde had her sights set on me. She’d been watching from a table near the back. Her hair was parted down the middle and she had two stark blue eyes. She glowed as if she had swallowed the Las Vegas sun whole and made its radiance her own.
She was moving toward me, cutting through the crowd with self-assurance.
Arriving at the table, she looked down at my hands, lips slightly parted, then back up at me with her sky-blue eyes.
“Nice hands. They play beautifully. Can I buy you a drink after your next set?”
I gave her a smile. The million-dollar one. “I don’t have a next set.”
“Then you’re free?”
“Maybe.”
It was a conversation we both already knew the steps to. I’d had it dozens of times. Different faces, same choreography. She played her part and I played mine.
I reached into my jacket and came out with a room key. “Two-oh-eight. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there soon.”
She took it without hesitation. “You have a reputation around here. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Then she was gone, slipping back through the room toward the staircase.
A knot of jazz fans closed in, twenties ready. I smiled for them too.
The New York journalist’s business card poked at me through the fabric of my shirt.
Meanwhile, I sold three more CDs and let the smile work its magic.
The music had stopped, but the room kept playing. And I was the center of the performance.
Inspiration: Italian Photobusta, 19″ X 26.25″, used in promotion of the James Bond film Dr. No. Photobustas are vintage Italian movie lobby cards that blend film stills, printed illustrations, and typography into distinctive promotional designs.
Fun With Fiction may include low-resolution copyrighted images and brief quotations, which remain the property of their respective owners. They appear alongside original fiction and notes on how they shaped it, for purposes of commentary and education. I believe this qualifies as fair use under Section 107 of the U.S. Copyright Act. Fun With Fiction is not affiliated with or endorsed by any of these rights holders. If you own the rights to material that appears here and have concerns about its use, please contact me at derek@dlzboran.com. I’ll review your request promptly and credit or remove the material as appropriate.
