Double Grades

by Kristine Robinson

  I got back to the venue quickly and went straight to the downstairs bar. I didn’t usually drink, but this occasion called for additional courage. I turned around and there it was. The stage. It was small and elevated up only about forty inches off the well-worn wooden floor. A small drum kit was set up in the one corner, two guitars rested on stands on the other side and in the front, two microphone stands stared me down. I hurried out and up the stairs to take in the view from the upper deck.

  A group of thirty-somethings was sitting on the worn sofas in one corner. Their table was littered with beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. One of the guys was rhythmically tapping a drumstick on the table. I walked towards an empty single seater armrest on the opposite end. Maybe it was the band, I thought. When I put my empty cider bottle down on the table a guy in a driving cap stumbled closer.

  “Can I buy you another?” he offered.

  His breath reeked of stale beer. I drew backwards.

  “No thank you,” I replied. “I’m fine.”

  One of the girls at the opposite table looked at me. She shook her head and rolled her eyes in the direction of the drunk guy. I nodded and giggled. Bulky beads hung down over the front of her vest. Her skinny arms had a lovely dark beige tan. She looked a bit like a surfer. I ordered another cider and when the server put it down, he put a shooter glass beside it.

  “I –err, I didn’t order that,” I told him.

  “Ah no, that’s from Cale over there,” he replied, pointing to the skinny girl.

  “Oh okay.” I looked over at her. “Thanks!” I shouted and gave her a thumbs up.

  I sniffed the shot glass. It smelt like pineapple. I stuck my tongue into the liquid and then chugged it down. My friends would be shocked! I still couldn’t believe I was there in Charleston. And possibly going to get up on a stage and sing in front of people for the first time in my life! The pineapple flavor lingered in my mouth. The group with the skinny girl headed down the stairs.

  “See you downstairs, I hope,” she called up to me.

  I waved back and nodded. My mouth had become too dry to speak. The people were friendly here in Charleston at least. Hopefully, if I did gather the courage to step up on the stage, beyond Ultima Thule, they wouldn’t laugh at me! After I heard the third different voice sing, I got up slowly, took a deep breath of the cool ocean air and headed towards the music.

  Chapter 2

  I ground my teeth like a mill making flour. Could I really do it? What if they did laugh at me? Come on, it’s a small stage and there are only about thirty people watching, I tried to convince myself. Only thirty!

  “Who’s up next?” the MC asked. “Any other lovely ladies or guys want to brave it up here?”

  No! Yes. No!

  I forced my feet off the barstool rest and onto the floor. Maybe I’d let one more person go first. No! It was now or never.

  “Any other – ah there we go,” the MC continued. “What’s your name Red?”

  “Daisy,” somebody inside my body responded.

  He handed me the mic. It felt even heavier than one of my legal tomes.

  “Hey it’s you!” a voice behind me exclaimed, “Yeah!”

  I turned and glimpsed the girl from upstairs, now with her hands holding a black bass guitar.

  “What number do you want love?” the guy next to me asked.

  “Oh – err – Blue Moon, Mel Tormé style.”

  Then the beat of the drum started and I couldn’t turn back. My knuckles turned white, wrapped around the microphone. The stage’s light shone in my eyes and blocked out the faces of the audience. Just pretend you’re alone. You’re singing in the shower. The heat of the light warmed my skin like the steam and my grip loosened on the mic.

  Words started to tumble out of my mouth awkwardly like children’s building blocks. The pineapple liqueur taste lingered as the voice sang a line, and then another.

  “Someone I really could care for-”

  My friends would never believe I was here up on a stage. Singing.

  “Without a dream in my heart-”

  My body was light and tingly. My feet moved to the left and to the right along with my hips.

  “Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for-”

  The light from the candle bulbs in a wall-mounted candelabra flickered as the voice stopped singing. There were no more words. The song was finished. My hands kept hold of the microphone. My feet and hips were still. As was the room.

  I suddenly remembered to inhale, just as the bustling noise of the crowd wound up again like a music box.

  “Yeah!”

  “You were awesome!”

  I blinked and let go of the mic as the MC took it out of my hands. It was over.

  Clapping and whistling noises grew louder and louder as my brain processed the sound. Someone touched my arm and I swung around to the back of the stage.

  "You were fricking fantastic, girl!" the bass player said. "Well done!"

  A hand helped me down off the stage.

  “I err – was?”

  My feet were back on the wooden floor. Along with forty other pairs. Did I just sing to so many people, I thought.

  “Wow, you were amazing!” a short girl said.

  I nodded.

  “Great job!” an olive-skinned guy commented.

  I squeezed my way towards the bar.

  “Are you in a band?” a spiky-haired girl asked.

  “Err – no,” I replied. “This was my first time on stage.”

  “What? Really?”

  I reached the bar.

  “Here!” someone said and put a shooter in my hand.

  I looked down at it and straightened out a crease in my dress with my other hand.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  I put it to my lips and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. My body shuddered. It was not sweet like the last one. It tasted like medicine.

  “You’re definitely going to win!” a male voice said behind me.

  “Do you want a drink?” he asked as he squeezed in next to me at the bar.

  “Sure! I’ll have a cider, please.”

  The slow, rhythmic beat of the jazz drums started up again. A plump girl with a bow in her hair was on stage. Where I had just been. I had been up on that stage. And sang. To all those people. My heart was still beating at twice its usual speed.

  I sipped the cool cider and listened to the brave girl singing on stage. She was okay. Her pitch was off a few times. A guy came on after her and did an acid jazz song. He jumped around on the stage and nearly collided with the bass player. He was fun to watch. Then another girl and then a much older African American woman. The stage lights reflected the gray streaks in her hair.

  “I love that song you did,” a girl next to me said, “Do you like the Cowboy Junkies version of it?”

  “Yes,” I replied, “I love the Cowboy Junkies!”

  “Yeah? You sound like Margo Timmins!”

  I rested my forearms on the bar counter.

  “No ways!”

  “No you do,” the girl continued, “really!”

  A DJ replaced the band after the last competitor finished singing. I saw the band make their way towards the bar.

  “You were great!” the bass player said.

  “Thanks!” I replied, “I think it was that pineapple shooter!”

  She laughed. “My name’s Cale, by the way.”

  “I’m Daisy.”

  “Cool. Don’t you think she’s going to win the competition?” Cale asked the drummer.

  “I reckon,” he replied, “It was great to jam with you, Daisy.”

  Was I really hanging out with musos, drinking and having fun? I was. Then the MC was back on the stage. I turned towards the bar.

  “We are ready to announce the winner of the singing competition. Come inside everyone!”

  My foot tapped quickly on the floor.

  “We would like to welcome back to stage the wonderful, the talented and sexy – ”
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  I took a big gulp of my cider.

  “Daisy!” the MC shouted. “Well done for winning the competition! Please come up!”

  Was he joking, I thought.

  “Yeah!” Cale shouted next to me, “I told you!”

  She yanked me off my barstool and shoved me in the direction of the stage. My feet felt like lead bricks as the stage got bigger and bigger.

  “Here she is,” the MC announced, “our lovely polka dot jazz diva!”

  He reached out his hand and helped me up. The crowd clapped and whistled as he handed me a small shiny trophy.

  “We hope you’ll be back every weekend to charm us with that voice!”

  ***

  As I walked back to the bar, my feet barely touched the ground. Cale threw her arms around me.

  “I told you!” she exclaimed, “well done!”

  I still couldn’t believe it. I ran my fingers over the trophy’s smooth surface and put it in my bag.

  A half hour later I followed the band to the upstairs deck, now festooned with flickering fairy lights. How could I already feel at home with these people? I looked at the odd bunch, grinned and flopped down on the sofa next to Cale. She had a detailed sugar skull tattoo on her right shoulder.

  “You like it?” she asked, as she noticed me staring at her arm.

  “Yes, it’s beautiful!”

  I would never get one. I couldn’t, not with my profession. And besides my parents would disown me. The tattoo portrayed a female face with darkened eyes and pink roses in her hair. I wanted to reach out and trace over the ink lines with my finger. I giggled. I must’ve been getting drunk.

  The buzz of a mobile message vibrated through my bag. I unlocked the screen. It was the junior associates’ chat group. Someone must have been whinging about something.

  “Y u b so quiet, Daisy?” the message said.

  “What u doing?” another message flashed up on the screen.

  Should I tell them? No, I couldn’t dare. But it would be such fun! They probably wouldn’t believe me. Another message bleeped. Oh what the hell.

  “I’m in Charleston for the weekend!” I typed.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I laughed.

  “What?”

  “For real?”

  “Yes!” I replied. “At a jazz bar on the beach!”

  “No way!”

  “You go girl!”

  “That your boyfriend?” Cale leaned over and asked.

  I laughed. “Oh no, just work colleagues.”

  “Oh okay, what do you do?”

  I hated answering that question. I always thought people would think it terribly boring.

  “I –err – I’m a junior associate at a law firm-” I said, tapering off.

  “Wow, talented and a brainiac!” she joked.

  “Are you in a band,” the drummer asked me.

  “No, this was my first time on a stage!”

  “What!” he replied, bashing his beer down on the sofa armrest causing it to splutter out the top.

  “No way!” he continued.

  Cale leaned her shoulder against mine. “Yeah, natural talent, this one!”

  I blushed and reached for my cider. The touch of her skin on mine made my skin tingle. It felt good to have physical contact with someone. The only other person I ever received any affection from was my parents.

  Chapter 3

  I tried to remember the last time I had been intimate with a guy, as I looked around at the faces of the Charleston locals in the flickering lights.

  “So you live in Atlanta?” Cale asked.

  “Yes, I have an apartment which I barely spend any time in.”

  And now that I thought of it, I had never had a guy over there!

  “Aren’t there some massive mansions out there?” the drummer asked.

  I didn’t respond and looked down at the polka dots on my lap instead. My sigh was hidden by the buzz of the music and talking. People always judged me when they knew my parents were wealthy. I wanted a clean slate here.

  Cale looked at me and jumped in.

  “There are some massive old mansions here too, Denny! And I’m pretty sure some of them are haunted!”

  “Oh yeah, like the Old Jail!” Denny followed on. “They say a female serial killer haunts the cells and chokes people!”

  Cale patted the top of my hand with hers. I smiled gratefully at her. She left her hand on top of mine. I didn’t move.

  “And the Magnolia Plantation!” Denny said. “They say there’re ghosts there too. They even heard some creepy kid’s voice!”

  “Yeah, but the gardens are so beautiful!” Cale said.

  She’d taken her hand away to light a cigarette. I missed its warmth.

  “Have you been there before?” she asked me.

  “The plantation? No.”

  “Oh I must take you there!”

  Denny gave Cale a look. It didn’t make sense to me though. The server interrupted the moment as he leaned down and put the next round of drinks on the table. Why would Denny be jealous? Cale took her drink and walked over to an empty corner of the deck. I went to join her. I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She leaned with her arms on the narrow counter and smiled at me.

  “For what?” she replied.

  “Changing the subject earlier.”

  “Oh, yes,” Cale said. “I don’t like people all up in my stuff either.”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s go for a walk on the beach!” she said suddenly as she put her cigarette out on the floor.

  She grabbed hold of my hand and tugged as she skipped towards the stairs. I almost lost my balance, but grabbed hold of the barrier. Thank God Monday was a holiday in Georgia! I would never have survived the drive back if I’d left the following day.

  As we reached the sand she sat down and pulled off her boots and socks. I kicked off my wedges and held them in my hand. She ran down to the water and let the white frothy edges wash over her feet.

  “Come on Daisy!” she called.

  I trotted over to her side. She grinned mischievously, swung her foot through the water and splashed my dress.

  “Hey!”

  I splashed her back and laughed. Why did I enjoy her company so much, I barely knew her? I dug my bare feet into the soft sand as we walked along the beach and stole another glance at her slender silhouette.

  When we reached the pier we turned around and began walking back.

  “You were so awesome on stage, Daisy!” Cale said, looking at me earnestly. “You’re really talented!”

  I giggled. “Yeah – ”

  "You are!" she said and pushed me lightly.

  “Okay, okay,” I replied and laughed.

  She made me feel good about myself. And she didn’t take herself seriously like everyone else I knew.

  “Hey, you like oysters?” she asked, suddenly changing the subject.

  “Oh, yeah, I do!”

  “Thank God, I’m starving,” she continued. “There’s a great place just around the corner.”

  She grabbed my hand again and led me towards the next adventure.

  ***

  I flopped back onto my bed in the hostel and rested my head against the pillow. The smell of fresh linen enveloped me as thoughts rushed through my mind like a runaway train. I had seen her only ten minutes ago and already I missed her company. I couldn’t wait to see her again the following day.

  My mother’s frowning face haunted my dreams that night. When I woke up there was a text message from her on my mobile.

  “How are you darling? Not working too hard, I hope! See you later.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell her where I was. But I would have to make up some excuse for not being able to make the regular Sunday lunch appointment. There was only one viable excuse.

  “Super swamped with a motion. Going to have to skip this one! Sorry!”

  My guilt faded quickly as I hopped into the shower
and sang my victory song to the chipped tiles and dull faucets.

  “-there suddenly appeared before me-”

  My hand glided over my soft, soapy skin.

  “The only one my arms will ever hold-”

  Sailing downward, my fingers found a forgotten fervor. I let them lead me on, tease and tantalize until the yearning swelled and carried me off on a slow hungry wave. Her green eyes flashed before mine as the crest crashed over me. It pulsed through my body until it slowly ebbed and subdued the rise and fall of my chest.

  I stepped out of the steamy bathroom and stood naked in the bedroom.

  Chapter 4

  Our eyes traveled up the three stories of the ancient colonial structure to its charming spire. The splendor of the Magnolia Plantation house, set on its perfectly manicured lawns, could never be duplicated perfectly in a post card.

  “Boo!”

  “Argh!”

  I jumped as Cale poked me in the ribs.

  “It’s the ghoooosts!” she said and giggled.

  The light copper strands of her hair caught the sun in her side braid which hung down onto her shoulder.

  “This place is beautiful!”

  “Just wait until you see the rest!” she said.

  We started with a tour of the house and didn’t see any ghosts, though Cale kept making ghostly noises in my ear making me giggle. I had to suppress my giggles quickly, though, as the austere lady leading the tour glared at me for the second time. When we finally stepped outside the building, I couldn’t contain my giggles anymore and burst out laughing. Cale joined in and I reveled in the silliness of the moment.

  “Okay, no more ghosts please!” I joked.