by Ayo Campbell
She had some money of her own, and on Monday, the only day the diner was closed, she did a little shopping. The neighborhood had changed so much. When she was a girl it was a pretty hollow place dominated by liquor stores and bars. But, in the time she was gone, it was slowly being gentrified. There were actual deli-markets that sold real groceries. The bars had risen to the level of taverns, and even the liquor stores looked clean.
She found a cute little secondhand shop that had some very nice things. She walked out with a pretty maroon club dress that complimented her complexion so nicely. It had a cross wrap across her chest and a ruched skirt that was short enough to look cool, yet long enough to be modest. It did, however, take her three other shops to find the right heels, and then she overpaid. Collie loved the outfit. Bootsy thought that it was trashy.
Justin had said that he’d pick her up, and as Vanessa stood looking out the diner window she could feel the patrons, and Collie, staring at her ass. She wondered what Justin would show up in. She imagined an old Ford or Chevy that he would have borrowed from a relative, stinking of cigarettes and with empty beer cans rolling about the back floor. Instead, at the appointed time, a Yellow Cab pulled up and honked.
“Cool,” Collie said. “Limo service.”
“He probably cashed in his coin jar for this,” Vanessa said.
“Quit being so negative. Go. Have fun.”
Vanessa grabbed her purse and left. In the cab, she froze. She gaped a moment. Justin was in a very modern, very stylish three-piece suit. It was a misty sort of grey, and it seemed to sheen like silk. Beneath the vest he wore a pink shirt and a maroon tie that was a shade darker that Vanessa’s dress. His neatly folded handkerchief matched, and his shoes looked like the ones the finer guests at Tula’s wore.
“Vanessa,” he said, taking her all in, then looking her straight in the eyes. “You look lovely.”
“Justin…”
“Told you that I had a suit. Shut the door, the meter’s running.”
And so sitting, she still stared at him. He looked good, and he looked scruffy. His dress was impeccable, down to his onyx cufflinks, and yet he still had that perpetual stubble. His hair was neat, but pulled back loosely. Staring at him, she though he would fit into a nightclub perfectly. He had that rich, rakish look that the hipsters all tried so hard to cultivate, but on him, it worked.
They talked the light talk of things that they knew: the diner, the weather, and the like. At the club, as they got out, the smiling driver thanked Justin. But no money changed hands.
Justin put on a pair of sunglasses; they were Gucci aviators with silver horns. The door bouncer smiled, nodded, and told them that there was a fifteen-dollar cover. As Vanessa reached into her purse, Justin handed the man a credit card. The man smiled and nodded again, opened the door and handed the card to a waitress. The card was black.
The waitress was dressed in skin-tight, black satin leggings with heels, and a white, low cut tank with the word “Juicy” emblazoned in glitter. She was a curvaceous brunette with a bubbly personality, a fetching smile, and cleavage that the Lewis and Clark expedition would get lost in.
The club tried to give a feel of an old speakeasy. The hung ceiling was low and had alternating tin tiles with relief rivets. The tables were round and the chairs Spartan, but padded. The lighting was warm, almost red, and the stage bathed in cool white. There, a small combo was playing around with Night and Day, with the clarinet taking lead.
“Let me guess,” the waitress said, as she sat them at a table. “The gentleman will want a double scotch, neat. The lady…vodka martini with a twist – shaken, not stirred.”
“Whaa?” Vanessa said, laughing.
“You just look like a Bond-girl,” Juicy said. “Grey Goose?”
“Sure.”
“You do look like a Bond-girl,” Justin said, nodding. “Except Halle Berry had that short, natural hair thing going. Yours is wavy.”
“It is.”
“It’s nice. And I like what you’ve done with it. Back at Roxy’s you always have it pulled back. Now, it’s like a frame, the way the wave works. Very nice.”
“Thank you. Nice band.”
“If you say so.”
“But they seem young,” Vanessa said, sitting back and letting the sound surround her. “The keyboard is straying, and the bass is trying to keep things going, but licorice wants to drive. The boy needs seasoning. And that horn…”
“He’s new,” Juicy said, delivering their drinks. “But he’s almost better than their regular guy. They’re just a warm up. Kitty likes to give the kids some spot time. Hey, everyone starts somewhere.”
“So,” Justin said, “there’s another act?”
“Oh yeah. Michael Svenson. Heard of him?”
“He’s from Chi-town,” Vanessa said. “He still got that vocalist – what’s her name?”
“Whitney somebody,” the girl replied. “She’s not here. He’s just with his skeleton crew.”
“That’ll be cool.”
“So,” Justin put in. “How late does this band play?”
“I’d say, about a full beat behind the bass,” Vanessa said.
Juicy laughed as she pointed out the app menu. Then she went away.
“You know your stuff,” Justin said.
“I know some things,” Vanessa replied. “I listen. I learn. But I can’t do what these guys do. I play the radio. And even if licorice-man is eager, he’s doing miles and miles beyond a lot I’ve heard.”
“Licorice-man?”
“The clarinet player. It’s called a licorice-stick.”
“You know,” Justin said, settling back and sipping. “It does look like a licorice-stick.”
Vanessa grinned. She watched him watch the band. He held his drink in one hand. His other was on the table, fingers spread, his thumb and pinky tapping, following the bass. Every now and then he’d twitch.
Vanessa liked that he could get absorbed in the music. Despite his sunglasses, he was intent on the clarinetist as the boy wove around the melody. He was intent on the fingering. Every now and again, he’d sip his drink, but he never left his study.
Vanessa, on the other hand, was not all that taken by the music. She listened. She was polite. But she was wondering about Miss Kitty. She scanned the room. The place was crowded, but not packed. Some tables were chatting, but most were listening.
The waitresses floated about, all in the same garb. But then Vanessa noticed that they all had different words written on their tanks. One shirt read, “Bitch.” Another read, “Pink.” Another, “Cute.” One read, “Toy,” while another that Vanessa wasn’t sure she saw right, read “Slave.” She could guess what the Toy was all about, but she shuddered thinking about the Bitch and the Slave.
The band made a seamless transition into Someone to Watch Over Me, and with that tune they had Vanessa’s attention. Even Justin was smiling. They finished their set, and received good applauds.
“Thank you,” licorice man said, bowing. “That’s all for us tonight. It’ll be a few minutes for Michael and his group to set up. In the meantime, be kind to your waitresses.”
The houselights came up a little, and the waitresses made the rounds. Vanessa was trying to surreptitiously spy out for Miss Kitty, when she saw a woman who she knew had to be her.
She was a tall, voluptuous woman with lush, long, flaming red hair and such a soft complexion, like cream blushed with a hint of strawberry. She wore minimal make-up: simply liner, mascara, and blush. Her red lips looked natural. She was dressed something like an off-duty dominatrix; black bolero jacket revealing lovely cleavage; a wide, leather corset that was all belts and straps; a long black skirt that was cut high in the center, most revealingly; and knee-high, lace-up black patent leather stiletto boots. She was greeting people at various tables, chatting and laughing and looking so animated.
“That’s her,” Justin said softly.
“She’s stunning.”
“Hmm. I didn’t thin
k that you swung that way.”
“What?” Vanessa said, darting him a look. “I do not.”
“That’s a relief. Just, be careful; she does.”
“You know, you seem to know a lot about a lot of things.”
“And there’s a lot of things I know nothing about.”
“You are an interesting man, Justin…” Vanessa began, then stopped. “You know, I don’t even know your last name.”
“Time,” he said, grinning. “I’m Justin Time.”
Vanessa laughed.
“At least,” he added, “that’s what your mother always called me. But, look, Miss Kitty is drifting our way.”
And indeed, the redhead had seen the newcomers. She looked at Justin, pointed to him, and cocked her head as if puzzled. She strode up to the two. Vanessa’s heart raced.
“Don’t I know you?” Miss Kitty said to him.
Her voices felt velvet.
“Naw,” Justin said, waving his hand. “Nobody knows me.”
But just then, the house lights dimmed. A single spot lit a black man center stage. He was pealing out a long, slow, low progression on a sax. The air seemed to vibrate.
“Catch you later, baby,” Kitty said, disappearing into the shadow.
“Rats,” Vanessa muttered.
“No,” Justin said. “I think it’s Flamingo.”
Chapter 5
The tune hypnotized from the start. Michael Svenson and his skeleton band captivated. The organ behind kept things low and haunting, while Michael traded off with a guitar and trumpet so smoothly it was as though the room was bathed in silken sound.
There had been no introduction, and there were no real breaks in the music. The combo slid from tune to tune, covering everything from Girl From Ipanema to Blues in the Night. They played non-stop for almost an hour, ending with a lingering and entrancing rendition of St. James Infirmary.
The audience sat silent when the set was over, spellbound a moment, then two, then, as one, they stood and exploded in applauds. Michael took that opportunity to introduce the band, then said that they’d be back – and reminding people to be kind to their waitresses.
The house lights came up, and all the talk in the room was music.
“Mm-mm,” Vanessa said, sipping her watered drink. “That man got chops.”
“Chops?” Justin asked.
“He swings his ax well.”
“His ax?”
“His instrument,” Kitty said, standing by their table. Then turning to Vanessa, said, “So, you instructing Mr. Man-Who-Nobody-Knows?”
“Yeah,” Vanessa said, grabbing the opening. “He’s Justin, I’m Vanessa.”
“And I am your most humble hostess, Kitty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in her either, Vanessa.”
“My first time. I’m from Seattle.”
“Oooh, they got a good scene there.”
“I know,” Vanessa said, smiling. “I work at Tula’s.”
“You know Jasmine?” Kitty asked, her eyes brightening.
“I do. She’s sort of my mentor.”
“Way cool, baby.”
And with that, the two launched into talking about the two clubs and the musicians they knew. Vanessa was hopeful, particularly as the chat was starting to move in the direction of the business. Kitty seemed relaxed and honest. Vanessa was just thinking about how to turn their conversation to Roxy’s, when Justin interrupted.
“Excuse me, Miss Kitty?” he said.
“No one calls me that,” Kitty said, “except in my other occupation. You think that you might want to–”
“Uh, no,” he said, blushing a little. “But I think that one of your bartenders needs you, Kitty.”
They looked, and sure enough a girl with a tee shirt that read “Drink Me” was waving.
“Got to go, baby,” Kitty said. “You two have one on me.”
And with that, she left.
“Justin?” Vanessa said, perplexed. “Why did you do that? I was just getting around to–”
“Because her bartender was waving.”
“But I need—”
“Another round?” Juicy asked.
Both Justin and Vanessa nodded, and for totally different reasons.
“Look,” Justin said, leaning in and lowering his voice. “I know what you need to do. But I also know that you are impulsive, and I understand that in any negotiation, you do not shoot your wad on your first meeting.”
“Shoot my what?”
“Look, you’re not inviting the woman to dinner, nor are you pitching for a job. The kind of thing that you are getting into can quickly become confrontational – or at the least, you can wake up a sleeping dog.”
“Roxy’s is not a sleeping dog.”
“As far as Kitty is concerned, it is.”
They paused as Juicy served their drinks. The girl was savvy enough to know to disappear quick. Vanessa sipped. Then she looked at Justin, seeing her dark reflection in his sunglasses. She hated that she couldn’t make eye contact.
“So,” she said, “what are you saying?”
“Let me be your consigliore,” he said, leaning closer, raising his glasses. “And I am saying that you should go slow. Take your time. Get to know the woman. Be charming. Ingratiate yourself with her. Once she trusts you, and likes you, then you can begin to make a move.”
“You’re making this sound like some high-stakes corporate deal.”
“That’s because it is.”
“I think,” Vanessa said, leaning in toward him, the shadow of a grin on her lips, “that you are just looking for a way to have another date.”
“I thought that this wasn’t a date,” his glasses falling back down. “You made it quite clear that under no circumstances would there be sex.”
“That’s right, Mr. Man-Who-Nobody-Knows. We are–”
“Just Friends,” Michael Stevenson called out.
And with that, the house dimmed and the stage was bathed as the band struck up the lively number. Vanessa and Justin broke out laughing, and she realized that it was the first time that they had actually laughed together. Then in that spirit, Justin took her hand and mouthed the words, “Trust me.”
The next set was the night’s last, and this time it was sparkling and energetic, with Michael introducing numbers and making jokes. People got up and danced when they played Sunny Side of the Street. And maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was Vanessa’s relief that she could just sit and enjoy, but as the set was winding down, she realized that she was still holding Justin’s hand.
Michael called last call, and then, for their last number, the band played Sing, Sing, Sing. Grinning, Vanessa dragged Justin to the dance floor. The boy had moves.
They didn’t see Kitty again the rest of that night. Nor did Vanessa ever see a bill. Juicy met them at the door with a small clipboard with his card inside. Justin signed, and the girl’s eyes went bright.
“So,” Collie asked the next morning. “He try and kiss you?”
“Absolutely not,” Vanessa replied.
The diner was alive with another two dozen kids from another school for another Good Man breakfast
“So, you get a chance to talk with Miss Kitty?”
“I did. But we couldn’t get around to my business. She was busy.”
“So, that means you gonna have another date?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
Collie just grinned and went to fetch her own breakfast.
Justin hadn’t shown that morning, and Vanessa wondered if he might not feel a little awkward. But in the middle of the lunch rush, she saw him sitting on his stool, sipping his coffee and working his crossword. Never once did he refer to the previous evening, and when Collie tried to needle him, he gave her a look that shut her down fast.
And so the next few days in the diner went like that with him, and Vanessa thought that he had taken on his old persona as scruffy Justin. But when she casually mentioned one time about going
out again that next Wednesday, he seemed to change, just slightly. He nodded and smiled, then went back to his coffee.
She called Jasmine back in Seattle, to tell her that things were going slow, and that she needed to extend her stay. Jasmine was sympathetic, but when Vanessa mentioned meeting Kitty Durkin, she could feel Jasmine’s smile over the phone.
“If that woman steals you from me,” she said, laughing, “I am going to be very cross.”
That Wednesday night, Justin picked her up in a cab again, and was again dressed quite fashionably, with his sunglasses. He greeted her like an old friend, this time kissing her cheek as would a brother. Then, like a brother, he admonished her to stay cool with Kitty.
The door bouncer let them pass, and Juicy waved at them from across the room. Strolling in, Justin held Vanessa’s arm with something like pride as if he were showing off. Juicy tended them like family.
The music that night was rich. There were two combos, both very good up-and-comers. The playlists were like the last time; the first band starting things off in a mellow tone, showing off their style, while the second was bright and lively swing sounds.
Kitty looked so pleased to see them again, and again she schmoozed her new customers. She and Vanessa talked music.
On the cab ride home, traffic was light and easy. But as they cruised down Boylston Avenue, they and the cabbie were shaken when a cop car burst with lights and sirens behind them. The driver rammed the cab off to the right and Vanessa found herself thrown into Justin. Instinctively, she clutched him as the blue and red lights lit them up. But then the lights rushed past as the cop raced down the street.
The cabbie laughed in a nervous sort of relief as he pulled back into a lane. Vanessa moved to break away from Justin, but he held her – just that much. She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t resist. He was toned, and it was nice nestling against firm muscles. His scent was a compelling mix of some exotic cologne and his own natural musk, and it felt good being held by a man. When the taxi would take a turn, and she’d be shoved against him – just that much, she felt something stir in her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. And when they pulled up in front of Roxy’s, neither of them moved.