Monday Night Live At The Orchid Room

“So what’s the job?”

F. looked at me sideways and stroked his beard, “I need someone I can trust to play Monday night.”

“Is that some kind of crazy code, man? Cos I gotta tell ya I have absolut’ly no idea what’s goin’ on here.”

He stood up and banged the top of the piano with his calloused ham fist. “Perfect! Puuuurf’ct, You got the job. Just one thing though. You must have a bass player.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call Bootsy. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, the boss is gonna be here and all I want you to do is to fiddle with the piano, different colours, you know, watch the reactions, who leads, who follows. I mean the point is you play Jazz, you understand time and these guys all speak different languages. They’re all exiles from somewhere. And then at the end of the night, tell me which one is the boss. I haven’t figured it out yet. It’s either the dame in the green dress who takes a real nice tattoo or the old man in the suit. Oh and have you seen those two Japanese gentlemen?”

“Is there two? I thought it was the same bloke twice in a Takeshi Kitano cloak. And what’s in it for me?”

He slammed his fist on the piano again and slapped me on the back and out of key. “Hah! I’ll give you a tattoo, for any one free person but not you.”

She appeared like a flight of birds gathering and settling on the piano, “Now F. stop annoying the piano player. He’s working. There are some gentlemen over here you must meet.”

“Let me know if you want the job,” he said as she led him away by the arm.


2 Responses

  1. *giggling* I like where this is going ….. please, by all means…let the man play a sweet soulful tune on the ivory keys…

  2. I’m hedging bets on the dame in the green dress.

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