Chapter Six --Ginger, Cinnamon and Cloves--

Had I not been so absorbed in the bountiful stern of the S.S. Randy I might have noticed that Mr. Lounge was nowhere to be seen.  The man and his Zippo, who had led us safely through miles of dank subterranean corridors to the hippest gin joint I had ever seen, simply vanished. Harleigh must have had the very same thought. "I'm thinking he stopped off at the 'gents'", he offered as we took our seats.

Randy snapped her fingers -- a tray appeared. Our waitress, Ginger a tall cool redhead, also tightly wrapped in sapphire satin, dealt three triple-ply coasters with the skill of a Monte Carlo croupier. 

The paper goods were top shelf.  Napkins, coasters, box matches -- all custom. Turquoise with silver embossed letters read 'The Modern Lounge', I palmed the matches and slid them into my pocket. 

Ginger, our smokin' hot redhead, took a fast survey of the room, gave me a conspiratorial wink and replaced them.  

"The usual." she said, more statement than question. She didn't wait for our order.  The bartender was already putting the spears through our lime wedges. 

My eyes followed gorgeous Ginger  as she clicked away to fetch our drinks on sapphire satin spike heels. Of the half dozen spectacularly beautiful cocktail waitresses working the lounge, all satin, pointy toes, pearls and girdles, Ginger was the pick of the litter.

"Sapphire, tonic, extra lime" said Ginger leaning close to my ear ... she smelled like hot apple pie. 

"Perfect" I said, staring directly at her perky, lightly freckled knockers standing proud of their satin drapery. Ginger stretched over me to serve Harleigh's and Mr. Lounge's cocktails(also Sapphire and Tonic with extra lime) giving me plenty of time to drink in her spice -- cinnamon with a top note of clove. 

         

        As she turned to go she mouthed the words "Call Me." I heard them viscerally, mostly in my gentleman's area.

"Dial 'L' for Lounge" Chapter 6

Chapter Eight --No Ax, No Charts ... No Clue--

No Ax! No charts!  Ric had neglected to mention we were the blue plate special on this evening's entertainment menu. 

Harleigh and I, the twins -- Slack-jawed and Dumbfounded, froze while the crowd whistled and stomped. Mr. Lounge, who had been waiting just behind the 'teaser' curtains wetting his reed, stepped into the spotlight.  

Gone were the trench coat and fedora, replaced by a short sleeved Guayabera ( Cuban wedding shirt ) and white linen pants. The felt trilby he parked with Sharon at the coat check had been replaced with a straw pork pie hat with a bright blue band.  A vintage Selmer alto saxophone, silver with a gold bell, rested in a stand nearby. 

The jewel box stage at the Modern Lounge was barely big enough for three musicians and their instruments. There was tall, thin Ric and his saxophone, a primo three piece kit of vintage 'Sonor drums' for Harleigh and a fine old German gamba style doghouse ( in walnut ) for me.  Out in front was an upholstered podium with the double R which I assumed stood for 'Retro Rockets'. 

The rowdy crowd at Modern Lounge wasn't having any no. Harleigh was game ... after all he is a drummer.  

I could only hope that Mr. L was going to call a set of standards ( war horses we could fake without charts ). Or ...  that the crowd was already drunk enough and all they really wanted to do was dance. 

Squeezing the giant wedge of key lime, followed by a quick twizzle, I tossed back my perfect double 'Sapphire and Tonic'. The Gin was smooth ... even smoother than I remembered. The cocktail was strong but not 'burnt'. The tonic, handmade small batch, lots of fizz, one of those up market designer brands that cost nearly as much per ounce as the booze. 

Ginger materialized at my elbow and replaced my drink. What a great waitress, I thought. Later I'd like to throw her a really big tip. I downed that one too and jumped the footlights.

I'm pretty sure I remember what I was wearing when I left my flat this morning ... and it wasn't white linen pants ... must be the gin. 

Ric called his first tune.... "Sapphire & Tonic (with Extra Lime)"  in A minor.   

Dial 'L' for Lounge Chapter 8 No Ax

Chapter Nine -- The Dog with the Clementine Eyes --

We found the groove straight away. My borrowed bass nearly played itself, and those hep cats and kittens lapped us up like a saucer of warm milk.  Add to that the bottomless Sapphire and Tonics -- Ginger would pucker up and blow me a little angel kiss as she dropped off each round ... I was higher than a kite. 

When we broke after the first set, Ric went off to find Randy the hostess with the incomparable derriere. Harleigh had his eye on Sharon the coat check girl and I went back to the table to wait for pretty Ginger. 

We clicked, just like that, and the night was just beginning. 

Ginger was nowhere to be seen. But the brindle pup with the orange eyes was sitting on my chair. There was a drink with a straw in front of him. Serge Trouserin was propped up in Harleigh's seat, his eyes were closed and his hands were folded across his chest. 

" You can leave -- but you can't take anything with you. " said the brindle dog sipping on his cocktail. 

" Ginger want's to go with you ... but that's the tricky bit ... not impossible ... but difficult. " 

How does he do that? I thought to myself.  The dog is a dummy and Trouserin was the best darn ventriloquist I'd ever seen.  The dog turned to me and enunciated clearly "My named is Choire, I'm not a dummy ... I'll just pretend you didn't think that ...  actually it's Trouserin who's the stiff. I'm the headliner in this dog and pony show." 

Choire cocked his head and stared straight through me with his giant orange eyes. He turned back to his drink and took a long slow sip draining the glass. 

       

 " You need to leave immediately following the last set, after that ... you're here ... and this, my friend is the gig that never ends.  And, make sure that you take nothing from this side with you." 

At that moment Ginger arrived with two drinks, one for the dog and one more for me. 

Dial 'L' for Lounge Chapter 9 The Dog w/ the Clementine Eyes

Chapter Ten -- Miles at the Modern --

It was the first time all day that I was knocked off center.  I checked my mobile .... No service.

The trip down from the street -- about a million stairs in the dark to the Modern Lounge had been odd, but exhilarating ...  Ric's confidence infectious. Everything about the Lounge was happening, the drinks, the crowd ( who were actually there for the music ) and gorgeous Ginger ... I was already trying her on for size in my head.  The orange eyed, gin swilling pooch made it all come off the rails.  

Trouserin and the talking dog were on the stage again. As Serge delivered his slick poetized patter the brindle pup's orange eyed gaze burned a hole in my forehead. I studied his fuzzy muzzle for a tell ... not a whisker moved.  

Harleigh returned from a brief assignation in the coatroom with a smudge of tangerine lipstick on his chin. 

" I think I'm in love. " he said, sliding into the chair next to mine. He was flushed, sweaty and his shirt wrinkled. " Sharon is smokin' hot, and she's nuts about me. ... Trig, this kinda thing doesn't happen to me."  I smiled and nodded, there was no need to kill his buzz just yet ... I had suspicions but I wanted a second opinion.

Flawlessly, the brindle pup threw his voice, animating his mustachioed, fez wearing puppet.

  " Lords and Ladies ... cats and kittens " chanted Trouserin, " We have royalty in the house tonight and he's graciously agreed to favour us with a tune or two. " The dog smiled at me showing all his teeth and winked.  Although Trouserin's lips were moving I knew that it was Choire who spoke. " Lords and Ladies ... The Modern Lounge is pleased as punch to present ... I give you the one the only ... Mr. Miles Davis ". 

" Damn! " I said grabbing for Harleigh's arm. " Dude! ... Miles is dead. " Harleigh was already up and out of his chair headed back to the coatroom for a few more stolen moments with his new paramour.  He called to me over his shoulder, " Dude! ... So are we. "

Dial "L" for Lounge Chapter 10 Miles at the Modern

Chapter Eleven -- Backside Story --

If in fact I really was dead, then I had missed the dying bit ...  which, I thought, was not altogether a bad bargain. My only regret was I hadn't gotten around to doing much in my very short life. Had I know that I was going to check out this soon I would have burned the candle at both ends with more enthusiasm.

My first impulse was to examine my hands. I have no idea why ... I just turned them over looking for some sort of proof of life ... or not. My finger tips were getting cold.  

" Sorry kid " said Ric, pulling his chair in close to mine, " I thought you knew ... you showed up right on time.  Actually the bus, was running a little early ... you never knew what hit you. And Harleigh ... well suicides often run late.  They can't make up their minds ... it's a big step." 

" I don't feel dead " I said knowing full well that I had no idea what dead felt like.  

Ric pulled the Zippo lighter out of his pocket. He polished it with a cocktail napkin and put it in front of me.  " This lighter saved my life " he said. " I'd like to tell you it was war related, dodging bullets on the front line,  bravely leading my battalion ... but, in fact, it was about a dame. " 

On cue Randy arrived with a fresh Sapphire and Tonic for Ric.  The way she squeezed his lime and slowly swizzled his gin bordered on pornographic.  As she sacheted away,  her glorious posterior told the tale.

"Say no more" I said to Ric,  " Who could blame you."

Dial 'L' for Lounge Chapter 11 "Backside Story"

Chapter Thirteen -- Not One Detail --

Ginger was waiting for me by the coat room.  She had changed from her Modern Lounge uniform, the ice blue satin, skin tight sarong, into what she had been wearing when she died ... a wet floral sun dress accessorized with matching wrist and ankle ligatures. Her feet were bare. 

  Like a pair of proper bridesmaids, Ric's girl (and his attempted murderess), Randy, and Sharon the coat check girl, main squeeze of the recently deceased drummer Harleigh Holmes were busy arranging Ginger's damp clothes and hair. There was discussion of removing the butcher's twine from around her neck. 

The dog insisted that not one thing ... not one detail could be altered from the way Ginger had arrived.

" Nothing added, nothing subtracted that's the way it always been. Plausible deniability and not a shred of evidence that there is and 'after ' " Choire said, studying Ginger for any possible trace of  the Lounge. 

" Did she come with that earring? " the dog inquired. Ginger confirmed that she had only been wearing one when she died ... the other had been torn out in the struggle.

My feelings of tenderness for lovely Ginger were replaced with blind rage for the son of a bitch who had done this to her. Dead was one thing ... this was altogether a different matter. 

" There'll be none of that Mixter " Choire said, never bothering to look at me. " the guy who did this is doing life without the possibility of parole and when he finally arrives I'll assign him 'back of the house' where he'll wash dishes without gloves in bleach water for eternity. " 

Dial 'L' for Lounge Chapter13 'Not One Detail'

Chapter Fourteen -- Last Call --

The big round clock above the bar, a spectacular example of the golden age of advertising art, was a mosaic made of blue and silver mirror. Letters arrayed around the face between concentric rings of white neon, read, 

 "At the Modern Lounge ... It's Always Sapphire Time." 

It was ten minutes until midnight. The bartender raised his hands above his head and tapped his imaginary wrist watch. The waitresses cycled through their sections announcing  "last call for alcohol."

Charlie Parker finished up with 'Ornithology'. A double gin and tonic waited at his private table. 

Standing alone in the cold blue spotlight, Mr. Lounge began to play a one two punch called 'Powerhouse'. 

He spun a hologram of notes designed to make your nose bleed. Three minutes in, he pulled up on the throttle, teeing up Harleigh Holmes for a death defying seven minute drum solo. 

Choire,  the talking dog jumped up on to a bar stool and began to run down 'The rules for a safe return to the land of the living'. He was very specific.

" You need to leave before midnight... that gives you about four minutes ... Take nothing,  leave nothing ... you must leave exactly the way you arrived ... Are you both clear on that. " We nodded. 

" Now take hold of Ginger's hand. This is critical ... don't, under any circumstances, look back at her until you arrive safely upstairs. Don't speak to her or anyone you may see on the way out ... and leave the building immediately." 

Ginger bent over Choire and gave the brindle pup a sloppy kiss. She scratched him behind the ears and said "Catch you later kiddo."  

The Dog read the the question that hung in a bubble over my head. "You'll know you've made it ... the sun will be shining. Take her home ... love her... treat her right .... have kids ... get old.  This will all fade away in no time." Ginger slipped her icy hand into mine and moved behind me. 

Sharon the coat check girl refunded two silver dollars ... they flipped through the air and landed in Ric's outstretched hand.  Randy held the exit doors open allowing  the Stygian black to pour in. It was even darker than I remembered. 

Ric and I shook. Both our hands were cold this time. " Are you going to stay for good? " I asked Ric. 

" I have a special arrangement with the management "  Ric answered, " I pretty much come and go as I'm needed ... Something like a tour guide." Your going to need this " he said pressing the Zippo into my hand. 

I looked at Choire for the referee's call. 

" How the hell did you think you were going to find your way out ? " the dog said rolling his orange eyes  

" Leave the Zippo with the desk clerk upstairs. "

As Harleigh Holmes launched into his final assault on the cymbals I stepped into the dark hallway with my lovely, dead, Ginger in tow.

Dial 'L' for Lounge Chapter14 'Last Call'

Chapter Fifteen -- Resurrection Hotel --

The Zippo blazed filling the corridor with a halo of comforting light. I held the lighter at eye level to avoid catching a glimpse of Ginger's shadow on the walls. The Dog hadn't mentioned reflections or shadows ... I just wanted to be on the safe side. Behind us in the distance Ric serenaded  our escape with a reprise of "Harlem Nocture". I'll never hear that elegant old war horse in just the same way, I thought as we hit the first flight of stairs. 

I ran as fast as I dared. Ginger's bare feet slapped in the puddles behind me as we began our hasty retreat from the underworld.  As we reached the top of the stairs I felt my Ginger's fingers growing warmer. 

The dripping stopped. The tile dried and the corridor seemed less dank.  A pale green glow of an exit sign in the distance promised resurrection. 

The door was flush without a handle. I deduced that was because no one ever left. But Ric he comes and goes there must be be a way ... I felt along the trim and at the threshold.  Behind me Ginger began to sob softly.

I knocked. The door opened. Light poured in. It was not the sapphire light of the Modern Lounge but it also wasn't sunlight either ... we weren't out of the woods yet . The dog's words ..." no looking back no talking to Ginger or anyone you may meet along the way." 

The light was from a thousand golden A-lamps,  Edison's  first, and to my eyes, the finest light bulb ever made. Warmth, life ... gratitude washed over me. Ginger's hand was hot and sweaty. We stood in the same lobby Ric, Harleigh and I had passed through on our way to the underworld. The rotting carpets, and couches were new again the formerly dead parlour palms were brilliant green. 

I snapped the Zippo shut and walked toward the reception to leave it with the desk clerk. Who, as it turned out was none other than Harleigh  Holmes . He put his finger to his lips reminding me not to speak.  

I surrendered the blessed life saving Zippo. Harleigh winked and pointed to the vestibule, floor to ceiling sparkling glass, where I shared a cigarette with Mr. Lounge five minutes or a million years ago. Beyond the glass partitions ...  sun lit up the bluest sky. 

Chapter Sixteen -- " See You Around Kiddo ... " --

We had only to cross that last threshold into the perfect light of our first day. 

Ginger squeezed my hand ... we both stepped back into the land of the living. The fresh air and sunlight landed like the first hit of a very pure drug.  " When the dog told you we'd know ... this is what he meant. " said Ginger. She came around in front of me and folded into my arms ... we stood still listening to the sounds of pigeons and distant traffic.

Ginger stood on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss that put my entire future clearly in focus. The butchers twine was gone from around her throat, as were the ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. Her sun dress and hair were dry ... her feet were still bare.

" Take me home and take me to bed." she whispered. 

The streets which had been deserted and decaying on my way to the Modern were familiar again ... the urban mix of ethnicities, the languages, foods and the United Nations of pedestrians were from my old neighborhood. My building was less than four blocks down and the bus that had my name on it passed without incident.  Today, as it turned out, was not a good day to die. 

On the corner stood the coffee shop where I had eaten countless 'Lumberjack' breakfasts and 2:00 AM, after the gig, cheeseburgers. Waiting patiently by the front door for his master sat a brindle pup with remarkable orange eyes. Ginger stooped to scratch him and he stood on his hind legs to lick her face.  " Isn't he adorable? " said Ginger, as though she had never laid on eyes him. I was sure I had seen him somewhere but I could not recall the circumstances.

" I'm famished. " said Ginger dragging me into Otto's Home of the Bottomless Cup. All the tables were full but there were two seats open at the end of the counter. A man in a trench coat moved his coffee mug down so we could sit together. " Thank you sir. " said Ginger,  jumping up onto the stool. I put out my hand to acknowledge the kindness. " Ric's the name. " he said. His shake was firm but his hand was on the cool side. 

Ginger ordered the menu ... the whole menu. " I feel like I haven't eaten in years." she said, chowing down her third blueberry pancake, washing it down with yet another diet coke. " You'll need a second job to keep her fed " said Ric.  Otto came by and refilled my coffee cup and Randy the waitress brought the check. 

" While my girlfriend cleans out the kitchen, I thought I'd step outside for a smoke. " I said.

" Mind if I join you? " said Ric.  We stood outside the front door down wind of the brindle pup. Ric unwrapped a brand new pack of Marlboros, he tapped the pack and offered me the first soldier. He went for his pocket to light us up ... " You know I lent it out and said leave it for me at the front desk of my hotel. " he said. 

I could see my Ginger from the doorway she was pouring syrup on a fresh short stack. She was so beautiful ... mad sun-bleached hair, freckles, tanned legs and barefeet ... why, I thought would she have left home this morning without shoes ? 


“ I might have some matches. " I said reaching into my trousers. 

From my pocket I pulled a box of matches ... the  custom sort they have at really fancy places. On the sapphire foil box, in raised letters it said,  Compliments of the Modern Lounge.

The instant I read the words, I knew. " Take nothing with you ! " the Dog had said it a hundred times. 

The last thing I saw .... Ginger getting smaller as she and Ric, Randy, Serge and Choire receded into the darkness at the end of the counter. The last thing I heard was my Ginger crying out ...

" See you around kiddooooo .... "