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 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"