Chapter Seven -- Serge Trouserin --

The Master of Ceremonies tapped the microphone. The PA squealed. Some invisible sound tech wrestled the feedback and found the proper level. "Test Test Test". 

The MC was an imposing man, six four or five, dressed in expensive evening clothes --  a midnight blue cut away tuxedo, Turkish style velvet slip-ons and a white rosebud in his lapel . His hair, which shone blue in the spotlight, was pomaded straight back. He had a lavish mustache, waxed into wide handlebars ending in impossible curlycues. He wore a fez. Tucked under the big man's arm was a small brindle dog with keen orange eyes. 

The house lights and the hubbub trailed off ... all but the high end laughter and the chucka, chucka, chucka, of stainless shakers filled with gin and ice drifted away. 
  "Welcome to the Modern Lounge all you lords and ladies ... all you cats and kittens." chanted the MC. "Serge Trouserin's the name ... gin and jazz's the game." 
  His voice was slow and dark as diesel as he caressed the mic and whispered intimately to the standing room only crowd. 
 "You've been waiting patiently for the main event, the headliner ... the piece de resistance. 

Your patience, lords and ladies is about to be richly rewarded ... 'cause Mr. Lounge is in the house." 

The crowd roared it's approval. Serge waited for the din to subside then continued, 
  "Mr. L. has brought us some 'new talent' ( air quotes ) recently 'recruited' ( air quotes ) "from topside." 
 The audience responded with the back bencher's cheer of  "here, here, here" and a generous round of applause. 
  "Mr Lounge, as always, is going to seduce us with his sultry sax ... tonight on stand up bass, that would be the 'doghouse' to all you hep cats ... Lords and ladies ... put your hands together for Mr. Trig Mixter.  On the drums," Serge Trouserin continued, "the one, the only Mr. Harleigh Holmes". 

Serge Trouserin snapped his fingers two and four, his velvet turned up toe tapped four on the floor.  

 "Without further ado and nothin' in your pockets ... I give you The Modern Lounge's favorite band ..... Mr. L and the 'Retro Rockets'."

Dial 'L' for Lounge Chapter 7 Serge Trouserin

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