Lucid Waking

Archive for June 22nd, 2009

That’s the End of the That

        He smelled her long before his eyes could adjust to see her: the putrid smell of manufactured lilacs, faint odor of nail polish, the cigarette smoke, the leather, the makeup. He never gagged, but he felt like he should have some sort of reflex kicking in to counter the wall of odors into which he walked. When his eyes adjusted he could see her silhouette and she turned to face him, making her Grecian nose and full lips, which were noticeable in her profile, invisible.
        “I didn’t think it was a good enough night for you to be out on the prowl,” she said in her thick, fake Assyrian accent. She always liked flaunting her ethnicity.
        “Cut to the chase, Lucine. I got your letter and you aren’t here to taunt me.”
        She took an irritated drag from her cigarette. “Then you know why I asked you here.”
        “I’m a little puzzled as to why here, but that’s not really the issue you plan on addressing.”
        She sighed dramatically. “Maybe we should sit down; I’m getting a little light headed.”
        He rolled his eyes, but followed her retreating figure to a bench she knew was there. She took another deep breath and then turned to face him again. She forcefully grabbed both of his hands and placed them on her lap, so that she could bring her face closer to his. The stench of her perfume and makeup were consuming and he bit his lip to keep from gagging, but she didn’t notice.
        “I’d like to apologize for leaving you high and dry at the show,” she said. “You deserved to get paid for all of your work and I should have made sure to see you first after I was done performing. Regardless of the fact that I had delicate matters to deal with regarding recording contracts and performing deals, I needed to put my best bassist first and I’m very sorry. In fact,” he heard her leather coat creak as she reached inside a pocket and shoved a wad of balmy paper in his hands, “here’s the money plus a little extra for your troubles.”
        He put the cash in his pocket and slid farther down the bench to get away from her. “Right. And what’s this little rumor I heard that you’re hiring all new musicians?”
        “Not true,” she said. “I’d never get rid of Nadine.”
        He laughed. “Nadine told me you were getting a new band, but she’s on contract, so you can’t get rid of her yet.” He stood up and tried to get his bearings, making one last valiant effort to get the last word in the conversation: “That was a good act you put on—and thanks for the cash.”
        But he knew she always ended things and as soon as he had found the path back out of the park, he felt her at his shoulder floundering after him in her high-heeled shoes.
        “Good luck finding a job with the market these days. Not much demand for a musician and you know, without me, you’re just a nameless face.”
        He made an effort to smile. “That only means I have something to build on, instead of being stuck with a reputation that’s killing my career.”
        “Killing it? You clearly haven’t seen the tabloids. Well, toodles! I hope you die in a ditch.”
        He paused as she turned her back on him and swaggered down the sidewalk to where her chauffeur was waiting in her red car. “I hope you do, too,” he mumbled back to her as he turned the opposite way to walk around the block. His car was parked right behind hers, but it wasn’t worth the hassle to be around her any more than he had to be.

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