London Harmony: Doghouse (2 page)

She knelt and pulled a playbill out from a folder.   She leaned in. “The underground scene is voracious for new offerings.”

I nodded my thanks as she pulled back and they started a classic, ‘Heroes’, by Satin Thunder.  I bowed to her and mouthed, “Thank you.”  She winked and I headed to the Apple Market she indicated.

I glanced at the playbill for some band.  The date was four years ago tomorrow night.  What was I going to do with this?  It was the London Underground so maybe it meant something.  I'd have to ask around.  There were boards for everything at the Market.  I found the music listings and pulled a couple tabs for people looking for electric bassists.  I could do that in a pinch if I couldn't find any string work, as long as they had a bass for me to play.

I pinned up one of my cards in each corner of the board then spun around to find more music.  I hear that so many famous people have come from, and still sometimes play on the streets of the Garden.  My appetite for music was various.  I spent the rest of the afternoon listening and dancing in the streets.

I must say that the rumors were right.  Except for one guy doing a rap set, I was impressed by all the performers I saw; I don't care for rap.  And I swear by the Village Vanguard that I watched Rayleigh sing a set on a corner there.  A bonafide superstar and her voice was pure honey.  Her platters don't do her justice.

I also saw something in the crowd around her that signaled I needed to make a hasty retreat.  Some numb-nuts pickpocket was working the crowd.  An amateur.  Everyone knows you only hit a couple marks at any venue.  When you hit too many at once your chances of getting caught, someone noticing, or the cops interceding, increases by an order of magnitude.  You might as well send up a flare.

I zeroed in on the guy, at least he was smart enough to ditch the plastic and the wallets.  But stupid enough to go after jewelry and watches too.  He didn't care who he hit, rich, poor, whoever.

I balked, only people who can afford it are marks, and cash only.  I bumped into him, then held his arm in a hand and looked down between us.  The greasy guy followed my gaze to see me holding the large wad of bills I lifted from him.

He gave me a half afraid, half angry look as I hissed, “Get lost.”  I let go of his arm and gave him a warning look when he watched me pocket his ill-gotten booty.  He turned and scurried off like a cockroach.  If it's one thing I can't stand is a lowlife without morals.  I'm a different kind of lowlife altogether.  I do have my own moral code, and what he was doing wasn't right.

I passed by Rayleigh quickly and dropped about a third of the cash in her box and made a beeline for the church.  The damn idiot had burned this place, it won't be safe to work the crowd, maybe for weeks now with how many people he was hitting.

I arrived at the church and Father Mike was there.  I retrieved my stuff and he walked me to the door.  I stuffed the rest of the cockroach's wad of cash into the church collection box.  Then turned to cross myself as I left.

As Father Mike held the door open for me, he asked, “You're a believer?”

I shrugged an apology to the man.  “I'm a hope-er.  So I hedge my bets, just in case.  I'll pray with the best of them, but you'll not catch me quoting scripture.  Call me superstitious.  Though I do believe in music.”

He was surprisingly accepting of that and said, “You make the effort, that is more than some.  And it is good to believe in something, music is always a good choice.”  Then he added, “The doors are always open for you here Liza.”

I nodded and smiled at the man.  I really liked this padre.  I started to turn but paused and asked, “What are some good clubs where a wandering doghouse bassist can catch some heat for some bread?”

He didn't hesitate and said, “You might try Ronnie Scott's, 606, or the Factory.”  I knew it!  He was down with the lingo.  The man knew the scene.

I couldn't stop my smile from consuming my face as I gave him a nod and said, “Thanks, Father Mike.  Have a great night.”

He returned my smile. “You too Liza. May...”

I held a finger up. “If you say 'may God go with you,' I swear I'll snort.”

I waved the grinning man off and he said with humor to my retreating back, “May the force be with you then.”

I snorted anyway.  Yes, I genuinely liked that pastor.  Now, time for some grub, away from here.  I started heading toward the heart of the city, putting distance between me and Covent Garden as the sun was dipping low on the horizon.

My phone started ringing and I pulled it out of my pocket and looked at the screen.  I smiled as I answered, “Hi there Gina.  Yes.  I'm free tonight.”  I love London already.

I had dinner with Gina in a quaint roadside cafe and it was a lot of fun. Gina was an absolute blast whenever I could break through her almost impenetrable shell of shyness.  She had a delightful giggle and I made it my job to keep her laughing just to hear it.  Again, can I pick them or what?

She nervously asked me back to her place for a movie and a drink, which I graciously accepted.  And we wound up on her couch, making out before long.  I've said it before, and I will say it again, the shy and bashful ones are the best kissers.  She was really heating me up.

When I started running my hands over her body, exploring her curves and slipping a hand under her shirt to lightly stroke her stomach as we kissed, she locked up.  I pulled back a bit, not moving my hand and looked into her eyes.

Shit.  I pulled my hand away at the look in her eyes.  I knew that look, I have seen it before.  A combination of fear, confusion, arousal, and... shame.  She was questioning her own sexuality and I was “safe” because I was leaving soon, she thought she might be a lesbian because she was attracted to people like me and she could explore the feelings without any strings attached.  But now that she was actually on the precipice to determine just who she was sexually, she was locking up.  It is a question that has some frightening consequences to some.

I know, I had been there myself when I was sixteen,  it was frightening and confusing... and exciting.  The shame in her eyes wasn't shame of herself, it was the shame she thought someone she cared about would have for her.  She didn't think they would approve, but she had to find out herself.  It eats at you, not understanding your attraction to others that some people may not approve of.  There used to be a stigma to being gay, to some extent it is still there, but modern culture is becoming more and more accepting.

I could see the tears welling, I had those tears once.  I placed a hand on her cheek. “Shhhh... It's alright Gina.  We're not going to do anything here you aren't comfortable with.  You are in charge.”  I stroked her cheek.  “I know it is confusing, being attracted to a woman when you thought you were straight.  And you may be straight.  Sexuality is a difficult thing to pin down sometimes. You can't help who you are attracted to.”

She blinked and tried to look down, I wouldn't let her.  This was too important to let drop.  “We can stop now and just talk if you want.  Okay?”  She clasped her hands together and rubbed them nervously with her thumbs and she nodded.

I moved off of her, where I was semi-straddling her and sat cross-legged on the couch facing her.  She took a similar position facing me.  I smiled at her to encourage her and brushed her hair out of her eyes.  She gave a nervous smile back.  Then we just discussed what she had been locking away and hiding from her family and friends for the past few years.  I shared my story with her, letting her know that no two people have the same experience when faced with their sexuality.

The one thing I impressed upon her that no matter what she determines, that whoever she winds up with, it is on her terms and her schedule.  You can’t force something as important as that.

She grinned at my admission that I was from the wrong era.  I was more suited to the free love atmosphere from the nineteen sixties.

It was getting pretty late, and I was actually really happy I had the conversation with her.  She seemed less confused and had a little bit of confidence.  Enough to say, “Whether I'm gay or not, you're a bloody good kisser.”

I crinkled my nose at her and said playfully, “For someone so shy, you're not bad yourself lady.”

She looked at my bass in its semi-rigid case leaning against the wall near her flat's door and smiled.  Then she placed her hands together, her fingertips on her lips and she squinted one eye and asked timidly, “Play for me?”

I grinned at her.  I never pass up a chance to play.  Since the first day I was just a scared little girl arriving at my uncle's house and he played for me, I have loved the doghouse.  It has such a soulful sound that you can feel vibrating deep in your very being.  This uncle, Slade, who had only visited us a handful of times because he was always on the road, played for me.  And I smiled for the first time since my parent's accident.

I was confused when my parents didn't pick me up from school.  Instead, a social worker picked me up and brought me to an office building.  They explained to me how my parents, who were park rangers in the Snoqualmie National Forest,  were on their snowmobile patrolling when they were caught up in an avalanche and were killed.

It was later that day when Uncle Slade arrived at that building with Audrey slung over his back.  He had left in the middle of a gig when word reached him in Chicago.  He hopped the first available flight to get to me.  He played for me that night.  Through my tears, I could feel the meaning of the music as he sang in his smoky, raspy voice as he plucked his bass.  I was hooked.

By the time I was old enough for a little 1/4 bass, I was learning all I could from Uncle Slade.  I've been playing since I was eight.  Jazz is in my soul.

I unzipped the semi-rigid case and pulled Audrey out.  She was a little banged up, scuffed, and well used, but I dare anyone to call her ratty.  Slade had named her after his favorite actress Audrey Hepburn, and she was sexy that way.  All curves and a tone of voice that came from heaven above.

I ran my hands lovingly over her and reminded myself I needed to use the bass humidifier on her soon, didn't ever want any of her wood drying and cracking.  I finally lifted her and walked over to the couch and stood there for a moment, plucking and tuning her stings, I shot a wink over to Gina.  She smiled hugely with those cute twinkling eyes.

Then I explained, “There aren't a lot of jazz pieces for the string bass alone, I've adapted a few, and I also have adapted quite a lot of modern pop and rock to jazz.  Let me play you one of my favorites.  It's sort of a jazz/blues fusion by Nina Simone.  It's called ‘Feeling Good.’”

I started singing the first couple measures, channeling the woman who more felt these words than sang them, my voice dropping to my lower register.  I loved the slow and seductive feel of the song.  It pulled you in and the words had multiple meanings, there was such depth to it.

Then I started in with Audrey, the pure, rich tone she could produce, even for how rough she looked, was unmatched.  Uncle Slade played her for decades and she knew how she was supposed to sound.  It was a partnership between her and me, we added to each other's voices to create something that soothed my inner turmoil.

I let the last note just hang there as Gina placed both hands over her heart.

“Bloody hell, Liza, that was beautiful.  It gave me the chills.  I wish I had that kind of talent.”

I smiled back at her and beckoned her to stand.  “Come here.  It comes from the heart, so it is easy to learn.”  I held Audrey at arm's length, holding an arm out.  She timidly stood and stepped up to me.  I wrapped my arm around her to get to the strings, holding the woman in a loose cage of my arms.

I tapped my hand on the back of the neck, behind the fingerboard.  “Hold her up here.”  Then I took her right hand and said, “Start counting to four in your head.  Then pluck the strings like this on the beat.”  I set up a four two beat with her.  “No, be firm, but gentle, like you are handling a lover.”  She blushed as I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

She said, “I can't do this, this sounds...”  She stopped when I started moving my hand on the fingerboard as she plucked, turning what she was doing into music.

I sang a couple lines of one of Slade's originals to her as her smile widened, her eyes twinkling in amazement.  I stopped and smiled at her. “See?  You're a natural.  That was supermurgitroid.”  I gave her a one handed hug as she blushed and then I let her escape to relax.

As I tucked Audrey back in, Gina asked, “That was... sexy.  Is that how you seduce all your lovers?”

I grinned back at her and tilted my head in acknowledgment and admitted, “Usually, but with you, I wanted to show you that you had heart and an old soul.”

Then I sat next to her and she yawned.  She looked at the time.  “It is getting late...”  Then she looked at me and my backpack by the door.  “You have a place to stay tonight?”

I crinkled my nose and chuckled. “I had hoped to share your bed tonight, but you need to resolve some things with yourself.  I can afford a motel room tonight until I can register with the youth hostel for a bed to flop on.”

She felt bold enough to slap my shoulder as she smiled. “You are so bad, you had intended to seduce me for a bed for the night?”

I looked down in mock embarrassment. “That had been the plan.  I make no apologies for who I am.”

Then she reached over and grabbed my hand and tugged gently as she stood.  She said softly, “You are such a bad one.  Come on, share my bed.  I'm not confused enough to turn down some cuddling from a bloody fit bird like yourself.”

I found myself liking this girl a lot and was happy I met her even if I wasn't going to get a chance to see that rockin' body she was hiding under her sweater.  She gave me a nightshirt and disappeared into the bathroom to put on one of her own.  Then it was my turn to change.  When I came out, she was in her bed holding the covers open.

I slid in and she placed her forehead on mine.  “Good night Liza.  Thank you so much for the talk, and understanding.”  Then she put a lip lock on me that made my toes tingle.  She pulled back and smiled demurely and turned her back to me and laid her head on the pillow.

I whispered, “You evil little minx!”  She giggled and I settled behind her, wrapped an arm around the giggling tease, and laid my head down.  I don't remember anything after I said, “Good night Gina,” and closed my eyes, happy I had made a new friend.