I indicated the CD beside me on the sofa. “I don’t know if it would interest you. You don’t have to listen…”
“Oh, but I do, I absolutely do. Here, let me see it.”
I handed her the CD. “It’s a band I played with in Pasadena. We played standards, old-fashioned swing, a little bossa nova. Nothing special, I just brought it because you asked.”
She was examining the CD case, holding it close to her face, then away from her again. “So are you in this picture?” She brought it up close again. “I’m kind of curious what you look like. Or I should say, what you looked like.”
“I’m second from the right. In the Hawaiian shirt, holding the ironing board.”
“This one?” She stared at the CD, then over at me. Then she said: “Hey, you’re cute.” But she said it quietly, in a voice devoid of conviction. In fact, I noted a definite touch of pity there. Almost immediately, though, she’d recovered. “Okay, so let’s hear it!”
As she moved towards the Bang & Olufsen, I said: “Track number nine. ‘The Nearness of You.’ That’s my special track.”
“‘The Nearness of You’ coming up.”
I’d settled on this track after some thought. The musicians in that band had been top-notch. Individually we’d all had more radical ambitions, but we’d formed the band with the express purpose of playing quality mainstream material, the sort the supper crowd would want. Our version of “The Nearness of You”-which featured my tenor all the way through-wasn’t a hundred miles from Tony Gardner territory, but I’d always been genuinely proud of it. Maybe you think you’ve heard this song done every way possible. Well, listen to ours. Listen, say, to that second chorus. Or to that moment as we come out of the middle eight, when the band go III-5 to VIx-9 while I rise up in intervals you’d never believe possible and then hold that sweet, very tender high B-flat. I think there are colors there, longings and regrets, you won’t have come across before.
So you could say I was confident this recording would meet with Lindy’s approval. And for the first minute or so, she looked to be enjoying herself. She’d stayed on her feet after loading the CD, and just like the time she’d played me her husband’s record, she began swaying dreamily to the slow beat. But then the rhythm faded from her movements, until she was standing there quite still, her back to me, head bent forward like she was concentrating. I didn’t at first see this as a bad sign. It was only when she came walking back and sat down with the music still in full flow, I realised something was wrong. Because of the bandages, of course, I couldn’t read her expression, but the way she let herself slump into the sofa, like a tense mannequin, didn’t look good.
When the track ended, I picked up the remote and turned it all off. For what felt a long time, she stayed the way she was, stiff and awkward. Then she hauled herself up a little and began fingering a chess piece.
“That was very nice,” she said. “Thank you for letting me hear it.” It sounded formulaic, and she didn’t seem to mind that it did.
“Maybe it wasn’t quite your kind of thing.”
“No, no.” Her voice had become sulky and quiet. “It was just fine. Thank you for letting me hear it.” She put the chess piece down on a square, then said: “Your move.”
I looked at the board, trying to remember where we were. After a while, I asked gently: “Maybe that particular song, it has special associations for you?”
She looked up and I sensed anger behind her bandages. But she said in the same quiet voice: “That song? It has no associations. None at all.” Suddenly she laughed-a short, unkind laugh. “Oh, you mean associations with him, with Tony? No, no. It was never one of his numbers. You play it very nicely. Really professional.”
“Really professional? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean… that it’s really professional. I mean it as a compliment.”
“Professional?” I got to my feet, crossed the room and got the disc out of the machine.
“What are you so mad about?” Her voice was still distant and cold. “I say something wrong? I’m sorry. I was trying to be nice.”
I came back to the table, put the disc back in its case, but didn’t sit down.
“So we going to finish the game?” she asked.
“If you don’t mind, I’ve got a few things I have to do. Phone calls. Paperwork.”
“What are you so mad about? I don’t understand.”
“I’m not mad at all. Time’s getting on, that’s all.”
She at least got to her feet to walk me to the door, where we parted with a cold handshake.
I’VE SAID ALREADY how my sleep rhythm had been screwed up after the surgery. That evening I became suddenly tired, went to bed early, slept soundly for a few hours, then woke in the dead of night unable to go back to sleep. After a while I got up and turned on the TV. I found a movie I’d seen as a kid, so pulled up a chair and watched what remained of it with the volume down low. When that was over I watched two preachers shouting at each other in front of a baying audience. All in all, I was contented. I felt cosy and a million miles from the outside world. So my heart just about jumped out of my chest when the phone rang.
“Steve? That you?” It was Lindy. Her voice sounded odd and I wondered if she’d been drinking.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“I know it’s late. But just now, when I was passing, I saw your light on under your door. I supposed you were having trouble sleeping, just like me.”
“I guess so. It’s difficult keeping regular hours.”
“Yeah. It sure is.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Sure. Everything’s good. Very good.”
I realised now she wasn’t drunk, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was up with her. She probably wasn’t high on anything either-just peculiarly awake and maybe excited about something she had to tell me.
“You sure everything’s okay?” I asked again.
“Yeah, really, but… Look, sweetie, I have something here, something I want to give to you.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“I don’t want to say. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Sounds interesting. I’ll come and get it, maybe after breakfast?”
“I was kinda hoping you’d come and get it now. I mean, it’s here, and you’re awake and I’m awake. I know it’s late, but… Listen, Steve, about earlier, about what happened. I feel I owe you an explanation.”
“Forget it. I didn’t mind…”
“You were mad at me because you thought I didn’t like your music. Well, that wasn’t true. That was the reverse of the truth, the exact reverse. What you played me, that version of ‘Nearness of You’? I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. No, I don’t mean head, I mean heart. I haven’t been able to get it out of my heart.”
I didn’t know what to say, and before I could think of anything she was talking again.
“Will you come over? Right now? Then I’ll explain it all properly. And most important… No, no, I’m not saying. It’s gonna be a surprise. Come on over and you’ll see. And bring your CD again. Will you do that?”
SHE TOOK THE CD from me as soon as she opened the door, like I was the delivery boy, but then grasped me by the wrist and led me in. Lindy was in the same glamorous dressing gown as before, but she looked a little less immaculate now: one side of the gown was hanging lower than the other, and a woolly dangle of fluff was caught on the back of her bandages near the neckline.
“I take it you’ve been on one of your nocturnal walks,” I said.
“I’m so glad you’re up. I don’t know if I could have waited till morning. Now listen, like I told you, I have a surprise. I hope you’re gonna like it, I think you will. But first I want you to make yourself comfortable. We’re gonna listen to your song again. Let me see, which track was it?”
I sat down on my usual sofa and watched her fussing with the hi-fi. The lighting in the room was soft, and the air felt pleasantly
cool. Then “The Nearness of You” came on at high volume.
“Don’t you think this might disturb people?” I said.
“To hell with them. We pay enough for this place, it’s not our problem. Now shhh! Listen, listen!”
She began to sway to the music like before, only this time she didn’t stop after a verse. In fact, she seemed to get more lost in the music the longer it went on, holding out her arms like she had an imaginary dance partner. When it finished, she turned it off and remained very still, standing at the end of the room with her back to me. She stayed like that for what felt like a long time, then finally came towards me.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “It’s sublime. You’re a wonderful, wonderful musician. You’re a genius.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I knew it the first time. That’s the truth. That’s why I reacted the way I did. Pretending not to like it, pretending to be snotty?” She sat down facing me and sighed. “Tony used to pull me up about it. I’ve always done it, it’s something I don’t ever seem to get over. I run into a person who’s, you know, who’s really talented, someone who’s just been blessed that way by God, and I can’t help it, my first instinct is to do what I did with you. It’s just, I don’t know, I guess it’s jealousy. It’s like you see these women sometimes, they’re kind of plain? A beautiful woman comes into the same room, they hate it, they want to claw her eyes out. That’s the way I am when I meet someone like you. Especially if it’s unexpected, the way it was today and I’m not ready. I mean, there you were, one minute I’m thinking you’re just one of the public, then suddenly you’re… well, something else. You know what I’m saying? Anyway, I’m trying to tell you why I behaved so badly earlier on. You had every right to be mad at me.”
The late-night silence hung between us for a while. “Well, I appreciate it,” I said eventually. “I appreciate you telling me this.”
She stood up suddenly. “Now, the surprise! Just wait there, don’t move.”
She went through into the adjoining room and I could hear her opening and shutting drawers. When she came back, she was holding something in front of her with both hands, but I couldn’t see what the something was, because she’d thrown a silk handkerchief over it. She halted in the middle of the room.
“Steve, I want you to come and receive this. This is going to be a presentation.”
I was puzzled, but got to my feet. As I went to her, she pulled off the handkerchief and held towards me a shiny brass ornament.
“You thoroughly deserve this. So it’s yours. Jazz Musician of the Year. Maybe of all time. Congratulations.”
She placed it in my hands and kissed me lightly on the cheek through the crêpe.
“Well, thanks. This is a surprise. Hey, this looks pretty. What is it? An alligator?”
“An alligator? Come on! It’s a pair of cute little cherubs kissing each other.”
“Oh yeah, I can see it now. Well, thanks, Lindy. I don’t know what to say. It’s really beautiful.”
“An alligator!”
“I’m sorry. It’s just the way this guy has his leg stretched all the way out. But I see now. It’s really beautiful.”
“Well, it’s yours. You deserve it.”
“I’m touched, Lindy. I really am. And what does this say down here? I don’t have my glasses.”
“It says ‘Jazz Musician of the Year.’ What else would it say?”
“That’s what it says?”
“Sure, that’s what it says.”
I went back to the sofa, holding the statuette, sat down and thought a little. “Say, Lindy,” I said eventually. “This item you’ve just given me. It’s not possible, is it, you came across it on one of your midnight walks?”
“Sure. Sure it’s possible.”
“I see. And it’s not possible, is it, this is the real award? I mean the actual gong they were going to hand to Jake?”
Lindy didn’t reply for a few seconds, but kept standing there very still. Then she said:
“Of course it’s the real thing. What would be the point, giving you any old junk? There was an injustice about to be committed, but now justice has prevailed. That’s all that matters. Hey, sweetie, come on. You know you’re the one who deserves this award.”
“I appreciate your viewpoint. It’s just that… well, this is kind of like stealing.”
“Stealing? Didn’t you say yourself this guy’s no good? A fake? And you’re a genius. Who’s trying to steal from who here?”
“Lindy, where exactly did you come across this thing?”
She shrugged. “Just some place. One of the places I go. An office, you’d call it maybe.”
“Tonight? You picked it up tonight?”
“Of course I picked it up tonight. I didn’t know about your award last night.”
“Sure, sure. So that was an hour ago, would you say?”
“An hour. Maybe two hours. Who knows? I was out there some time. I went to my presidential suite for a while.”
“Jesus.”
“Look, who cares? What are you so worried about? They lose this one, they can just go get another one. They’ve probably got a closet full somewhere. I presented you with something you deserve. You’re not going to turn it down, are you, Steve?”
“I’m not turning it down, Lindy. The sentiment, the honor, all of that, I accept it all, I’m really happy about it. But this, the actual trophy. We’re going to have to take it back. We’ll have to put it back exactly where you found it.”
“Screw them! Who cares?”
“Lindy, you haven’t thought this through. What will you do when this gets out? Can you imagine what the press will do with this? The gossip, the scandal? What will your public say? Now come on. We’re going out there right now before people start waking up. You’re going to show me exactly where you found this thing.”
She suddenly looked like a kid who’d been scolded. Then she sighed and said: “I guess you’re right, sweetie.”
ONCE WE’D AGREED to take it back, Lindy became quite possessive about the award, holding it close to her bosom all the time we hurried through the passageways of the vast, sleeping hotel. She led the way down hidden stairways, along back corridors, past sauna rooms and vending machines. We didn’t see or hear a soul. Then Lindy whispered: “It was this way,” and we pushed through heavy doors into a dark space.
Once I was sure we were alone, I switched on the flashlight I’d brought from Lindy’s room and shone it around. We were in the ballroom, though if you were looking to dance just then, you’d have had trouble with all the dining tables, each one with its white linen cover and matching chairs. The ceiling had a fancy central chandelier. At the far end there was a raised stage, probably large enough to put on a fair-sized show, though right now the curtains were drawn across it. Someone had left a step-ladder in the middle of the room and an upright vacuum cleaner against the wall.
“It’s going to be some party,” she said. “Four hundred, five hundred people?”
I wandered further into the room and threw the torch beam around some more. “Maybe this is where it’s going to happen. Where they’re going to give Jake his award.”
“Of course it is. Where I found this”-she held up the statuette-“there were other ones too. Best Newcomer. R &B Album of the Year. That kind of stuff. It’s going to be a big event.”
Now my eyes had adjusted, I could see the place better, even though the flashlight wasn’t so powerful. And for a moment, as I stood there looking up at the stage, I could imagine the way the place would look later on. I imagined all the people in their fancy clothes, the record-company men, the big-time promoters, the random showbiz celebrities, laughing and praising each other; the fawningly sincere applause every time the MC mentioned the name of a sponsor; more applause, this time with whoops and cheers, when the award winners went up. I imagined Jake Marvell up on that stage, holding his trophy, the same smug smile he’d always have in San Diego when he’d finished a
solo and the audience had clapped.
“Maybe we’ve got this wrong,” I said. “Maybe there’s no need to return this. Maybe we should throw it in the garbage. And all the other awards you found with it.”
“Yeah?” Lindy sounded puzzled. “Is that what you want to do, sweetie?”
I let out a sigh. “No, I guess not. But it would be… satisfying, wouldn’t it? All those awards in the garbage. I bet every one of those winners is a fake. I bet there isn’t enough talent between the lot of them to fill a hot-dog bun.”
I waited for Lindy to say something to this, but nothing came. Then when she did speak, there was some new note, something tighter, in her voice.
“How do you know some of these guys aren’t okay? How do you know some of them don’t deserve their award?”
“How do I know?” I felt a sudden tide of irritation. “How do I know? Well, think about it. A panel that considers Jake Marvell the year’s outstanding jazz musician. What other kind of people are they going to honor?”
“But what do you know about these guys? Even this Jake fella. How do you know he didn’t work really hard to get where he has?”
“What is this? You’re Jake’s greatest fan now?”
“I’m just expressing my opinion.”
“Your opinion? So this is your opinion? I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. For a moment there, I was forgetting who you were.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? How dare you speak to me that way?!”
It occurred to me I was losing my grip. I said quickly: “Okay, I’m out of line. I’m sorry. Now let’s go find this office.”
Lindy had gone silent, and when I turned to face her, I couldn’t see well enough in the light to guess what she was thinking.
“Lindy, where’s this office? We need to find it.”
Eventually, she indicated with the statuette towards the back of the hall, then led the way past the tables, still not speaking. When we were there, I put my ear against the door for a few seconds, and hearing nothing, opened it carefully.
Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall Page 13
