# 3
The blue parrot is a small jazz club in downtown Manhattan. It was established in 1959 when Jazz burst into the music scene and was flourishing in similar small bars all around New York. During its golden years in was a good club that regularly hosted some legendary acts including Theolonius Monk and Dexter Gordon. It is safe to say that it has known better days. The sole proprietor of the Blue Parrot is an otherwise ordinary Japanese man that comes by the name of Ioko. The circumstances under which the ownership of the place was passed onto Ioko remain somewhat mysterious but needless to say he has an unrequited passion for Jazz. He is also a fair boss. Ioko arrives at the club every night around eight. After making sure everything is running smoothly he has a habit of sitting at the end of the bar sipping whisky and eating peanuts, quietly overlooking things. Charles plays piano at the Blue Parrot four times a week but Wednesdays are his favourite nights. Especially when it rains. Ioko likes Charles’s gentle piano-playing style and is especially fond of the melancholic tunes that Charles comes up with, especially on Wednesday nights.
The place was almost full, buzzing with life. Couples having intimate conversations gently sipping their drinks under the candlelight, tourists enjoying un-pronounceable cocktails stuffed with tiny paper umbrellas, loners lost in their thoughts and groups of careless friends. As Charles was getting ready to come on he was sitting at a small table on the left side of the stage enjoying a playful version of ‘Staircase to the Sky’ brought to life by the Mat Patheny trio. Ioko waved at him with a delicate movement of his hand to come over.
‘What’s up boss?’ Charles asked as he stood next to Ioko at the end of the bar.
‘Come, sit next to me. What do you think of Mat?’ he asked. ‘I must have heard that tune a million times, but nobody does the solo trumpet just like Mat ahh?’
‘He does have his way, that much is true.’ Charles turned around to look at the stage when he noticed she was seating at the bar. It was her. Just sitting at the Blue Parrot bar having a drink with a guy. Charles looked at her and smiled. ‘You know something Boss? Life has a funny way of showing off how kind it may be sometimes.’
Ioko looked at Charles and then looked at her and said nothing. He was not a man who liked to mix up in other people’s business.
Charles grabbed a box of matches and a pen from the bar. He flipped open the cover and inside he wrote his name, a place, a day and a time. He then walked straight up to her and as she was taking a cigarette out of a packet he gave her the matches looked at her straight in the eyes and then whispered something in her ear. Nola said nothing back. Not even when her date asked her what it was that the piano player had told her. She stayed until closing time drinking gin ‘n tonics pretending not to be paying attention at the music. That night Charles played exceptionally well.
The place was almost full, buzzing with life. Couples having intimate conversations gently sipping their drinks under the candlelight, tourists enjoying un-pronounceable cocktails stuffed with tiny paper umbrellas, loners lost in their thoughts and groups of careless friends. As Charles was getting ready to come on he was sitting at a small table on the left side of the stage enjoying a playful version of ‘Staircase to the Sky’ brought to life by the Mat Patheny trio. Ioko waved at him with a delicate movement of his hand to come over.
‘What’s up boss?’ Charles asked as he stood next to Ioko at the end of the bar.
‘Come, sit next to me. What do you think of Mat?’ he asked. ‘I must have heard that tune a million times, but nobody does the solo trumpet just like Mat ahh?’
‘He does have his way, that much is true.’ Charles turned around to look at the stage when he noticed she was seating at the bar. It was her. Just sitting at the Blue Parrot bar having a drink with a guy. Charles looked at her and smiled. ‘You know something Boss? Life has a funny way of showing off how kind it may be sometimes.’
Ioko looked at Charles and then looked at her and said nothing. He was not a man who liked to mix up in other people’s business.
Charles grabbed a box of matches and a pen from the bar. He flipped open the cover and inside he wrote his name, a place, a day and a time. He then walked straight up to her and as she was taking a cigarette out of a packet he gave her the matches looked at her straight in the eyes and then whispered something in her ear. Nola said nothing back. Not even when her date asked her what it was that the piano player had told her. She stayed until closing time drinking gin ‘n tonics pretending not to be paying attention at the music. That night Charles played exceptionally well.
posted by Corto Maltese at 1:22 PM
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