Chapter Five #3
“I was talking about you,” Jason said. Shelby swatted him on the arm. “Hey, hey, hey, careful now,” her brother said. “I’m holding precious cargo here.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on April’s cheek. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Of course I came. I’m sorry I missed the service,” April said.
“Don’t worry, he recorded the entire thing on his phone.” Shelby rolled her eyes as she took the baby from Jason’s arms.
Jason held his phone up. “I’ll upload it to YouTube and send everyone a link after the picnic.” He looked past April, his eyes squinting. “Damien Alexander? Is that you?” Jason asked.
“Long time no see.” Damien extended a hand and brought Jason in for the same kind of one-armed hug he’d shared with Savion.
“You’re damn right it’s been a long time. How have you been, man? How’s Kurt doing?”
April cringed. She tried not to bring up Damien’s older brother. She knew it was a difficult subject. But Kurt had been closer to her older brothers’ ages, so it made sense that Jason would ask about him.
“He’s doing better,” Damien answered with less difficulty than April would have first assumed. “Stubborn, as usual.”
“No one expected that to change,” Jason said with a laugh. “Thanks for coming over, man. It’s been too long.” Her brother stopped short. He looked back and forth between April and Damien. “Wait a minute,” Jason said. “Are the two of you here together?”
April’s stomach dropped. She didn’t like the cagey smile slowly forming at the edges of Jason’s lips. April swore if her brother embarrassed her in front of Damien she was going to make Shelby a widow.
“Are you ready to eat some barbecue?” April asked Damien, pretending that she hadn’t heard Jason’s question as she turned to the table set up with several chafing dishes just to the right of the cake table.
Jason, the big idiot, just continued flapping his big mouth.
With laughter in his voice, Jason said, “You mean to tell me after all these years of April pining—”
Oh, God.
“Jason! Where are the forks?” Shelby called, stopping her brother from plunging April into what was sure to be one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. Although she feared he had already said enough for Damien to glean what he’d been about to reveal.
She was hesitant to even glance his way, but she couldn’t resist the pull. She was sorry she did. By the look on Damien’s face she could tell he’d figured out exactly what her bigmouthed, idiot brother was about to blab.
“Do you want some potato salad?” April asked, plopping a huge dollop onto his plate. “Shelby makes the best potato salad.”
Please don’t say anything, she silently pleaded.
Goodness, what had she been thinking, bringing him here?
She quickly filled her plate with food she no longer felt like eating, and made it out to one of the many folding tables her brother had set up in the backyard.
Damien followed behind, taking the seat next to her.
When April chanced a glance his way, he was studying her with a curious look in his brown eyes.
She forced herself to eat so that if he did bring up Jason’s statement, she wouldn’t be able to answer.
But then, just like the true blessing her sister-in-law had always been, Shelby came over to their table just as she and Damien were finishing up their barbecue.
“Where’s the baby?” April asked her as Shelby took a seat.
“I just put her down for a nap.”
“Will she be able to sleep with all this noise?” Damien asked, gesturing to the crowded backyard.
“Honey, when it comes to that baby’s rest, she doesn’t allow anything to get in the way.” Shelby turned to April. “Are you still playing at that place on Gravier tonight? A couple of Jason’s friends were asking about it.”
April nodded.
“You’re playing tonight?” Damien asked.
Shelby answered for her. “She plays with this electro-soul group. You haven’t heard them before? They’re awesome.”
“It’s no big deal,” April said, waving off her sister-in-law’s bragging.
“Don’t listen to her. It’s a huge deal. She always draws a crowd when she plays,” Shelby said. She jumped up from the chair. “Dammit! I forgot I have bottles boiling on the stove. Jason broke the bottle steamer yesterday.”
“Do you need help?” April called after her.
She waved a hand in the air. “No. This is what I get for allowing Jason to touch things.”
Chuckling, April shook her head as she stared at Shelby’s retreating form.
“So, where are you playing tonight?” Damien asked, peeling the edge of the label on his bottle of beer.
“It’s, uh, this little lounge on Gravier Street in the Central Business District. It’s pretty neat. Styled after a London social club.”
“What time?”
“The show starts at nine, but I won’t go on until ten,” she said.
He nodded.
“Why?” April asked.
He shrugged. “I just wanted to know exactly where I’m spending my Sunday night,” he said.
“You don’t have to come out to see me,” she said. Her gigs with Electric Funk were meant to be relaxing. Having Damien there would be the complete opposite.
“No, I don’t have to,” he said. He looked up from his beer bottle, a wry smile tilting up the corners of his lips. “But I will.”
* * *
The low-key entrance to the nondescript building between Magazine and Camp Streets belied what waited just on the other side.
Damien felt as if he’d walked into an entirely different world.
Or, more accurately, as though he’d walked into a building on the other side of the world.
It was as if he’d crossed the threshold and stepped into a London club, leaving New Orleans behind.
Low-seated couches and chairs, done in an eclectic arrangement of various fabrics and colors that surprisingly didn’t clash, but rather created a picture that blended well together, took up the bulk of the narrow space.
Soft burning candles centered on the various sofa tables that dotted the room helped to set the laid-back, unostentatious vibe.
A crack of laughter brought his eyes to an alcove just behind the entrance, where a foursome of twentysomethings huddled close together on an ottoman draped in the flag of the United Kingdom.
The windows were covered by thick wine-colored velvet drapes, their loose tiebacks allowing only a tiny sliver of New Orleans to show beyond the double-paned glass.
One wall of the alcove was made up of Andy Warhol–esque pictures of music icons like Jimi Hendrix, Mick Jagger, Aretha Franklin and Van Morrison.
The opposite exposed brick wall held black-and-white shots of London streets, along with a large framed photograph of the icon of them all, John Lennon.
In the center of the room, a spotlight shone on two empty armchairs and two erect music stands. A deejay stood behind a slim table just to the right of them, providing a smooth mix of early 90s R & B.
“You actually came?”
Damien whirled around and had to do a double take at the sight of April standing before him.
What the heck?
If she’d walked past him on the street, Damien doubted he would have recognized her, even though she’d done nothing to change the appearance of her face.
It was everything else that was different.
Her jeans were well-worn, with several rips and tears peppering her thighs, knees and shins.
The vest she wore was equally worn, the soft leather lighter in some places.
She wore nothing underneath it. No shirt—just bare skin.
Her cello was slung over her shoulder like a huge backpack, encased in a dark purple nylon carrying case. There was a bright yellow button that read Yo, Cell Out, Dude! stuck to the front of it.
“I seriously thought you were kidding when you said you would be here tonight,” April said.
“Why would you think that? I tried to see you play whenever I could in the past.”
“Yeah, but that’s when I was in my prime.”
“Your prime? What, are you ready to collect Social Security or something?”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “I’m not the April Knight here. These little jam sessions are just for fun.”
“Well, that’s perfect then. I always thought you played best when you just allowed yourself to have fun.”
“Hey, April, we’re ready.” The guy who called to her looked to be about their age. He carried a set of bongos. A blonde woman with dreadlocks down past her rear end followed just behind him. She carried a tambourine in one hand and had a harmonica harness around her neck.
The trio went over to the vacant furniture in the center of the room.
The crowd, which had grown steadily since Damien had arrived, applauded as the musicians took their spots.
Damien found an available seat on one of the couches that faced the group of musicians.
April set the instrument case against the wall next to the deejay table and gave the deejay a kiss on the cheek before returning to the brushed velvet armchair. She positioned the cello between her legs, then leaned forward and spoke into the microphone that had been set up in front of her chair.
“Good evening, all you beautiful people.” Her voice was low and husky, complementing the club’s subdued vibe. “I want to thank you all for coming out tonight. We’re gonna just sit back, relax and let the music take us wherever it feels right.”
She counted down and started with a sound Damien had never heard from a cello before. It had a jazzy vibe to it, with hip, swanky notes that had the patrons seated around the room tapping their feet.
He was completely mesmerized.
Who was this woman?
This was a totally different side to April, one Damien would have never guessed existed.
He was used to seeing her in elegant evening gowns, playing to a crowd that was just as elegantly attired and who accepted the classical music that strummed from her fingers as if it was their due.
This crowd bobbed their heads to the funky, eclectic beat, appreciation evident in the way they focused all their attention on the musicians.