Inspiration
Christopher put down his pencil. How long had he been sitting here composing? Four hours? Five? Time had just slipped by as he feverishly wrote down the notes that had begun to flow like water from...from where exactly? Never before had the music come so easily to him, as if he was merely a bystander taking dictation. The process was normally bordering on painful; a few notes here, a phrase there, and then the pacing back and forth across the polished floors of their Soho flat until the wee hours of the morning. "Now that was a great song", Christopher absentmindedly thought. If only he could have shared the stage for one night with Frank...
Not for the first time Christopher lapsed into a favorite fantasy.... a Rat Pack Concert in old Vegas where the martinis flowed and where men with golden vocal chords crooned out ballads that swept the ladies off their feet. And there he was, part of the famous group standing next to Sammy, Frank, Dean...spot lights shining down, the music swelling as he stepped forward towards the mike. The crowd going wild as he drew his first breath...
A loud siren blared on the streets below pulling him from his reverie. Christopher glanced down at the pages lying across the keys of his cherished Steinway, strewn about him on the floorboards, and even blown over into the corner near the windows that looked down onto 7th Avenue. Christopher glanced away from the windows and towards the large mirror behind the piano. He walked up and looked hard at his features.
He was tall, how often had been told that? 6'2'', light skin, hazel eyes, even still hints or red in his otherwise brown hair – yes he had more than a little bit of an Irish look he could admit. And he knew his body was looking better than it had since college...maybe even better than then? All of those hours working his frustrations out in the health club had evidently paid off, though that wasn't really what he'd been focused on at the time. He glanced away from the mirror back to the room around him.
Thank God for the apartment, Christopher thought. There was no way he could have afforded a broom closet, let alone this 2 bedroom apartment a stone's throw from central park if it weren't for his uncle. "A Broadway legend" everyone had told him since he was old enough to remember. "A boy who moved from Ohio with a dream and landed his name in lights on Broadway". This was certainly true, and he once again silently thanked his favorite Uncle for leaving him this place. He owed him so much....now if he just make a name for himself, he might be able to put some furniture in here other than the piano.
Christopher chuckled as he thought about the lack of furniture in the apartment. He owned exactly one chair, a small dining room table, a king size bed at least, and one beautiful 9'6" 1928 Steinway Grand that he had saved nearly every penny for over 3 years to buy. It was his pride and joy, but beyond these few items Christopher had struggled to make ends meet in Manhattan, playing what gigs he could get here and there when there were so many talented musicians on every corner.
"But things are different now" Christopher thought. He had never felt what he was feeling tonight, and he knew that this music lying on various pages around his flat was going to change everything. Tonight his career would truly begin, and he knew he was going to be a success. He also knew where the new inspiration was coming from. It was her...
If he was honest, he hadn't noticed her at first. She had been sitting near the front of the room, seated at a large round table with a number of attractive professional ladies who all seemed to be having a good time...laughing, whispering, and teasing and all with cosmopolitans, or various other fruity drinks in hand. But not her. She was sipping at a glass of chardonnay, and she wasn't looking at the other girls. She was looking at him.
But he had been so caught up in his playing that he had hardly looked up from the keys. "Autumn in New York" was a deceptively difficult song, and he was working his way through a particularly difficult section of the bridge and was about to launch into the vocals of the chorus when he happened to glance up, and she caught his eye.
She was wearing a sleeveless white silk top, a black slim fitting pencil skirt, and her long blonde hair was pulled back on top of her head in a tight swirl. She portrayed an air of sophistication and confidence, and she was looking directly at him. Her lips were full and slightly parted, and even from here he could see her blue eyes flashing in the reflection from the stage lights.
He missed his cue... Shit! He tore his gaze back to the stage, and the band was giving him that look like "get your shit together man". He scrambled to catch up and rolled through verse again. What had gotten into him? He never missed his entrance. He focused his attention on the keys again, and soon he was launching into his solo. And from nowhere, he began to hear music in his head.
It was soft and simple at first, but it began to grow in volume and complexity. His fingers first glided nimbly across the keys as he duplicated the flowing notes he could hear in his mind. Gently brushing the keys, and running up and down the keyboard with light touches he felt a tension begin to grow. Slowly but steadily the tension built as the music began to swell. His fingers that had been gently gliding and lightly touching the keys began to press harder and more insistently, pushing the keys deeply into their beds and driving the music from the sound board and out across the darkened room.
His heart beat rapidly in his chest to the driving rhythm of the swelling music. Faster and faster his fingers flew across the keyboard, now pounding the keys with an intensity he had never played with before in his life. Finally the music reached its climax, and he lifted up of the bench and spread his fingers to pound out the final chords of the chorus, driving as deeply into the keys as he could while the band exploded to finish out the song.
The room was silent at first, but then the crowd erupted in appreciation, standing on their feet for what seemed like forever as they shouted their appreciation for the performance. The band had shocked looks on their faces as they stared at Christopher like Oscar Peterson had just stepped in from the crowd and delivered the performance of a lifetime. But Christopher hardly glanced at the crowd. He eyes were fixed on the petite blonde who was now quietly standing and looking intently back at him. A delicate but transfixing smile graced her lips, and Christopher could only stare...
The last of the crowd lingered near the back door of the club, saying their goodbyes and laughing as they filtered out of the door. It had been an amazing night and everyone was feeling it. But Christopher noticed none of it as he stepped off the stage and slowly walked over to where the girl with the amazing blue eyes was still sitting and sipping her glass of chardonnay. Her friends had evidently gone, but she was still there evidently waiting for him.
"Did you enjoy the performance?" he started.
"I think you know that I did" she replied
He was nearly caught off guard by this direct response, but he was surprised to find himself answering just as directly "Well, I have never played like I did tonight. I just....wow. I'm still not exactly sure what happened. But...well it felt like...I just don't know how to express it....But it was amazing, and I'm still just in shock"
She looked thoughtful before replying. "I've never come here before tonight" she said. "I work nearby and my friends and I had talked about stopping in here so many times, but something told me tonight was the night. It was."
"When I saw you tonight that's when everything shifted. I felt something electric, and my fingers just started to fly on the keys" Christopher practically stumbled over the words as they spilled out in a torrent "Nooo! Why did I just say that out loud" Christopher thought..." what was I thinking?"
The petite blonde looked intently at Christopher for a moment, then smiled and slowly stood up from her chair.
"Come on," she said "Let's get out of here".
"Wait...what's your name?" Christopher asked.
"I'm Sarah, and I want to go have some fun. Come on the night is still young!"
A cab rounded the corner, and Christopher stepped out from the curb and hailed it. Sarah climbed in and Christopher reached to close the door after her before he made his way to the other side. As he walked around the back of the car his heart was racing...my god was she beautiful. Now that they were out of the darkened club he could see how truly stunning she was. High cheek bones, full pouty lips, a stunning smile....and her eyes were just an amazing sparkling blue. He slid in next to her and the taxi rolled away from the curb.
"Well – where to?" She asked?
