Randi had been coming to the Trane Station for months. Some friends had suggested it, for that she was glad, but even they hadn’t taken to the place the way she had. She enjoyed the music, always the music, the people she came to know, there were some characters who hung around this place, and she ate dinner there occasionally, even though the food wasn’t exactly great.
Randi had met Trane a week or so after she became something of a regular. They had talked and laughed. She liked him. Above all else, she had told her friends, Trane is a good listener. She thought it amazing what he remembers about people.
One thing Trane remembered about Randi that embarrassed her when he mentioned it was the fantasy she had told him she had. She’d had too much to drink one night and spoke a little too openly. But even a week later, Trane remembered.
“Randi,” he’d said last night, “There’s a party coming up downtown at a private room in the Peabody. It sounds like the kind of party that could very well fit your special fantasy.” He paused then and just smiled before asking, “Would you like to go?”
Randi knew she blushed and took too long to answer.
“Will you be going, too?” she asked finally.
“Yes,” he smiled into her eyes, “But only as your escort. The night, the party, the experience, whatever it becomes, is all yours. I’ll get you there, but then you’re on your own.”
Randi sipped at her beer to stall for time.
“And you’re sure it will be a safe party?” she asked, knowing he knew what her question meant.
“I guarantee it,” he smiled evenly, “In fact, once I get you there, the only thing I’ll do from then on out is to make sure you are safe. I’ll be your bodyguard, of sorts.”
The thought of Trane being her bodyguard got a laugh from both of them.
“Okay,” she said through her laugh, “Let’s do it.”
Trane only smiled when he responded, “No, it’s you who is gonna do it. Tomorrow night then, Saturday night. 10:00 p.m. Meet me here and I’ll drive us there, okay?”
Randi only nodded, yes. She was already wondering what she would wear or not wear.
The night came and Randi found herself in Trane’s jeep driving down Union Avenue to the Peabody Hotel. The valet looked Trane’s muddy jeep over twice before carefully climbing inside to park it. The elevator ride to the 8th floor was in the same elevator that ducks rode down from the roof everyday to play in the lobby fountain. Her mind was racing, flying with her sense of anticipation.
Trane talked with her softly all the while, putting her as much at ease as she could be. When they walked into the private room he seemed comfortable, as if he knew everyone, which he did, she soon discovered. He walked her around the room, introducing her to everyone, but he did it without rushing or pushing. His jeans and black suit coat contrasted with the business suits and tailored menswear. No one but him was wearing a black t-shirt. His longish, graying brown hair contrasted with the clean-cut majority. But Trane didn’t seem to notice or care.
Randi felt eyes follow her around the room. The simple black sheath dress hugged her body revealing no lines underneath. That’s because, Randi chuckled to herself, there was nothing under the dress to make lines, just her favorite thigh-high black stockings. Her shoulder length hair was worn comfortably, contrasting, much like Trane, with some of the carefully done hair in the room. Still yet, Randi liked these people. They were successful people from Memphis and the surrounding area. Both the men and the women all had something about them she liked. They were warm in meeting her, interested in her, they listened to her and asked good questions while answering the questions she asked of them.
The night moved comfortably. The music played from a good sound system, Trane’s selection of new jazz, she was told. There was an open bar along the wall. A large table with food along another wall. Couches and stuffed chairs cluttered the other side of the room.
Randi guessed there to be twenty or so people at the party. It amused her that it wasn’t easy to determine who had come with whom. They all mingled easily, spending time with someone and then moving on, seemingly enjoying each other’s company.
In the middle of the room couples were dancing. Randi watched them for a while before a man came up to her and politely invited her to join him. She found herself having fun, really having fun. The people around her on the dance floor talked with her, drawing her into their conversations easily and openly.
The music was between songs when a large antique father clock struck midnight. She stood amongst a collection of people on the dance floor, waiting, she thought, for the music to continue. Almost out of nowhere Trane was behind her. He leaned into her and kissed her on the neck, a gentle peck.
“Having fun?” he asked.
She turned her head to him and smiled. “Yes,” she told him.
