It was raining hard outside. Thunderstorm warnings flashed periodically on the television screen behind the bar. The Trane Station was into another Saturday night in Memphis.
The band played on undisturbed by the weather. I listened as I could to their skillful moves through some old Miles Davis and Gil Evans material, stuff from “Birth of the Cool” written in the late 40s. These guys are good, I told myself, catching myself wishing I was playing with them. But I was working, helping Jed behind the bar, keeping an eye on the kitchen, and having a good time talking to the regulars assembled about the place.
There was Whisper and Nick at their usual table, into their third pitcher of beer. Indigo was at a table with Dave and Sassy playing some board game. They seemed to be having a good time. There was ~t and friend I didn’t know. Both of them are new to Memphis. Another out-of-towner, Kyann, was playing pool with a couple of people I knew. Samantha and her husband sat in a booth near the back. I had sent over a bottle of wine for them, a bottle of Cakebread. They seemed to be enjoying their night out. Dewsman and a few of his hotel friends were talking and taking in the music as was a some guy I didn’t know from D.C.
There weren’t too many people sitting at the bar, actually just two, a woman I had just met named Jade along with her friend named Marco. They were laughing and having a good time, getting ready, they said, to watch the late Los Angeles Laker game on the t.v. behind the bar. It was going to be Dennis Rodman’s first game of the season, Jade had reminded me with some excitement. She and I were sharing a pot of fresh coffee I had just made. She doesn’t drink, she told me with a smile.
Jed was filling drink orders for the waitresses, so I kept and eye on Marco and Jade for him. The three of us had been talking for a while, me trying to listen to the band and work, but we had talked enough for me to know I liked them. They were having a good time, Trane Station kind of people.
The band finished a set and was moving away from the small bandstand, so I turned to pick some music for the sound system. Monk, I thought to myself, how about some good Monk.
“Trane,” I heard Jade call from behind me.
I turned and smiled, “Yes, Ma’am?”
“Marco says the Lakers are gonna lose tonight,” she said. “What do you think?”
I didn’t think too much about it before answering with a joke. “Well,” I said, “I think Dennis Rodman has too many body piercings to be any good anymore.”
“What?” she laughed loudly, her voice sounding incredulous. “You wanna make a bet on that?”
“Bets can be fun,” I told her playing along, “What kinda bet?”
“I bet Dennis gets over ten rebounds and the Lakers win,” she said simply with a big smile.
“Okay,” I told her, “I’ll take the bet. What are we betting?”
I watched her dark eyes sparkle in thought. “Come closer,” she said waving me over.
I moved up closer and leaned on the bar in front of her and Marco.
“Okay,” she grinned with real mischief in her eyes. “If you win you get to see my body piercings.”
Marco immediately burst out in laughter.
“So what’s the big deal about that?” I asked not understanding.
“They are rather intimate piercings,” she grinned.
“That’s the truth,” laughed Marco.
“Okay,” I said wondering, “And if you win?”
She began to laugh. “Then,” she said through a giggle, “I get to watch you jerk-off.”
“What?” I laughed.
“You understand,” she laughed back at me, “You chicken?”
Marco was about to fall off his stool with laughter.
“Body piercing review against a jerking-off show doesn’t seem quite equal,” I told her with a big smile.
She just grinned for a moment holding me with those dark eyes. “All right,” she said, “You can watch me masturbate too.”
“Okay,” I offered, thinking Rodman wouldn’t play enough minutes in his first game to get ten rebounds.
“Deal,” she said matter-of-factly extending her hand. We shook hands, both of us grinning.
I turned back to the music, wondering what I might have just done.
Monk’s sax cried over the stereo system as I started to cover Jed while he took a deserved break. People moved in and out of the bar, tables turning over. The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle, the storm warnings canceled. The band filtered back to the stage, so I killed the sound system.
Dewsman had come to the bar asking about a shuffleboard table in the back. I got him the supplies as the Laker game with the Clippers got underway.
The band continued to work on Miles Davis material. Wonderful music. The muted horn seemed displaced but at home in the bar.
“One!” I heard Jade yell gleefully from the bar. Oh, shit, I thought to myself.
I walked over to the board game table for a minute, trying to figure out the point of the game. Sassy was laughing, Dave was explaining, Indigo was watching both of them, smiling. Samantha and her husband were getting up to leave. She introduced me to him. Seemed like a nice guy. We chatted for a minute before I heard Jade yell, “Three!” What happened to two, I wondered.
The night moved on, people moving in and out, the band finished its last set, and the Laker game was in the third quarter. Rodman had eight rebounds. Son-of-a-bitch, I told myself.
Jade seemed excited, pumping her fist and jumping around, standing now, too into it to sit. Marco was laughing and keeping track of Rodman’s rebounds on a bar napkin in front of both of them. Jade would look around for me occasionally, finding me in the bar she would smile and yell at me, you better get ready, Trane, or something to that effect.
I was talking with Indigo and ~t near a pool table when I heard Jade scream, “Ten!” I excused myself and headed for the bar.
“He’s gotta get over ten, right?” as I walked up beside her and Marco.
