A Sip of Coffeedreamz: The Blacksax Side
An Excerpt from Sugar Rush: Love’s Liberation
It was my third set at Blackplatinum Café’s members-only night and I was hyped. They say three is a charm. When the curtains opened, I saw the reason my soul danced with anticipation. She sat in the third row bordered by two other ladies. Her hair was long and flowing passed her shoulders. Her eyes twinkled even from the dimly lit candles on the table. I pretended not to notice her, but found it challenging to do so while checking out that one leg laying seductively over the other in her Carolina blue pants. There was a slit on the side. I had a sneak peek of her right thigh from the center stage. She was tapping her feet to the sound of the music and the slit constantly winked at me. I enjoyed watching her move every limb of her body. She was figurative language in motion.
The band and I played for what seemed an endless two hours before taking a break. I wiped my brow and made a bee-line to the bar.
“Hey, Jimmy. How ya doin’ tonight?”
“I guess I’ll make it I reckon. The usual, Black?”
“Club soda, man. And uh Jimmy,” I began while scoping out my chocolate Jessica Rabbit, “let me get another one of whatever that lady is having.”
“You talkin’ ‘bout Dolly?”
“Is Dolly the honey wearing the hell outta that blue near the stage?”
“That’s Doll.”
“Then you got it! I’m fixin’ to make my move.”
I paid Jimmy and took the drinks. I had a small window to impress this lady and leave with a number before the end of the night. Time slowed down with each step I made toward Dolly’s table. I smiled at club goers who complimented me on the show. The smile grew wider upon reaching my destination. One of her girlfriends tapped her to let her know that I was coming her way. Seeing them together reminded me of me and my boys back home in Auburndale. In slow motion, she flipped her hair away from her face and positioned herself to turn around.
“Bonsoir,” one of her friends greeted me while pushing her thick hair behind her ears. The other was scanning me with her eyes. As tough as she tried to look, the butterfly clip that held her short hair in place gave away her innocence. Her nonverbal communication just let me know she had her girl’s back if I said something stupid.
"Dolly, I have less than a minute to give you this," I began while handing her a glass of cranberry juice, "and to convince you to stay until the end of the show so we can talk."
She smiled a priceless smile and said, “Thank you for the drink.” She turned back to face her friends.
I kept my cool but didn’t stay and wait like a puppy after a bone. I let out a brief laugh and headed back to the stage. When I heard my name being called, I slowed the pace of my walk and then stopped without turning around.
“Oh and Sax,” Dolly began, “if you can come up with something original before the clock strikes four, consider the offer sealed.”
I nodded because I was confident I could hold up my end of the deal. I just hoped she didn’t renege on hers.
For the next hour, I played as if my life depended on it. I didn’t look in her direction while my hands caressed my instrument. I wanted her to understand the messages I was sending through my music. I wanted her to know that I was gently explosive with my hands. The saxophone screamed in ecstasy. Every note played was perfect and complimented the other instruments in the background. The thump from the drums was the heartbeat of the song. It was my motivation. I know she heard the score because my soul felt hers. By 3:50am, I was ready to have her blanketed in my musical review.
I turned just enough to face the band and the audience at the same time and asked, “Hey fellaz, do you mind if I take the last ten minutes to share a little sumpthin’ sumpthin’ with these lovely people tonight?” Jupiter, the drummer, gave me the go-ahead to proceed. He got his nickname because his skills are out of this world. I took a sip from my glass and prepared to collect my winnings. Dolly sat patiently and for the first time since speaking with her I looked directly in her eyes. I was locked on my target as I spoke to the audience.
“Blackplatinum Café, you’ve been a wonderful audience tonight. So, let me send you off with a new tune I call Doll’s House.”
The corners of her lips stretched into a smile. Dolly was impressed. To maintain my position, I never took my eyes off her. She needed to feel more important than anyone else in that room. It was my duty to pretend that the space in Blackplatinum Café was occupied only by Dolly, my saxophone, and me.
I played flawlessly while the band accompanied me. The audience gave us a standing ovation. At the end of the show, the band and I greeted those who rushed to the stage to chat with us. There was a line of women waiting for me. Although I was only interested in the attention of one lady, I spent a few minutes shaking hands, hugging those who extended arms toward me, and took a few business cards only to quickly stash them in my back pocket. Of all the dimes vying for my attention that night, none compared to my caramel dream. I tried earnestly to attend to my fans and cleared a path to get to Dolly at the same time. My efforts were in vain. She was gone. At first I was disappointed. Then again, I felt challenged.
“Yo, Black!” Jimmy called from the bar. “’Honey in blue left you a note.”
I took the slip of purple paper from Jimmy’s hand. He continued to wipe the counter. I read the note written in blue ink. The sweet fragrance that once graced the lining of my nose was all over it. My heart was happy.
Sax,
Thanks for erecting my house. We’ll speak soon.
-Dolly
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