The Jazz Man (II)
He patted the newspaper to the left, “Sit by me.”
Happily, she obeyed, walking over and sitting right by him. She braced herself for what was coming next, pulling her legs to her chest.
There was a game between the two where he would ask her questions and she had to guess the answer.
There was rarely a time when she was right.
“Do you know how many types of Saxophones are in this world?” he queried, swinging his finger in the air.
She held up three fingers and he cackled.
“You are thinkin’ too small, child. It fifteen.”
She blinked several times and he let out a laugh again.
“Okay okay, I know it seem like it a lot, yeah? I must ask you, who made all of em?” he interrogated her again and she gasped, knowing this answer.
Casually she pointed to the saxophone that held so dear to the Jazz Man.
“Aye!” he shook his hands in the air, “You are correct!” he grabbed the saxophone and held it closer, “Good ole Adolph. Him a good one now aint he? Makin’ all em instruments!”
She grinned nodding his head.
He set Adolph, the saxophone, back into its back case on the right of him and turned his body to her, “Now tin, how was dat performance, child?!” he slapped his knee, “Spit it out to ole jazz man!”
She gave out a sigh, leaning her back against the wall. She opened both hands out, palms up, and arced her fingers outward, [Well…]
She began to express how she was late because she had completely forgotten where the university was located at.
The Jazz Man laughed.
He was the only person he had met so far who knew sign language and understood what she was conveying perfectly.
He explained to her over the course of several stories (for he enjoyed not revealing everything all at once) that his daughter was born unable to speak.
Because of this, he took many classes just so he could have a conversation with her and claimed it was the best day when she was six, and the two talked about stuffed animals for hours.
Her favorite was Mr. Unicorn and ironically, the animal wasn’t even a unicorn but a big-eared dog with a huge nose.
“Aye…Sometin told me I should have gone whicha,” he continued to snicker, “But do not fret child, all things happen for a reason! Maybe next time ya can make it on tem.”
She stopped for a second.
With her index finger on her left hand, she pressed it against her chin before forming her hands into two balls. As her index finger was curled softly, she racked her left hand on top of the right one, [Actually…]
Her mind flashed back to the scary man earlier, [Something did happen.]
The grin on the Jazz Man’s face turned straight and his brows knitted, “What happened with ya, child? Did you run into a Human again?” his lips curled, “Human are dangerous ya know…”
She tapped her pointer and middle finger to her thumb and shook her head. Then she stopped and thought about it.
[Sort of…] she tilted her right hand quickly, [When I finally arrived at the university, I completely missed the performance. However, I wasn’t that late. The piano was still on the stage! Jazz Man it was a Vienna Westwood one too!]
“Ooooo that an expensive piece of instrument ya found,” he commented, “Don’t tell aye dat ya start to play it?”
[I did,] She nodded her head, [And I caught the attention of this tall frightening man with eyes of fire!] She wiggled all 10 fingers in front of her face.
“Did dis man of fire do something to ya child?!” he raised his voice, catching the attention of those who were waiting at the platform for the train to arrive and Enforcers who prowled with heads in the air and eyes covered with metal.
[No Jazz Man, nothing bad, something good. He said he wanted to expand my talent...whatever that means…]
“Ah, dat again…” he flat out said with no emotion in his voice.
It was normal for the two to receive offers from people, promising to make their lives better by helping them off the streets after witnessing their skills with the saxophone.
But there was a time, a couple of months ago, the Jazz Man almost accepted.
An older woman wearing a green suit, who also spoke with a Louin accent, offered him a chance to work with other musicians in their upcoming series down in Harlem Theater; one of the biggest venues any musician could play in.
The Jazz Man told the young music child that the woman had something in her eye.
It was the twinkle of truth that made her brown pupils glow and it was then he knew her intentions were pure.
But he rejected the offer and the reason? It was because of her.
Within fragmented words and random sentences, he told the life and death of a man that was not filled with Jazz and laissez-faire- but a man who loved his family.
But like a tragic fairytale, the man fell to the temptation of Evelyn, the she-devil street drug.
The she-devil was white as snow and would take you on a wild adventure, making you forget the harsh world and its judging eyes.
It made him feel as if he was one of them.
Human.
Years felt like minutes and within the seconds that flashed by, the she-devil took everything from him.
Twenty years flew by and now he is here. Sober and sitting next to the young music child.
“What did ya tell this man of fire, child?” he curiously asked.
[I said no. I’m not going to trust some man I barely even know. Besides, it would be too dangerous to accept something like that. He is a Human. But despite saying no, he still gave me his card just in case.] she dug her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out the card.
[I only kept it because I like the writing. It’s pretty.] She handed him the card.
The Jazz Man removed his sunglasses, revealing blood-red eyes that glossed underneath the light.
A silver bullet train pulled up and a man on the intercom spoke with a smile smeared across his face.
“Attention all passengers, the train is about to come to a stop. Please exit and enter the train in an orderly manner. I repeat…”
The passengers that stood about piled into the train and those who wanted out pushed their way like fish up a freshwater stream.
The Jazz Man’s eyes filled with bliss, one that she has never seen before.
“My child…” he spoke tenderly, holding the card up, “Dis is not some man of fire. Dis is Ares Winter!”
[What about it?] She threw up her hands and raised her eyebrows.
“Him is da grandson of George Anthos Winter. Him was da president of Marchesi years ago but stepped down to become chair of da School of Music!” he gasped, “Oh child, ya hit it big dis time.” his smile grew bigger but she was still confused and he read her expression.
“Aye know ya are confused child, but trus me, dis is good.” he poked her nose, “Dis is like….Aye will put it in simple for ya. Behind dos precious eyes, aye know there aint anything.”
[Rude!]
“Neewa, with dis card ya can has future. It will open many many many-” he shook his head viciously, “doors for ya. Ya will not have to hide or run away. It is sometin most of us do not have. Look around ya child–”
His red eyes darted off and hers followed, “What do ya see? A subway filled with humans that give we attention if we with an instrument such as Adolph! If we have no instrument, we are nothing to em! Dis is ya chance to change. To show the world ya talent. What ya say child? We give em a chance?”