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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1986346-Smooth-Cats
by JTD
Rated: E · Other · Romance/Love · #1986346
A casual day in the life of a man who loves women and jazz.
It started to rain again; it is one of those days where everything looks gray. The rain comes pouring down just as you walk outside and immediately stops again when you’re back inside. I don’t mind all that much though, I always carry an umbrella with me just in case, but I can’t help but feel down today. The whole country is still depressed after that whole Kennedy murder affair… I’m wearing my suit as I just came from work, ready to get back home to grab some dinner and dress up for the night. There is nothing better than a jazz evening to cheer you up. I’m walking to the bus station, head focused down, and umbrella open. I must really look like a depressed man…

As I arrive I look up and am quite startled by the sight of a lady at the same bus stop. She looks like a red rose with her red coat on. She’s completely wet so I ran over to cover her with my umbrella. “Hey, you’re pretty soaked. How come you aren’t hiding?” I say. “Heh, I don’t mind the rain all that much to be honest. Where I’m from it rains all the time, I guess it reminds me of home.” she says and starts smiling. She has the face of an angel, besides, who else could smile while being drenched like that? I know right then and there that I will like this girl. I hand her my clean handkerchief, I always carried two. My uncle used to tell me, “A gentleman always carries two handkerchiefs, in case you stumble upon a woman weeping. That’s something women do, not men though…” I guess the advice did come in handy for once. She thanks me and cleans her face, but she must be wearing makeup on her eyelashes. “Euh, excuse me miss, your make-up smudged a bit near your eyes”. She starts laughing and tells me she must look like a panda, while she wipes the rest of her eyes. I’ve never seen a panda before but I couldn’t help from laughing as well. “So where are you heading ma’am?” I ask. “Oh, I’m just going to Dawson Street.My friends told me to take the bus to Commissioner Street and they’d wait for me in the coffee shop” she replies. “Well that’s just around the corner here; I’ll walk you there if you want?” I say. She nods and smiles and we walk together for about five minutes. We keep on talking about where she’s from and where I’m from. It’s one of those moments that if you ever have to choose one to be stuck in for all of eternity, it’d be that one. She’s so interesting and smiling all the time… And then we get to the coffee shop, “Well it was nice meeting you! Stay well and keep smiling” she says as she kisses my cheek and goes inside. The nice moments in life always tend to flash by, I guess…

As I walk back to the bus stop I start to think I should’ve asked her out, asked her to join me at the jazz bar tonight. My bus approaches but my mind keeps telling me to go back. I can’t help but give in, but I am too late. By the time I reach the coffee shop again, she’s gone. Oh well, nothing left to do but get home. I don’t sulk on these kinds of things. You make decisions in life, sometimes they aren’t the right ones, but if they felt right at the time, then you should just accept it and smile. At least I tried to go back and make up for it. Timing is essential in life. That being said, I can’t get the girl out of my head. By the time I had dinner with my friends and got dressed for the night I had told them the whole story. They kept on busting my balls for liking a girl I barely met. I took the beating as we headed off to the bar.

We’re all dressed up like smooth cats. Standing in the lounge, each with our own cigar, I start off with my favorite brandy. This is one of the only real jazz clubs in town. People of my flavor come here and the quality of the beverages is top notch. We’re all middleclass; the lower class can’t afford the high taxes in these joints. Tonight a new band is playing, new bands always play second. I don’t expect much, but my best buddy told me he’s seen this band before and he loved them. The first band is done playing and the new one is about to come up. My friends are asking me to approach this group of ladies before they start playing; they always ask me to go in first, that’s why they call me the opening guy. The advantage for me is that I get to pick first. They push me towards a group of exceptionally gorgeous women. “Hello ladies” I grinned. I hear the leader of the band announce “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, tonight we’ll start with a cover of ‘Sing Sing Sing’ from Benny Goodman after which we’ll bring you smooth Ella Fitzgerald covers and the likes”. I’m impressed; a good but difficult selection to which I know it’s our time to shine.

“Which of you beautiful ladies is the hardest judge on dancing? I like to impress the right lady straight off the bat before further ado.” I ask. They start giggling. The trick here is to keep eye contact with the one you like most. That way if she likes you too, and her friends allow it, chances are very high you will end up dancing with her. I get lucky as the one I got my eye on stands up and tells me, “I think that’s my queue”.

“Wonderful, come join me for a dance. I also think my companions over there might want to join your friends for a swing.” I wink at them while I signal my friends to step in. I grab my lady by the hand and take her to the dance floor. Real lindy hop wasn’t danced anymore, but tonight, my friends and I are on fire and these ladies can follow perfectly. You always have to be careful not to get overexcited; you should test your new dance partner at first, advancing till you finally find her level. It’s been a long time since I found a woman who topped my dance moves. “Waw, you folks sure can dance” says the girl behind the microphone. She sounds familiar as they start their cover of ‘Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, Dream a Little Dream of Me’. They are trying to help us out with these ladies, but as I turn around I see their female singer. There she stands, in a red dress, her dark hair made up perfectly, her voice spot on and her face still looking like an angel. I am completely stunned, I can’t take my eyes off of her, even when my friend poked me in the side to get me dancing with my girl again.. All my friends are dancing alongside me having a nice girl against them and mine is asking me to continue to dance. I grab her hands and I tell her, “I’m sorry, this song just gets to me every time, can I offer you a drink instead?” We talk some more at the bar but my mind keeps wandering off. How can it not? Our friends quickly join us and my best buddy saves me by taking over conversation, as he notices I am completely bewildered. He takes me aside for a minute and asks me what’s wrong and I explain to him about the singing girl.

The new band is finally done playing. I see the girl walking to the bar. Our new group sits at one of the tables and we were mingling quite well. I try to excuse myself but it must’ve come of awkward as the whole group kept looking at me. It’s not normal for me to get nervous like this, but I move on anyway. “Good evening ma’am, can I offer you a drink? It’s the least I can do after hearing your beautiful performance” I say. “Ow it’s you, so you’re the great dancer, the gentleman from this morning! I’m glad to hear you enjoyed our show, so sure you can buy me a drink”. We talk for what seems like just a few minutes, but then I notice two other bands have already finished performing. “I have to go soon” she tells me. “I see” I replied. I’ve never been this nervous asking a girl out. “Say, do you want to grab some more coffee with me tomorrow at that coffee shop from this morning?” I ask her. “Well, gee, I don’t know” she grins at me as I wake up from my dream.

I open my eyes and see a nurse standing in front of me. “Good morning beautiful” I say. I’m not sure if I’ve met her before, but she seems to know me. “Did you sleep well?” she asks. “The same dream as usual” I tell her. “Did I ever tell you the story about when I met my wife?” I ask her. “Yes, every day. You met her at the bus station. ” God I hate this disease. Well, at least I’ve remembered the best memory of my life.  Four days later, the first time ever that I can’t remember the ending of that story, I die from what the doctors called “a heart attack.” Although, I’m pretty sure it was from heartbreak…

© Copyright 2014 JTD (sarevok at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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