The Jazzman is in a state!
Harley ‘Jazzman’ Horton walked into the darkened club, fingering his trumpet valves. The stage was lit dimly, but otherwise the place was dark. He saw that the raised platform was set up with mikes and speakers. But the instruments and his back-up players were nowhere in sight!
“It’s only an hour before we open for the first time! Where are those guys? Canalia!” he bellowed.
When the echoes died and the walls stopped vibrating, a slender young woman stepped into the light.
“There you are! Where are the Blue Notes?”
“Aren’t they here? Let me see what I can find out,” Canalia Banks said and left to check into it.
Jazzman did his lip limbering exercises and played some riffs. It seemed ridiculous to rehearse without his boys, but he considered rehearsal good luck. Just as he hit the last long note of his signature tune, Canalia returned.
“I solved the mystery,” she said when he took the instrument from his lips.
Harley wiped his brow and puffed out a huge sigh.
“Give it to me straight, girl. What happened?”
“Seems the boys were celebrating the coming grand opening a little too hard last night. While staggering their way back to the hotel, they got picked up by the cops.”
“So the Blues got arrested! Not for the first time as we both know. What now? I ‘m sure they won’t be fit to play tonight.”
“Just make it short and sweet with your solo trumpet and nothing else, like the old days, Harley,” Canalia said with a grin.”
“Well, it’s been a while, but it might be the perfect opening night for Forever Blues,” the Jazzman said with a wide smile and he went back to practicing. Canalia smiled as she went to bail out his boys.