Kianna Alexander - A Sultry Love Song

“Let’s go. I want to get home before too late, so I can look in on Marlon.” Joanne smiled as she spoke of her six-year-old son with her husband, Victor.

“Cool. I wouldn’t dream of keeping my nephew from his mommy.” Joi walked toward the door her sister held open for her, and after Joanne locked up, the two of them got into Joanne’s minivan and departed.

* * *

His eyes settled on the big-screen television displaying the Carolina-Atlanta football game, and Marco popped a cheese fry into his mouth. The open window blinds at the Brash Bull allowed the deceptively bright sunlight to stream into the sports bar’s interior, casting thin beams of light on the concrete floor. Glancing out that window might make one think it was warm outside, but Marco knew better. He’d ventured out into the biting chill of this mid-November Sunday. If it weren’t for his affection for football and the company of his friends, he would have stayed home. Again he wondered if he’d ever get used to the chill that hung in the air this time of year, making him long for the balmy shores of his home back in Limón.

Seated around the table with him were his three friends and bandmates, Darius, Rashad and Ken. Together, the four of them were the jazz quartet known as the Queen City Gents. Darius, retired and wealthy at thirty-seven thanks to his tech-savvy invention, played the upright bass. Rashad, a museum curator, sang lead vocals and played piano. And Ken, an architect originally from Japan, acted as the quartet’s drummer. Marco’s tenor saxophone rounded out the group. He liked to think his skills on the golden horn added a special depth and richness to the Gents’ music.

Rashad, who had recently returned from his honeymoon in Trinidad and Tobago with his new wife, Lina, pounded his fist on the table. “Damn. We’ve got more turnovers today than a bakery.”

Marco chuckled, his friend was right. Cheering for Carolina could sometimes be difficult, but the four of them weren’t fair-weather or bandwagon fans. “Don’t worry. Remember, we really come alive in the second half.”

Darius, draining the last of the root beer in his mug, groused, “Yeah, but we need to start playing all four quarters. This is bad for my nerves.”

Ken, looking up from the screen of his tablet, snorted a laugh. “Statistically, the odds are in Carolina’s favor. So don’t sweat it.”

Marco shook his head. They all knew that Ken never got very excited about anything, hence his nickname, “Ken the Zen.”

Washing down his buffalo wings with a swig of lemonade, Rashad smiled. “Even if we lose, knowing I get to go home to Lina makes everything all right.”

That comment split the group into two factions: the married men, and the single ones. Marco and Ken both offered groans, as if offended by Rashad’s sentimental observation.

Darius gave Rashad a hard slap on the back as he nodded in agreement. “Amen to that, man. Nothing like the love of a good woman.” He shared a knowing grin with Rashad, as if they were members of some kind of secret club.

With a roll of his eyes, Marco remarked, “You two are so whipped. A year ago neither of you were even interested in a relationship. Now suddenly you’re the poster boys for upstanding husbands?”

“Stop hating, Marco. You know you want what we have.” Darius cut him with a hard stare.

“Why would I want to give up my freedom?”

Rashad shook his head. “I used to think I was giving up something, and I guess, in a way, I did. But what I gained is worth so much more.”

“Right. My life is a thousand times better now that I have Eve in my life.” Darius leaned back in his chair, a wistful look on his face. “And with the baby coming, my life is really going to be complete.”

“Wow. You two are really drinking the marriage Kool-Aid.” Marco looked across the table at the men, his closest friends. The grins Darius and Rashad wore spoke to their happiness, but it was still difficult for him to wrap his mind around it.

Their transformation from single guys to family men was something he still hadn’t gotten used to. Deep down, he supposed they were still the same guys he’d met all those years ago, when he’d first showed up at rehearsal to answer their ad for a saxophonist. Still, the sappy nature of their recent conversations had begun to stick in his craw.

“Whatever. I know it was the best decision I ever made.” Rashad redirected his attention toward the television, now showing the halftime show.

Marco stuffed another cheese fry into his mouth. He would never admit it aloud, but he felt a twinge of jealousy at his friends’ declarations of bliss. Who wouldn’t? They made marriage sound like the best thing since the invention of twenty-four-hour sports coverage. He’d had his share of experience with marriage, from watching his parents. They’d been married more than forty years, so he knew true love wasn’t a myth. He also knew that with love and marriage came children, bills and more responsibility than he ever wanted to have. No, he wasn’t marriage material, but then again, not everybody was meant for marital bliss. “I can have any woman I want, so why should I settle for just one? Am I right, Ken?” Marco dug his elbow into Ken’s forearm.

Ken, seated to Marco’s right, glanced up from the glowing screen of his tablet, a confused look on his face. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Marco scoffed. “Thanks for the backup, man.”

“You’re welcome.” With a shrug, Ken dropped his eyes back to the screen, and kept right on scrolling.

As the halftime show ended and coverage returned to the game, silence fell over the table. Marco felt a modicum of relief. While he didn’t begrudge his friends living their lives as they saw fit, all that stuff about wives and babies really put a damper on the whole male bonding thing.

The rest of the game went by with only conversation surrounding cheering for the home team to crush the visiting squad. In the end, Carolina won out by three points, thanks to the kicker’s flawless field goal attempt. That got everybody at the table on their feet, laughing and exchanging high fives.

While the waitress cleared the table of their empty plates and mugs, Darius spoke up. “Oh yeah, guys, I almost forgot. I got a call from Dave, and it looks like we’re in for the Winter Jazz Festival.”

Marco’s ears perked up at that. “Awesome! Who are we opening for? Who are we following?”

Ken, having finally tucked his tablet away, asked, “What are we making on this gig?”

Darius snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “All right, Gents, one question at a time. We’re going on before Mint Condition, and following Eric Jackson. So step your game up, sax man.” He looked at Marco and gave him a playful thump on the forehead.

Marco thumped him back. “My sax game is always on point.”

Rashad, leaning against the short dividing wall behind their table, chimed in. “I’m with Ken. I wanna know how much we’re getting paid. Lina’s got expensive tastes.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“The deal is four grand up front, plus two percent of the ticket sales. In other words, if we advertise the festival every week at our shows, we can raise our take.” Darius fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “The festival is the second weekend of December, so keep your calendars clear.”

Ken remarked, “Us? Isn’t your wife due around that time?”

Darius nodded. “She’s due at the end of this month, and if she’s late, they’ll induce her.”

Rashad snickered. “Based on what Lina’s been telling me, Eve’s miserable. Trust me, she ain’t holding that kid in any longer than necessary.”

“Quit teasing my wife. You’ll be there soon enough.” Darius gave Rashad a fake punch in the shoulder.