One Night Only

“Are you ready, boss? Fifteen minutes until we open.” The anxious voice in the doorway of my office did nothing to calm my nerves. I’ve got to learn to close my door. “I’m ready, Zeke. Are you?” “Oh yeah, boss, am I ever. The guys are more than eager to perform, and the crowd has been getting bigger since before 5:00. They’re starting to curve around the block. I hope we have enough food. I hope we don’t run out of ice!” “Zeke, take a deep breath. It’s going to be fine. Make yourself useful and go check on the club one more time.” “Alright, boss.”

If I had a dollar for every time Zeke was wired or was overreacting, I wouldn’t have to run this club. I could retire to a beach somewhere and bask in the sun. I peered out the blinds that haphazardly covered the small office window behind my paper covered desk. Wow, Zeke wasn’t kidding. We’re going to reach capacity tonight. Deciding on the Rat Pack for opening night was a great idea, I see. Seems I’m not the only one who is an over-the-top Dean Martin fan. Oh, I almost forgot. I pushed the button on the intercom. “Zeke, can you come to my office please?” Not ten seconds later, a breathless Zeke popped his head around the corner and into the doorway. “Yeah boss, whatcha need?” “Here, I almost forgot. Quickly go put these up around the club and on the front door. It’s vital that we enforce this. You know what’s at stake, don’t you Zeke?” “I most certainly do, boss! I’ll hurry and put these up. We only have a few more minutes. Ooh, it would be bad, boss; bad if anyone were to use their cellphones.” Zeke raced up the hall to the main club. Zeke is intense, but he’s dedicated and a damn hard worker. Most importantly, I can trust him.

I stood, straightened my pinstripe suit jacket, put on my fedora and went out to check on my performers. They haven’t put on an act in quite some time. I had hoped they weren’t too rusty. This is a big night.

“Hey guys,” I said. “Dean, Frank, Sammy, how are you feeling? Are you ready? Remember, our club is One Night Only. A chance to show your stuff one last time. That’s all the building allows, as you know.” Since each act performed for only one night, the public was chomping at the bit to come out and reminisce, spending a few hours with their favorites from their past. Once the public heard that we had their favorite performers lined up from different decades, the tickets to see their heroes practically sold themselves. Everyone loves a great impersonator, but I’m giving them much more than that. But that, they can never know.

I’ve dreamed of opening a club for performers wanting to get discovered, for as long as I can remember. I think it all started right after I lost my mother. She was taken away from me when I was a young boy and there’s been an empty space in my heart ever since. I can still see it so clearly; her soft features, gentle smile, and melodic singing voice. She lulled me to sleep every night with lullabies. Since then, I’ve had a soft spot for talented singers and performers taken away too soon. It still boggles my mind with the surrealness of it all, yet doesn’t fail to excite my senses, the fact that the building has an agenda of its own. The Rat Pack showing up to perform, being one example. How did they know they’re my absolute favorite? Finding the building was an experience in and of itself. I was driving one day, lost in my thoughts when I passed the empty warehouse. There was an orange for sale sign on the door. I pulled over to look and as my eyes scanned the building, it changed. Right before my eyes it changed. Gone were the broken windows and drab brick exterior. All I can surmise was that it wanted, no needed, to show me it’s potential. A large lighted sign hung above the front door with the words, “One Night Only”. There was an extra-large poster announcing the opening night act; The Original Rat Pack. I rubbed my eyes to make sense of what I was seeing and when I looked back it was once again abandoned, beckoning me to create its vision. I knew right then and there; my dream of a club was about to become a reality.

Zeke gave me a huge gap-toothed grin and an exaggerated thumbs up as he opened the doors at 8:00 sharp. I think he has been more excited than the patrons for this moment. The guests filled the tables, the bar, and practically every other open space in minutes. The bartenders were frantically trying to keep up with the demand. The kitchen staff certainly weren’t going to be able to stop for a breath tonight. When everyone was chatting happily, drinks in hand, small plates filling their tables, Zeke dimmed the lights and our Dean Martin walked out on stage. The entire club fell silent. An elderly woman at the table nearest to where I stood, just to the right of the stage, wiped a tear from her cheek, looked at her husband and said, “Oh my, I saw Dean at the Sands Casino in 1964. He looked exactly the same. How did they do it? Where did they find this Dean?” It was right then I knew this club would be a huge success.

My Frank and Sammy joined Dean on stage and for the next few hours and kept the crowd entranced. The comments were consistent. “They look just like the real Rat Pack.” “Their voices sound exactly like the Rat Pack I remember.” “I wonder if they’re lip syncing.”

I couldn’t be happier to hear that. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a frantic Zeke hustling from table to table making sure no one pulled out their cell phones. The night was perfect. And then it happened, something I didn’t anticipate. I thought I was so careful. I kept the acts away from the guests. I made sure no pictures or video was taken. But this, damn. I should have thought of this. I caught Zeke reaching out to stop the woman but was a split second too late. The woman was stumbling, clearly inebriated. She twisted around Zeke’s outstretched hand and ran awkwardly up the steps and onto the stage. “Dean, oh Dean. I love you!” Our Dean stopped mid-song and froze, unsure of what to do. None of us considered this as a possible wrench in the plan. The woman reached her arms forward just as Zeke caught up to her. He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her, but not before her hand reached and went right through Dean’s shoulder. She tumbled onto the stage. All eyes were on her, all eyes but Dean’s whose eyes riveted toward and locked onto mine. I scanned the crowd to see if anyone noticed. Everyone was watching Zeke help the woman to her feet while ushering her off stage. All except one table was talking about the woman. I homed in on their conversation. “Did you see that?” “I thought maybe I imagined it.” “Yeah, it looked like that lady’s hand went right through the impersonator’s shoulder.” Knowing something like this could ruin me, I hurried to their table, anxious to divert their conversation. “I’m sorry, folks. Unfortunately, things like this happen. I’m very sorry for the interruption.” I waved my hand to the bartender. “Harry, a round of drinks for this table please.” The rest of the rat pack rejoined Dean on stage to close out the evening with their final set. A man at the table said, “Sir, I think I saw that woman’s hand go right through your singer. What’s going on?” “Absolutely nothing,” came my response. “I understand why you would think that, sir.” My heart was pounding and sweat was beading on my brow as I fought to keep my anxiety from becoming apparent. “The fog lights and smoke on stage can really play tricks on the eyes. I can assure you, our Dean Martin is most certainly as real as you and I.” The man hesitated then said, “Yeah, that makes sense, sorry. I guess I had a bit more alcohol than I realized. Thank you.” “No problem at all sir. Enjoy your evening.”  I walked away so I could wipe the sweat from my forehead, knowing that was a closer call than I ever intended to have.

The rest of the evening went on without another snag. We closed and locked the door after the last patron exited the establishment. The staff all stopped what they were doing and took a collective sigh. Zeke rushed to my side. “Boss, we really had a close call tonight.” “I’m aware, Zeke.” “But boss, tomorrow night we have Elvis Presley. We can’t let anyone near him. I mean, if it got out that he is…….” “Zeke, I know. We’ll just have to be more careful, won’t we? I’ll be in my office. Are you able to finish up out here?” “Sure boss. Oh, um…” “What is it, Zeke?” “Well boss, we only have room for one more act on the schedule and, uh, I think I’ve found the perfect person to fill that last spot for this half of the season. I said she could come see you tonight. She told me it was important that she come see you tonight. I really think you should see her, boss.” “Why tonight? What’s her story?” “She is a beautiful singer, dreamlike. She had one hit in her prime before tragedy struck. She was touted to become the biggest star of the twentieth century before her life was well, you know.” “Ok, Zeke let me know when she gets here. I’ll be in my office going over the books from tonight.” “Ok, boss. Thanks boss.”

I sat with my back to the door and a feeling of relief washed over me. Tonight could have been a disaster. Thankfully we got through it with minimal damage. If more people had noticed…can’t worry about that now. I knew that I was taking a big risk having original performers such as The Rat Pack, Elvis, Jim Croce, Donna Summer, Michael Jackson, Buddy Holly to name a few, that come to perform one last time. I never had to have the daunting task of interviewing those who wanted to find their big break. The building sent to me the best of the best in spades, with no sign of it letting up. Interrupting my reverie, came a gentle rapping on my partially opened door. “Hello, I’m sorry to call on you at such a late hour. Thank you for agreeing to see me.” That voice, I know that voice. It can’t be. I slowly swiveled my chair around. On trembling knees, I stood. “Mom?”