An Affair to Remember

“Why aren’t you ready,” Sara asked Steve as she rushed into the bedroom. His hair was wet so she knew he’d showered, but he had put on jeans and a t-shirt.

 “Because I don’t want to go,” he said honestly. “You know I don’t feel comfortable mingling with the upper crust.”

 “They’re just people,” she said.

 “Honey, to you they’re just people. To me, they’re upper crust. Boring upper crust.”

 “But you all like music. And music is the universal language.”

 “They like classical with violins and I like country with fiddles. That barely puts us on the same planet, much less at the same event. Look, you’ll have more fun without me. Go and enjoy yourself. I don’t mind. Really, I don’t.”

 “But I mind,” she pleaded. “And besides, violins and fiddles are the same instruments.”

Steven rolled his eyes. 

“What’s with the eye roll?” she asked. 

“If you don’t know the difference between a violin and a fiddle, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Please,” she begged. “Please come to the party.”

 “You’re the only person I know that can drag please out into three syllables,” he said, beginning to falter.

 She snuggled up to his chest and nibbled on his lips. “Pretty please.”

 Taking a deep breath, he stepped away from her and pulled off his t-shirt. “Fine, but you owe me.”

 “No problem,” she said with a smile as she put her arms around his waist. “I know just the pay back.”

 He gave her a wicked smile and kissed her back. “It’s going to take more than that,” he said. “I really hate these parties.”

 They arrived 32 minutes later and were greeted by a distraught hostess.

 “What’s wrong, Jean?” Sara asked.

“There’s a lockdown at the airport and the musicians can’t leave. The party will be over before they can get here. What am I going to do?”

Steven left Sara to comfort their hostess while he wandered off to find the wet bar. Now he really would need a drink. I think I’ll start with a double,” he told himself, and work my way up from there.”

“I heard the musicians are stuck at the airport and can’t make it,” he heard one CEO type say to the bartender. 

“That’s what I heard,” he said before turning to Steve.

“Hey, Steve,” he said, “fancy meeting you here. What happened? You lose a bet?”

“No, just can’t say no when Sara uses three syllables to say please. I see they talked you into coming.”

“Nope,” he said. “I’m not partying. I’m working. They have to pay me to come to these affairs.”

“Lucky you,” Steve said, looking around the room. “So what do you think all these fine folks will do without their entertainment?”

“Probably, same as you.”

“You mean, get drunk.”

“Come on, you know you don’t get drunk at parties.”

“There’s always a first time,” Steve said, surveying the room.  

“Where’s Sara?” the bartender asked. “It’s you that’s usually missing in action, not her.”

“I think she’s comforting our hostess.”

Steve mingled for a few minutes and picked up bits and pieces of conversation around the room. He was surprised that the women weren’t too unhappy about the musicians being stuck at the airport and the men were downright delighted.

“There’s a baby grand piano,” one man said. “Too bad somebody doesn’t know how to play jazz.”

“I’m with you there,” said his buddy, “but jazz with just a piano isn’t really jazz, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” the first man sighed. 

They wandered back to the bar for refills. 

Suddenly, a hand slapped Steve on the back. “Hey, Steve, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Steve turned to see his old college roommate. “Bill?” he said. “I didn’t know you lived in New York. When did you move to the east coast?”

“Just a couple of months ago. Terri and I are still getting settled. She and our hostess are old college roomies and she felt sorry for us not knowing anybody and invited us to come mingle with some of her friends.”

“That’s great, then. At least now I have someone to talk to. I really hate these formal affairs but Sara wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now I hear the musicians are stuck at the airport. Some kind of lockdown. Maybe a terrorist attack or something. Who knows?”

“Remember all those great parties we went to in college?” Bill asked. 

“Do I ever? We brought the house down,” Steve said, finishing off his drink. “Let’s go get refills before they run out of liquor. Looks like everyone else is,” and they headed back to the wet bar. 

They heard no less than three other couples mention the lack of music and how it was a shame no one could play piano. 

Bill leaned into Steve. “And if you’re smart,” he said, “you won’t mention our college party days around here.”

“Why not?” asked the bartender as he set two refills in front of them before they asked. “You guys were pretty good in college.”

“Well, hello, Joe,” Bill said, reaching out to shake the bartender’s hand. “You mean you’re here, too.”

“Not me,” he said. “Just Steve. I’m a working stiff.”

“You know what?” Steve said. 

“What?” Bill and Joe asked in unison.

“It’s too bad Joe doesn’t have his horn here. Mine’s at the apartment. We could liven this place up a bit.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Joe said. “I’ve got it right here.”

“Really?” Steve said.

“Yep. Old habits die hard. I never leave home without it.”

“Shall we?” Steve asked Bill. “They’ve got a baby grand.”

“Why the heck not?” he said. 

Joe reached behind the bar and handed Steve his trumpet case and the two old roomies made their way to the baby grand. 

Bill made himself comfortable at the ivories and played a few warm up riffs while Steve took out the trumpet. He, too, ran up and down a couple of scales and then the party really began. 

The people had asked for jazz and jazz they got. 

A few minutes later Sara and Jean entered the room to find Steve and Bill had the undivided attention of everyone in the room. 

“I didn’t know Steve played trumpet,” Jean said. 

“Neither did I,” Sara answered.