he wanted to do, so that’s what we did. Takes the cake doesn’t it?” She winked.
“Were you both fully clothed when you were umm, baking?”
“Mmm, well, I’ll leave that part up to your imagination, but believe me when I say there was no hanky panky. He just wanted to bake, the love. He was a cutie too. Hey, maybe I could set you two up?” She wiggles her perfectly shaped red eyebrows suggestively.
When I first found out what Emme did for a living, I couldn’t help but be a little shocked. She isn’t much older than I, but has been doing what she does for…a time. It’s the profession that never goes out of date, she says. I suppose she has a point. Nudity is always in style, at least in some circles. I try not to think about it.
“Everyone and their brother are trying to set me up,” I grumble, biting savagely into the cookie. It’s a gingersnap.
“That’s because you’re hopeless on your own, Sonnet. Look at what you’re wearing. Good God, are those horses?” She looks aghast at my favorite shirt. I wipe off the cookie crumbs and puff out my chest proudly in defiance. “You should really let Meli take you shopping. I’d give you some of my stuff if you weren’t so dang skinny. Have another cookie.”
I oblige and settle into the chair opposite her couch. Her book’s cover is of a half naked man holding onto a gorgeous woman. It’s a tough call who has the better hair.
********************
Tonight, Friday, the coffee shop is packed with customers. Our busiest night is always Friday because of the lineup of singers and specialty prices on drinks and snack food. I spy Luke in the back, in one of our comfortable leather armchairs, but it’s too busy to go say hello or socialize with anyone. Matthias and Harry wander in at about half past seven for coffee and to hear me sing. That’s a compliment coming from them, as they don’t like to leave the house very often. I make them a whole pot of French press coffee and serve it to them with a pitcher of cream and lots of sugar packets. They never have any money – because they never leave the house to make any – so I’ll have to pay for the coffee out of my wages. I get a small discount, but Micki is notoriously tightfisted.
When it’s my turn to sing I don’t bother taking my apron off since I’m still on the clock. For atmosphere’s sake, the lights are low tonight, giving the shop an air of an old time piano bar or an old fashioned elegant club. I imagine myself wearing a sparkling floor length gown, blue maybe, or red. I’m sitting on a piano, my hair in loose waves, and the audience is sophisticated, sipping champagne instead of cappuccino.
The song I’ve chosen is from World War II and I’ve picked it for Matthias and Harry. They were both there. They both recognize the first few chords from the guitar I’m playing and salute me from their chairs.
I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through.
In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children's carousel;
The chestnut trees;
The wishin' well.
I always sing with my eyes shut; it isn’t my intention, but they tend to just drift closed and I lose myself in the music. I’m not a very good guitar player - I’ve only been playing for a few months - but some strumming is better than no accompaniment at all. I sing mostly for Matthias and Harry, but also for the love of singing, and perhaps, if I’m honest, to see if I can impact the man in the back with the camera.
I'll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is new.
I'll be looking at the moon,
But I'll be seeing you.
When I finish the last note and the last chord I open my eyes and smile at the applause. Of course this little group of locals would clap politely for anyone, but I know I sounded decent - maybe better than decent. I blow Matthias and Harry a kiss and put my guitar back down by the tiny stage. I can’t help glancing back at Luke and I see him fiddling with his camera. Did he take a picture of me? I feel flattered and then instantly feel ridiculous for feeling flattered. I really must get out more if a mere acquaintance can dictate