in the corner with a rickety stool in front of it. Perfect. I just hoped it wasn’t too out of tune.
“I’m Benny Lament.” I extended my hand to Money. “I told Esther I’d stop by.”
I heard her irritated sigh, but I kept my eyes on his. Money took my hand, and I figured he probably already knew who I was.
“You told me you’d be here on Sunday. It is Thursday, if I’m not mistaken. No exchanges, no returns, no open invitations,” Esther said.
Alvin was still smiling, and he stepped forward to shake my hand too.
“So you’re Benny Lament? The piano man? The man who played with Izzy and Miles and Coltrane?” he asked. “I’ve heard about you.” Esther might be mad, but they’d been talking about me.
“Yeah. And a few others.”
“So why you want to play with us?” Money asked, his tone insolent.
“I don’t,” I said, shaking my head.
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Money snapped. “I think you do. I saw the way you perked up when Esther started singing ‘Ain’t Nothin’’ last Saturday.”
“It definitely ain’t nothin’. That’s for sure,” Alvin crowed.
“That’s getting old, Al. That joke is getting so old.” Lee Otis sighed. He chugged a glass of water and wiped at his brow.
Alvin started to laugh, a rolling sound from his belly that erupted from his mouth.
“And there he goes, laughin’ at it the way he always does.” Lee Otis was not amused. He rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. Weary. He looked about sixteen, if that, and I got the feeling he didn’t love the job.
“I definitely perked up,” I admitted. “Esther is very good. I liked it.”
“Oh, you liked it, huh?” Money asked.
“Why are you angry, Mr. Mine?” I asked, keeping my voice mild. Ralph was right. Money was the gatekeeper.
“Because he’s been waiting on you,” Alvin said, still laughing. “Money likes money. And we need help. We need a keys man. You may be a little paler than we like, but you are definitely a keys man.”
“And what do you say, Miss Mine? Do you need a keys man?” As soon as I said it, I realized how it sounded. I hadn’t intended it that way. I wanted to know her opinion on the matter. It seemed to me they were doing just fine with a guitar, a bass, and some drums.
“I don’t need any man,” she said, her voice so cold it made my teeth ache. I walked over to the piano and sat down on the stool. If I didn’t get too excited it would hold me.
“Huh. Now there’s a line. Why don’t you sing it? It could be good.” I played a few chords. The piano didn’t sound too bad. I’d played worse.
“Sing what?” Esther asked. She’d followed me to the piano. Money and Alvin had too.
“You said you don’t need any man. I think we could make a song out of that line. Tell me, what else don’t you need, Esther?” I asked, already hearing the chorus. I just needed a verse.
“I don’t need you talking down to me, that’s for sure.” She folded her arms and stuck out her chin.
“I’m looking up at you, Baby Ruth. So how could I be talking down?” I grumbled. She struck me as one of those women who made you work for every smile. I didn’t have any patience for that. But I didn’t need her to smile for me. I just wanted to hear her sing.
“Stop calling me Baby Ruth.”
“Baby Ruth, now that’s funny!” Alvin said, picking up his bass and plucking out a waa waa waa response on his instrument.
I ignored him. I really wasn’t messing around. I was writing a song if Esther would let me. “How about this?” I asked and sang a line. It was rough, and I tripped a little, finding the rhyme.
“I don’t need another sweater, Mother. I don’t need a fancy hat. I don’t need a diamond ring on my finger, I’ve had enough of that.” I raised my eyebrows at Esther Mine, an invitation to provide another line. “What’s next?” I asked.
She frowned, and I played the same lines over again, singing them slowly, daring her to add something new.
“I don’t need you to give me permission, when I know that I can,” Esther supplied, half singing.
“That’s it,” I said, and I brought it home. “I don’t need anything you are selling.” I grinned. It was just too easy. “And I don’t need any man.”
Alvin was already trying to add the bass