I pawned the ring my ex gave me and bought the silver saxophone that
hung in the window, abandoned. Back home I lit one of his
old Camels and held down the keys, which were padded with
leather. If smoke slithered out of a tone hole, that was a
leak. I made the repairs.
The next week, I went to the open-mic at the Rusty Nail and signed up
for set five. When the owner called set-five musicians to the stage, I
found my place next to a handsome young guitarist. He said,
"How 'bout a slow blues in G?"
I felt that old sax rear back in my hands like a stallion itching to
run. I nodded and wiped my lipstick off with the back of my hand.
"We can warm up with that."
Two chords into the intro, I recognized The Thrill is Gone. We passed
around licks until all the juice had been squeezed out of
Lucille's ghost, then the whole band stomped on the last note
"Now it's time for Let the Good Times
Roll," I whispered in his ear before he called up the next
"You take the first ride, baby. I'll slide in
behind you." He gave a wicked smile. And I knew
that pawnbroker had got the short end of the stick, because I'd hit the
Paula Ray is from North Carolina. She's had work in Word Riot, Dogzplot, Pequin and others.
To link to this story directly: http://wigleaf.com/200910rusty.htm
Detail of photo on main page courtesy
of irene gr.
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