With the recent news of the passing of soul great Bill Withers, I thought I’d post an excerpt from the third and final (& forthcoming) book in my trilogy.
Now in their mid-twenties, Jimmy Clark and Eve Blackhorse have just attended a rehearsal and dinner for the upcoming wedding of Eve’s brother, Free. Jimmy has recently experienced a terrible tragedy and is vulnerable and in need of his old friend’s company, sympathy and caring nature.
Remember that this is a work of fiction and that the bar names in this excerpt are not real.
“Are you going home?”
He is stirred from his thoughts by Eve. “I dunno.”
“Wanna go to a really cool bar I found? It’s close by.”
Jimmy takes a last drag on his cigarette before throwing the butt into the gutter. “Sure. Why not?”
“I’ll drive.”
They get into Eve’s bright red 1992 Mazda Miata. The bar is in downtown Monterey and looks like a dive from the outside, but once Jimmy’s eyes adjust to the darkness, he can see that it has been updated with high-end fixtures, tables and chairs and the old bar has been refinished and outfitted with nice, new barstools that actually have backs.
“I think I remember this place,” he says as they take a small table near the karaoke stage. “Wasn’t it called something else? The Sly Fox or something?”
Eve laughs. “The Moose Lounge! That was so long ago!”
“What’s it called now?”
“Echoes.”
Jimmy smirks. “Not really the same appeal.” He looks around. “Or crowd.”
They order a couple of Long Island iced teas as the karaoke crowd gets ready to embarrass themselves or impress the patrons.
“This can be pretty entertaining,” Eve says.
Jimmy shifts his chair to watch the first brave soul take up the microphone and tentatively sing “Time in a Bottle” by Jim Croce. He is a middle-aged man, balding with fat sideburns, wearing Wrangler jeans, old Sperry Topsiders and a short-sleeved, blue button-down shirt. When he finishes, there is a spurt of applause from a small table nearby and then several minutes go by before a younger man jogs up to belt out a surprisingly good version of Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl”.
“Could you ever do it?” Eve asks, signaling the waiter for another round.
“I’d have to be pretty fucked up,” Jimmy admits.
After a few more songs, there is a break in the action. Sipping the remnants of her second Long Island iced tea, Eve is feeling tipsy, adventurous and flirty. She excuses herself and goes off to the bathroom to touch up her face and take a minute away from Jimmy, whom she is finding herself very attracted to. The trouble is she doesn’t know what the etiquette might be for the situation that Jimmy is in. He didn’t just break up with his girlfriend; he lost her and his baby in a tragic car accident not more than five weeks ago.
“Ordered two more,” Jimmy says when she sits back down. “I know these things are fucking strong, but what the hell, right?”
“Cheers,” Eve says, hitting her glass gently against his. After a few large gulps, she puts the glass down, twirling the straw. “How are doing? I mean, it must be really hard…”
“It’s a nightmare,” he says. “But this helps!” He picks up his glass.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”
“Hopefully you’ll never have to know. I try not to think about it.”
“That must be impossible.”
“I said I try.”
“Do you ever feel like, I don’t know, death or tragedy surrounds you? I’m not sure how to say it…”
“You mean because of my dad and now this? Sure. I can’t help it.”
“I think I might, too.” Eve feels her eyes well up a little. She blinks, but a single tear rolls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away. “I’m sorry…”
Jimmy reaches across the table and takes her hand. “I love you, you know that? You’ve always been a sweetheart.”
Behind him the karaoke is starting up again. Five twenty-somethings-two men and three women-stand at the machine, a pair of microphones between them. The music starts and they all watch the screen roll up the lyrics to Hootie and the Blowfish’s “I Only Want to be with You.” It is a drunken, flat and painful production, but the quintet laughs their way through to the very end.
Jimmy drains the last of his iced tea and sets the glass down. “Watch this.”
Eve watches as he drunkenly saunters up to the karaoke machine, finds his selection and then, with head down and long blond hair covering his face, delivers a somewhat sensuous version of Bill Withers’ “Use Me”. When he finishes, he sets the mike down and walks back to the table where Eve is smiling magnificently.
“That was good!” she says. “Really!”
“It ain’t Pavarotti, but…”
“Really! It wasn’t bad!”
“I think I’ve had enough to drink,” Jimmy laughs. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow. Let’s get outta here.” When they get back into the Miata, he asks, “You’re living in the apartment at your parents’, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I come back with you? My mom-you know how she is. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Despite it being May, the apartment is chilly. Eve cranks up the wall heater and pulls out two throw blankets, then brews up some chamomile tea. She lights some candles on the coffee table and they sit snuggled up, sipping the tea. It is quiet and they talk some more about what Jimmy is going through, what he might do next.
“I don’t know,” he says. “All I can do is get through each day by itself. Then I wake up and do it again. The nights are the hard part.”
Eve pulls her blanket up under chin and looks over at him. “I wish there was something I could do to help you.”
“You have done something. I had fun tonight. Thanks for that.” He pauses for a minute to sip his tea, then looks back at her. “You have really pretty eyes,” he says. “And hair. You’re a natural beauty.”
“Kiss me, Jimmy.” She leans forward and he takes a handful of her dark hair in his hand and kisses her softly on the mouth. She sighs and lets her head fall to his shoulder. “I really like you,” she whispers in his ear. “I always have. I know I’m drunk, but I mean it.” She lifts her head and kisses his cheek. “Really kiss me.”
Jimmy presses his lips to hers, his tongue sliding along her lips.
“I don’t want you to think I don’t care about…” Eve starts.
“I don’t.”
“I don’t know how to act. I want to be with you so bad, but I don’t want to be disrespectful or rush you or…”
“Eve,” he says, pulling her close. “It’s me. The same old Jimmy Clark. You’re the only one that I can count on right now to see that.”
They move down onto the couch and under the blankets. Clothes come off and that old familiarity begins to evolve into something new and different.
lvsage 