THE GIG OF A LIFETIME, PART II, A SHORT STORY
Sweats dropped out of high school with his mother’s reluctant permission. He still poured sweat, but now it was the perspiration of passion and emotion while playing his sax, not from fear of his surroundings.
One day, while darting through the neighborhood on an errand, Sweats saw a sign hanging in the window of one of the local run-down clubs. JAZZ MUSICIAN WANTED, proclaimed the placard. Sweats went inside.
It was eleven o’clock in the morning and the place was mostly empty. There were a few customers sitting at the bar nursing their drinks, behavior born from hopeless lives. About a dozen tables were set up, and across from the bar, was a small stage. Behind the bar stood a man washing glasses and preparing for the day’s business. His name was Mac Shorter, a tough looking man who had evidently led an equally tough life. He was the bartender and owner.
Sweats approached him and said, “I’m here about the musician’s job.”
Mac looked up at Sweats, and asked, “How old are you, boy?”
Because of his height Sweats looked older than his sixteen years. “I’m eighteen,” he replied. Eighteen was the minimum age to work in a place that served liquor.
Mac was a keen observer. He rubbed his whiskered chin in disbelief. “What instrument you play?” he asked.
“Alto sax sir, and pretty damn good,” was Sweats response.
“I’ll be the judge of that. Come back with your instrument tonight, about nine o’clock, while the band’s here. We’ll see if you have anything.”
Sweats knew his mother would be working the night shift at the café.
“I’ll be back tonight, sir,” Sweats responded as he made for the door. He knew that tonight he would have to play like he had never played before.
As he was leaving, Mac yelled, “What’s your name, boy?”
“Sweats Connelly, sir.”
Sweats went home and practiced more intensely than ever. By the time he was done his fingers were stiff, but he knew he was right on for the audition. He left a note for his mother saying he would be out late and headed for the club.
