If only....

“Alright Joe, take it from the third stanza and I’ll back you up.” He loved these late night rehearsals. It was the only time in the day where he could completely loose himself. Empty his soul of heartache with each forceful blow of the horn, while longing for each note to fall gracefully like autumn leaves. Yes, this was living- sitting on the stool center stage with lights dim and the air thick with cigarette smoke and ladies perfume. The club was always best when the crowd was gone. Something about being one of the sole survivors of the bartender’s “last call” made him feel like royalty. For them the cup was always full, quite literally, with all the brown and white liquor their hearts desired as long as they played the tunes that breathed life into the place. Tyson moistened his lips and gave that sax one final blow, playing the kind of note that sent chills down the waitress’s spine and caused her to promptly wink in his direction. He had no need for food. Hell, he could live and thrive off of jazz and gin for as long as his kidneys would let him. He lit the last cigarette from the carton before it grew damp from the sweat of his chest pocket, and began contemplating how successful he’d become the moment a record producer walked in and heard him wail on his saxophone with the passion of a church choir. He was more than confident that one day soon, his big break would come.

“Damn Ty I can hear you beggin for a record contract every time you pick up that horn!”

“Yeah man, you know I gotta make them notes beg for mercy! Gotta show ‘em who’s boss ya dig?” They burst into laughter and the deep pitch of their voices created a lion’s roar that echoed throughout the club. “Keep at it man! You know one day we three are gonna make it big and take the jazz world by storm. We already have that line wrapped around the corner every Friday night wit folks fightin for seats to hear us play.” Aint no doubt about it. We gonna make it BIG Ty.”

“Ay, yall keep it down up there! Folks can hear you a mile away. You know what time it is?!”

“Sorry Boon, we aint mean no harm just cuttin up as usual. You know how we do.” “I know how yall do alright, but yall best be getting a move on cause I got a wife and a warm bed waiting on me. I feel like a teacher in charge of after school detention. Everybody knows the only thing worse than having detention is being in charge of it. Leave dammit! Go home.”

"You know you love us all like step children. That’s the only reason you want us to leave- so we can go to bed at a decent hour and get some beauty rest. Lord knows yo wife’s bed is cold as ice. You know good and well that living room couch is what’s waiting for you!”

Tears welled in their eyes as they hugged tight to their bellies aching from the laughter.  Tyson couldn’t help but think that he was surely gonna miss this place. He had a constant war going on in his mind about whether or not to tell them is plans for striking it out on is own and leaving this place behind. A solo career is what he was made for. He’d probably reach his death bed before these guys ever saw the likes of fame. To them superstar status is signing autographs for country folk and school children. They had no ambition to be national celebrities. Grammy award winners. Hall of fame musicians. Naw. They couldn’t even fathom it.