Max played a blues progression on his old upright piano, paused a moment, plunked a few more notes and stopped. He poured a half-empty bottle Jack Daniels into a shot glass, downed it, and stared, bleary-eyed, at the music composition sheet propped in front of him, half-pencilled in with notes and chords.
A ring from the landline phone on the side table next to him jolted him out of his reverie. He looked at it with mild surprise since he seldom received calls on that number. He let it ring one more time and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
For a moment, he heard a faint whispering voice. After that, only dead air and a click.
He stroked his stringy goatee and tried to get back to his train of thought, but he’d hit a wall. Same as the day before, and the day before that. Worse, he began to feel those walls in his dark basement apartment closing in on him again. Meanwhile, that faint whispering voice from the call still lingered in his mind. Now he had a sudden urge to get out of the place and head to the nearby Black Coffee Co-op for a boost of caffeine and a BLT wrap.
When he walked in, he recognized that blue-haired fairy sitting alone in a corner reading a book. He’s seen her there before, but usually with another woman. He ordered a tall Americano and a wrap and sat in his usual spot. Since it was a sunny day, most of the customers were at the outside tables. He put on his ear buds, selected a playlist of 80’s British pop groups, and checked the latest soccer scores and standings in the German Bundesliga. He couldn’t help but glance over to the woman several times, who was still reading her book.
After a while, she got up and walked toward the counter. He checked her out as she placed an order. She looked to be in her early-twenties and her azure blue hair was pinned up with a bun in the back and bangs in front. She had thin, silver piercings on her nose and lips and all she wore on this warm summer day were rhinestone flip-flops, a short plaid skirt and a silky white sleeveless blouse. Her skin was a milky white with no trace of a tan. A pattern of floral and spider web-like tattoos covered one arm. She rummaged through her purse in some distress and said something to the barista, so he popped off his ear buds to listen.
“…I must have left my other purse at home, she said. “Can I pay later?”
“I don’t know,” the barista said. “I’ll hold it until you come back.”
“It’s kind of far,” she said. “And I’m so hungry now.”
“Sorry but -”
“That’s okay,” Max said. “I’ll cover it.”
She turned to him in surprise. “That’s nice of you, mister. Thanks. I’ll pay you back when I can.”
“No problem,” Max said, as he got up and paid the waiter. “You’re a reg. I’ve seen you here before.”
“And I’ve seen you too. Always sitting in the same spot looking like you’re doing something creative.”
“Not so much today.”
She eyed him closely. “Let me guess. You’re a musician.”
“I play a little music. Guitar and piano.”
“Actually, it wasn’t just a guess. I saw you performing at the Hopvine open mic last month.”
“I don’t remember seeing you there.” For a moment, he felt himself getting lost in her emerald green eyes. “Do you want to sit at my table to chat some more?”
“Sure, I’ve got a little time before work.” The barista came by with the order. She immediately took a big bite out of a wrap. “My hair was different then. Blond. I liked your songs. They reminded me little of Dylan.”
“Thanks. “My name’s Max, by the way.”
“Hi, I’m Jane. But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not into men.”
“That’s okay. Neither am I.”
She laughed, exposing a slight gap between her two front teeth. “Do you play mostly pop and rock stuff?”
“A little. I’m getting more into jazz and blues now. I used to play full time in groups but not anymore.”
“How come?”
“The money wasn’t that good so now I work in the shipyards. My goal is to cut a demo tape and send it to some studios. Maybe eventually get a recording contract.”
“I used to play the cello and was getting pretty good at it. But then my life went to shit and couldn’t do it anymore. I’m much more of a reader now. I’m into this book called Perfume, by a German writer. It’s really evil, which is why I like it.”
“Did you grow up around here?”
“I’m from the east coast. Been to Seattle a month. I’m crashing at a friend’s apartment with my wife.”
“Your wife?”
“Didi’s transgender. I’ve been with her since I was eighteen.”
They chatted a little more until she glanced at her watch
“Shoot, I’ve got to get to work now.”
“Where at?”
“Just up the street a few blocks toward Broadway.”
“I’m headed there so I’ll go with you.”
Along the way, they stopped at a smoke shop and he bought her a pack of clove cigarettes and some cheapo lighters.
“Here we are,” she said, as they stopped in front of a store the next block up. “Thanks for the wrap and cigs. Maybe I’ll see you in the coffee shop again.”
He didn’t want to say goodbye yet. “I’ll be there. Is this where you work?” He asked as he looked up to the Babes In Toyland storefront, a sex-paraphernalia store run by women.
“Yeah. Have you been in here before?”
“No, but I’ve read about it.”
“If you want, I can give you a little tour of the place,” she said, with a fixed half-smile. Also, there’s a couple of toys I’ve had my eye on and, well, if you could buy them for me I’d get a little commission too.”
“Let’s check it out.”
***
Later that week, he waited at Black Coffee for her, but was surprised to see her come in with Didi. They both wore flowing summer dresses and looked to be the same height and build; tall and willowy, with similar facial features and makeup, except Didi had dark brown hair. Jane introduced Max to Didi, who barely acknowledged him. Jane had told him before that Didi was borderline autistic and reserved with strangers.
This time they chatted even longer and had a chance to open up a little more about their lives. Didi played games on a handheld device as they talked. He learned that Jane had been mostly on her own since she was sixteen, due to a lack of family support and because of some step-dad issues, she mentioned, darkly. She met Didi when they were living on the East Coast and from there they travelled around the country, staying with casual friends and relying on their street smarts to stay out of trouble.
Max glossed over his life as well; the travels to Asia, Europe, South America, and Mexico, some of the odd jobs, the marriage (briefly), and the bands he used to work in. She seemed especially interested in the demo tape of jazz and blues pieces he’d been working on and sent to various local studios.
“How come they sent it back?” she asked. “Isn’t it good enough?”
“I think it is, but they advised me to do more live performances and make a name for myself. But that’s been hard to do while I’m working. I’m beginning to think that it might be years before it’ll happen, and maybe not in my lifetime, considering my age.”
“You’re not that old — are you?”
“I’m bumping forty.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’ll have to be dead before you’re your music will be heard.”
“Maybe so.”
“Then maybe you should die then, or commit suicide, or -”
“Good idea! I could jump off the Aurora Bridge. That would make headlines. Then they’d discover my music and find out what a tortured soul I was. Christ, the songs would rocket to the top of the charts.”
She edged closer to him from the other side of the table with a wild-eyed look. “Do it then!”
“Naw, I don’t have the guts.”
“Have someone else do it. You know. Snuff you. For the sake of your art.”
“Oh sure.”
“If you pay them enough,” Didi said, with a grin. Those were the first words she’d spoken during the conversation.
“There’s ways people can get away with it,” Jane said. “Make it look like natural causes.”
“This is getting weird,” Max said.
“I suppose,” Jane said. She settled back in her chair. “I have a crazy imagination.”
Afterwards, he bought her some clothes at Metro Clothing on Broadway, which carried a wide assortment of the dark, Goth attire that befitted her persona.
***
They met several more times that month, always followed by a shopping spree. Max could see what was happening, but it almost didn’t matter because he wanted just to be in her presence, at whatever cost.
During one of the meetings she asked him for him for all his horoscope info, to be used, she said, for a success charm-spell for his music.
“You can do stuff like that?” he asked
“Yep. I’m a witch, you know. I’ve been practicing the craft for years. Didi and I crashed last year at a witch’s coven near Denver. While I was there, I learned a lot more about it.”
“Does that mean you’ve put a spell on me or something?”
“I don’t know about that, but I do have magical powers. That’s how I summoned you.”
“What do you mean?”
She closed her eyes a moment, as if to gather her thoughts.
“Just before we met, I was meditating on my life and seeking a way to better my situation. The answer finally came in the visage of another person who would act as a servant of sorts to me. When I was at the coffeehouse that day, I felt the time was right to summon forth this servant, and so I did. When you walked in about an hour later, I sensed this person was you. During our conversation, I knew that I was right.”
So how the hell did you do that?” he asked, with a forced laugh
“I have my ways.”
“So, have you put a spell on me?” he asked, a little more serious this time.
She then went into a long explanation about casting spells and how it’s not that easy and how it can’t be done to just anyone but only to a receptive mind that a witch can intuitively detect etc.
“That’s all very interesting, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“I believe that I did.”
***
As the months went by, Max gradually settled into his destined role of servant to both Jane and Didi: running errands, delivering takeout food, chauffeuring, and helping them furnish the apartment they shared with another transgender. He truly enjoyed doing this. Even though he spent a lot of time with them, he seemed to be getting more composing done.
It got to the point where the three of them made plans to live together. Eventually they found an old four-bedroom/two-bath Victorian house. His large bedroom was on the main floor, next to the three-quarter bathroom. He converted another small bedroom to a music studio. Jane and Didi lived upstairs and had their own full bath.
During the next few months, they all settled into a routine. When Max came back from work, he usually did some composing after dinner. Didi pulled in some money doing freelance graphic arts work. Jane signed up for art school and got a job at a downtown strip joint.
For some time Max had been aware that he’d been drifting away from his old friends and acquaintances. During the first month in the house, he invited a few of them for dinner but could tell that the arrangement made them uncomfortable so he stopped doing so altogether. Serving Jane and maintaining the household seemed to be the only thing important to him now. By this time, he’d totally lost interest in his other casual girlfriends.
One afternoon, Max was in his studio plucking on his guitar when Jane came into the room and plopped down in his reading chair. The first thing he noticed was her hair, which was now a darker shade of blue and styled with bangs cut just above her brows, which accentuated her eyes even more.
“How’s everything going?” he asked, staring at her new hairstyle.
“Good. I’ve just been meditating in the attic and started thinking about a few things. One was that crazy little talk we had when we first met. The part when you said that you might be dead before your music comes out. For some reason, I starting thinking about that again. I mean, what if something happens to you?”
“Gosh, I’ve never thought about it. My health is good and all that. But sure, I could get into a car accident tomorrow or something.” As he gazed into her eyes, he felt a faint tingling sensation in his head and then suddenly a thought sprung up that never occurred to him before. “I guess I could write you into my will. I have a little in a 401k account.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” she said, with a knowing smile. “How much is in it, by the way?”
“About $100K last time I checked. Some of that came from a small inheritance. I’ve been adding to it from my job pay to save for a condo.” He hesitated a moment before continuing, as he felt that same tingling sensation again. “The will is in my sister’s name but she’s doing pretty well, so I could leave all of it with you.”
“Good. That would help my peace of mind a lot. When can you get started on it?”
“I’ll talk to my lawyer tomorrow.”
***
The next month, Max got laid off at the shipyards. With the extra time, he performed in as many open mics as he could. He even got a good review in the Seattle Stranger, although it didn’t open any doors for him at recording studios. Soon, he began to have growing doubts that he could make it in the music industry. All the promising leads he had turned into rejections. Because of that, he started drinking more. What made it worse was that Jane stopped asking him about his music. It seemed that she’d given up on him too. He also began to imagine that she and Didi were keeping secrets from him. More than once, he heard them talking quietly in another room, but when he entered, they stopped and quickly changed the subject.
And then one day, she started acting cheerful and friendly toward him again. It happened so quickly that it almost didn’t seem real, but he went along with it because at least it picked up his spirits a little. They began to discuss things about their lives in the open and supportive way that they used to.
One night, they celebrated Didi’s birthday over a sumptuous meal and several glasses of wine During the conversation, Jane reassured him not to worry so much about his music setbacks because she was sure he’d make a name for himself. “But maybe not in your lifetime,” she said, jokingly. Feeling giddy with relief, he went along with the joke and told her to ‘drop me off in the middle of the Aurora Bridge the next time we drive by, to speed up the process.’ They toasted the night off with a shot of ouzo, Didi’s favorite liquor.
“The last time I mixed this stuff with wine,” Max said. “I got sick as hell in the morning.”
“Not to worry. I can make you a special tea that prevents hangovers,” Jane said.
“Yes,” Didi said, with a beatific smile. “It works very well for that.”
Arlo, stood up and started to put the dishes away.
“We’ll take care of that, Jane said. “You just get some rest now.”
***
That night, Max laid in his bed reading her copy of Perfume, while sipping on the new blend of tea they made for him, which had a bitter, pungent taste. After he finished the tea, he’d only gotten through a few more pages when he started feeling immensely drowsy. He set the book down and crashed to sleep.
Around midnight, he woke up in a haze when heard his bedroom door squeak open and saw Jane and Didi enter the room. He was about to ask what they wanted but couldn’t move his mouth or get the words out. He tried to get up but wasn’t able to move his arms or legs. He watched her light some candles and incense sticks, and then arrange them around the room. Didi stayed in the far corner of the room, watching him. Jane then stood at the head of the bed, clasped her hands as if in prayer, closed her eyes and softly hummed a chant. Afterwards, she climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist, while pressing down on his chest with both hands. For a while, she just stared down at him, as if in a trance, with a serene and angelic expression in the throbbing candlelight. She reached for a pillow, held it above his head for a moment, and pushed it down onto his face.
As he struggled for breath, he heard her soft whispering voice, but the only word he understood was: “Goodbye.”
by 
Great story.