The jazz bar is snazzy. Like the casino, it seems smoking was legal inside. A cloud of cigar smoke hangs in the air, making it almost impossible to see a few feet in any direction. I'm actually one of the only people not smoking, but as I pull out a cigarette and put it in between my lips I begin to fit in with the rest of the scene. The chairs are leather and tall, scattered with coffee tables holding straight cognac and rum next to them. I was one of the youngest ladies here, most women were middle aged and with their husbands or boyfriends, but I'm the only one alone. I have to admit it's not really my scene, and it doesn't really look like Lana's scene either. When she said she was a singer at a jazz bar, it took me by surprise. Lana was dressed casually; she looked like someone you might find at a Metallica concert, or some other heavy metal gathering. Definitely not someone I'd think to find in this environment.
It's around midnight now; Lana's show should be starting any minute. On our way here, we had been talking the entire time, no awkward silences or struggling for words to say. Speaking with her came very natural, like speaking to someone you've known for twenty years. The words just seemed to flow and before I knew it, it was already time for her to get backstage and get ready for her set. The stage was small but the only well lit section of the soft glow of the bar's interior. She would be seen by the one hundred or so people in the bar, even through the dense cloud of smoke that hung in the air. As I start to get comfortable in my seat, sipping a small glass of neat whiskey, Lana walks out on stage in a frilly white dress.
I think as of now, I'm the only person intrigued by her looks. Conversations fail to cease around me but my eyes don't leave her. She's fixing the microphone stand so it's level with her mouth and when she's finished, looks around the audience until she spots me. When she does, her eyes don't leave me, as if I was comforting to look at, so I smile at her to encourage her to continue. She clears her throat and introduces herself, getting everyone's attention. The jazz bar finally becomes so quiet you might even be able to hear a pin drop.
"I'm Lana Del Rey," she says into the microphone, her soft voice echoes to each corner of the small bar. "This is Ride." There are a few piano notes coming from the instrument behind her and a long stare at me before she officially begins singing. I nod at her, my smile never leaving my face, before she looks away from me and into the rest of the audience.
"I've been out on that open road,
You can be my full time, daddy, white and gold,
Singing blues has been getting old,
You can be my full time, baby, hot or cold."
Her voice is sultry, and soft like her speaking voice. She sings with passion and has the entire room intrigued. I forget I'm holding a glass of whiskey in my hand while watching her; she catches the entirety of my attention. The way her voice flows like liquid gold, how she sways her hips to the beat of the song, holding onto the microphone stand while she does, quite literally takes my breath away.
"I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy,
I'm tired of driving 'til I see stars in my eyes,
It's all I've got to keep myself sane baby,
So I just ride, I just ride."
After a captivating performance, Lana gets a well-deserved applause from me, and all of the people around me. She's gleaming at the audience and says her thank yous before disappearing again. This time, I plan to go find her. I take a final sip of my whiskey before leaving the empty glass on the small wooden table. I head toward a door that's next to the stage and just as I'm about to touch the handle to open it, out pops Lana.
"So?" she asks instantly. "What did you think?"
"What did I think?" I repeat. "What did I think? You're fucking brilliant."
She blushes and looks down at her feet, smiling. "Thank you," she says. Lana takes my hand in hers and begins pulling me toward the stage door. "Come with me, it smells like shit in here."
She wasn't wrong; the smell was strong and putrid. The mixture of different cigars and cigarette smells and men's cologne and body odour all together in a giant hot box obviously didn't generate the best smell. Lana pulls me down a hallway toward another door that looked identical to the first one. Inside, is a small dressing room, decorated with pictures of famous buildings, a mirror, two loveseats and a coffee table. Lana's clothes she wore at the casino were tossed casually on the floor and I don't hesitate to make myself at home here.
I plop myself down on one of the loveseats and Lana hands me her cell phone. "Put your number in," she says. "If that friend of yours fucks you over again give me a call."
I giggle and take her offer. As I punch in the last digits of my number into her phone, I glance up at Lana to see her in her bra and underwear. It shouldn't be a big deal, but after developing this attraction toward her it's almost impossible to look away, even when she catches me staring at her. I'm a little embarrassed that she caught me so I try to make a joke out of it.
"Is this how you meet everyone?" I ask and she smiles.
"Only people I'm attracted to," she says and it takes me by surprise.
I want to laugh but it gets stuck in my throat. Before I begin stuttering and making a fool of myself in front of her I just say, "shut up."
I'd rather keep my attraction toward Lana inconspicuous. I don't want her to know I'm attracted to her unless I know she feels the same way for sure. When she changes back into her normal clothes she sits next to me on the loveseat and takes her phone right from my fingers. "So how long are you staying in Vegas?" she asks.
I shrug and look at her. "I'm not sure, I have an open ended ticket so I kind of wanted to stay long enough to do everything, you know?"
She nods. "I can take you places."
"Really? Even a spontaneous trip to LA?" At the mention of Los Angeles, Lana's eyes shoot downwards. I no longer held her attention, which bothered me. I touch her hand to make up for our last broken contact, but she still doesn't look at me. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"Nothing, it's just I can't go back to LA," she says. "It's a long story but I mean, it sucks I wanted to stay with you so we could become like, friends. But I can't go back there."
"Why not?"
She smiles to herself before her smile fades away in despair. The whole mention of the place had probably brought up a sad memory and I almost apologize before she begins explaining herself. "Well, I had this boyfriend a few months ago, we were engaged and supposed to get married," she says. I feel a pang of guilt and doubt in my stomach; I hope this girl isn't seeing anyone, I just realized I hadn't even asked. "He was so sweet and always came home with flowers and gifts for me. Then, one day, he just turned. He became verbally abusive and it actually got so bad I was finding any little reason just to stay with him, because at the time I thought I was in love with him. I always told myself, 'well, at least he's not physical,' until he became physical."
I shake my head and rub my thumb reassuringly on her hand; this finally makes her look back up at me. "When I finally got the courage to leave him, he already broke my arm," she continues. "I was really fucked up. So, I moved in with my sister so I didn't have to deal with him anymore, and he found me. Then I moved into my dad's beach house in Malibu, and he found me again. So I moved in with a friend and he would call her house every day and leave threatening voice mails, so I just fucking left the city, and I'm terrified to go back."
"Shit," I say and pull her into a reassuring hug. She sighs into my shoulder and I feel her hands moving across my back, her nose digging into my neck and the heat radiating off her body. "Do you live here now?"
She nods, her head still rested on my shoulder. "I live at my dad's house in The Ridges."
I pull out of the hug to look at her, she looks like she's about to cry. I can't imagine how lonely she must be after all this has happened to her, it made sense why she was so quick to jump into a friendship with me. "Do you want me to come over?" I ask. I figured my company would be the best thing I have to offer her, and it would be nice to find out more about her, anyway.
She nods and gives me a weak smile before pulling me back into another comforting hug.
