The Second Time

Max

     As I stepped into the jazz bar, I was instantly hit with the shock of live music. There was something about listening to an actual instrument that felt so much more genuine than the pounding of club music. My heart fluttered with the song of the band that was playing. The tune swung through every musician that stood on the small stage. There were only about fifty people in the bar, but each and every one of them were captivated, as was I.
     The group on the stage was small but mighty. They consisted of a woman on the drumset, another woman playing guitar, and three men. One man played an upright bass, another man was featured with his rather impressive trumpet improvisation, while the third seemed focused on the dancing of his fingers on the keys of a piano.
     The trumpet player's tune transitioned back into the melody, closing his eyes shut as he sung through the instrument. The drummer carried the swing of the tune, beautifully pushing the trumpet player's notes through each phrase. The bassist plucked his strings with simplicity, a sly grin on his lips as he played the oversized instrument. The guitarist played more frantically than the rest of the band, but manged to keep her cool by maintaining a focus on the drummer.
     While the rest of the band seemed to rely on each other, the pianist played in the backround. He seemed content on without the rest of the band supporting him. He looked much younger than the rest of the band, but his age didn't seem to effect his performance. A grin threatened his lips, but erupted into a large smile as the trumpet player ceased to play. The rest of the band played softer now to emphasize the pianist's improvised song. He watched his dancing fingers with a smile that revealed crooked teeth. His smile eased back into a subtle grin as his solo ended the song.
     At the close of the piece, the crowd politely clapped, looking at each other in awe. As the band began to pack up on stage with casual banter, many people that had been in the crowd hopped onto the stage to greet and compliment to band. The trumpet player and the bassist were both flooded with people from the crowd, and they shared a smile of pride as they boasted about practice sessions. The drummer consoled the guitarist, but a few crowd memebers crowded the women anyways. Unlike the rest of the band, the pianist packed his music in his own silence. His grin was gone by now, but he still seemed content from the evening's performance.
     Something about seeing this amazing pianist go unappreciated urged me to approach him. As I made my way to the stage, I caught the eye of the trumpet player and a few crowd members. I ignored him and continued my path onto the stage. The trumpet player had become distracted away from my presence when I had made it to the piano.
     "Your solo in that last song was amazing." I smiled at the stranger, who looked up at me as soon as he heard my voice.
     "Thank you." He smiled back politley. "Did you enjoy the show?" He smiled with not only his lips, but with his eyes as well. His enchanting, deep green eyes inviting me to listen the stories that they were capable of.
     "Yeah! You guys were amazing!"
     The pianist looked away, thanking me again.
     "Well, that makes my night. Have a nice evening, Miss." He stood from the piano bench, revealing his average height. He was not much taller than I, but still taller by a few inches.
     I found myself following the pianist off of the stage, earning a glance back to me.
     "How can I help you?" He asked in his rather soft voice.
     "I'm visiting New York City, and I wanted to ask if you could offer me advice on sights to see." I stated, the both of us stopping at the entrance of the bar. He was as good as a person as any to ask. Besides, after this night, I would only have four days to prepare for what would be the best party of my year.
     He turned to face me, a rather confused look on his face. He had a face that made him easy to read, giving him a more trustworthy appeal.
     "Would you like to to sight-seeing with me this evening? If you are not busy of course." The young man seemed a bit flustered, but maybe a bit excited as well.
     I nodded in response, and with that, we started out the jazz bar and into the the city of New York.
     "My name is Max, and I will be your tour guide this evening." He smiled his smile that revealed those crooked teeth. Before he could continue his statement, I interjected with my own name.
     "I'm Max too!" I exclaimed, offering a slight grin back to him.
     "Max." He let his name roll over his tongue as the name of somebody else. "What a wonderful name." His eyes smiled at me in a curious wonder. They seemed intrigued in who I was and why I had asked him, a strange man, to accompany me this cold, December evening. The truth was, I wasn't quite sure why I had chosen him either.