That Smooth Jazz

It had started to rain; it had been in the air all day. Now it had begun. John looked up at the skyscraper; this one was worthy of the name as its top seemed to vanish into the dark clouds above. With a simple motion the cigarette left his hand and he took down his umbrella as he approached the door or doors to be correct. Two big pieces of crystal clear glass with edges covered in woodcarvings that looked like flowers. It looked more like a gate from a fantasy castle than a door in the heart of the city. The two doorknobs shaped as lion heads didn't help.Before he could reach for one of the feline heads a small, very well dresses man opened the door. "Greetings sir, can I help you?" The mans smile almost covered his face.

"My name is John, John Mill. I am here to see Mr Norman."
"Yes of course, you are expected! Just continue to the elevator and go to top floor."

The elevator was bigger than his first apartment. Walls covered in mirrors and the floor looked like marble. Frank had lived here for two years and John had never been here once to visit, partly because they don't have so much in common anymore. After the army they went on opposite tracks, Frank went to Wall Street and became a successful businessman, he had always talked about that when they where over in Europe, and he asked John several times to join him. But john did not know anything about stocks or that kind of things, John went home to Boston and became a cop. That was the only way for him to relive something that reminded him of the rush he got from the army.

Separate paths had led to separate lives. They had only meet once every fifth years or so since the war. But Frank always sent him a card for Christmas. But this time it was different. Frank had now moved to Boston to take control of some company. They met at an event at city hall. They had a really nice time catching up. John even meet Franks wife, Rosie. They had been married for a year now. That was the last time he met Frank, and if all had stayed to protocol they would not meet for a long time. But two days ago he got the call, an invitation to a dinner, for reminiscing, and a business proposal.

John had no idea what Frank had for kind of plans for him now. Maybe some ideas but he didn't want to think about it. A soft pling, and the elevator door smoothly opened. John entered the apartment and was greeted by a butler, with a more expensive tux than he had. He looked down on his black wingtips, some what wet from the rain. The butler took his coat and showed him in to the living room. A big white hall it was, with a dining area, a seating era with a TV, there were also a big fireplace, a white spiral staircase leading up to the second floor and two big glass doors leading out to a big balcony. The doors killed all sounds from the outside, the storm had become more intense but John could not even hear the raindrops hitting the glass doors. The whole place had an antic style that made it look expensive. Not in a show of way, more in a: we know what it costs because we are intelligent and sophisticated people kind of way. Not to shabby at all. John said to himself. "Mr Norman will be right down sir, can I get you a drink will you wait."
John looked at the butler, which he had totally forgot was there.
"Yeah an Old Fashioned thanks, no fruit."
The butler nodded gently and disappeared in to what John guessed was the kitchen.

A door opened some where on the second floor. John now heard music, some smooth jazz in the distance. He looked up to the staircase and he saw Frank with a pinstriped tux and a cigar in his hand.
"John!" He almost screamed out in delight as he hurried down the staircase. Frank walked up to John that noticed that Frank had fewer hairs on his head then last they meet. Damn they were getting old. "How are you fella? All good? You took a cab right? The place is kind of easy to find isn't?" Frank laughed as he gave John a hug. "Sadly my wife won't be joining us, she is going to the opera with some of her lady friends. If she ever leaves that is, she will be fixing her self for hours before going out. Not that she needs it right." As Frank finished his sentence he laughed again, this time so hard that he started to cough.