Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Fourteen

"Mr. Seligman and the illusive piano man, Mr. Sam Greene." Kate seemed much more chipper than she had in our two previous encounters. Possibly the white wine in her left hand had something to do with it.

Kate bent forward, exposing more cleavage than I was prepared to behold at that moment, and kissed Max on the cheek before extending her hand toward me. I took her hand and pulled her forward to whisper in her ear. She leaned into me so closely that I got goose bumps as wisps of her long auburn hair rubbed against my cheek. I breathed in deeply and the sweet redolence of fresh springtime blossoms filled my lungs.

"Let's agree not to talk about Ben Webster tonight," I whispered.

"You're making this very difficult," she whispered back.

"It is very difficult," I said with my heart on my sleeve. She pulled away and looked at me as though she appreciated my vulnerability.

"Hi, Liz Brightwater, of the Brightwater Marble fortune, and you are?" Liz hurtled forth and looked Kate up and down as though she were either a scorned lover or a salesperson at Armani evaluating Kate's outfit. Kate didn't miss a beat.

"Katherine Buckley, of the Buckley dysfunctional family fortune. Do you approve of my outfit, Liz Brightwater?"

"If one is predisposed to the GAP, then I suppose—"

Max broke in. "Liz, Kate's writing a story on jazz and is interested in talking to Sam about Ben Webster. Have you made any progress, Kate?"

"Actually, Sam has been a bit hard to pin down, but we did manage an interesting conversation about how similar the words pianist and penis sound when used in a sentence."

I'm not sure what I enjoyed better, her quip or the fact that Liz's forehead had turned the color of a red delicious apple.

"That's fascinating, Kate," Max concluded. "Liz, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Excuse us, guys." Max took an unwilling Liz by the arm and dragged her off.

"Charming woman."

"Liz is all right. She's just a little insecure at times." Did I just defend Liz? What's gotten into me?

"Let me guess. You two used to be an item."

Of course the answer was "yes," but I certainly didn't want to talk about it. Especially with her. Standing there befuddled, I didn't know what to say.

"Tough question?"

"No comment" was all I could muster. I figured she'd understand that phrasing, being a journalist and all.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're very difficult to have a conversation with?"

"As a matter of fact, Liz has."

She looked past me, smiled, and waved at some tall goof wearing thin blue glasses, a ponytail, double earrings in each ear, and a tattoo of a snake around his neck.

"I know I've been sort of an asshole of late, but why don't I buy you a drink before I begin my set?"

"That's a peculiar offer. Aren't the drinks free tonight?"

"Great! Order more than one."

"Thanks, but no."

"Does this mean I'm still an asshole?"

"I guess so. Excuse me." With that, she walked past me, leaving her sweet fragrance wafting before me.

So I was left to start my set. Out of spite, I decided to begin with a couple the greatest hits from Captain and Tennille.