|Blogs > saxyjazzman > Tokyo Nights|
Oh, Driver Lady!
Oh, Driver Lady!
Back to work. I’m singing “Street Life” in my mean baritone and four of them are checking me out. One is particularly entranced, long eye contact, sweet smile. After the set I go over and ask her why. Sweet, she says. My voice is sweet. I CANNOT say so is my dick - okay? I do not do that shit, it is not cool and more important, it doesn’t work. Maybe if I was 30, blonde and 6”1,’ but not me, not tonight. What comes into my head?
“My lips are tired from practicing today.”
“Oh yes - they are red.”
Here’s where you say they need a massage, any ideas? But I haven’t had my beer yet so I don’t.
It’s raining, no one in the club. I go out and up to the 7th floor of another building. Club closed, dirty stairs. Perfect place to, you know, collect your thoughts. Having done that and exhaled, I head back. After the last set a vision in green appears at the piano, leans over to me. Same smile, same eye contact.
“Are you stop work now?
“Do you go to home?”
“Yeah, unless you have another idea.”
“Idea? Another?” Words not in her vocabulary. I don’t know idea in Japanese. I’m flailing around. I go, “I was flirting…”
“Flying?” She flaps her arms. I hang my head on the piano.
“Fulahtoh...Man and woman, play/talk,” I utter.
She’s still smiling. They take her away.
Driver Lady meets me at the elevator. I was going to mention the Asia Carerra DVD, but I think oh forget it. So in the car she brings it up, but it’s all cut and dry with no innuendos. AND NOW SHE IS LOST AGAIN. She’s scuttling down alleyways in Shinjuku ni-chome. The lady is really tripping.
But the van is filled with really nice jazz. I get out my flute and blow her mind. Moody's Mood For Love. Sugar. She’s all “Suteki! I have live stage in my car!” And she knows jazz. She knows Benson, Stanley Turrentine. She is a jazzy lizard mama.
And the flute cools her out and she finds Okubo Dori. I look at her and say,
“I think… I mean… I wonder… I mean, I’m worried: because you have a boyfriend.”
Driver Lady nods.
“But now you are falling in love with me.”
“Yes!” says driver lady.
“Because every time you drive me, you get lost.” You must be all, “Oh, Sazyjazzman’s in the car!”
Driver lady laughs. About this time I remember seeing love in her eyes. Or... it might have been the thoughts I collected on the 7th floor.
“Matsumoto-san… angry!” she says. She’s talking about my wife -- who has already sold product to her from our pet goods Internet site! (Actually, an electric drinking fountain for the lizard. I mean, who WROTE this??)
“No,” I explain, “I don’t think so. She doesn’t care. We’re just business partners.”
“Ohhhh…” escapes Driver Lady’s lips, and I call it a pretty good night. She says something about my playing was gorgeous. I could look confused and tell her, no, she’s gorgeous, but I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. There will be other nights. I need to find a place she can park the van for 20 minutes while we slip in the back and fog up the windows.
At home, my wife is sleeping. I love it when she’s sleeping. But she wakes up and says hello.
She looks so cute. “Do you want a hug?” I ask.
“I’m sleepy,” she grumbles, and rolls away.
But that’s another story.