Jack Ivory's had an average crowd for a Friday evening.  The bar was full, the tables were half filled, and people were only moderately paying attention to his mood music.  The six o'clock hour crested and by a quarter after Jack put a glass of ice water on the coaster next to Jeremy.  "They're talking about snow in the forecast again.  Damn winter'll never end it seems."  Ivory wasn't his real last name, but the piano that Jeremy played had real ivory keys, soft to the touch and worn through the years, still in great condition and the sound of the old piano was amazing. 

Jeremy's fingers roamed the length of the Ivory and Ebony while a few more customers trickled in out of the dismal chill evening.  It was a typical night.  Friday night also signaled the occasional accompaniment of a female singer, Lady Mable, and a jazz saxophonist, Amos Woodward.  Amos and Mable arrived about a quarter past the hour. They weren't what you could call friends, but they were better than just coworkers or acquaintances.

Amos was a bit odd for the stressful nightclub scene. He owned a private practice as a doctor, and played saxophone at night to relax. Jeremy didn't believe him at first, because the last thing that would make someone relax is another job. He kept on believing that, until he became his primary care physician. He always felt nervous being around his own doctor, because it meant he couldn't eat what he wanted at work. He watched his cholesterol intake more than any other man in Syracuse. But Jeremy didn't begrudge Amos for making him healthy, not one bit. Also, he played a damned mean sax.

Mable was a lot younger than Amos and Jeremy. She never said her age, but she seemed to be around her late twenties. She was a lot more impulsive than either of them, and had a bit of a crush on Amos for the longest time though he's probably twice her age. She never said anything, but it was obvious by the way she moved. Today she was jumping up and down as usual, "Jeremy! Jeremy! Jeremy! Amos! Amos! Amos!" She laid some sheet music in front of us. "Let's play this tonight, pleaaaaaaase?"

Jeremy looked at her crosseyed, "I don't need sheet music. I recognize it. You, Amos?"

"I'm surprised a young lady such as yourself knows this song. A bit odd for sax and piano, though." Amos chuckled to himself, grabbing himself a glass of wine before he started. He moved like clockwork, that man. One glass of red wine, a few sets, then dinner. Then after dinner, he finished up the night's sets and ate a blood orange. Jeremy found the routine refreshing.

She smiled, and most men would have found it appealing. But it was nothing like Anna's smile. Jeremy frowned. Anna hasn't been to a Friday night at his bar in three weeks. Even after their marriage ended, she would show up. They were still friends, and she loved the music. Jeremy was worried that she'd found somebody. After all, it had been three years since the divorce. He did the only thing he knew how to do when he was depressed: play.

They started off with just Jeremy playing slowly, then Amos came in with what would normally be the guitar. It sounded a bit strange, but good. Then Mable started singing:

I want to live, I want to give
I've been a miner for a heart of gold
It's these expressions I never give
That keep me searching for a heart of gold

A few more regulars came into the bar and plopped down at the tables near the stage and lit up.  When the song was over they clapped and whistled.  Mable took it with a blush and exuberance both.  Even on her bad nights, she got applause and cheers.  During the day she worked human resources for a state agency, where there were never applause, for anything.

Someone requested a familiar tune, the turn around in the economy didn't last long and still so many were barely hanging on.  Merle Travis, Sixteen Tons, but an upbeat version.  Jeremy knew inevitably that the follow ups would be "God Bless the Child" or "She Works Hard for the Money" depending on what mood "Sixteen Tons" would put them in.  When people stopped coming in, Jeremy also knew that Anna wouldn't be in this evening.  Another night, and with luck, enough money to cover a bill at the end of the week.

The ivory felt good beneath his fingers and Jeremy watched Mable get into one of her many characters.  Amos was one with his sax.  A brief glance down to match the key change that Mable and Amos were making and to Jeremy it looked like his fingers were as white as the ivory he played.

Jeremy was feeling a bit sick. He hoped that nobody noticed (especially Amos), but that must be why his hands were so pale. He played through some old jazz standards, and his stomach started churning. Maybe he just needed something to eat. He signaled to Mabel with his foot, letting her know that he wanted to take a break. She nodded, and went through the last song, letting the audience know that they were going to take five.

He ordered a club sandwich from the bar, which is something that he almost never does. Jeremy didn't even bother taking out his pack of cards to play poker with Jack and Mable (Amos didn't approve of gambling). Jack looked at him funny, but he didn't say anything. Typical. It was then that Jeremy and Mable sat on each side of Jeremy. His stomach was still churning, even after engulfing half a sandwich in little under a minute. He was busy working on the other half, and didn't say a word to his compatriots.

Jack and Mable a little concerned suggested possibly a bit of little music.  Maybe the songs were getting to him.  The color seemed to return to his hands almost immediately as his hands left the piano.  The hunger was quickly satiated and the churning may have been a touch of nervousness or anxiety for some reason.  Amos had a stethoscope in his pocket by chance and gave a quick listen.

"I don't hear any kind of problems, Jeremy.  You're a fairly healthy guy.  I can't help but intrude, even if it is after hours.  Look, I ok you to keep playing if you'd like, but if you feel something again, we'll let Mable here go solo a bit and we'll step into the back and do a quick couple of tests." Couldn't hide much from old Amos.  A strong hand gave a firm comforting squeeze on the back of Jeremy's neck and he pulled his orange from his carrying case and set it on the stool beside him.

Mable stood beside Jeremy and Jack sat next to Jeremy looking him in the eyes.  "Haven't seen you eat like that since
the day you signed the divorce papers.  I can give Harold a call if you want a replacement for the night.  It'll only take him fifteen minutes to get over here.  No biggie?"

Jeremy paused for what seemed to him like weeks. "Yeah. I'll just head on home, then. I'm sorry... I'm not normally like this...."

Mable slapped his back, "Jack said no biggie. Don't make it anything more than it already is. If you drop dead on stage, we'd have to have that creepy old pianist in here every night."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Gee... thanks. You're a real pal."

"If he hits on me, you owe me part of tonight's check."

"Deal." Jeremy walked out, listless. He fumbled for the keys to his Jeep, feeling weak in the knees. He still had a block and a half to go. Parking in Syracuse is a bitch. 

Despite the weather, Jeremy made it home safely and in his front door.  The warm currents of the flowing through the vents of his car seemed to follow him inside maintaining a warm buffer between him and the chill.  His apartment was just like he left it.  A stack of unsorted mail lay on the floor inside the front door shoved a little aside as he worked his way in.  The smell of musty timber seemed to filter into the apartment from the next door neighbors stockpile that they keep on a fire escape. 

The small jade elephant with lifted truck seemed to be pointing at him as he took off his jacket.  One of the last things Anna got him.  Said it would bring good luck if her kept it pointed towards the door.  His answering machine registered zero messages immediately beside the elephant. 

All of a sudden he got the urge to smash the elephant into a million pieces. But that wouldn't do any good. Anna visited sometimes, and she'd want to see her where she is. He called Anna's cellphone. Straight to voice mail. He left a message about not feeling too well, and it being the first time he left work sick since the 80s. That afternoon they had eaten at a new Thai restaurant. Neither of them ate Thai food since, even though they used to go out for it all the time. He hung up the phone, realizing that he had paused for a good ten seconds after he left his message. He hoped she didn't think that was weird. After all, he did say that he was ill. He almost wanted to turn on the television, but it wasn't even worth it. Instead, he walked to the window and looked down at the alley beside his apartment.

A feral cat was picking at the garbage. He'd seen it before. The only fat feral cat he's ever seen. He wasn't sure if it was male or female, but it always seemed content when he saw it. He called it "Bob," because he thought it was amusing for a second. Bob Cat. Heh. He noticed a man walking down the alley towards the cat, slowly. Jeremy watched with detached interest.

Wild Bob Fat noticed the man moving slowly towards him and propelled his heftiness with an alarming speed away from the hunter.  The man took two rapid steps forward but knew that it was a lost cause and instead kicked a bottle, sending it spinning rapidly into a wall where it smashed to bits.  He tugged his jacket closer around him and went back from where he came.

The apartment was warm, warmer than usual it seemed, but it felt comfortable.  Wild Bob Fat appeared after about a minute rubbing against a dumpster and flicked a discarded cigarette butt with his paw like he was going to play but immediately because disinterested and wandered carefully out of the alley to patrol some other section of his territory.

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