Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Applause and whistles ensued.
“My aunt used to work here at the Platinum. Her name was Angel.” Many nodded in recognition of his words. “For those of y’all who have never seen me before and want to know why I’m even holdin’ this guitar, you’re about to get a special show of shorts. There was a bassist here by the name of Lennon, back when this hotel was called the Continental. See, my mother knew how to play the guitar and I would hear her every Sunday mornin’ strummin’ those strings.”
“My mom’s name was Cheyenne Emory. She was really good at playing the acoustic and classic guitar. She was self-taught. An amazin’ woman from what I gather. She passed away when I was quite young. We had a short but beautiful relationship. She gave me eyes the color of the sky, hair like black silk, the heart of a lion, and a natural curiosity about the world… and of course, her love of music. I told Lennon, a bald-headed, tall, skinny man who looked like a White Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, that I wanted to learn how to play, after my mama died. I wanted to feel what she felt… get closer to her. Connect beyond the grave. Now, I was just a child so I didn’t know how to explain it, but that was what I wanted. What I held in my heart.
“He told me to get the hell outta his way, go find my auntie, and stop diggin’ in my nose all the damn time like it was gold—and I was a miner.” The crowd burst out in laughter. “I imagine I thought nobody saw me. Anywho, I begged him to show me how he played the way he did, not carin’ about the fact that he didn’t want me sniffin’ behind him. Each and every time I saw him in the lobby greetin’ guests, I’d beg him until he finally gave in. I’d be with him while Aunt Angel cleaned the rooms on these floors, folding towels in fancy ways, and putting out fresh bars of tiny soap. All those months and years later, Lennon and I became buddies. He taught me music until he moved back to Alabama, where he is from.
“I was just some poor little White boy runnin’ around this hotel, annoyin’ folks with all of my questions, but I received an invaluable education from that man. I don’t know where Lennon is today, but I thank him for the lessons—not only in bass guitar, but also life. The hotel looked completely different at the time, too, before the wealthy investors got a hold of the property. But see, Lennon was old school.
“He used to play in that bar, which used to be a club, on the weekends. I wasn’t allowed in there ’cause of my age.” Caspian pointed across the way. “I would listen and be in awe. What motivated me for years was learning how to play as a tribute to my mama.” A low hum drifted through the crowd. “It made me feel closer to her. I am not the best bass player in the world, especially for someone who doesn’t play regularly anymore and doesn’t practice enough, but I’m not too shabby, either. Don’t worry, your ears won’t bleed.” Many chuckled in reaction to that.
“I dedicate this song to my Aunt Angel who recently passed away, and to this lovely lady here… Azure.” He bowed ever so slightly to her and she felt her face heat up. “An amazing artist… with white feathers in her hair, crescent moons in her eyes, and some cosmic, feminine ebony God in her heart and soul.” He winked at her.
She crossed her arms and tried not to smile. This asshole is smooth with it…
Caspian cleared his throat, and tossed a look behind him. “These guys just told me their names, so hopefully, I remember ’em all. Our pianist tonight is Xavier Gomez, the vocalist is Gregory Davis, I’m on bass, Kirk McDaniel is on electric guitar, Otis Fieldmore on keyboard, and Tiger on the drums. We’re going to play D’Angelo’s, ‘I Found My Smile Again.’ Let’s go.”
He began strumming the guitar, his fingers doing fast work along the strings. His bass playing was funky and rich. Crisp. She couldn’t help but bob her head to the music, and soon, she was lost in how these talented musicians grooved. When the song was over, he took a well-deserved bow. She clapped for him, feeling a sense of pride as if, in some way, he was her own. The crowd begged him for another.
“Okay, one more, one more.” He smiled bright. “And then I have to let these guys go. They’re supposed to be in the bar right now.” Caspian turned to the band members, and they began talking in hushed tones. “Okay… yeah…” He faced the crowd once again. “Misdemeanor” by Foster Sylvers was their next choice. People cheered, snapping their fingers to the catchy, upbeat tune. Oh my goodness. My grandmama loved this song… So many memories.