Going Down (22 page)

I haven’t seen Tyhedra since the last time we went out, but we talk just about every day. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to call Kathy and make arrangements to go fuck her while Tyhedra was listening, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Even though we’re still talking, every time I bring up the idea of us getting together again, Tyhedra always gives me some reason why she can’t make it.

 
That changed the other night when she told me that she had talked to a friend of hers, who has a band. “I was telling him about you and he said that he is looking to add a trumpet player to his band.”

“Thank you, Tyhedra. I really appreciate that.”

“Hey, what are friends for? So you keep practicing and I’ll let you know when and where.”

Well, the when is tonight and ready or not, I’m gonna go for it.

When I got to the club, Tyhedra was waiting for me at the door. It had been a while since I last saw her. When she saw me coming toward her, she smiled. As I got closer, her beautiful smile seemed to fade away.

“Where is your horn?” Tyhedra asked as soon as I got close enough to hear her.

“It’s in the car.”

“Well go get it. They’re waiting to hear you, and they want to do it before it gets crowded.”

As I walked back to the car to get my horn, I kept trying to convince myself that I was ready for this. “You can do this,” I said out loud, and took my trumpet out of the passenger seat. I walked back slowly, and the closer I got the more I knew that I wasn’t ready for this. I was tired from staying up all night fucking Kathy and, on top of that, I knew I could use more practice. One thing was certain, I wasn’t about to back out now. I saw Tyhedra in the sexy black dress she was wearing and knew that I couldn’t. She had put herself out there for me and arranged this audition without even hearing me play. I couldn’t let her or myself down by not even trying.

 
Tyhedra and I went inside together, and I was glad that there wasn’t much of a crowd, in case I really sucked. “You nervous?” Tyhedra asked, and she immediately walked me to the stage.

“Very,” I told her, and wished that we had stopped at the bar for a shot of liquid courage.

“Well, don’t be, these guys are pretty cool.”

When we got to the stage, the drummer was seated behind his set, as was the pianist, and another man was plugging in his bass.

“Hi, guys,” Tyhedra said to everybody before she turned to the pianist. “Curtis, this is the trumpet player I was telling you about. This is Tavarus.”

“How you doing tonight,” Curtis said shook my hand.

“Thanks for letting me sit in,” I said, and threw up my hand to the other guys.

“No, it’s me who should be thanking you. If you’re as good as Tyhedra says you are, we’re glad to have you.”

I looked at Tyhedra. She just smiled that sexy ass smile. Curtis introduced me to the rest of the guys and then to the saxophone player when he got to the stage. He seemed less than excited about me being there.

I took out my horn and got ready to tune up. Tyhedra kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t worry about him,” she said. “He’s just mad because he was trying to get a friend of his in this spot. But when I told Curtis how good you were, he decided to give you a shot.”

“How do you know how good I am? You’ve never heard me play?”

“I have confidence in you. Good luck,” Tyhedra said and kissed me again, on the lips this time.

“So, Tavarus, let’s see what you got,” Curtis said. “Do you know any Miles Davis?”

“Sure.”

“What about ‘All Blues’?”

“I know it,” I said in a voice that showed my apprehension about playing it. “All Blues” was one of my favorites and I had played it countless times, but I wasn’t expecting him to go there. I thought I would sit in on a few cuts, but not solo.

“What?” Curtis asked.

“To be honest with you, I wasn’t expecting to solo.”

Curtis looked disappointed by my statement. “Tyhedra said it had been a minute since you played with anybody. But like I said, I need to hear what you got.”

The sax player stepped up behind me. “Time to show and prove,” he said and took his position.

Ready or not, here I come,
I thought. “You love this song, you’ll be fine,”
I told myself. Curtis and the drummer jumped right on. I got through the chorus, but then came the first of my many solos, and I got through that. I was feeling good about it, until I hit my first bad note. I recovered and played through. When my solo was over there was a smattering of applause from what little crowd there was, but I got the feeling that most of it was Tyhedra.

 
I stepped back and listened as the sax player went through his solo flawlessly. He was good, much better than most of the guys I’ve heard locally. The applause he got at the conclusion of solo let me know that my applause really was mostly Tyhedra. I decided to stop second-guessing myself, let go of my fear, and play my final solo. I closed my eyes and went for it.

Once the song was over, the crowd gave us a round of applause and once again, Tyhedra was the loudest. The bass player and the drummer patted me on the back as they left the stage, but the sax player just put down his horn and walked away. As I packed up my horn, Curtis came up behind me. “I’m gonna be completely honest with you.”

“Do that.”

“That wasn’t bad, but your pace was a little slow. I can tell it’s been a while since you played with anybody.”

“True. It has been a while,” I said, and knew what was coming next.

“Unfortunately, I need somebody that is ready to go right now.” He patted me on the back. “But don’t give up. It would probably do you some good to sit in some more until you really get your lip back.”

“I understand. Thanks for giving me a chance. And for the advice,” I said and shook his hand. “Good meeting you, Curtis.”

“Good meeting you, too, Tavarus. I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Curtis said and walked away. He passed Tyhedra on his way to the bar and shook his head. It wiped the smile off her face.

“I thought you sounded great,” Tyhedra said when she got to the stage.

“Too bad Curtis didn’t hear what you did.” I closed my case and got ready to leave. “But he was right. I did hit some bad ones. He said it might help if I sat in with some guys, and he’s right.”

“So what now?” Tyhedra looped her arm in mine as we walked away from the stage.

“I’m gonna take his advice. Find some spots that have jam sessions.”

“As long as you’re not giving up.”

“No. Not even close to giving up,” I said as we passed the bar.

“Well, can I buy you a drink?”

“As much as I’d like to, I didn’t get much sleep last night. So I’m gonna call it a night, go home and get some rest.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”

On the way home, I thought that maybe part of the problem with my pace was that I was tired from fucking Kathy all night. But the truth was that I simply wasn’t ready.

When I got home, I took a long, hot shower and tried to wind down. As soon as I turned off the lights and got comfortable, the phone rang.

It was Kathy. “I’m coming over.”

“Come on.”

I took a seat at the bar and watched Tavarus walk out with his head hanging low. My heart went out to him, but he was right: he did hit a few bad notes, and sitting in with some other guys would probably do him some good. “What are you drinking?” the bartender asked.

“Kamikaze.”

When the bartender brought me my drink, I sat and listened to Curtis and them when they came back on for their second set. While I enjoyed their sound, I thought about my circumstances. I had been in Atlanta for a few months now and I had only killed two men. Which was pretty good for me. I have to be honest, part of that was because of what happened to me the last time out. That guy could have killed me, and would have if I didn’t kill him first.

That more than anything, has kept me on the sidelines. I keep flashing back to that night and the ass kicking I took at his hands. I trying to remember if there was anything about him that should have told me what he was capable of, but there wasn’t. He was no different from any other prey, until the door to that room closed and he punched me in the face.

It was fortunate for me that I work for myself. It gave me a chance to let my wounds heal. When I walked out of that room, my lip was busted and I had a black eye, not to mention my whole body hurt. The big test came when I had to meet Chris and his partner CJ for lunch to discuss the work he wanted me to do. I had on so much makeup that day. I don’t think that Chris noticed or cared for that matter, but CJ did. I could tell that she doesn’t like me. Even though she’s married, I think that she is in love with Chris; and doesn’t like me hanging around what she considers her man. I liked Chris, he was smart, good at what he does and he is very good looking.

After the band finished their set, I ordered another drink. My last outing and the outcome was still on my mind. So much so, that I was sitting there sizing up potential prey. Even on nights when I have no intension of killing, anytime I’m in a bar, I still have an eye out for prey. There are certain things I look for in prey, certain tell-tell signs that let me know that they would make excellent prey.

That brought me back to Mr. Kickass, as I’ve grown fond of calling him. I still couldn’t get past the fact the he presented himself as no different from any other prey. And maybe that was it. Even though I didn’t see it coming, he knew exactly what he had planned for me, and that wasn’t his first time. If he had presented himself as an aggressor or given any hint that he was Mr. Kickass, I, and no other woman with any brains, would go anywhere with him.

Now that I had settled that matter, it left me with two unanswered questions. One which I’ve been avoiding, more like hiding from, for my whole life.

There was something he said to me that got me thinking.
“I knew as soon as I saw your fine ass that you liked it rough.”

Was there something about the way I presented myself that made me his prey? Maybe I couldn’t have killed him. Maybe I could have asked him some questions first. I laughed. I could hear it now. “Excuse me, Mr. Kickass. Before I kill you, would you mind explaining what it was about me that made you think that I enjoyed getting my ass kicked?”

Just then, I noticed that a man had sat down in the stool next to me. He was reasonably good looking. He had prey written all over him. “Can I buy you a drink?”

I looked at the guy for what seemed like a long time, but wasn’t, before I finally said something. “You know, any other night I would have accepted your offer, and invited you to join me; and before the night was done, I would have taken you somewhere and had my way with you. But not tonight. Tonight I don’t feel like being bothered. And believe me, I’m doing you a favor.”

“You sure?”

“That I don’t want to be bothered, or that I’m doing you a favor?”

“Yeah,” the prey said.

“Believe me, it’s both. Now run along, please, for you own good—run along,” I said, and shooed him away like a little boy. He mumbled something under his breath and sulked away.

 
I looked the bartender. “Bring me another Kamikaze.”

While the band came back onstage and began their third set, I faced up to the thing I’ve been avoiding: something that happened to me that night with Mr. Kickass. Other than the ass kicking he dealt me; that was the best sex I ever had. He fucked the shit out of me and for a minute there, I actually thought that I was going to have an orgasm without killing him.