Two nights before Christmas, she struts onto the dance floor swaying and waving. Her right arm and thighs covered in tattoos, a lone dancer under the mood lights. She motions to the three piece band she wants to sing with them. The band finishes the Blues song they were playing.
The lead guitarist asks, “What song?”
She replies, “Obviously not a Blues song, but I need lyrics in front of me”
and blurts out a swear word for not remembering the lyrics to any song she wants to sing.
The band strikes a few chords and use her swear words as the lyrics. She tries to hide her smile of embarrassment, but then she reaches into her pause, pulls out a smartphone and frantically searches for a song. The bartender promises her a shot if she goes on stage and sings.
Satisfied with what she finds on her phone, she waves to the band,
“Am ready”
“Where is my shot” she asks the bartender.
“After you sing, my dear” he responds.
The guitar player chimes in “Already a diva I see!”
She smiles, walks on stage, tells the musicians which song and what key she plans to sing in. She asks the musicians to cue her in. The guitar player hands her a microphone.
Right on cue as the musicians get into the groove she starts to sing a Country song looking at the lyrics on her phone, interjecting swear words whenever she forgets to sing the right lyrics as she sings along. She’s got a beautiful voice.
She sings her lungs out, with every ounce of her body giving itself away.
With a dramatic flair the song ends, she bows to the band, hands over the microphone and heads to the bar.
The guitar player says
“That was great, what’s your name?”
She adjusts her wavy blonde hair and replies “Nicole”
“Good job Nicole” the bass player applauds her.
The bartender hands her a glass of an alcoholic beverage, she raises her glass,
“Cheers”
She gulps it in one go, hands over the glass to the bartender, pulls out a cigarette, tries to light it with a candle lighter. With three more tries, a gentleman and the bartender extend a hand to help, she refuses and gives it another go, she gets it this time, she inhales and puffs, looks towards the band and asks
“You ready for another one?”
“One song, and she wants to hit the road?” the guitar player teases her
“Ha-ha, that’s how it is” says the bass player
“Oh well...” she puffs again, exits the bar with a few cha-cha-cha steps through the entrance where a huge black and white photo painting of Marilyn Monroe welcomes you in all her seductive glory.
Outside, the moon is bright, the temperature pleasant and the night still young for the many party-spirited individuals who congregate at this island known as Paradise.
So goes another night of live music hunting for this 21st Century nomad.
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