Thanks for coming to visit me on this lovely summer weekend. I hope all’s well in your corner of the world!
I know this looks long, but it’s really only 8 sentences. This is the beginning of Chapter 2 of A Sunday Kind of Love–wherein we get a peek behind the curtain at Mason (& one incidence of punctuation manipulation). Hopefully it’s self-explanatory, but I should’ve been in bed two hours ago so maybe not. If you need more of a lead-in, just holler. 🙂
Throughout the day Jake went over his solos, mentally preparing for what promised to be a fun show, only to be interrupted by thoughts of Mason; he pushed them aside as best he could and went on with his plans.
The club itself wasn’t anything special—a stage and a bar, round tables and a dance floor—but Jake had been a performer all his life and he played to every corner of that dim room by turns. Session work was a good living and a chance to add to his not-inconsiderable skills on a regular basis, but a room full of professional musicians couldn’t hope to compare with the rapt faces of an audience or the way his heart soared watching a dance floor fill. That night, the dance floor hadn’t cleared once during the first set and the second was following suit.
After his second solo, Jake noticed a man paying attention, sitting alone at a small table near the wall. He felt a flip-flopping in his chest, like a fish struggling to return to the sea, when he realized it was Mason. He wasn’t being daft, Mason almost looked like a different man sitting there with no product in his hair and wearing a plain black dress shirt. At the break Jake left his trumpet on a stand and made his way across the room, Mason’s eyes on him the whole time he said “hello” and thanked the folks who stopped him with compliments on his performance.
Thanks for reading!
I’ll be back later to post the winners of the Christmas in July contest and photo credits. Thanks and good luck to everyone who entered!