It’s Friday night, and you’re remembering last week’s walk home. It was a cold, blustery night when you discovered a small gem of a jazz club.
Tonight is different. It’s warm for December — practically balmy. And your overdressed for it because this morning it was cold and you thought it wise to participate in the company’s ugly Christmas sweater day.
Now that you’re on your walk home in the December humidity, you’ve had to remove your overcoat. Your hat fell out of the coat pocket a few blocks back. And you’re mind is drifting to that jazz club, wondering who will be taking the stage tonight.
As if conjured up from your mind, the jazz club is in front of you. You walk in and are greeted by the same tatted coat check girl who’s wearing the same short red dress with faux white fur trim. This time, though, her platinum hair is pulled back and gathered in a ponytail — but her lips are still painted red to match the dress. She winks at you, the same way she winks at all of the regulars.
The orchestra is already on stage and the singer, dressed all in white, sits on a stool near the piano. The first notes play and you’re struck because you never knew a Christmas carol could be so soulful and sexy.