Six Feet Under the Stars

The bar was loud and stuffy when Alex and I entered.

Smoke trailed up the stairs, greeting the guests with a cloud of smog. Through the haze, several tables were visible, shoved nearly up against each other. They were occupied by many people tipping glasses back and making drunken toasts. A woman in the back was trying to climb on the bar table for a dance. Her five-inch heels were creating quite the obstacle. The bartender looked annoyed, obviously seeing that kind of behavior too many times during his late night shifts. Unperturbed, he continued to wipe down the gleaming wood table top as if she were invisible.

A band huddled on a small stage was playing a slow jazz number reminiscent of the 1950's. The trumpet player was by far the star element to the ensemble. The player's soul was evident in the notes beautifully floating across the room. Playing a well-known Miles Davis tune, "Blue in Green", the trumpeter accompanied by the pianist combined to form a delicate harmony. It was obvious the two had played together for years. The chattering of the crowd added an extra twist to the inviting atmosphere.

"What do you think?"

"I think I'm in love." I replied, eyes traveling over the scene before me.

Alex laughed and pulled me into the fray. "I knew you'd love it. Jack and I stumbled upon this little treasure last time we were in Portland. The same band was here too. I can't believe they don't charge to hear these guys play; they're really incredible."

"I know." I agreed while letting the jazz soak into my system. "I haven't heard this song in years. My dad would play Miles Davis all the time when I was a kid. Whenever he was at home you could find him with a book in his hand. Usually something foreign I couldn't pronounce. He was fluent in French because he traveled to Paris so many times as a college kid, but he always played jazz. He'd call it a thinking man's music. Said it helped him remember the language better for some reason."

"He sounds well-cultured." Alex spoke, pulling a chair out from under a table. Wood scraped against wood but was barely audible with the noise around. Motioning with a hand, he held the chair for me.

"Thanks." I said demurely.

"Do you see a lot of your dad?"

"Not really." I admitted, studying a ring of water-sweat left behind by a cold beverage. "He doesn't really approve of Dorian, I guess. We had a huge fight about it when I told him I was going to move away with Dorian. It was pretty bad."

"Sorry." Alex said sympathetically while taking a seat to my right and subsequently blocking my view of the piano. "Maybe you can make amends."

"Maybe." I doubted it greatly. As long as I was with Dorian, my father would be unhappy with me.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed into the feel of the room. A wave of serenity passed over me, just as the band faded and worked their way into a new song. Another classic; Patsy Cline's "Crazy". The singer covering the song was a male, and the masculine voice added a unique spin to the work.

"Dance with me." Extending a hand to me, Alex lips turned upwards.

Looking around, I noticed several couples already taking the limited space on the dance floor. I shrugged, "When in Rome." Swiftly pulling me by the hand, Alex led me over to the floor. He paused there for a moment. I laughed, "You don't know what to do?"

"Thought I'd wing it."

Shaking my head, I took the hand that was in mine and placed it on my waist. His other hand found my other hip naturally. Linking my arms around his neck, we swayed to the slow tempo. It was a little awkward at first as we got a feel for how our bodies moved. Dancing was a lot like making love; at the beginning you stumbled a little. However, soon the two of us caught on to each other's movements and we went back in forth in time. For a while, I thought I could happily get lost in such a wonderful land.

After a while, I sighed glumly. "This song is so sad."

"But oddly addicting. Why are masochistic songs so relateable?" He mused, speaking into my ear to be heard. "I figure it's because we all want to hate ourselves sometimes. We all want to doubt our abilties, or what we can do. But it doesn't stop us from hoping for the best."

Pulling back, I looked into Alex's eyes for a moment. I was slightly aware that the music had stopped sometime during our conversation. But his eyes were too distracting to pay much attention to that. The arms around me still held on as we both floated in another world for a moment.

"Give it up for the Locomotives everyone." The stage announcer's voice came over the speakers. "They always do a great job and we want to thank the guys for coming out every night. Let's give 'em a hand. A big round of applause. Don't be shy; let go of your girl and put your hands together out there." The man on stage winked in our direction and laughed before returning to the microphone. "Stay with is for more of the Locomotives. They're playing another set at one o'clock."

"Is it that late already?" I questioned, looking around for a wall clock. Belatedly, I remembered I had a cellphone in my pocket. Maneuvering the rectangle out of my skinny jeans, I checked the screen. It was half past midnight. That wasn't the only thing I noticed; I had four unread text messages and seven missed calls. All from Dorian. "Shit, I'll be right back."

Leaving Alex on the dance floor, I strolled back to the table while dialing Dorian's number by heart. I was too lazy to assign the speed-dial. After a ring and a half, a groggy Dorian picked up the phone with a mumbled hello.

"Hey, it's me."

"Mel?" He asked, waking up further. "Where are you? I've called you like crazy. I've been out of my mind thinking you'd been mugged or something."

"No, no. I'm fine." I assured him, twisting a curl around my finger.

"Good. I had a terrible feeling something bad happened. Listen, if you're pissed about me making jokes earlier just know that I'm sorry. You know I'm an idiot sometimes. I just don't think a lot before I say shit. It's a bad habit I need to quit."

"Like smoking." I reminded him, smiling though he couldn't see it.

"Shit, that too. I went two days without a smoke though. Until this morning."

"It's progress."

"Where are you now? It sounds a little noisy."

"Some club downtown. I'm not sure where exactly."

"Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Uh, no." I bit my lips and said a silent prayer. "I'm here with Alex actually. It's a really crazy story how we ended up here. I'll have to tell you it in the morning."

"Oh, you're not coming back to the hotel tonight?"

"I probably will soon. You don't have to wait up or anything. I'll probably catch a taxi with him or something back to the room."

"Tell him to take good care of you. I don't want you coming back hurt or something." Dorian said sincerely. I couldn't come up with words to summarize how ironic that statement was. "Key's at the front desk."

"Thanks." I said, "I don't want to keep you any longer. Catch some sleep for me."

Dorian laughed tiredly. "No problem, I'm beat. That concert kicked my ass. I must be getting old or something. Soon I'll be having a mid-life crisis and buying myself a motorcycle. But I'll see you later, babe. Love you."

With that, both of us disconnected. Flipping the cellphone shut, I wiggled the device back in my pocket. Easier said then done. Then a hand reached over me and set a glass of red wine in my place.

"I didn't know what you'd like so I just got the good stuff."

"That's alright with me." I grinned taking a prolonged sip of the wine. "A glass of red wine a day keeps you healthy. I heard the going rate for women is two glasses though."

"Who's buying the next round?" Alex winked.

"Whoever's the most drunk." I laughed, picking my glass up. "Let's make a toast."

"To what?" He asked, leveling his glass with mine.

"The economy?"

He laughed, "Nothing can help with that, darling. How about Michael Jackson?"

"What the hell?" As I chuckled, the red liquid in my glass swayed uneasily. "That's a ridiculous idea."

"Almost as ridiculous as my idea to break down the door?" Alex questioned, feigning innocence.

"You got lucky." I protested, "And anyway that music video for 'Bad' was just, well, bad. No pun intended."

"I can't believe you're sitting next to me and saying that. Get out of here!" He threw an index finger at the glowing exit sign. "That video was great. It was Bad-ass. Ha, get it?"

"Unfortunately." I said dryly. "But seriously. What are we toasting? My arm's getting tired."

"Um..." Alex stared off in the direction of the now-empty stage. "To hope?"

Thinking back to our conversation on the dance floor, I thought it was highly appropriate. Perfect even. Hope never fully abandoned a person, not even at the weakest moments. There was always glitter, a silver lining to lunge for. Looking at Alex's face flushed with excitement in the dim lighting, I could hope for a lot of things involving the two of us. And I, no matter how foolish, did want them. In the end, it was greedy and selfish but I didn't mind.

With a clink, I tapped my glass to his. "To hope."