1920's New York
She only comes to the club at Kira's insistence. Kira is headlining this Thursday, which is a big deal apparently. So arriving at a quarter past eight she picks a tiny table right down front. The first thing she notices is the opening act is far too loud. A tall dark handsome man plays a fast paced jazzy tune on sax with far too much vigor. His accompanist on piano can barely keep up with the crazy G minor scales he keeps on throwing out. But he everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves completely oblivious that their saxophonist was self taught. Honestly, what had she been expecting? Speaks, even a 5 star one such as this, were hardly places to find top notch performers. Lydia winces as the saxophonists hits another screeching high note followed by a descending minor scale. Being classically trained in music since she could walk, she has always had a very fine ear for music. Those minor thirds he keeps hitting are going to be the death of her. She tips the rest of her glass back in a very un-lady like fashion. The alcohol makes the noise more bearable.
She runs her fingers over the rim. The dim lights glow in the thin bit of glass as the candle light flickers in the wine's reflection. Pretty lights always have a way of invoking painful nostalgia in her. She sighs. Jackson never understood good music. The first time saw him it was as the lights glowed on stage. She had already downed two glasses of peach schnapps and was nursing a third. Lydia swears that's the only reason she became smitten so fast. Good alcohol had that effect on her. It's a sickness she inherited from her mother. She decided the second he spoke into the microphone that she would be taking him home. The rest of said mess--was history--one she'd rather not remember at the moment. She takes another sip of wine and tries not to recall the look of his back as he waltzed out of their, her apartment for the final time. She refills her glass with red wine and decides that, no, she will not be reliving that riveting little bit of heartbreak tonight. She is lighting her third cigarette of the evening when the saxophone decrescendos off a C minor and lets the pianist begins to fill up the silence. Lydia sets down the wine glass, forgotten. The performance takes on a slower tempo as he lets the notes run together languidly. The melody becomes warmer, more loving, developing those lovely tones that are, in her eyes, one of the few saving graces of jazz. Her eyes follow the spotlight as it lands on the man in question. He plays with such relaxed, nearly sloppy, demeanor its a wonder he can play with such skill. Lydia scoffs leaning her chin in her hand. Perhaps it was the wine, but looks oh so handsome up on stage with the sleeves of his button up rolled up as his hands glided over the keys. Pianists are always good with their hands, she ponders taking a tip of wine.
"Do you really think this little ruse of ours will work?" Kira says peering through the curtains. She spots her friend front and center at a table by herself. Scott glances over his shoulder at Stiles who is helping set up equipment.
"It better. At this rate it's going to be ten years before Stiles works of the nerve to ask her to dance."
"Lydia's still refusing to put herself out there." Scott's nods knowingly.
"Do you think they'll like each other?" Kira asks uncertainly. Scott cracks a smile. Personality is the one factor they have going for them. "Have you met them?"
"So how was it?" Kira says a bashful smile plastered across her face as she sits down in the vacant seat across from her.
"Fantastic as always. Honestly do you really even need to ask with applause like that." Kira dips her head. "It's just been a long road, you know?" She says in a more somber demeanor. Lydia opens her mouth to respond, but the words are overshadowed by the man who had been playing saxophone for them all evening plopping into the chair next to her.
"Good show tonight," he says with earnest swelling in his big brown eyes. Kira smile immediately brightens.
"Thanks." They then proceed to stare into each other's eyes for a long enough amount of time to earn an eye roll from Lydia. Seriously, she's right here. She clears her throat loudly. Both blush wildly. "Lydia this is Scott, Scott Lydia."
