Bathing the Lion Read Online Free PDF

always came for the skiing and she loved the town as much as I did.”
    “ What do I love?” Vanessa returned to the table and sat down.
    “This town. I was telling Jane how we ended up here.”
    “Did you tell her about the guys with the big knife?”
    Dean nodded.
    “An idea just came to me in the bathroom, Jane: what if I sing here without working for you, without a formal job? What if I come in when I feel I just want to sing, like today?”
    Jane and Dean exchanged puzzled looks. “How do you mean?”
    Vanessa pointed across the room at the piano. “It felt really good playing tonight. Normal, happy—the way I want things to be. No pressure, no strings—just sit down and play because I felt like it. Maybe if I do it regularly here, I’ll get back in the groove. And if that happens, then I can work for you on a more formal basis.”
    “Are you sure you want to?”
    Vanessa put both hands in her black hair and pushed it back and forth. “No, I’m not sure of anything anymore, but it’s worth a try.”
    *   *   *
     
    It was one of the best and worst things to happen to Jane Claudius. In the following months, Vanessa regularly performed at Jane’s a couple of nights a week, usually at either end—Monday and Friday or Saturday. Jane never knew how long she would play—sometimes only half an hour, other times she’d perform for two hours straight. Word got around fast—more and more people came to listen to the charismatic new singer. In retrospect it was very good at the beginning that no one ever knew when Vanessa would show up at the bar because the elusiveness added to her mystique and allure.
    There was never any fanfare when she showed up. Usually Jane didn’t even know Vanessa had arrived except if the regular pianist were performing, he would immediately stop playing. A short silence followed and then Vanessa would begin. The feeling in the room changed right away. It became more intense and unified, as if the audience simultaneously turned their full attention to the same single thing and focused only on it. The singer didn’t appear to notice. Typically she began her set with something fanciful or funny, like her rendition of “Yellow Submarine.” Perhaps an obscure Frank Loesser, Arthur Siegel, or Rodgers and Hart song no one knew but immediately liked when she sang it. If the crowd was restless or particularly boisterous she often started out very sexy and sassy with songs like “Urgent” or The Pretenders’ great ’80s standard “Brass in Pocket.” Inevitably the few people who hadn’t been listening to her suddenly were.
    Vanessa had the important ability to quickly sense the mood or personality of a crowd and play right to the heart of it. If there were lots of college kids in the bar, customarily she would do more songs they’d likely know, but always with her inventive spin on them, her signature arrangements that made the music sound new and compelling to everyone. However, if she sensed the room was sad or withdrawn no matter who was there, she performed mostly piano music like excerpts from Keith Jarrett’s Köln Concerts or George Winston and then slowly segue into tunes that definitely belonged there too. She never tried to lift or change a mood; only embellished it with her smart and thoughtful choices.
    One late night in the middle of a song called “Dancing with Ghosts,” a woman sitting by herself suddenly stood up, said very loudly “Yes, you’re exactly right!” and hurried out of the bar crying. Dramatic as it was, few people seemed to notice, caught up as they were in their own thoughts and blues, enhanced by this empathetic singer.
    At the beginning, Dean always accompanied Vanessa to the bar, sat through the performances, and then took her home afterward. But after a while she started coming in alone. When Jane asked about it, Vanessa beamed and said, “I told him I don’t think he needs to babysit me anymore.”
    The crowds grew and so did her