London Harmony: Doghouse Read Online Free PDF Page A

lined with age, I'm sure I was gaping as I whispered, “Mr. Raisin?”  He grinned and nodded and laughed out loud, that same laugh, colored by the years that have passed and the joy and sadness all those years had brought him.  It forged his laugh into something that you could almost reach out and touch, it had a history of its own.
    Then he narrowed his eyes and said in a deeper tone, “There are a lot of people looking for you.  You disappeared off the face of the planet after Walker passed.”
    I nodded and said, “I don't want to be found.  Not until I fulfill my promise to Uncle Slade.”  I had heard people were looking for me before.  I have no clue what anyone would want from me.
    He cocked his head in confusion and I explained, “I told him I'd play all the venues he dreamed of in Europe.  I've hit them all but two now.  Yours is one of them, the Factory the other.”  I pulled out the paper and handed it to him.
    He stared at it then me incredulously, and handed the paper to the younger man and whistled.  “You've really played them all?”
    I nodded, then since I had a little traction, I blurted, “So if any of your talent needs some low strings to bounce the Bose, I could step in.  Or if you have any open gigs.”
    He chuckled and asked, “You have Walker's touch?”
    I shook my head. “Nobody has Slade's touch, but I pluck a mean string.”  I pulled out one of my cards and a disposable thumb drive with my demos on it and handed it to him.
    I pointed at the drive. “There's some Jazz, swing, and some of my new fusion sound.  My number is on the card.”
    He looked at the card and chuckled.  “Have Bass, Will travel?”  Then he pursed his lips and said as he nodded, “I'll give it a listen.  I'd like to visit when you have time.”
    I nodded and turned away as I said, “It was nice meeting you again.”
    He replied, “You too little Liza.”
    I felt optimistic and heard him call out when I was a few steps away. “Liza.”
    I turned and he tossed something to me.  I caught it one handed and looked at it.  I burst into giggles at the little box of raisins in my hand.  I could hear his booming laugh as he shut the door behind him.
    I shook my head and said to myself in amusement, “Mr. Raisin?  I'll be damned.”  Then I put in my earbuds and swayed down the lane toward the Factory.
    That wasn't as fruitful.  Their bouncer wouldn't allow me to speak to the owner and he said that it was an invitation only venue for seasoned Jazz musicians.  I guess fifteen years of experience doesn't make me seasoned.
    I had come all this way, there was no way in hell I was going to go back to the States with my tail between my legs.  I would keep my promise to Slade.  I was a little grumpy so I put my earbuds away and thought about what I could do to convince the owner to see me and let me play.
    I could feel the evil smile spreading on my face as I started to form a plan.  One of my superpowers is being annoying.  I was going to be a thorn in the Factory's side until the owner agreed to see me.  I wasn't going to desist until I got a face to face.  I just knew I could convince him.  I didn't even need part of the gate, I'd perform gratis, even if it is just performing a single piece.
    I looked around mumbling, “Post office...” Then pulled out my cell and Googled the closest post office.  I patted my bag where my demo CDs were.  I grabbed my notepad and a pen from my bag and wrote a quick note to send off.  My spirits were looking up again and I put in my earbuds and cued up one of Tabby Cat's harder beats.  I played the air bass as I went.
    After mailing off my package, I decided I'd wait until Monday to scout out any of the dozens of Jazz cafes in the city.  The pay at those were chicken scratch, the real bread was in subbing.  So I looked up the local music shops.  They'd have all the want ads posted by band members or substitutes for gigs.  Not much call for string bass,