Mazie Baby by Julie Frayn Read Free Book Online

worked
the rigs for years.”
    “Yeah, that was my point. Fuck.”
    “Ariel wants to be a writer. Or a dancer.
Does it matter if she gets good grades in math?”
    He shook his head and rolled his
eyes. “She needs to be more practical. There’s no money in dancing. Unless you
want her hanging naked from a pole.”
    “So we don’t encourage her to
follow her dreams?”
    He threw her a withering look. “Dreams
die. They suck the life out of you until you’re a fucking zombie. You want that
for her?”
    She winced.
    “If I hadn’t married someone so
stupid, maybe I could have lived out my dream, huh? Not be schlepping other
people’s trash day in and day out.”
    She mustered enough courage to look
him in the eye. “You have to stop blaming me for your life.”
    His fist swished through the air
and connected with her temple. A flash of light illuminated his face before everything
went dark.
    ~~~~~~~~
    Mazie sat in the dim bar, her eyes
riveted to the stage. She took a long inhale, intoxicated by the haze of
cigarette smoke that wafted around her, the pinch of it at the back of her
throat, the darkness interrupted by a single white spotlight aimed at the singer.
    It was the first time she’d seen
him and she was hooked in an instant. He sat on a stool, another stool beside
him. A lit cigarette rested in an ashtray, a wisp of smoke curled into the air,
past the beam of the spotlight, and disappeared into the blackness of the
rafters overhead. He sipped from a tumbler between songs. Not water. No, he wet
his lips and tongue and throat, kept those sultry vocal chords supple, with
amber liquor. Whiskey perhaps.
    That first Friday night she sat in
the periphery, just outside the circle of stage light that he shared with a few
chosen admirers. She admired from afar. But not too far. Close enough that the whisper
of his guitar strap across the shoulder of his black leather jacket caressed
her ears, the clink of ice cubes in the tumbler punctuated the din of the bar.
His audible inhales of cigarette smoke made her long to light one up. Even
though she’d never put one to her lips before.
    He strummed the guitar, stared at
his hands, watched his own fingers stroke its neck and pluck at each string.
His chocolate hair hung in front of his face like a stage curtain about to go
up. He built anticipation in her like a skilled lover brings his partner to the
edge of orgasm.  She held her breath until the climax, until he began to sing.
    The first lyrics filled the room
and he looked into the faces of those who sat close by. His style was an odd
but intriguing mix of soul and blues with a touch of country twang. No covers,
all original songs he’d told his anticipating audience.
    His voice pierced her heart. She
couldn’t take her eyes from his, though his were looking anywhere but at her.
Under the cover of the dark room she felt like a stalker, watching his every
move, lost in the emerald of his eyes that glowed with golden fire when the
spotlight hit him just so. His olive skin was luminescent, sweat beaded on his
forehead.
    He removed his jacket and laid it
on the stage. He lifted the guitar strap back over his shoulder. The muscles in
his arm rippled and took her breath from her. When the set was finished, he
leaned into the microphone and thanked the audience, reminded them to stick
around for the main event, and hoped they enjoyed their night.
    He gathered his jacket and stood to
his full height. She immersed herself in his black T-shirt, the sleeves
bisecting his pronounced biceps, admired the cut of his Levis and the black
boots with three-inch heels.
    He held his cigarette between his
lips, squinted to keep the smoke out of one eye, snatched his drink, and walked
off stage, his back to her.
    Her heart beat heavy in her chest.
    “Mazie?” A hand tapped her thigh.
    She shook herself from the trance
this man held her in and looked at her date for the evening. Allan. Nice young
man. Cute, if not a bit too skinny.