Part 1: Drums and Disaster

The neon lights of the Jazzara glowed in the winter darkness down the street from our parked Honda CR-V. The bar, on the northern side of Albany, was known for it’s jazz and reggae live shows. Tonight, the selection was reggae as part of their ‘Island Winter’ promotion. I was in the car with three of my coven-sisters. This was night one of ‘Operation Duane’ which we had playfully started calling our efforts to recruit my friend Duane into the Coven of the Moonlit Grove.

I knew Duane from the gym. He had helped me quite a bit when I had first started working out. I was still not as advanced as he was but several years ago he had really helped build my confidence. Duane was also a musician – he was the drummer in a reggae band called ‘Caribbean Roots’. He worked as a transportation planner for a small company. He was single (though he tended to have more luck with ladies than I had) and was overall a good guy.

I thought he would make a great addition to our small group.

I looked at my three coven-sisters that had accompanied me on the forty-five minute drive to Albany.

Anna was in the front seat, wearing skin tight jeans, brown fashion boots, and a light crop top under her winter gear. Her blonde hair was long and loose around her face. She had been with the Coven for some time now and was eager for a night out.

Rayven was in the back seat, wearing tights, a neon pink tube top, and stiletto heels under her coat. Her hair was in a loose ponytail with a dozen light strands of hair surrounding her face and glittering earrings hanging from her ears. She could barely contain her excitement.

Coral, the third of my coven-sisters, with me was next to Rayven. She had been born in what became the US Virgin Islands in 1909, when they were still the Danish West Indies. She was wearing a blue mini-skirt and a fluffy ruffled top with heels. She had bravely let her winter coat at home, figuring she could make the brief sprint from car to bar without issue. Her black curly hair was about shoulder length and seemed to explode around her face.

“Are we ready to go ladies?” I asked, smiling.

“Oh yeah,” commented Anna. “I so want to dance!”

“Absolutely Michael!” said Rayven excitedly. “Coral, do the thing.”

Coral smiled at Rayven. “Wey yah ah seh, sistren?”

“That is so cool!” commented Rayven. Coral grinned broadly. She had the weird ability to switch between her Caribbean accent and her regular accent with ease.

“It is pretty neat,” commented Anna.

“Thanks Anna,” said Coral.

“Guys let’s focus here,” I said. “We can have fun but you should try to talk with Duane a bit too. Coral and Rayven, you guys haven’t been out much so just have your ID’s ready-”

“ID’s?” asked Rayven.

“What do you mean, Michael?” asked Coral.

“I know you guys don’t have drivers licenses but you don’t have state ID cards?” I responded.

“No,” said Rayven. “Why would we ever need those?”

I glanced at Anna, who had hung her head.

“It ... it’s all good,” I temporized. “I’m with three young ladies and we’re kind of with the band. We can bullshit this.”

I pulled out my wallet and handed Rayven and Coral $40 each. “Okay, here’s some money-”

“That’s a lot!” said Coral, honestly surprised.

“Yeah,” said Rayven. “The last time I went out beer was 15 cents a bottle. That’s way too much money Michael.”

I sighed.

“Jesus Christ,” said Anna quietly.

“Okay, give me that back,” I said, taking the cash away from the two girls. “Anna and I will just buy you guys drinks.”

“We probably should have planned this a bit better Michael,” said Anna.

“It’s all good. This will work,” I responded.

The four of us got out of the car and trotted down the icy sidewalk to the bar, the girls clinging to each other as they navigated the snow and ice in their high heels. It was cold but the temperature wasn’t overpowering. We made it easily. Luckily, a large group was going into the bar and, with Anna and I diverting the bouncer, Rayven and Coral slithered their way in. This was a reggae bar, not a night club.

“Wow, this is cool!” said Rayven as Anna and I joined the two women at a small table.

“Ah mi fi tell yu!” said Coral.

Jazzara was alive with light, color, and activity. The bar was decorated in a lightweight tropical island style for their theme but it was superficial. I could tell the staff would be able to switch the place into a darkened jazz club with ease. It was about half full of a typical twenty-something crowd. The weather wasn’t in complete agreement tonight so I didn’t think it would pick up much. The canned sounds of Caribbean music flowed easily throughout the bar and the stage was empty. It looked like the band was between sets.

“What will you guys have?” asked Anna.

“Margarita!” said Rayven and Coral, almost in unison.

“Michael?” said Anna.

“It’s okay, I’m driving. Just get me a Coke.”

“Michael, I can drive us back,” said Anna. “What do you want?”

“Rum and coke then,” I responded with a smile. I often forgot that Anna was as up to date as I was. It was a strange feeling.

“Michael!” I heard a bellow from behind me. I turned and there was Duane.

“Hey buddy!” I responded. We did a standard ‘bro-hug’.

Duane was a bit taller than me and certainly better built. He wore a goatee and was bald by choice. He was dressed the part: a flashy print shirt, a white tank top, and Bermuda shorts. He had dark skin and black hair.

“Thanks for coming to see us play,” said Duane. “Did you catch the first set?”