The Lonely Heart Club – a prompt story - 4. Martin III-Prompt 405-Happy Easter

“You honestly think I would wear something like that?” Martin stared at the garment draped over his boss’ arm and shuddered.

“I do.“

“Well, I’m not. Ask Jessa. She loves stuff like this.” Martin flicked some invisible lint from his dark tan slacks, pulled at the short sleeves of his tight, white, V-neck tee-shirt, and took in a deep breath. He still wasn’t able to shake this little nervousness before he had to go out on the stage, even after all these years.

“I already did. She agreed to take the early shift from five to seven.”

“Good for her.” Martin grabbed the fedora, raked a hand through his black hair before he put the hat on his head, then he headed for the door. “It’s my turn soon, so I better get going.”

He had his hand on the doorknob when he heard his boss’ mocking voice. “It’s pink with white trimmings, she’s looking quite cute, actually.”

“I can imagine.” Martin growled.

“Ben’s looking good too.” Obviously the boss had followed him outside.

Martin hurried along the small dim hallway that led from the dressing rooms to the main room of the bar. He needed a drink. “Ben?” He scoffed. “No way!”

“His is black with silver accents and short sleeves. I didn’t want to hide his tattoos.”

Martin turned around, his gaze briefly flickering to the heap of cloth his boss still had in his arms, before he met his eyes. “And if Ben is wearing a red and green checkered, short, pleated skirt, combat boots, a beret and nothing else, I’m not going to wear that.”

“Am I hearing one of your secret fantasies here?”

Martin didn’t bother to answer that, but continued his walk to the bar, already signaling Ben to pour him the usual.

“The servers are going to wear all shades of brown with little bows around their necks, all in different colors.”

Martin saw Ben’s eyes darting to their boss, what he was holding in his arms, and then back to him. The only way he could describe the grin forming on his colleague’s face was devilish. Ignoring him, Martin tried to stay calm. “Boss. I can see you gave this a lot of thought, and I’m sure it will be fun and all, but I am not wearing that. If you want someone playing the piano Sunday night, and this is the mandatory outfit, you’ll have to look for someone else. That’s my last word.”

“Martin. People coming to us on Sunday are those who don’t have someone to celebrate Easter with them. So we’re doing the ‘Egg Hunt’. I want to see a smile on their faces the minute they enter the bar. On Easter we celebrate life, spring, and a new beginning. Everyone thinks this is good idea. Why are you so opposed to this? You’re even wearing a tail coat!”

“I’m wearing a tail coat?”

“Yes. Now think about music that gets people in the mood.” His boss squeezed Martin’s shoulder briefly, and then he was gone.

No.

***

Martin stared at the sheet music in front of him, not that he actually needed it. ‘Here Comes Peter Cottontail’ wasn’t difficult to play. The alternative was to look at his audience, gather their mood, and work with it, something he usually found easy. Only this time he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to face their reaction upon seeing him when he entered the stage.

Jessa had told him Roman was here somewhere, probably laughing his ass off, he’d bet.

Martin threw the tails of his coat over the seat of the piano bench. And tried not to think about the additional tail. The white, fluffy one.

Goddamn!

There was raucous laughter. Someone called, “I found another one!” The egg hunt seemed to be in full swing.

Martin rolled his shoulders, trying to relax, only to be reminded of the other accessory: frames of black wire forming long ears, mounted on a small black hairband. No plush, thank God for small favors.

There was no way around it: He was a gigantic black bunny, wearing a tail coat.

Beside his pile of sheet music sat a small basket filled with colorful eggs. Each egg had a song scribbled on it. He already saw ‘Here I Go Again’ from Whitesnake and ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ from Pat Benatar. He just hoped people didn’t take this literally.

Then he forgot that he didn’t want to lift his head. His eyes instantly met icy blue ones. Roman. Clad in a white suit again. But what was that on his head? Fluffy white plush ears? When the man was sure he had Martin’s attention, he winked, turned around and waggled with his ass. Without thinking, Martin barked out a laugh. A black, short fluffy tail. Roman turned around again and grinned.

Martin glanced around. People were laughing as they ran around with small baskets in their hands, obviously hunting eggs. Others were eating chocolate eggs, and quite a few wearing some kind of bunny costumes. People were having fun. The boss had gotten what he’d wanted, and Martin didn’t feel stupid anymore.

Then his gaze fell on a slightly larger black and white egg nestled in an eggcup, which stood on the piano. Scribbled on it with a silver sharpie was only one word: ‘Dinner?’