Aditus' prompts and circumstances - 12. Lonely Heart Club - Prompt 367

Martin smiled when he saw Jessa skipping down the small stage, her red dress quickly disappearing between the tables. It was ten o’clock, her shift was over and she couldn’t get out fast enough. Usually he had the early shift from eight to ten on a Tuesday, but it was Valentine’s Day and Jessa had a hot date, so they’d swapped shifts.

After a short bow he sat down behind the baby grand, and smiled as he perused his audience. The bar was busier then he’d expected and it was only partly the usual crowd. This wasn’t a place lovers took their dates to celebrate their day, but a place where men and women drowned their loneliness in booze. They didn’t want to be at their empty homes today. They also came because of him; they expected him to cheer them up or at least understand them.

Martin would have liked talking to the patrons directly, taking their requests, listening to short stories or events that lead them to requesting the songs, especially on days like these. Since a tipsy woman sprained her ankle climbing the stairs to the stage on high heels though, the patrons had to write their song requests on small slips of paper the barkeeper had ready for them and then one of the waiters would bring them over to him.

He took a small sip from his glass of red wine, and then browsed through the requested songs Anna had brought over on a small silver tray. It was as he had expected: older songs telling of better days, songs about loneliness and heartbreak, only a few of hope for finding love.

Martin closed his eyes and then sang ‘New York State of Mind’. He always started with the song. Then he blended into ‘There You’ll Be’. He blindly picked this one.

Contrary to most of tonight’s patrons, the piano player wasn’t lonely. As a matter of fact, Martin didn’t expect to go home alone tonight. He was a man who enjoyed the perks of his single life. There was always someone who wanted to go with the piano man, he grinned to himself. The shorter dark-haired man sitting at the bar, for example, was exactly his type. He liked his guys slim, with longish hair, tanned skin, dark soulful eyes, and a tight butt in a designer suit.

Martin even knew the guy’s name: Frank. Or was it Rick? Well, it didn’t matter; the guy’s tentative smile looked promising enough. They’d hooked up once or twice before. Frank/Rick came here almost every day after work.

The piano player signaled Craig the bartender, who promptly invited Frank/Rick to his next whatever-he was-drinking in Martin’s name. It was a well-rehearsed move between the two of them. They had done this several times as Martin couldn’t very well go over and invite his beau of the night to a drink in the middle of his performance.

Usually Frank/Rick was here as part of a much larger group. On an evening like this the others probably had better things to do. Martin immediately remembered the tall lanky blond, with the pale skin and icy blue eyes, who was absolutely not Martin’s type. Martin shook his head. Why did he remember that one? He even had involuntarily looked for him when he noticed Frank/Rick sitting down at the bar.

Martin should really stop calling the guy Frank/Rick, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember which of those his name was.

He knew the blond’s name though. Roman. And he wasn’t good with names. Must be because this was such a contradiction: those Nordic looks and then the name Roman. Yes, that must be it.

Martin had finished ‘Waltz No. 1’ when Anna came again, carrying a tray with one lonely slip of paper on it.

She winked at him before she placed it beside his sheet music. Curious, Martin took it in his hand and read ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel. Surprised, he looked up. Who had requested a song that was about him? On days like these, that was exactly how he felt. Like Billy Joel’s ‘Piano Man’, who was there for the people who were alone, giving them something to help them go on. Who understood him like that?

And then he saw him. Tall, blond, icy blue eyes, lifting his glass at him. Roman.