by Joan
copyright 1996 by D. Joan Leib Characters are not mine and are used without permission. no copyright infringement intended.
"Chief," the slim young man panted worriedly as he jogged down the alley after his boss, "this wasn't quite what I had in mind when you said you wanted to reconnoiter."
"Trust me, Zack," the older man replied, "you'll learn plenty in here." He tapped his wrist. "Garibaldi to Command...we're going in."
Zack studied the door they had stopped by with trepidation. It was a large, imposing oak door with a single small symbol painted on the side in black: it looked like a musical note whose stem had been tilted to be almost perfectly diagonal. He had no time to ponder what it might signify, though, as Garibaldi pushed the door open and they walked in.
The bar was softly lit, revealing polished-wood tables and chairs upholstered tastefully in dark red. A high ceiling magnified the soft bar sounds of clinking glasses, murmuring voices, and, from the corner, the tock-tock of bar games. The bar itself gleamed dully with promise; its plush wooden stools were all vacant except for one, which held a conservatively dressed red-headed woman wearing an expression of resignation.
The rest of the patrons were all men, almost all in pairs, Zack noted. They were muttering restlessly, some staring at the vacant stage, some pointedly avoiding it with their roving eyes. The lights were up on the stage, and the microphone looked painfully alone.
Finally, as Garibaldi pulled Zack to a table, a tall, chunky young man with a mop of dark hair and a goofy face hopped up onto the stage, holding a beer bottle. He was clearly somewhat inebriated, but he turned to nod backstage and launched with some skill into a rendition of an old Queen song. As he sang, he stared purposefully at his former tablemate, a smaller Italian guy who looked more confused than anything else.
"Ooh, you make me live.... Whenever this world is cruel to me, I got you to help me forgive... Ahh, you're my best friend...."
But when he got to the chorus he faltered:
"You've been with me such a long time, you're my sunshine, And I want you to know that my feelings are true, I really....." He choked off the last word, looking uncomfortable. The crowd cheered encouragingly. The object of the singer's affections leapt to his feet, ran onstage, put his arm around a shoulder and whispered something. The singer nodded, replaced the mike, and the two headed toward the foosball table in the corner of the room. The audience cheered goodnaturedly.
Almost immediately, another young man left a darts game and went up on stage. The heavyset Irishman he'd been playing with watched him, eyes gleaming. The new singer was slender, dark-skinned and fey. He touched the microphone gently, as if it were made of glass, as the music began.
"This one is for someone...someone with whom I would like more than a plain and simple friendship," he said softly, in a husky voice that sent shivers down more than one spine. The Irishman frowned with disgust and turned back to the dartboard.
"I see you on the street but you walk on by... Makes me want to hang my head down and cry. If you'd give me half the chance you'd see My desire burning inside of me. But you choose to look the other way. Don't try to run, I can keep up with you Nothing can stop me from trying You've got to Open your heart to me,darlin' I hold the lock and you hold the key. Open your heart to me, darlin' I'll give you love if you You turn the key."
Wetness leaked from the corners of his tightly closed eyes as he poured his soul into the song. The audience was mesmerized; several men reached for their lovers' hands.
Just as the young man neared the end, wailing, "One is such a lonely number," another man burst from the shadows and rushed onstage. Several gasps were heard as his almost reptilian form became apparent. He threw his arms around the singer and they embraced tightly. The crowd cheered. The older man led the younger offstage and out the door, still clutching each other. The Irishman scowled and threw a dart viciously at the board.
Looking across the room, Zack noticed a good-looking older man with tribal tattoos covering half his forehead. He leaned back to admire the other man and was starting to consider going up to him when he noticed that the guy wasn't just watching a pool game; he was watching one of the players. When the young blond guy bent over to make a shot, the older guy became noticably excited... and who could blame him? The blond had a *great* ass. He glanced back over his shoulder and licked his lips enticingly. The tattooed man sucked in his breath, but remained still.
Zack got up and went to the bar for a refill. While he was there, he looked closely at the redheaded woman, trying to decide if she was really a woman, or a really really good drag queen. She caught him staring and gave him a harsh glare. He grabbed his drink and retreated. Definitely a woman.
The lights on the stage dimmed somewhat as the tattooed guy took the mike. "Hi," he said easily, seeming not at all intimidated by the audience. "Since someone already got this artist going, I figured I'd sing another of hers." The music that started up behind him was slow, soft and sensual. He lowered his head to the mike and sang softly.
"Laying low as the music starts Strangers making the most of the dark Two by two their bodies become one..."
The crowd laughed softly at the apropos words; indeed the heat in the room had noticably intensified as couples became friendlier and friendlier.
"I see you through the smoky air Can't you feel the weight of my stare? You're so close but still a world away What I'm dying to say Is that I'm crazy for you - Touch me once and you'll know it's true. I never wanted anyone like this. It's all brand new You'll feel it in my kiss.... I'm crazy for you."
On the word "kiss" he looked directly at the blond man, who had stopped his pool game to stare up at the singer. Everyone in the room felt the raw sensuality of the song, but no one more so than the cocky blond, who set aside his pool cue to approach the stage. He climbed up beside the other man, and though the tension between them was palpable, neither touched the other. The blond took the mike and began the second verse.
"Trying hard to control my heart I walk over to where you are Eye to eye we need no words at all... Slowly now we begin to move..."
...and they did, swaying softly in time to the music, still not touching although their bodies occupied the same arc....
"every breath I return to you... Soon we two are standing still inside If you read my mind You'll see I'm crazy for you Touch me once and you'll know it's true..."
At this line the tattooed man was emboldened and did just that; reaching out, he slid his hand across the blond's back and around his waist, pulling him closer. They kissed passionately. The crowd went wild. Zack saw an older man stand up, grab his expressionless pointy-eared partner, and head for the door with urgency in his gait. Most of the other couples in the room had the same idea; they made for the door, the two onstage included, so that almost no one noticed as a new song started up and a new singer took the stage.
Soon the bar was almost deserted, but for Zack, Garibaldi (the gleam in whose eye Zack wasn't at all sure he liked), the Irishman, the redheaded woman, the bartender, and a couple of others.
Over at the other side of the room, two men got to their feet more slowly. One was lanky and dark-haired, with a swimmer's build; the other was stockier and balding. Both wore solemn dark suits. Zack had them pegged as government types. They were deeply engrossed in their conversation, noticing almost nothing else as they walked over to the bar where the redheaded woman sat. They appeared to be taking their leave of her, but she grabbed the dark-haired man and pointed toward the stage just as the new singer went into the chorus. He, too, was dark-haired, but younger and smaller, with a compact form that radiated sexuality. He tossed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes and rasped the lyrics with feeling.
"I hate myself for loving you Can't get free from the things that you do I try to run, but I come back to you I hate myself for loving you"
The other man's mouth fell open in surprise. The bald man grabbed his arm and, with a few quick word to the woman, dragged him swiftly toward the door, still staring. The woman looked disgusted. She rolled her eyes heavenward and approached the stage, reaching into her pocket. The song ended and the fierce young singer, looking ready to cry or lash out, stepped offstage and allowed the woman to handcuff him. Her face was a study in careful neutrality as she led him off through the side exit.
"Well, Zack, I think we've learned about all there is to learn," Garibaldi said expansively, getting to his feet and stretching lazily. Zack stood too, looking at his commanding officer with new eyes. Garibaldi caught his gaze and smiled ever so slightly.
"Taking off, guys?" the Irishman asked dolefully. Garibaldi nodded.
"Better luck next time, Miles," he said flippantly. "Tell your captain I said hello."
"Yeah...and me to yours," Miles agreed. He watched the two officers leave and sighed heavily. "Guess it's back to the wife." The bartender gave him a sympathetic smile.
"See you again tomorrow night," he said to Miles' back, and moved to dismantle the mike.