The lighting was low in the smoky jazz club. It wasn't a particularly busy night, and a couple of waitresses in black cocktail dresses made their way around, taking drink orders. They smiled pretty for tips, and were always quite friendly. Most of the people in the club were sitting either in booths around the outside, or at tables arrayed before a small stage. There was a quiet buzz of conversation, and over it, music played.
On the little stage, raised about nine inches off the ground, were four men, dressed in trendy outfits, holding shining and polished instruments. A saxophone wailed a solo in the middle of a song as a quiet bassline and light swing beat underscored it. And then, the song shifted, segueing into the introduction for one of the singer's favorite songs. The audience clapped quietly as the drummer started a riff.
And there, at the front of the little stage, was James Calloway at the microphone, a crimson dress shirt on over black dress pants, shoes shining and face bright as the introduction lead him in. Taking a breath, he began to sing:
"Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars,
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars
In other words..."
song!
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