Music at Fort Knox
I knew it was going to be a long night when he walked in the door, but to be fair, he was everything Karen promised. He was tall and slim with nut-brown skin and not unattractive. However, when he opened his mouth to say hello, I crossed Karen off my list of friends. Charles Roosevelt Cameron had a mouth full of gold teeth that made his tongue look like it was at Fort Knox and one of his eyes looked everywhere in the place except at me. On top of that, his breath was strong enough to hold hostages. I could see this could turn into one of the longest nights of the year. Still, he was mannerable and very nice. I had no idea that my blind date with Fort Knox would change my thinking about men and make me take a closer look at myself and who I was.
Charles Roosevelt Cameron may have been a disappointment but he knew his way around the music scene and unknowingly he saved the evening from being a total loss, even though I nearly passed out twice because of his breath.
We went to a small jazz club called “Vamp” on the east side. “Vamp” was best described as uptown modern. The lighting was subdued, but it was not dark. I could clearly make out the polished aluminum molding and fixtures along with the “throwback” black leather furniture. On the dropped level stage, a quartet led by a tall soprano saxophonist dressed in a mid-length dashiki was doing a version of Grover Washington and Bill Withers’ “Just the Two of Us.”
Everyone seemed to know Fort Knox because we were seated center stage. Charles ordered drinks and we set in relative silence just listening to the band as they breezed through several old standards and a couple of cuts from their own CD. We applauded politely when they finished their set.
“I see you like jazz,” Fort Know said.
“I’ve always been a fan. My father played for years before giving it up to teach,” I said.
“Where does he teach?” Charles asked.
“At the city university,” I answered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Vamp is proud to present Sonnet recording artist, the prince of the night, give it up for Niles Long,” the announcer broke in.
The place came alive with applause and whistling fans. I hadn’t realized there were so many people in the place until I heard the clapping. All of the lights went down until the entire club was dark. The murmur of the crowd mixed with the clinking of glasses rose until a single spotlight shined a circle of light over the edge of the black Yamaha piano, illuminating an empty piano stool. In the anxious silence, a small bronze-skinned man stepped into the circle of light.
The crowd went silent. Without a word, the man sat and began playing an up-tempo riff. I watched in fascination as his hands danced across with the practiced ease of a virtuoso. As he drifted from one piece into another, I watched and listened with rapt attention. When the song ended, he stood and stepped to the house microphone.
Dressed in black, Niles Long stepped from the darkness into the main spotlight. Now that I could see him clearly, he wasn’t what I expected. His skin was the color of amber and his face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard which ended abruptly where his shaved head began and—he was short. He couldn’t have been more than 5’7”, which would make him about three inches shorter than me without my heels.
Under the spotlight, his skin now glowed amber.
“I’m Niles Long and I thank you for this night,” he said in a soft voice night.
With that, he walked to the piano, pulled out the stool, sat down and promptly launched into an up-tempo version of “This Masquerade.” The crowd clapped wildly, apparently quite familiar with this version of the song. Occasionally, the spotlight ricocheted off his clean scalp or the diamond stud in his ear.
Without missing a beat he segued into a version of Johnny Gil’s “My, My, My” that silenced the entire venue. For a moment, he opened his eyes and looked directly at me. Behind the thin rimless rectangle glasses, his onyx eyes seemed remote, distant like he was communing with someone who wasn’t there. I felt as if he touched me in that instant, but when I blinked, his eyes were closed. For the next hour, he melted from one song into another, barely giving the audience a chance to applaud.
It was hard to believe so much music resided inside such a small man. He literally commanded the audience and the piano. As he played, an occasional satisfied smile slipped across his face and a sporadic “mmmm” escaped his lips. He was enjoying himself. It was hard not to be taken in by the sheer joy and emotional range of his playing.
I found him mildly attractive even though he wasn’t my type. I don’t particularly care for men with bald heads and most important he was far too short, but there was no denying the air of authority he displayed behind the keyboard. He had been playing nearly an hour without stopping, when, suddenly; the spotlight went black along with the music. Then just as suddenly as it stopped, the music started again and with an amber spotlight spraying down on him. The crowd loved the theatrics and applauded wildly.
At first, I didn’t recognize the tune, but after a few moments, I recognized “My Funny Valentine,” which was one of my favorite songs even though it was older than me. Each note he played stroked me gently along my ears and resonated inside of me. I crossed my legs and clenched them tight. My stomach was in my throat as he stroked the keys with a passionate delicacy, rolling, trilling and lightly manipulating the melody with the ardor of a consummate lover.
In the amber spot, his skin blended in and out focus with a life of its own. My palms were perspiring as I listened, totally captivated by the sound and the style. I felt light headed and I forgot that Fort Know was even at the table. In fact, he wasn’t at the table. He was gone and I had no idea of where he was or when he left the table. It embarrassed me. I looked around the club, but I didn’t see him. When I looked back at the stage, Niles Long was looking at me.
Even in the amber light, I could see the dark intenseness of his eyes. They were locked on mine in an onyx embrace I couldn’t shake and I didn’t want to. The black fire burned in his eyes and at that moment I was consumed.
Niles Long played 90 minutes without taking a 60-second break. When he finished, he finished abruptly, barely giving the audience a chance to catch its breath. He stood quickly as the house lights came up and bowed from the waist as the audience clapped loudly. When it was over, Charles mysteriously appeared, smiling and in good spirits.
“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he asked.
I started to speak, but my words seemed locked up.
“That’s all right. Niles does that to people. He’s something, isn’t he?” he asked.
I found my words and answered, “That’s an understatement. He was fantastic. Great! I’m sorry. I don’t mean to carry on so. I’m sorry. Please forgive me?” I said.
“Nothing to forgive,” Charles answered.
“But we had . . .” I started.
“What? Had a date? Come on now. A blind date? Both of us know how it works, although I must say that for once Karen was right. You’re everything she said,” Charles said.
“I feel so bad. I didn’t . . .” I started again.
“There’s nothing to feel bad about. We both knew in the first five minutes that you and I were a bust, but I decided there wasn’t any reason we couldn’t have a good time,” Charles said.
“Well, I’ve had a good time and you have excellent taste in music,” I said.
“Thanks. I’m a musician myself, but nothing as serious as tonight. I just like to play. Funny, Niles and I started at the same time .” he started.
“You know Niles Long,” I asked, totally unaware of my rudeness.
“Of course,know him. He’s my cousin and we grew up across the street from each other. Would you like to meet him?” Charles asked.
Before I could answer he jumped out of his seat and headed toward the stage where a small crowd of people had gathered probably waiting for Niles Long to reappear. This was awkward, even though Charles seemed not to mind. In fact, he seemed almost anxious to be rid of me. Maybe I was the one who needed a favor. What had Karen told him? I could almost hear her telling Charles, “Please meet my friend for dinner and show her a good time. She’s desperate.”
The more I thought about it, the more I believed that I was a “mercy date.” It had been over a year since I even went out on a date and longer yet since I had been intimate with a man.
I’m not unattractive. I have a good figure. I’m firm in all the right places men like. I’ve caramel skin and stand just under 6’ tall. I admit that can be a problem, but most people say I’m cute, whatever that means. I just haven’t had good luck with men.
I was still thinking about the evening when Charles walked up with Niles Long. He was even shorter than I imagined and I could se that his dazzling smile was marred by a slight overbite. He still had on his stage clothes.
“Kelly Rivers this is my cousin and musician extraordinaire, Niles Long,” Charles said with a gold-capped smile.
“Just Niles,” he said in a quiet voice as he extended his hand to shake mine. I noticed the white gold band on his ring finger as I took his hand, which was warm and smooth.
“I really enjoyed your music tonight,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said with a subtle lisp. “I’m glad you could come.”
“Do you mind if I sit,” he asked.
“What? No, not at all. Please have a seat,” I said.
He sat, casually crossing his legs and clasping his hands at his knee where noticed he also wore a white gold band on the ring finger of his right hand. Charles had disappeared again, leaving Niles and I alone at the table. We sat there in comfortable silence until he spoke.
“Do you like fishing?” he asked.
The question threw me off balance. I was ready for “Do you come here often” or “How did you like my music,” but not a real question. When I looked up to answer, he looked directly into my eyes. His black eyes locked mine in place and I felt that same lightheaded feeling I had experienced earlier. The intensity of his eyes was almost palpable.
“I’ve never fished,” I stuttered.
“Never?” He asked and smiled.
“Never,” I said and returned the smile.
From there we launched into a discussion about wildlife and nature. I was amazed by his range of knowledge about other things other than music. He was a virtual encyclopedia. I had long forgotten that he wasn’t my type of man as he dazzled me with his crooked smile and a warped sense of humor.
“When I finish this tour, I’d like to come back here and spend some time getting to know you, if you don’t mind,” he said.
I couldn’t believe when I heard myself saying, “I’d enjoy that.”
“Would you mind if I called you when I’m traveling?” he asked
“Not at all,” I said. I knew then that I’d lost my mind.
Me and Karen and Men
“What we’re you thinking. You don’t know that man at all,” Karen said.
“I met him and talked with him,” I said.
“That ain’t nothing but coochie talking. What’s it been? Ten, eleven or twelve years?” She and laughed out loud.
“You got me on that one, but that’s not the case with this man. I feel that I already know this man,” I said.
“You don’t know any man. That’s why you’re in the shape you’re in right now,” Karen said.
“That’s not fair,” I snapped.
We’d had this conversation before and Karen was right. My choices in men left a lot to be desired. Somehow, I managed to pick men who mistreated and abused me. The last man I dated tried to rape me and the only reason he wasn’t successful was because he couldn’t hit as hard as me, but he hit hard enough to fracture my jaw.
Obviously, I swore off men after that, but after about six months my heart was ready to try again, only I didn’t know where to start after having so many bad ones in the past. I had many false starts—dates I didn’t show up for and dates I broke 15 minutes after making them. It wasn’t until Karen setup the blind date that I actually went and even then, it was because of her.
I was right about Charles. He was my “mercy date.” He went on a blind date with me primarily because of his friendship with Karen. It was just a way to get me out of the house in male company. I didn’t know it then, but there was another good reason Charles and I didn’t hit it off even though he turned out to be very sweet and a load of fun—he was gay.
“Jesus Kelly, the man’s a musician,” Karen said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked sharply.
“Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t look nice on you,” Karen said.
“I’m not,” I said.
“You know most musicians don’t exactly have a sterling track record when it comes to fidelity,” Karen said. “Most of them have two or three women in every city.”
“I don’t think that’s the case with Niles,” I said. “He’s not a typical musician.”
“You mean because he talked to you about fishing and teaching and didn’t ask you back to his room, that he doesn’t want your drawers?” Karen asked.
“I know most men want to have sex with you, but I didn’t sense that in him. He seemed more like we already had a relationship and sex was part of the deal, even though we came nowhere close to talking about it,” I said.
Niles Long was in all the magazines with a different woman in every picture. It was rumored that he had two illegitimate children and maybe even more. However, the most disturbing thing to me was the reports of violent incidents with women. I knew from reading that he had never been found guilty, but I believe where there is smoke, there’s fire. There had to be some truth in it.
From the outside, Niles Long wasn’t my kind of man. He was short and sharp. His face was a study in angles, blending from subtle curves to a 90-degree jaw. His voice was softer than mine and I could tell he was used to having things his way. I suspected he was temperamental and moody, two traits I couldn’t stand.
Physically, there wasn’t much there to attract me, except those eyes. His eyes smoldered with dark secret passion, desire and danger. I sensed an untamed physicality that was wild and predatory. Actually, it was more than his eyes. There was irreverence in his conversation and even in his playing. It was if he thumbed his nose at the rest of the world and that bothered me.
Rainy Days and Puppy Dogs
The rain beat like drum on my roof rasping my already aching head. Niles called from Chicago just before the rain started. It was a strange conversation. Although he called me, I did most of the talking. He was pleasant enough but he seemed agitated, like he had changed his mind about me.
He wouldn’t be the first man who had changed his mind about me. They were probably the ones who had been good to me because the ones who stayed weren’t worth a damn. Maybe Niles would only stay around long enough just to make me hurt.
Alone
“Alone,” that was the title of Niles’ new CD. The cover art was simple. The word “Alone” floated in the upper left-hand corner. Almost unnoticed in the lower right-hand corner in small letters, it said Niles Long. Looking off the cover was a black and white silhouette of Niles. Most of his face was in the shadows. Only his shaved head was clearly visible. The entire side of his face and head faded into darkness. Only the flash of a diamond solitaire dotted the darkness in a lonely sparkle.
The dark elegance of the cover art captured a soulful singleness in Niles. It showed a side of him that at once was more interesting and disturbing. The tracks were haunting I their simplicity, featuring Niles unaccompanied on acoustic piano. I didn’t recognize any of the tunes as any I heard at his performance. Some were wandering excursions into places most of us only whispered about. It was like secretly watching someone undress. Niles exposed himself with each track, until the title track.
It seemed “Alone” didn’t belong on the CD. Hidden under the soothing texture of the piano an angry and dark current flowed. I couldn’t help but think of his eyes, those eyes and how they captivated me. When the phone wrang I was on the precipice of self-pity. It was Niles.
“Hey baby, it’s Niles, “came a bright voice through the telephone. I’m sorry that I haven’t called as much as usual, but it wasn’t because I didn’t want to call, he said.
“I understand,” I said when I really didn’t.
“No, I could have found time to call and I should have,” Niles said. “I had my cell turned off the whole time I was there,” he said.
“Why,” I asked.
“My contract with HillSide expires in three months and I don’t think they are going to extend it. In fact, I know they’re not going to extend it,” he explained.
“What?” I asked. “How can they do that when you are the best-selling jazz artist they have?”
“Kelly, there’s little money in jazz these days and they know it and I know it,” Niles said. “
Niles went into detail about how he pulled together some of his favorite local musicians and recorded 15 tracks. They were in the studio until 4 am every day. In addition, after a few hours’ sleep, he was out shopping his new recording while his manager tried to call in favors from record executives he knew.
I didn’t what to think but I was glad that he would be home. I was also anxious to hear the new music he recorded. He promised me it would be something I never expected from him. In the year we had been seeing each other, Niles was always considerate and loving. I also let Karen know that the 12-year draught she teased me about was over. In fact, it was over three months after we started seeing each other.
I’m Coming Home
“What did you think of that,” Niles asked.
“I didn’t know what to say. It was so different.” I said.
“Different good or bad,” he asked.
Different good,” I responded. “I didn’t know you could sing.”
“I don’t do it much but my manager tells me it is one of my better assets,” he said.
“Your manager might just be right,” I said. “You changed your piano. I can tell the difference.
“I figured if we’re going after a younger audience then I needed break out of the worn out stuff I played. So, I borrowed an electric piano, rounded up some top-flight musician and put together what I am calling jazz funk,” he said, his eyes sparkling like they did when I first met him.
“I thought you might like it and I’m sure Karen would like it too,” he said. But, on a serious note, I needed to apologize and ask you to marry me,” he said.
I couldn’t move my lips. My tongue was stuck to the roof of the mouth. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about it, but now here it was right in my face. I started crying and couldn’t turn off the tears enough to see Niles clearly. Finally, my tongue and brain synchronized and I said,
“Yes.”
The marriage was a simple affair and heart felt just as I imagined. We honeymooned in Aruba where Niles has less chance of being recognized, but there was always some jazz aficionado lurking in the crowd. Niles didn’t mind and neither did I.
Back in Style Again
It’s been twenty years now and we’re still going strong. Niles still records, but doesn’t tour as much because he wants to be home with our two children, Tasha and Niles Jr. After all this time, we’re still making music.
