The dinnertime rush was in full flow when I walked in. Man, was it ever noisy in there at busy times. I could barely hear the tinny wail of ‘Good Golly Miss Molly’ playing out over the jukebox for all the chattering and cackling of customers having a jolly old time. Esther was buzzing around the joint with arms full of plates while Jean, a waitress with a halo of black curls and a nose speckled with pale freckles, was permitted to carry only one item at a time. This, Bernie had discovered, was the only way of making sure Jean didn’t drop whatever she was carrying before it reached the table. According to Esther, Jean had been on ‘probation’ longer than any server in the history of the Starlight Diner but Bernie didn’t have the heart to fire her.
Despite the rush, Bernie was sitting at the end of the counter near another older gentleman who was engrossed in a copy of the New York Times. To my surprise, the diner owner waved me over. I traipsed across the lino to see what he wanted, lugging my guitar behind me.
‘Bonnie, right?’ said Bernie, his eyes staring just to my left rather than straight at me. They were brown eyes, the colour of hazel, but they didn’t catch the light the way some people’s eyes did. Quite the reverse. There was a dullness about them that was too depressing to look at head on.
‘Right.’ I smiled at Bernie but he didn’t smile back.
‘Esther tells me you’re trying to get a few bucks together and that you know how to play good music.’
‘Yeah, well, I like to think so,’ I put my hands in my jeans pockets and swung my hips round from side to side, not sure why – coyness I guess. Esther liked me to sing to her but she’d always had a glass of gin or two before asking so I’d never been sure if she really took pleasure in what she heard or if it was just a fun distraction after a couple of drinks. Truth be told, she wasn’t that hot at handling liquor.
‘Esther said you play sixties tunes?’ Bernie squinted at me.
‘Well I can play a lotta things. But yeah, I played sixties tunes back in Atlantic City.’
‘Swell. What’re you doing New Year’s Eve?’
‘Uh, probably being evicted from Esther’s apartment for outstaying my welcome, why d’you ask?’ I smiled again, hoping this was funny enough to make a crack in Bernie’s face of stone, but his lips remained level and showed no signs of budging. Was smiling against this guy’s religion or something?
‘Well, we have a little get together at New Year, for staff and regulars only, you understand. Beats going up to Times Square and getting caught up in the crowds. And I… Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.’
I looked at him and nodded, hinting that I understood what he was getting at there. New York, it seemed, was a city built to house the lonely. I’d visited the city a few times during my studies at Princeton, but the place had a different feel to it when you were busy partying with college buddies, blowing the savings your Dad had squirreled away for books and equipment on cocktails and clothes. Beyond the parties and the nightlife there was a different side to this place. For reasons I couldn’t figure out, it was like a magnet for lost souls. And I was one of them.
‘Anyhow,’ Bernie continued, recognising I didn’t really know how to respond to his last comment. ‘I thought it might be a nice touch to have some live music at the party, if you fancy playing a couple of sets. Sixties music would be a change of pace for us all. The staff get sick of hearing the same songs coming out of the jukebox, they make a point of telling me that every chance they get. Do you think you could play for us?’
‘Sure, sounds like fun.’ I shrugged.
‘How much?’ Bernie’s eyes narrowed for a second time.
‘What?’
‘How much will it cost?’
‘Oh, uh, well obviously I’d give you the friends and family rate. Seventy-five bucks?’ I would take fifty but best to start the haggling high.
‘Seems reasonable,’ Bernie said, though his tone made it seem as though he didn’t think the terms were reasonable at all.
‘Well, alright, great. You got some particular songs in mind?’
‘I’ll write a list and pass it on to Esther tomorrow. That’ll give you about three days to practise before the party. That enough time?’ he asked.
‘It should be plenty, I probably know them anyway. Any I don’t know, I’ll practise them when I’m out busking.’ Though he didn’t invite me to do so, I didn’t have anyone else to sit with and decided to take the seat next to his.
As I did, the other older gentleman to my left piped up. ‘Excuse me, did I just hear you’re a musician?’
‘Uh, yeah,’ I said, shaking off my leather jacket.
‘Bonnie, Walt, Walt, Bonnie,’ said Esther, who’d come over, notebook in hand, probably to find out what I wanted to eat.
‘Can you tell me the answer to this crossword question I couldn’t get this morning?’ said Walt, looking at me over the top of his spectacles. ‘It’s about music.’
‘Well, I can try.’ I smiled, wondering if the guy started all his conversations this way. He moved a veiny hand over to his paper and his finger hovered over the words as he read.
‘Debut single by The Police released 1978. Seven letters.’
‘One word?’
‘Yup.’
‘Well, that’ll be “Roxanne”.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Esther said, and stared hard at Walt. ‘You ask me the book questions and Bonnie the music questions. Do you do any of that crossword by yourself?
‘Sure I do. The sports.’ Walt chuckled whilst carefully filling in the word ‘Roxanne’ in neat block capitals.
Esther rolled her eyes and shook her head at the same time. This was her ultimate non-verbal put-down, but Walt seemed unfazed by it and she soon turned her attentions back to me. ‘You want something to eat? Lucia’s nearly on top of all the orders we’ve got and I can get yours in the queue.’
‘Yeah, I’ll get a hamburger with a side of fries.’ I said, thinking about how good it had tasted to sink my teeth into Jimmy’s burger the first night I came here. And then a little collage of images flickered through my mind, replaying my time back at his apartment. In particular, the moment he pulled my body so tight against his…
‘Are you alright?’ Esther asked, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘You look very red in the face.’
‘Do I?’ I said, pressing my knuckles flat against my cheeks to check my temperature. Oh God. So now just thinking about Jimmy made me go traffic-light red? Life really wasn’t being fair to me lately. ‘That’s weird, I don’t exactly feel overheated after a day out in the snow.’
‘I hope you’re not coming down with something,’ said Esther, a hint of suspicion still lingering in her voice.
‘Oh, I’m sure I’m not,’ I said, and although I wouldn’t have thought it was possible I could feel myself getting redder. ‘I just need a hot drink to warm up properly. Could I get a coffee too?’
‘Alright, anything for you two?’ Esther looked between Bernie and Walt but they both shook their heads so she trooped off back towards the kitchen.
Bernie looked at me a moment and then stared