<0003 Want a Latte?>
The rehearsal studio Satin Crescent rented in New Orleans.
Inside the soundproofed room, surrounded by an upright piano, microphones, and amplifiers, Lydia Coleman sat on a stool with her arms folded. Louise St.Clair sat at the piano bench, her hands resting quietly on the closed keyboard cover.
The door opened without a knock.
Katty Fisher, who had picked up today’s auditionee at the airport, appeared first. She stepped inside, then looked back over her shoulder.
“Come in.”
A young, fresh-faced student cautiously followed her into the room.
She looked barely twenty. Perhaps she was not even twenty yet.
With a bass guitar gig bag strapped to her back, the student walked into the rehearsal room and politely bowed her head to the three women.
Lydia asked,
“Miss Cynthia Lenosky?”
“Yes, Ms. Coleman. Please call me Cindy.”
Cynthia answered, looking at the three women before her.
Before coming here, she had looked up everything she could about the trio.
The beautiful Black woman with bleached-white hair who had just driven her here from the airport. Katty Fisher, the band’s trumpeter.
The woman of Creole descent seated at the piano. Her long hair was the color of pale honey, and she held herself with elegant, confident poise. Pianist Louise St.Clair.
And the former pop star who had spent the past several years performing with them as a jazz trio based in New Orleans, Louisiana. A Black woman with dyed red hair. Lydia Coleman.
Come to think of it, Cynthia was the only person in the room who was not a professional musician.
Worse than that, she was the only one who was so young. She looked far too much like a student.
‘Can I really fit in with these women?’
The thought suddenly occurred to her.
“It’s January, so you’re on winter break, right?”
Lydia’s question jolted Cynthia out of her thoughts.
“Oh, yes. That’s right. I was staying with my parents in Brooklyn… Oh, my parents own a bakery. I was helping out at the shop over break when Professor Greg Wilson contacted me. He asked if I’d be interested in auditioning for his younger sister’s band… Ms. Fisher’s band.”
Lydia said,
“Flying all the way from Brooklyn to New Orleans must have been rough.”
Cynthia lifted the gig bag on her back slightly.
“It was harder on her than it was on me.”
Katty nodded.
“True. Flying with an instrument is always nerve-racking for a musician.”
Cynthia smiled a little as she unzipped the gig bag.
“I managed to bring her into the cabin, though. I asked the airline staff.”
The moment she took the instrument out of the bag, Katty gave a low whistle.
“Kid that young… and she brought a fretless bass.”
For the first time, Louise offered her an approving smile.
“Very nice. A fretless. An instrument that requires you to find the pitch with your fingertips, like a double bass. If you’ve been training on one from such a young age, I suppose that speaks to your resolve.”
Cynthia gave an awkward smile as she threaded the strap onto her fretless bass.
Then Lydia raised a hand.
“Wait.”
Cynthia’s face stiffened at once.
Lydia noticed. She slowly rose from her seat.
“You came a long way. Why don’t we have some coffee before we start the audition?”
Lydia picked up her jacket.
“Relax. The audition hasn’t even started yet.”
Some of the tension left Cynthia’s face.
Katty grinned beside her.
“Not yet, anyway.”
Louise quietly stopped her.
“Kat.”
“All right, all right.”
Cynthia said nothing, but a tiny smile appeared as she listened to the exchange before her.
Lydia slipped on her jacket and opened the door. Then she looked back at Cynthia.
“It’s cold today. Will a hot latte do?”
<0004 When This Cup Is Empty, We Begin>
The three members of the trio and the one auditionee each held an identical hot latte.
Lydia tapped the lid of her paper cup with a fingertip.
“We auditioned about five bassists before you. Every one of them was exceptionally skilled. But we’re not looking for some unparalleled technician.”
Louise continued.
“We’re looking for someone who can harmonize with us.”
“Harmonize… You mean in terms of the musical ensemble?”
Cynthia asked cautiously, as though seeking confirmation.
Louise shook her head.
“That’s part of it, but not all of it.”
Cynthia held the latte cup in both hands and looked at Louise. Louise explained.
“You need a solid foundation in jazz. But you also need to be reasonably open to genres like rock, pop, and swing. We’ve agreed to move in a more mainstream direction, and we intend to broaden our range of genres as well.”
Cynthia answered cautiously but clearly.
“I think I’d be very happy to follow you in that direction.”
Lydia nodded.
“Good. Then we come to the next issue.”
Cynthia blinked.
“The next issue?”
“You can’t freeze up on a show-business stage. You’ll also have to survive my meticulous contracts. Band branding and personal branding, too.”
Katty raised a hand.
“And my dirty jokes and bizarre behavior.”
Louise added evenly,
“And my refined pressure interviews.”
Cynthia stared blankly for a moment.
It was difficult to tell whether those were really requirements for joining a band or recruitment criteria for the crew of some suspicious seafaring expedition.
Katty burst out laughing.
“They could all play, but none of them felt like someone we could go to prison with.”
Louise replied at once.
“Kat, we’re hiring a band member. We are not looking for an accomplice.”
“Lou, a band is a group of accomplices.”
Lydia considered that for a moment, then reluctantly nodded.
“…I dislike the analogy, but you may have a point.”
Then Lydia looked at Cynthia.
“So, Cindy. We’re going to find out whether you can be our accomplice. We’ll start when you finish that coffee.”
“Oh… All right.”
The three women briefly exchanged glances.
The girl before them nodded calmly and swallowed the last mouthful.
She was not nervous. She was not trembling. Nor did she look as though she were bracing herself.
But neither did she wear the carefree smile of someone who had no idea what she was getting into.
She simply looked as though she understood.
Katty saw that expression and smiled very slightly.
“…Oh.”
Lydia asked,
“What?”
Katty set down her paper cup.
“Doesn’t look like this one’s planning to run.”