Chicago 1964One girl was pretty, the other one was stage property. They both leaned over, whispering in each other's ear and giggling when Jessie Brown walked into the place. Jessie in a three piece suit and a stetson hat, sharing a joke and a raucous laugh with Irv the owner of the club, slapping someone's back, at last his eyes coming to rest on the two girls, saying "Evening ladies!" and sliding the empty chair back..."may I?" They giggled again, Jessie ordered drinks, a bourbon and splash for him, gin fizz for the girls, and he put his hand on the hand of the pretty one, big diamond glinting in the slim gold ring on his finger and said "where have I seen you before?" She confessed she was a big fan and had seen him at the Roxbury, the Palm Room, and Elmo's, and that he definitely had magic, and he put Muddy and even the Wolf to shame.
"Flattery," he smiled, running his forefinger slowly up her arm,"will get you everywhere. And I got someplace specific in mind, if you know what I mean." She giggled and whispered to her friend, and Jessie looked up at a nappy kid in a second-hand suit who was playing some very sloppy slide licks on a beautiful guitar on the bandstand. When the kid's stint was done, he walked past the table with his guitar, throwing Jessie a timid grin. Jessie pointed at the kid and said "you! Elmore Junior! Get over here and let me buy you a drink!" He stood and pulled the chair out for the kid and said "these are my dear friends Foxy and Tricksie!" and the girls responded with the predictable giggles and whispers, "and I am Jessie Brown." And the kid nodded and said "I know all about you. They saying you got the hottest blues combo in Chicago." Jessie's eyes crinkled and he laughed. "You hear what he say, Foxy? That boy got the down-home accent for damn sure. Where you from, boy?"
"Clarksdale Mississippi, sir," drawled the kid, and Jessie laughed again. "Another Delta roadhouse diddley banger come north to make good! Hell, don't look so glum. I come up from Lundel Arkansas twelve years ago myself. But I got to tell you, that is one fine guitar you got Clarksdale. Wher'd you get it?"
"In Nashville. I saw it and fell in love. I made enough cash in a bar there to buy it, but them was tough jobs. That's a tough town for blues."
"And now you in the Blues Capitol. You strike it rich yet?'
The kid sipped his bourbon and circled his finger in the wet spot on the table." No. Matter of fact, come tomorrow I'm on the street cause I can't pay the rent."
Jessie held his hand over his mouth so the kid wouldn't see him grin and said "damn, I'm sorry to hear that. But maybe I could help you out. How much do you need for that guitar?"
The kid glanced up, his hand pulling the Les Paul closer to him. "Can't sell this. This is my livin'."
"Son, you can buy another guitar and maybe pay the rent too. How bout a hundred for it?"
Now it was the kid's turn to smile. Why not turn a thirty dollar profit on the guitar? Jessie pulled out a money clip and peeled off two fifties and stuck them in the kids pocket, then held out his hand palm up. The kid hoisted the guitar, gazed at it briefly, then passed it to Jessie, who nestled it into his lap, then fingered a complex blues arpeggio which made the kid and the two girls gape. Jessie laughed. "Oh, she's got some country western fire in her. But now she's bound to get a little of the devil in her too." He stood up and took the pretty girl by the arm. "Let's go, baby."
***
Jessie came off the stage, handed his guitar to Sam, and walked out into the alley. He lit a cigarette and felt the October wind bring a chill off Lake Michigan, icing the sweat on his forehead. So what if Camille was gone? She was the wrong kind of woman for a blues man anyway. Didn't suit his style. She'd find out what it was like trying to get by without her sugar daddy, now. He liked women and whiskey and cocaine sure, but that was his nature. Had she ever wanted for anything? Hell no.
"Mr Brown?"
Jessie turned and shook his head. "Ah shit! I aint got time for no guitar lesson tonight."
The tall thin white kid held out the offering of a whiskey on ice. "Shit!" Jessie said again, but he took the whiskey. "Why the hell you doggin' me every night, boy?"
"You know. You're the best. I can learn so much by watching you."
Jessie drained the glass and scattered the ice cubes across the broken alley pavement. "Learn so much. Like how to do time in county for drug possession. Or how to lose your wife."
The kid said "no. The important stuff. How to play guitar like a damn angel."
Jessie laughed, then suddenly spun and threw the empty tumbler against a warehouse wall. "Angel? It aint about angels, boy! It's about cuttin' your way out of a street fight. The god damn guitar is the blade!" Jessie jerked open the club door and turned again to the kid. "Besides," he said. "You're white. White people can't play the blues. Didn't you know that?"
The door slammed. The kid raised his freezing hands and blew softly against them.
***
"Is he awake?" The lanky man stood over Jessie and touched his arm.
"He goes in and out," said Camille.
"What the doctor say?"
"They can't stop.." she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. "...the bleeding. And they can't remove the bullet."
Jessie suddenly spoke out. "John Lee! That you man?"
"Yeah man. How you feel, Jess?"
"Like I'm just sinkin'. Sinkin' down. Camille?"
"I'm here, Jessie."
"That white kid still in the waiting room?"
"Yeah, still there."
"Damn. Just can't get rid of that kid. If I don't make it, Camille, give the damn kid my guitar ok? Do me a favor John. Tell that story about ol' RL's coon dog."
"Well, it was one time when RL decided he'd give up the roadhouse life and be a farmer. He had him a worthless ol Coondog name Tad. That ol dog could fart and clear a room in three seconds flat. He used to say "Git, Tad!" when he'd hear Tad rip one and Tad'd leave the kitchen. It got to where RL didn't have to tell him anymore, and Tad would just cut one and leave on his own. Pretty soon, anytime Tad got up to leave, everybody else would make a run for it at the same time." Jessie began laughing, tears falling down his cheeks. "One time ol Tad was nosin around in some blackberry bushes and RL hears him rip one, and pretty soon this skunk comes runnin out." Jessie shook with laughter. "RL always said that was one hell of a fartin' dog could flush a skunk out of a blackberry bush."
Jessie lay quiet at last, the tears still wet on his cheeks, a smile still haunting his mouth.