Fifty-Two
Friday Nights
by:
John Bauman
Page
2
About
the Author
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Well, it had started out in a manner Joe might
have overlooked. Maybe it was employees suddenly getting conscientious on
him and doing some little extras around the bar—you know—like really
cleaning the tables, polishing glass, taking a little extra pride in the
appearance of the place…
…but there was that cash drawer. So many
times the totals didn’t balance. Not that unusual---except there was
always too much in the drawer. Joe would arrive late morning to get
ready for the day’s business and start to notice…hmmm…the kitchen
door doesn’t catch any more…and the kitchen..well, the kitchen is cleaner
than I left it. And the brass on the bar is polished!.
…so when Joe heard the clatter in the
darkness of the bar he was startled…but part of him wasn’t surprised.
“WAIT! Please don’t leave!” Joe is
shouting as he’s trying desperately to extract himself from his guitar
strap and the circle of stools surrounding him on stage. He bounds down
from the stage, dumping his stool of picks, capo, empty coffee mug and
all, and tries to catch up to the shadow that is making a rapid retreat
toward the door, shoes clattering across the tile.
Joe sees as the intruder reaches the door,
shoulders in silhouette drop as they realize they’ve just made the
tactical error—they ran to a LOCKED door.
“Didn’t figure you could make the window
in such a hurry huh?” Joe says as the figure assumes a posture of
resignation by the door.
“How long have you been staying here? Don’t
you have a home? Come on back in here…who are you?” Joe asks as
non-threateningly as he can.
Slowly the stranger walks toward Joe and as
he emerges from the deeper shadows Joe sees a lean, rather good-looking
young man—not the vagrant image he’d played in his mind when he began
to piece together the fact that he likely had someone living in the bar.
“Is that how you do it? The storage room
window I mean…is that how you get in?”
“Yeah.” The stranger answers with eyes
still averted downward.
“How long?”
“About two months now. But I didn’t mean
to freeload! Really! I just needed a place to stay”
“And…and the cleaning?”
“It’s what I do. I mean, I work for my
dad and we clean commercial and office buildings.” Now the obvious
gregarious nature of the kid trumps his embarrassment at getting caught
and he’s now looking Joe in the eye as he relates his story. “I have
the cleaning supplies and I know how to do the stuff. I didn’t expect
something for nothing so I tried to help out with some work around here.”
Just then a sound draws their attention
toward the stage and they both watch in frozen horror as the hastily left
and leaned guitar is starting that awful slow-motion slide from its
insufficient moorings, the slide that ends in that awful…
…full sustain..
…………wham…
………………….E..
…………………….minor..
………………………………7..
……………………………………add 11.
“shit”
“Well, it can’t fall any farther than
down. I’ll get it in a minute. Do you want something to eat?” Joe
asks, already more or less deducing the last of the mystery. The kid left
money in the till if he raided the kitchen for food when he stayed. Joe
just hadn’t made the connection because the kid was so complete about
cleaning up after himself and it was too hard to detect if one person’s
worth of food was missing.
“Well…yeah, I haven’t eaten anything”
“So…..you want to fix it yourself?”
Joe says grinning at the kid who obviously knew his way to and around the
kitchen.
The kid returns in a few minutes and they
sit at one of the tables. Joe’s taken a couple of the chairs off of it
and set a place for them to sit. As the kid eats the sandwich he fixed,
Joe inspects his beloved guitar for new dents from the header it just
took.
“So, what’s your name?” Joe asks with
eyes still fine-tooth-combing the fallen guitar.
“Isaac…but I go by “Ike”.”
“I like Ike” Joe says, smiling.
“Gee, I never heard that one before.”
There’s good humor in the kid’s voice—not a smart-aleky retort.
“Sorry…”
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About The Author
 John Bauman is a very talented Potter from Warsaw,
Indiana. He sells his pottery at some of the best known art shows
around the country. But his creative talent runs deep and John also
writes songs and stories such as this one to channel his creative energy.
John is a frequent and well loved
contributor to Acoustic Guitar
Magazine's "Guitar Talk"
Forum, and this story was created and posted by John piecemeal over a
period of months on that forum. It has been reproduced here in its
entirety for all to enjoy.
Hopefully, he will be so inclined to share
other stories with us in the future.
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