Phil certainly had a more interesting social life than she did. He would often bring his boyfriends home and disappear into his bedroom with them for an hour or two, though he rarely bothered to introduce them to her. That was fine with her. Though she was accepting of Phil’s lifestyle—the lack of sexual tension between the two of them was a major part of why they were such good friends—she had no desire to get to know his conquests on anything other than a superficial level.
When the phone rang, she stared at it for a moment, debating whether or not to simply let the machine get it. It usually wasn’t for her, and if it was, it was usually her mother or her sister Elizabeth, the only two members of her family who still spoke to her since she’d moved in with Phil three years before. And if it was Mom or Liz, they would only try to tell her what a sinner she was, and how she could obtain forgiveness and reinstatement into the church if she would only go see the Bishop and confess her sins. As to what those sins might be, her family was not exactly clear. They knew that Phil was gay—which they definitely did not approve of, of course—but they also assumed that any male and female living together had to be up to some kind of sexual impropriety as well. As of yet, none of her family knew about Dave. They certainly would not approve of that relationship.
She was so bored that she decided that even her family or one of Phil’s desperate boyfriends was better company for a few minutes than her own. She slid to the other end of the couch and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” she enquired.
“Hi,” a slightly familiar voice said in her ear. “Is this Laura? Laura Best?”
“Yes, it is,” she said. “Who is this?”
“Hi, Laura,” the voice said brightly. “This is Ben Ping—from the UCLA jazz band?”
“Ben!” she said happily. “My Lord, it’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”
“It has,” he agreed. “I was afraid the number I have for you wouldn’t be good anymore.”
“I’m still here,” she said.
“Still living with old Phil, the singing waiter?”
She laughed. “Going on three years now,” confirmed.
“That’s awesome,” Ben told him. “Is he still doing that gig?”
“Fridays through Wednesdays, five until closing time,” she confirmed. “He’s pretty good at it. He brings home as much in tips as I do from teaching my seventh graders.”
“Ahh, so you did manage to land a teaching job, huh?”
“I did,” she said. “I’m with the LA school district, teaching English at George Washington Carver middle school.”
“Where is that at?” asked Ben.
“South city, on McKinley Avenue.”
“Hmm,” Ben said. “Kind of a rough neighborhood, isn’t it?”
“That it is,” she said. “It’s good for me, I suppose. I’m learning how to speak ghetto with some fluency.”
“Sounds like fun,” he said.
“It really isn’t, but it’s a job. It pays the bills.”
“That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Indeed,” she said. “How are you doing? Last I talked to you, you were going to teach guitar at one of the JCs, right?”
“Right,” he said. “And that’s my primary gig these days. I got married last year and we’re expecting our first in about six months.”
“That’s awesome!” she said, genuinely happy for him. “I’m glad things are going well for you. I’m engaged to be married myself.”
“Congratulations,” Ben said. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
She giggled a little. “He’s my dentist,” she said. “Can you believe that?”
“You’re engaged to your dentist?”
“Yeah, isn’t it funny? I picked his practice out of the phone book about a year and a half ago and, well ... we kind of hit it off. He asked me out after he got done filling a cavity and we’ve been together ever since.”
“That’s a true love story if I’ve ever heard one,” Ben told her. “Have you set a date yet?”
She frowned. “Not yet, but we’re getting there. There are a few things that have to happen first before we can start moving down the actual planning road.”
“I see,” Ben said, perhaps a little slowly. “Anyway, I suppose you’re wondering why I called?”
Actually, she hadn’t been wondering that, she had just been enjoying the novelty of non-confrontational conversation with an old friend. But now that he mentioned it, she supposed there must be a reason for the communication. “Sure,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Are you still blowing the horn?” he asked.
“Not in any kind of organized fashion,” she said. “I do take it out to the park and play for the fun of it once a week or so.”
“So, you’re still in practice then?” he asked.
“I am,” she said. “I love my sax. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes.”
“Yeah, you were always pretty good with that horn. That’s the reason I called, to see if you want to get in on a paying gig—a pretty good one.”
“What kind of gig?” she asked, remembering her jazz band days quite fondly. It had been her favorite part of going to school.
“It’s kind of a long story, but I got hooked up with Celia Valdez. Do you remember her?”
“Celia Valdez?” Laura said, her face wrinkling a little. “The I Love to Dance chick from that Mexican band?”
“One and the same,” Ben confirmed, “although they’re from Venezuela, not Mexico. She and Jake Kingsley from Intemperance—I know you’ve heard of him, right?”
“Right,” she said, her sour expression getting even sourer. “The guy who sniffs coke out of girls’ butts.”
Ben chuckled. “Well ... I don’t think he does much of that these days, at least not that I’ve seen. Anyway, Jake and Celia and Nerdly—that’s Bill Archer, the pianist from Intemperance—went in together and started their own record company called KVA Records. They’re both putting together solo albums and they found me playing in a club and offered me the gig as their bass player to help put their tunes together before they hit the studio. I’ve been doing that for a couple of months now while I’m on summer break. Today, while we were rehearsing up one of Celia’s tunes, it came up that we need a competent saxophonist on three or four of her songs. Good horn blowers who aren’t already committed somewhere are kind of hard to come by on short notice, and that made me think of you.”
“Hmm,” she said softly, her initial burst of enthusiasm at the mention of a possible gig having drained completely away. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that that sounds like something I would be interested in.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She took a breath and let it out. “Well, to be truthful, I’m kind of a music snob. I love classical music and jazz and not much else. I have no use for popular music and I absolutely abhor rock and roll music with all the noisy guitars and the screaming vocals. I really don’t think I could play something like that.”
“We’re not really playing heavy metal or formula pop,” Ben told her. “Celia’s got some good tunes going. I like them a lot, actually. They’re more in the genre of ballads and soft rock, particularly the tunes you would be playing on. I was a little skeptical about what she might’ve come up with too, and then I started playing with her and my respect for her went up considerably. She’s a good musician. So is Jake, for that matter.”