Page 80 of The Girl with No Name

I’m grateful for the tension breaker. “All right. I wrote this song a while back. It’s called ‘Old Soul From Chicago’. It’s in C sharp minor, in case you want to jam with me.” I nod to their fiddle player, then start the slow, mysterious intro before I sing:

She’s an old soul from Chicago

She likes Sinatra and the opera

Likes wearin’ dresses and going steady

Wishes she lived through the Roaring Twenties

He’s a rambler from New York City

He likes lyin’ and goodbyin’

Likes to swallow ’em up and pretend it’s love

Like the raging seas of Jonah

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

All she got was a broken heart

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

It was Saturday night somewhere swanky

He was tall and handsome and lanky

He walked right up to her just like Gatsby

Asked politely, “Would you dance with me?”

As they danced all night to Bix

He said I’ve never felt something like this

Never knew I could love so quickly

With those blue eyes it just hit me

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

All she got was a broken heart

Ooo, Ooo, she thought it was love

I nod to the violin player, and she jams a beautiful solo, perfectly in line with the feel and melody of the song. My eyes catch Luna, who is staring so intently I feel like she might bore a hole through me.

The first time in her life she came open

He was the one for whom she’d been hopin’

He took her back to his hotel

What they did, she’d never tell…

When morning came round she awakened

To an empty bed, feelin’ taken

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