Page 19 of Behind the Bars

Interesting.

I hurried to my neighbor’s house and started pounding on the door. When it opened, I looked at Uncle TJ, who was cleaning a trumpet. “Hey, Elliott, what’s up? Ready for your showtonight?”

“Cologne!” I barked at him, glancing at my watch, realizing I was running behind. Jasmine was probably getting on the bus any time now to head over to my house, and I wasn’t ready—physically ormentally.

“What?”

“I need cologne fortonight.”

Uncle TJ gave me a sheepish grin. “What’s hername?”

“What?”

“Thegirl?”

“There’s no girl,” Ilied.

He just keptgrinning.

“I’m seventy-five years old, son. I have lived many lifetimes, so trust me when I say, there’s always agirl.”

I shifted my feet around, not wanting to miss Jasmine arriving at my house. “So…?”

Uncle TJ laughed and stepped aside, letting me rush into his house. “First floor bathroom, second shelf. Take yourpick.”

I sprayed a few different ones into the air to see what smelled best, but they all grossed me out, so I just picked one. If girls were into that stuff, I’d suffer the pain of the badsmells.

When I walked out, Uncle TJ fanned his hand in front of his nose. “You weren’t supposed to spray that much. Jesus! Come here, we gotta air you out.” He stood me in front of a fan and had me flap my arms up and down to try to take off some of the scent. “What’s hername?”

“There’s no—” I started, but then I noticed Uncle TJ’s raised eyebrow. He didn’t believe me. “Jasmine.”

“Jasmine.” He smirked. “Do you call herJazz?”

“No.”

“Youshould.”

Maybe.

“So what’s the situation? Are youdating?”

“No.”

“Do you wantto?”

Maybe.

“We’re justfriends.”

“Has she heard you play yourmusic?”

“Yeah, she comes out every Saturday tolisten.”

His interest piqued. “Really? Oh, she likesyou.”

I shook my head. “She just li-likes themusic.”

Uncle TJ lowered his eyebrows, not believing me. “No woman can only fall in love with the music of jazz. She always quietly yearns for the musician behind thebars.”

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