Back in the 1980s I was married to a musician. Steve led a band of four members, they played Top 10 and oldies, some country, and were one of the more well-known combos in the county.
Sidekick played at the Casino Tavern in Everett for a number of years. It was a fairly large venue situated where two main throughways intersected and got lots of business. The customers were a good cross-section of the small city, you'd see people in business suits seated at tables next to people in biker gear. It was a great place to observe humanity, as an island in the middle of a lifestream. For some it provided a sort of privacy. Like the saying "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."
One afternoon I came along with Steve as he met with the band to practice new material. That was fun to watch because they'd choose one or two that they'd been hearing on the radio and work them up in about an hour and a half, flawlessly. I think there's some kind of mind-reading in that process. No sheet music (all played by ear), no copy of a recording, just keep trying it until it sounded true.
I sat at the bar where I had a good view of the stage, and chatted with the bartender, a guy in his 50s named Bill, while the band plugged in and tuned. To the right of me sat a wine and beer vendor, who was taking advantage of the quiet of the afternoon lull to tidy up her orders. We introduced each other, her name was Julie, and she'd been working outside sales for a few months.
We noticed two people walk in the side door. A good-looking man in a business suit, maybe early 30s, and a pretty blonde in a red and white sun dress that showed off a tiny waist and slender legs. She wore red strappy sandals with high heels, and somehow looked sexy but sweet. They sat opposite each other at a cafe table next to the dance floor. Bill walked over to get their order, then returned a minute later with a couple of schooners, leaving them alone.
"They look a little out of place here," remarked Julie.
"Nobody's out of place here," said Bill. "I see all kinds."
We watched the two, obviously making small talk in the semi-darkness. They were undistracted by the starts and stops as the band practiced a Dr. Hook song. Maybe fifteen minutes went by. The man reached over and touched the woman's hand. She let it stay there a moment, then slowly took hers away, brushing some hair away from her face. He raised his hand up to her face and also touched her hair, gently tucking a strand of it behind her ear. Then he let a finger trail down her neck and drew back.
Her eyes widened, and she took a sip of beer.
He took her hand away from the glass, and kissed her fingertips, slowly and one by one. She did not pull away. She laid her hand on his cheek, then traced his ear with her index finger. All the while they held each other's eyes.
Julie looked at Bill with amazement. Bill shrugged his shoulders. Julie put her pen down and closed her order book, then turned her bar stool around for a better view.
Now there was hand holding and caressing over the table top. The two of them were speaking softly to each other, faces moving closer to the center of the table. They could have been the only people in the room.
Steve's drummer counted off the start of the new song. I was always amazed how closely he could mimic voices. He sounded quite a bit like Dr. Hook, close enough anyway. And although there was no flute player, the keyboard strings did a decent job.
The man and the woman rose from the table and stepped over to the dance floor. Hesitating just a moment, the woman allowed the man to put his arm around her back, careful not to draw her too close, as they moved slowly in small circles. She let go a deep sigh, as he squeezed her hand and drew her just a bit closer to him.
And a bit closer still, as her head bent and rested against his shoulder. And she put both of her arms around him. The dancing became just a swaying, as his hands moved to her neck and his fingers into her hair.
We at the bar all looked at each other.
"Did you see where she just had her hands?" said Julie, shocked.
"Look where his are," said Bill, polishing a glass.
The song ended, and the couple remained tightly enmeshed for just a moment. As they drew apart, there was a kiss that started soft and slowly became intense. The man spoke into the woman's ear. She nodded and they returned to the table, where the man put down some dollars and the woman picked up her purse. They left the way they came in.
"Whew!" said Julie, picking up her order book. "I need some air!"
Bill smiled at her and said, "Cigarette?" He offered his pack to her.
"At least!" replied Julie. And she left the bar.
