In loving memory of Sharon
*
~ A Flaming Rose ~
He heard it hit the floor, the tiny set screw that slipped from his fingers. It ricocheted off his shirt and jeans on its bumpy course, but gave no hint as to its final resting place. Jon cursed to himself, slowly backing away from his workbench, hoping against all odds the screw would be right at his feet. It was not his lucky day. A timely buzz from his cell phone postponed the mandatory search and rescue mission.
"Hey Andy. What's up?"
A din of choppy, garbled voices crackled from the earpiece. Andy's voice was barely audible.
"Is that you, Jon? I can hardly hear you."
"Go outside," Jon shouted, instinctively plugging his other ear with his finger. As he left his workshop, Andy's excited voice became clearer.
"That's better. Where the hell are you?" Jon asked.
"Dude, you've gotta come down to the VFW."
"The VFW? I don't know, I really don't feel like drinking tonight."
"But there's a band playing here: The Desert Rose Band. Get down here and check 'em out, come on."
"The Desert Rose Band?" Jon wracked his brain. That name was so familiar. "You mean Chris Hillman's band? Didn't they spin off from The Flying Burrito Brothers?"
"I don't know, maybe, they're still setting up. This place is filling up fast, you better come down soon. You've been hiding in your workshop way too much, it's time to get out. There's tons of women here tonight."
"Tons? That sounds kind of scary. OK, I'll come down in a little while. I have to finish putting this amp back together first."
Jon closed his phone and returned to his workshop, muttering to himself. Once Andy had something in his head, there was no denying him; he would just be insufferable. Maybe he was right, though. He had been hiding in his house since losing his job and this was a perfect excuse to get out. He had learned to trust his best friend, the man who stood up with him when he married Lisa.
It took only a few minutes of crawling around to locate the missing screw. With a surer grip, he finished putting the control knobs on the vintage Fender amplifier. Tomorrow, he would deliver it to the local guitar shop that had contracted his repair service.
The lot at the VFW was full, more than usual for a Friday night. After parking his truck around the corner, he grabbed his jean jacket, and whistled the melody to 'Start All Over Again' as he strolled through the door.
Jon froze when he gazed over the stage and the dance floor. There was a band playing, but it wasn't Chris Hillman's. The lead singer was female and wailing out 'Zombie' by the Cranberries. The bass player was also female. So was the crowd: all conspicuously female. The poster on the wall behind the stage announced The Flaming Rose Band.
"Uh, oh," Jon said under his breath. "What the hell have I gotten myself into now?"
"Jon!" Andy shouted from the bar and waved. "Over here!"
"That's not the Desert Rose Band," Jon said as he sat down at the bar. "What's wrong with your head?"
"Sorry, man. I saw the rose on their poster and that's all I could think of."
"Did you work today?" Jon asked, raising his hand to hail the bartender.
"Yeah, I got six hours in. It's getting really slow on line two, they're gonna shut it down soon. Damned Chinese bastards."
"It's not their fault. A lot of companies are outsourcing operations to Asia these days. Hell, I lost my job, too. We just have to adapt."
"That's easy for you to say. They gave you that big incentive package to retire early. You're living on easy street."
"Fine, I'll buy the beer tonight," Jon laughed. "So where are these tons of women you told me about?"
"Didn't you check out the dance floor? So many women, so little time."
"Look again. Not even Tom Selleck could score out there tonight."
"Whoa!" Andy patted his arm and pointed towards the stage. "Check out the drummer. She has tits!"
"Most women do." Jon shook his head and paid Phil for his scotch whiskey.
"No, I mean check her out, really. She's a dude."
Jon looked over towards the stage. The drummer was wearing a T-shirt and sporting a pompadour, definitely projecting a butch persona. Her arms were both muscular and tattooed. He marveled at her ability; she was a really good drummer. To her right, the guitar player was slumped over her Les Paul, banging her head and pounding out alt-metal power chords. Dressed in a black suit and white shirt, her dark wavy hair flew in time with her playing. He noticed her right breast bouncing on top of the guitar.
"She's not a dude." Jon took a long drink and ordered a beer chaser.
"That's the meanest looking dyke I've ever seen."
Jon didn't respond to Andy's provocation. The band had just started playing Led Zeppelin's 'Heartbreaker'. Fascinated by the guitarist, he watched her stand up straight and play the classic Jimmy Page riff. Her angular jaw and brooding expression completed the visual package.
"The guitar player looks mean, too," Andy shouted into his ear.
"Shut up, man. I'm trying to listen to them."
Andy scowled and turned away, cursing under his breath. Jon ignored him and watched her walk up to the edge of the stage. With a sneer on her lip and her eyes closed, she nailed the guitar solo with the same raw energy that Page was known for. Her expression was simultaneously pained and joyful: an orgasm face.
"Wow! These guys are good. Sorry I cut you off," Jon said.
"They're OK, I guess. I've heard better." Andy shrugged his shoulders and finished his beer.
The band finished their first set and took a break. Jon watched the musicians move into the crowd and sit with their respective fans. The guitarist sat down next to a woman in a long black dress. The woman put her arm around her shoulder, leaning in to whisper in her ear. The guitarist was listening to her friend talk, but shaking her head no.
"Hold my chair, Andy. I've got to see a man about a horse."
Jon emerged from the restroom and wandered over to the stage to check out the gear. The guitar appeared to be a '59 Sunburst with the original PAF pickups. The amplifier was a Mesa Boogie Express, a model he was not familiar with. There were a couple of distortion pedals in her setup, but he couldn't investigate further without invading their space. When he turned to go back to the bar, their eyes met. She looked at him curiously, not angrily. Jon smiled and nodded in deference.
"They have pretty simple gear," Jon said as he sat back down. "Nothing fancy, just a lot of talent."
"You've always been such a gear-head." Andy rose and retraced his steps to the restroom.
Jon ordered another round and watched her get up from the table. Her friend turned away to talk with someone else. He didn't notice her approach until she was standing next to him.
"You like my guitar?" she asked.
"Guitar and amp, both," Jon said, turning to face her. "Those old Gibsons are great. You play it really well."
"Thank you. Do you play guitar, too?"
"A little, but not like that. I'm into guitar amps, though. I build and repair vintage tube amps. I've never heard a Booger sound that good, you've got a great tone. I'm Jon, by the way."
She giggled, laughed, and then snorted, covering her mouth in apparent embarrassment. Jon struggled to resolve the incongruity of her soft girlish voice with the masculine exterior. Studying her face, he guessed she was maybe forty years old. Faint lines strayed from the corners of her dark eyes, mostly hidden by her beige complexion. The shape of her jaw was an illusion brought about with artfully applied makeup.
"I'm sorry, I hate it when I do that. I've never heard anyone refer to a Boogie that way before. It's an Express model, a lot different sound than the Dual Rectifiers. It's also a lot lighter to lug around." She extended her hand and said, "Marla."
"Hey Marla, it's alright. Yeah, I hear you." He shook her hand and looked over her shoulder at the table where her friends were sitting. The woman in the black dress was glaring back at him; the unmistakable look of a scorned woman.
"I have some Fender amps that weigh seventy-five pounds," he continued. "They're a bear to move around."
"I like the Fenders, but they're too heavy," she said, sitting down on Andy's barstool. "I'm just not that strong."
"Can I buy you a drink?" Jon tentatively asked.
"Sure. I'll have what you're having." Marla put her elbows on the bar like she was settling in for a bender.
"I'm drinking Dewar's. I don't know any women who like scotch."
"I prefer Glenlivet with my cigars."
"Glenlivet? Cigars? That's too expensive for me, I'm on a budget," he said, handing Phil a twenty dollar bill with his left hand.
"You're not married? Or do you just not wear a wedding ring?" she asked, sipping the scotch without flinching.
"Technically, no. Not anymore." He turned his left hand over looking at his bare ring finger. Both his and Lisa's wedding rings were stored in his dresser drawer. He hoped she wouldn't ask for more details.
"So technically, you're single and buying me a drink. Are you trying to hit on me?"
"Um, no, not really. I mean, uh, I thought I would, you know, be polite, since you sat down, and buy you a drink. That's all."
"Easy," she said, patting his hand. "Relax, I'm not going to bite you. I suppose I'm the one who's hitting on you. Actually, I'm rather enjoying the attention. I could get used to this."
"Really? I thought you were with the Subaru crowd."
"You think I'm a lesbian?" Marla's spine stiffened as she turned towards him and waited for his response.
Jon closed his eyes and cursed himself for using a derogatory stereotype.
"I don't know, I can't tell by looking." He tried to sidestep the question, but she wasn't letting him off the hook.
"She thinks you are," he continued, nodding his head towards her table. "I think you're probably not completely straight."
"You mean Janice?" Marla asked, following his gesture. Janice abruptly turned away when she looked over at her. "I guess it couldn't be more obvious, could it? Thanks for the drink, Jon."
Jon felt her hand on his back. The look in her eyes conveyed a message that he hadn't received in quite a while. With a smile, she picked up her scotch and sauntered back to sit with Janice. His eyes followed her as she glided across the dance floor.
"Damn, you work fast," Andy said, returning to his seat.
"I'm not working tonight, just saying hello and acknowledging real talent."
"That's not what I saw. That chick was digging you, man."
"You're dreaming, Andy."
The musicians took the stage for their second set and were retuning their instruments. Jon watched Marla warming up and wondered if the sparks he felt were imagined. Lisa had departed a long time ago, and he wondered if he was ready to move on. He wondered if this course of action was even feasible.
