list was as strong a candidate as Günter. Rick was an American Jason had met in Philadelphia on Blue Notes’ last US tour.
“Thank God that’s over,” Henri said as he poured them all shots of Maurice’s best cognac an hour later. “Three days in a row. Really. Was that necessary?”
Jules scowled at Henri. “You’re a lazy ass, you know.”
Jason laughed and picked up his glass. “I’ll let you two talk by yourselves.”
“You’re not staying?” Henri lit a cigarette and blew smoke at Jason.
“We talked about this, remember?” Jason wasn’t surprised Henri had forgotten. He probably hadn’t paid attention when they’d discussed how to handle the auditions. Jason didn’t mind—Henri’s laissez-faire attitude was a nice change of pace from Jules’s intensity from time to time. No doubt their very different personalities were part of the group’s success. “You two need to make the decision. If you can’t agree, I’ll be the tiebreaker. This is your trio. I’m just your manager.”
“You agreed,” Jules reminded Henri, who just shrugged and took a long drag on his Gitane.
“Fine.” Henri waved his hand dismissively and crossed his legs. “Make us do your work for you,” he said, his playful expression belying his words.
Jason laughed. “I’ll be at the café down the street. Call me when you need me.”
L ESS THAN an hour later, Jason was back at the club. “We need you,” Jules had told him over the phone. Jason hadn’t been terribly surprised that Jules and Henri disagreed over their choice of pianist. No doubt Jules preferred Günter’s crisp, no-nonsense style and Henri insisted on the slower, more laid-back groove of John Regan or Rick Clement. This wouldn’t be easy.
“Another cognac?” Jason asked Henri as he settled down at the table that was covered in résumés, handwritten notes, and the three now-empty glasses.
“Why not?” Henri grinned and returned a few minutes later with the bottle.
“Maurice will bill us for that, you know,” Jason said with a chuckle. He didn’t mind. He was just pleased that the week hadn’t been more grueling and that Jules and Henri didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats.
“Let him. Gros con. ”
Jules glared at Henri, who ignored him entirely.
“So,” Jason said as he swirled the caramel-colored liquid around in the glass and inhaled the thick, heady scent of it, “who are you two stuck on?”
Henri puffed on another cigarette. Hadn’t he promised Guy he was going to quit? No doubt he was doing it in part to get Jules’s goat.
Jason glanced at his watch: 5:00 p.m. It was going to be a long evening, although he sincerely hoped they could resolve the mess before the club opened at eight.
“We’re not stuck,” Jules announced. Jason could tell from his smug expression that he and Henri were enjoying stringing him along. Still, Jason was surprised.
“You actually agree ?” Something was up. Jules and Henri rarely agreed on anything.
Henri blew smoke in Jason’s face and Jason fought the urge to wave the smoke away this time. Normally Jason would have been tempted to take the cigarette from Henri—he’d done that on more than one occasion—but he decided he’d roll with it and see what Henri and Jules were up to.
“We agreed.” Jules got up and wrapped his arms over Jason’s chest as he leaned down and kissed him.
“Pianist number one or number five?” Jason asked with a contented sigh.
“I liked number one,” Jules said.
“I prefer number five,” Henri added.
“So you don’t agree.” Jason placed his hands over Jules’s arms and pressed his cheek against one of them. Jules rewarded him with another kiss.
“Of course we do.” Henri stamped out the cigarette and raised his eyebrows in mock disgust.
“Do you want to tell him?” Jules kissed Jason again.
“Not particularly.” Henri appeared to debate whether to light up again or drink his cognac. In the end, he pulled a
“Thank God that’s over,” Henri said as he poured them all shots of Maurice’s best cognac an hour later. “Three days in a row. Really. Was that necessary?”
Jules scowled at Henri. “You’re a lazy ass, you know.”
Jason laughed and picked up his glass. “I’ll let you two talk by yourselves.”
“You’re not staying?” Henri lit a cigarette and blew smoke at Jason.
“We talked about this, remember?” Jason wasn’t surprised Henri had forgotten. He probably hadn’t paid attention when they’d discussed how to handle the auditions. Jason didn’t mind—Henri’s laissez-faire attitude was a nice change of pace from Jules’s intensity from time to time. No doubt their very different personalities were part of the group’s success. “You two need to make the decision. If you can’t agree, I’ll be the tiebreaker. This is your trio. I’m just your manager.”
“You agreed,” Jules reminded Henri, who just shrugged and took a long drag on his Gitane.
“Fine.” Henri waved his hand dismissively and crossed his legs. “Make us do your work for you,” he said, his playful expression belying his words.
Jason laughed. “I’ll be at the café down the street. Call me when you need me.”
L ESS THAN an hour later, Jason was back at the club. “We need you,” Jules had told him over the phone. Jason hadn’t been terribly surprised that Jules and Henri disagreed over their choice of pianist. No doubt Jules preferred Günter’s crisp, no-nonsense style and Henri insisted on the slower, more laid-back groove of John Regan or Rick Clement. This wouldn’t be easy.
“Another cognac?” Jason asked Henri as he settled down at the table that was covered in résumés, handwritten notes, and the three now-empty glasses.
“Why not?” Henri grinned and returned a few minutes later with the bottle.
“Maurice will bill us for that, you know,” Jason said with a chuckle. He didn’t mind. He was just pleased that the week hadn’t been more grueling and that Jules and Henri didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats.
“Let him. Gros con. ”
Jules glared at Henri, who ignored him entirely.
“So,” Jason said as he swirled the caramel-colored liquid around in the glass and inhaled the thick, heady scent of it, “who are you two stuck on?”
Henri puffed on another cigarette. Hadn’t he promised Guy he was going to quit? No doubt he was doing it in part to get Jules’s goat.
Jason glanced at his watch: 5:00 p.m. It was going to be a long evening, although he sincerely hoped they could resolve the mess before the club opened at eight.
“We’re not stuck,” Jules announced. Jason could tell from his smug expression that he and Henri were enjoying stringing him along. Still, Jason was surprised.
“You actually agree ?” Something was up. Jules and Henri rarely agreed on anything.
Henri blew smoke in Jason’s face and Jason fought the urge to wave the smoke away this time. Normally Jason would have been tempted to take the cigarette from Henri—he’d done that on more than one occasion—but he decided he’d roll with it and see what Henri and Jules were up to.
“We agreed.” Jules got up and wrapped his arms over Jason’s chest as he leaned down and kissed him.
“Pianist number one or number five?” Jason asked with a contented sigh.
“I liked number one,” Jules said.
“I prefer number five,” Henri added.
“So you don’t agree.” Jason placed his hands over Jules’s arms and pressed his cheek against one of them. Jules rewarded him with another kiss.
“Of course we do.” Henri stamped out the cigarette and raised his eyebrows in mock disgust.
“Do you want to tell him?” Jules kissed Jason again.
“Not particularly.” Henri appeared to debate whether to light up again or drink his cognac. In the end, he pulled a
Similar Books
