Norton, Andre - Anthology (48 page)

 
          
 
Jeff stood looking at the handset for some
time before movement caught his eye. Satchmo hit the "Play" button on
the boom box and Louis Armstrong's gravelly "What a Wonderful World"
floated out.

 
          
 
"I really ought to quit?" Rath
asked. The cat danced. Feeling silly about taking advice from a feline, Jeff
made the call. Distinctly light-headed, he took a quick shower before zipping
Satchmo into his jacket and heading for the Jazz House.

 
          
 
He pushed open the door with sudden jitters.
The interior sparkled with phantom glitter. "Steve?"

 
          
 
A single light gleamed over the far side of
the bar. One person sat there, facing away from the entrance with a steaming
mug, disguised by a hat and raincoat. Les Paul's "Moonglow" wafted
everywhere, cloaking the figure in magic. - ^ - - _

 
          
 
"Jeff Rath?" A melodious voice,
definitely female, cut through the music. It sent goosebumps up his arms and
neck. His world tilted. "Did you bring Satchmo?"

 
          
 
"Yes."

 
          
 
The figure turned, taking off the hat. Though
not pretty, her face was striking, all pale angles under a wild tumble of
auburn hair. "I'm Terry McCormack, producer of Top o' the World
Recordings. I've heard good things about ybu and your cat."

 
          
 
Satch squirmed. Jeff unzipped his jacket,
letting the feline hop onto the bar. "From Steve, I suppose."

 
          
 
She watched as the tabby stared in her
direction, flipping his tail. "To tell you the truth, I checked with your
current employers. They say you're overqualified, but conscientious. I'm
offering you something better."

 
          
 
Jeff's breath deserted him. "What?"
he croaked.

 
          
 
"Talent scout for my company."

 
          
 
Rath dipped his head as Satchmo's tail began
switching in huge arcs. "It's not me that has the talent. It's my cat. He
hears something special in certain musicians. And he loves music, especially
jazz." Jeff patted Satch's back. "So it's really the cat you want,
not me." A chill sluiced through him. Would this be the second time in
less than a week he could lose Satchmo?

 
          
 
"If the cat becomes the scout, he'll need
a keeper. You're experienced.'' She smiled slightly, just the corners of her
mouth and eyes turning up. The expression reminded Jeff strongly of Satchmo's
smile. The tabby was already strolling down the bar toward her waiting hand.
"I've heard that you two make such a great team that I'd be reluctant to
take one without the other." She listened to the music for a couple of
seconds as she scratched the cat's chin. He purred. "Are you free for
dinner?"

 
          
 
"As long as Satchmo comes with us."

 
          
 
"Of course."

 
          
 
Paced by Satch, Terry McCormack rose and
strode along the bar. She started to take Jeff's arm. For the first time he
looked into her face. Shock staggered him. Terry's eyes were the same vivid
peridot-green as the cat's.

 
          
 
She ignored his discomfort. "I know a
little place not far from here."

 
          
 
He took a deep stabilizing breath. The sense
of magic did not dissipate. "Great. C'mon, Satch."

 
          
 
Zipping the tabby securely into his jacket,
Jeff offered his arm to Terry. She curled her hand through his elbow, and the
three of them walked out of the Jazz House into chill mist.

 
          
 
The door closed, cutting off the remainder of
Louis Armstrong's "I Get Ideas."