Drumsticks Read Online Free

marbles.
    â€œYou’ve got some worries on your mind, huh?” she said.
    I was taken aback. “Does it show?”
    She didn’t answer.
    â€œI guess I haven’t been having the best luck lately with—well, with anything.”
    â€œUm hum. Well, that’s going to change, baby.”
    â€œYou think so?”
    â€œEverything in its time, honey, everything in its time.”
    Mrs. Williams patted my hand then. I was crying, and I hadn’t even known it.
    Three young women laden with shopping bags walked up to the table just then. A lucky thing that they did. Because otherwise I might have unloaded my worried mind on Mrs. Williams. Which would have been incredibly dumb. I’d known the woman for all of five minutes. There was just so much empathy in those old eyes of hers. She was friendly and funny and salty. But, oddly enough, there seemed to be sadness in her as well.
    The potential customers began examining Ida’s wares. She went into her spiel and I stepped aside.
    â€œNice to meet you,” I called to her as I began to walk away.
    â€œAll right, you have a beautiful day, honey.”
    I looked back, more than a little skeptical.
    â€œJust look up,” she added. “See? It’s already beautiful, isn’t it?”
    She was right. I removed my scarf and let the strong sun play on the back of my neck. It felt wonderful.
    I could do no wrong.
    Yesterday was yesterday. Today, I could do no wrong. Or should I say “we” could do no wrong. The Mama Lou doll sat there beaming with pride while I played my ass off.
    I had planned to play outside the big soulless café on 53rd Street and Seventh Avenue for only an hour or so and then head back downtown. But the crowd wouldn’t let me go. The case was fat with dollar bills.
    One nattily dressed older man, hammered on martinis by the smell of things, had me play “Save Your Love for Me” three times. With every rendition he would drop another ten-dollar bill. When he was young, he said, he had a terrible crush on Nancy Wilson. He was staying at the Sheraton, which was just across the street, by the way, if I was interested.
    Then a lady in a fur asked if I knew Stevie Wonder’s “Ribbon in the Sky.” Not really. I bumbled my way through it. Ten bucks from her, too.
    Your girl was money that day.
    I finally did close up shop, put the loot in my wallet, and walk to the nearest station for the downtown Lex.
    Maybe I ought to buy Mama Lou a fur, I thought as the train whipped along. Keep her warm all through the winter.
    At the 23rd Street station I took the stairs two at a time. And practically floated up the stairs to my apartment.
    That night’s phone message beat the one from the magazine by a mile: my old music coach, Jeff Moses, was phoning to say he had a regular gig for me, if I wanted it. I would be filling in for an ailing saxophonist, part of a trio that played three nights a week at a restaurant uptown.
    Damn right I wanted it.
    I ran over to my instrument case, tore Mama Lou from her prison, and gave her a big wet kiss.
    â€œGood afternoon, Mrs. Williams.” I greeted the thin, dark-skinned woman wearing a red windbreaker over her brightly patterned dress.
    â€œHow you today, honey?” she answered with a smile.
    â€œI’m fine. Much better. And I just wanted to thank you.”
    She furrowed her brow.
    â€œLet me explain,” I said. “A friend of mine gave me one of your dolls a few days ago. Like you said, I’ve had a lot of worries. But my luck has totally changed.”
    â€œWell, of course,” she said. “These dolls have got some powers, girl. Powers we don’t even know about.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Williams. And by the way, do you make all these yourself?”
    â€œJust call me Ida. Yes, I make them. Each one is different, see, just like us. But they all have the power. And I’ll tell you something