In spite of Heather being fashionably challenged when it comes to
attending concerts in pubs and Detective Farina’s intense love for
my new dress, we make it to The Three Hounds in plenty of time to get
good seats. Okay, Detective Jillian arrived early to see her
friends. She had already taken custody of a table close to the stage
on our behalf.
But, thanks to me, Heather is more appropriately dressed in skinny
jeans (hers) and a Rolling Stones t-shirt (mine). I tried to get her
to kick her make-up up a notch. Okay...Alice Cooper eyes. When I
showed her what I would be using on her face she announced that if
she agreed to it her esthetician would never forgive her and could
dump her altogether. Apparently, it has taken her forever to find
the right one. They put goop on your face and take it off again. How
hard can it be to find someone capable of doing that?
Detective Farina on the other hand, pouted. I’m not kidding. He
pouted when he saw that I had replaced my new dress with my favorite
well-worn jeans and a t-shirt that reads, “If Ignorance Is Bliss
Then You Must Be Ecstatic.” I offered him visitation with the
dress, and asked him if he needed me to wear it or if he just wanted
to take it to bed with him to cuddle. He did not appreciate
my sense of humor. Duuude…seriously, it’s a dress.
“What’s the name of your
friend’s band?” I ask Detective Jillian, while we watch the band
go through a final sound check.
“There Might Be Bear.” she
responds. While she’s talking to me about how long the band has
been around, how long she has known the founder, and how they met, I
notice that Heather is focused. On the band. She notices that I’m
watching her and fidgets a little. Then she becomes an active
participant in all of the conversations taking place around our
table. None of us, other than Detective Jillian, have been to a
performance in some time including Ian. Since he had been to
Woodstock, he was the Hall of Famer of the group.
“What is the best concert that you’ve ever seen?” Heather
asks Ian.
“I saw The Rolling Stones play Paris in 1967.”
“Not Woodstock?” She asks.
“Sometimes,
it’s
not just the memory of the concert. It can also be about what is
happening in your life at that time. In 1967, I was a young man,
just out of school. I had an exciting job at Scotland Yard making
good money. The ladies loved me. I had been shot a few weeks before
and nearly died. I had caught the bad guys and survived to tell the
story. Life was good.” He looks at me. “Not as good as it is
now. But it was one of the happier periods of my life.”
One of the bartenders steps out onto the stage and says, “Please
give a warm welcome to one of our favorite visitors…There Might Be
Bear.”
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