Nina

100 words - because last week was filled with nostalgia…

I’ve just returned from five days spent with some of my oldest friends, lazy days reminiscing, eating fabulous food and drinking probably — definitely — a little too much rosé.

I make the same trip, to see the same beautiful people every year and every year I return with new memories and old ones renewed during days that pass all too quickly.

This year we played a game they called Emperor.

The rules of the game.

A famous name is chosen by each player and written on a scrap of paper which is placed in a hat. The names are read out randomly, twice, by one player and memorized by all. Quite simply, the person to the right of the reader begins by asking the question, are you…? adding one of the memorized names to the player they think the most likely to have chosen that name. If they are correct that player joins the asker creating a team. The asker whispers his chosen name to his new team member who asks the next question. If they are wrong, the person they asked, begins again with the same question adding either the same or a new name. Teams can discuss amongst themselves their next choice and if the next person asking finds the name of of a team leader he gathers the all players of that team into his own and so on… the winning team being the one that has gathered the most players, simple and hilariously funny when the number of people is greater than 10, especially when all are little inebriated!

I chose, Ronnie Scott, originally my thought was Nina Simone, it would have been too obvious to some of the players though — you gotta make it hard — so I decided on the owner of the club where I saw her sing instead, a much less likely choice, although I still didn’t win!

Anyway, the inspiration for my 100 word story, in a very roundabout way, was the memory of that incredible and truly unforgettable evening, sat at a red clothed table with a glass of champagne, in awe of Nina singing one of her very first live performances at Ronnie Scott’s in Soho, London. Which, I will just add, was definitely plush, seedy yes, but far from run down.

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Nina

The room is dingy. Smudged with the scent of stale, sweaty perfume and old alcohol, a suffocating reek. 

It doesn’t feel just shabby, it feels broken.

Joe, hunched and crumpled from too many years walking the same grimy floor, serving the same drink, with the same seen them all smile, places champagne on the tables as Nina shuffles on to stage and sits at the old piano.  Her eyes don’t leave his as she begins her last song ever.

Joe, his tears openly falling, blows her a kiss…

My baby don’t care for shows

My baby don’t care for clothes…

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Free Writing Fridays

As always, 100 word stories are inspired by the queen of 100 words, the fabulous and incredibly talented Erica Drayton.