"Please do not shoot the pianist. He is doing his best." -Oscar Wilde

Amidst a room full of innumerable sweaters, most knitted by his mother, and countless pairs of trousers and suit jackets, hand-me-downs from various cousins, stood a young man around the age of nineteen, although he would turn twenty in only one month. His hair was caramel-colored and cut quite short and his eyes were large and dark. He wore a clean white shirt with a tie hanging loosely about his neck.

On the bed sat two suitcases, filled to their absolutely capacity as well, as another young man, this one wore tan pants, a Garbardine sport shirt, and a black mustache.

“I still can’t believe you decided to go,” said the mustached man, “You’re a goddam fool, in my opinion.”

“It’s not like anything’s keeping me here,” responded the other.

“What are ya talkin’ about? Sure there is. Sure. What about your family?”

“My family? Why the hell would I want to spend any more time with them than I have to?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. It was just an idea,” he paused, “You know Will, I still can’t believe you’re going. They’re not supposed to give ya such short notice on these things. I didn’t even know you played the piano, for Christ’s sake.”

Will shrugged, “I’ve had three days to set my affairs in order. I don’t think that’s such short notice. It’s not like I had a whole lot to do.”

“It’s still short notice. When did you say you were coming back anyway?”

“One month.”

“One month? I thought you told me it was only two weeks.”

“No, sir. One month.”

“One month on a boat. Are you sure you’re not gonna get seasick or something? Don’t you need one of those little patches you stick on your neck in case you suddenly start feeling nauseous? Have you ever even been on goddam ship before? I mean, really. I don’t know what-“

“Oh stop your worryin’. I’ll be fine.”

“But Will, have you ever even been on a ship before? Well have you? That’s all I want to know.”

“No. No. I haven’t. But who’s to say that I’m going to start vomiting or something? Who’s to say I’m not in fact a natural born sailor- fit for the high seas?”

“You’re not a sailor. You’re a goddam pianist. Pianist. That’s a helluva name,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and Will threw him a lighter. “Are you proud, buddy boy? Are you proud that you get to play the piano on a-. Hey, what’s the pay anyway? Is that why you’re doin’ this? Are they payin’ ya the big bucks, buddy boy?”

“The pay’s nothin’. Probably a little more than minimum wage.”

“Minimum wage? Why the hell are ya goin’ on a boat for a month to play the piano for miniumum wage? Are you a goddam fool or what? I mean it this time, Will. I really do,” he said as he lit his cigar and threw back the lighter, “I don’t know what the hell you’re doin’.”

“I’m doin’ just fine, thank you very much. And besides, it’s a free room and free, high-class food for a whole month. What could get better than that? And I’m sure the scenery’ll be-“

“The scenery? Who the hell cares about scenery? If you want to look at mountains just go open a book, for Christ’s sake.”

“Well I’ll tell you one thing- It’s a helluva lot better than staring out at some bricks every day.”

“Hey, are you sure you don’t need some of those seasickness patches? I’m sure they’ve got’em down at that drugstore on Ninth. Why don’t you pick some up before you go? It’ll only take two minutes.”

“You’re like my mother.”

“I am not like your mother I just don’t want ya to end up havin’ a lousy time because your stomach can’t cope with the constant movement.”

“Constant movement? I’m not goin’ on a little fishing boat, ya know. It’s a big ship. A cruise liner Like the Titanic.”

“Well let’s hope this voyage goes a little better.”

“It will. It will. Don’t have a cow over it now.”

“Where did you find out about this? A newspaper?”

“Yeah. A newspaper.”

“Which paper was it? The Times or the Post Dispatch?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention to that.”

“Didn’t pay any attention? Boy. You better watch out for yourself while you’re gone, Will. I mean it. You better not go off and start leanin’ over any rails or takin’ a dip in the deep blue or anything like that.”

“What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“I mean it, Will. I really do. Don’t go doing anything stupid.”

“You’re acting like my father now.”

“I am not. So what did you answer a classified ad or somethin’?”

“Yeah. A classified ad.”

“What did it say?”

“How the hell do I know? I don’t remember.”

“Like hell ya do.”

“Really. I don’t.”

“Well just give me a general idea.”

“It was somethin’ like: Needed. A Talented Pianist to Play Aboard the SS St. Lucien in Three Days Time.”

The mustached man tapped some of the ashes on his cigar into the little ashtray found atop the bedside table. He grinned, “It did not say that. You’re makin’ it up.”

“I told you I can’t remember for the life of me what it really said.”

“Well it sure as hell didn’t say that.”

Will finished packing and went to the bathroom just off his bedroom so that he could fix and straighten his tie with the convenience of a mirror in front of him. The mustached man called from the other room:

“Did they tell you why it was such short notice?”

“It wasn’t short notice.”

“Now listen, did they tell you or didn’t they?”

“They gave me the general idea. Somethin’ about the original getting some horrible disease or deadly illness or something of the sort. So they were in need of a new piano man.”

“A piano man? I thought it was called a pianist.”

“Same thing.”

“I never even knew you played the piano.”

“Sure. My mom put me in lessons when I was four.”

“How come I’ve never heard you play?”

Will shrugged as he returned to the bedroom, “There’s not room for a piano in this tiny flat.”

“Are you any good?”

“I don’t know. I’m not much of a judge towards these things.”

“No really. Are you any good?”

“Well sure. I guess so. If I wasn’t any good they wouldn’t have hired me, would they?”

“If they were desperate enough they would.”

Will shrugged and began to put on his brown wool Herringbone blazer, which had been sitting on the desk chair.

“Are they treating you like a servant or what? Do you have to stay in one of those little bunkbed rooms at the bottom of the ship with all the waiters and bartenders? Because you know I’ve heard about those and supposedly they’re small as hell. You don’t even have room to think, is what I hear. And you know if you’re getting one of those rooms this whole affair, this whole offer and everything, isn’t worth the lint in your blazer’s pocket.”

“There’s not any lint in my pocket, I just had this cleaned over at that Laundromat down on Tenth yesterday.” Will began to search through his pockets, just to be sure.

“That’s not the point. Did they tell you where you’d be stayin’ or not?”

“I’ve got the room number.”

“Yeah? Well did they give you any other instruction at all?”

“They said I’d get a room to myself near the inside of the ship. No windows or balconies or anything, but who really needs those anyway? If I want to see the sky or the water or somethin’ I can just go on deck.”

“Sure you can. Sure you can. You’ve actually got a pretty good deal, buddy boy. And do you know if they’ll let you eat with all the passengers and the captain and all that? Or will they make you play a goddam piano throughout the whole thing?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

“Are you sure this whole thing isn’t just some big scam? Because they sure aren’t tellin’ ya much.”

“Do you have a watch on, by chance?”

“I do, sir, and it is approximately three minutes after four o’clock.”

“I’d better head off then. Don’t want to miss the ship.”

Will snapped the clasps on each of his suitcases and lowered them to the floor. He then removed a cream-colored fedora from the post of his bed. It had a black tailored bow all around the rim along with two short reddish brown feathers. After pulling out the feathers and throwing them into the air, he put it on and took hand of each of his suitcases.

“You’ve got quite an outfit goin’ there,” laughed the man in the Garbardine sport shirt.

Will ignored him, though the statement was quite true. He wasn’t the most fashion forward man and he never would be. Although he had some very nice jackets and hats, he never knew how to put them together well.

“Bon voyage, buddy boy,” said the mustached man from the bed. He didn’t even look up when he said it because his eyes were so intently focused on the falling feathers.

Will nodded, “So long.”

He didn’t want any sort of corny goodbye so he quickly walked out of the room. When the man in the bedroom didn’t say anything more, Will thought it would be best to leave then so he lugged his things into the hall, down the stairs, and onto the street.

Usually taxis just swarmed the place, but on the day that Will actually needed one they all seemed to be playing a game of hide and seek with him. Aware of their little game though, he chose to stay where he was and not be made a fool of by dragging his things all around town. Instead, he leaned against a newspaper stand to wait.

A window opened behind him, three stories up, from the red brick apartment building. He heard a man chuckle, but didn’t bother to turn around.

“Don’t go!” shouted the mustached man, “Don’t go, Wilber! I love you!”

Along the streets, passersby glanced up at the window and then down again at Will, laughing as they did so.

“Oh shut the hell up!” Will called back. He had a grin on his face as well.

“Please don’t leave me!” pleaded the mustached man, “I’ll write you everyday, Wilber! I’ll dream of you every night! I’ll never forget you!”

Will lit a cigar and glanced up to the mustached man again, “You’re a madman, did’ya know that?”

“Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin!”

At that moment a taxi pulled around the corner and Will stepped out on the curb with his hand raised. He gave one loud whistle and then turned around to pick up his things.

By the time he’d taken them both in hand the taxi was already beside him and the driver was opening the trunk. Will handed the man his luggage and then walked to the side of the car. He was just opening the door when he got the sudden urge to look back up towards the window.

The mustached man was leaning on it casually. Will gave him a salute, which the man returned, and hopped in the taxi.

(A/N) Okay, I know I probably shouldn’t have posted this when I’ve already got three other stories up, but I figure that I might as well post everything I’m writing. And besides, the reason I started posting on this site in the first place was that I wanted a place where I could put my writing and know what it would always be safe (I’ve had some computer problems in the past where a lot of my stuff was lost). And I really wouldn’t want to lose this story, so I think it’s alright to post it.

But anyway, what do you all think of it?

I promise I’ll try not to neglect all my other stories and I’m going to try to get back to “Voyage of the St. James Sisters” now, but I’ll still be working on this and “Working for Nicholas E. Collins” as well.

Thanks for reading!

-S. Renee