A to Z and then some: J is for Jazz

mapark

The characters depicted in Emergency! are the property of Universal Studios/Mark VII Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. All original characters (and mistakes) are mine alone.

Many thanks to my beta-reader, who wishes to remain anonymous (whose efforts and advice I sincerely appreciate!)

Marco tugged at the collar of the formal attire, and adjusted his hat to match the rakish angle favoured by the leader. He flapped his right hand, then his left, limbering up the fingers for what experience told him would be a frustrating couple of hours. Still, he enjoyed playing, and the money from the wedding gig would come in handy for the repairs his car so desperately needed.

He just wished that, for a change, they could play jazz instead of mariachi music – but, privately, he didn't think any of the other members of the band capable of the wild flights of improvisation that was the hallmark of the best jazz.

"Okay, amigos, show time!" announced Juan Rodriquez, gesturing the other band members to precede him into the crowded and noisy ballroom, so he could make the grand entrance traditionally reserved for the leader of a band.

Marco exchanged a wry glance with his cousin Antonio, who shrugged and swung his violin up to his shoulder. "Here we go again," he muttered, as he slipped the mouthpiece into the trumpet.

Antonio chuckled. "Think of your car, and smile at the nice folks," he suggested, prodding Marco forward with his violin bow. "Hey, it could be worse. At least we get breaks."

E—E—E—E—E—E

This isn't a bad gig, as gigs go, Marco thought, pasting a smile on his face as he neatly evaded the clutching hands of a drunken bridesmaid on his way back to the bandstand after their break. At least they're a halfway decent crowd.

"Oh my God!" shrieked a shrill female voice. "Somebody help!"

Marco whirled toward the sudden commotion on his right, and forced his way through the tight knot of people that had formed around an extremely pale and sweaty elderly man who'd collapsed on the dance floor.

"Move back and give him some room!" Marco commanded, switching almost automatically into rescue mode. He snatched the oversized sombrero off his head and thrust it into the hands of his astonished cousin. "Antonio, go find a phone, and call for an ambulance and the fire department. Tell them a man may be having a heart attack, then come back and tell me. Hurry!"

"Si," Antonio replied, giving a nod, then turning and pushing his way back through the crowd that had retreated all of three feet.

"Is there a doctor here?" Marco asked, swivelling his head back and forth before dropping to his knees beside the stricken man. He looked up at the distraught woman who had screamed and was now staring at him and wringing her hands. "Miss? I'm a firefighter with LA county. We've got an ambulance and some paramedics on the way, so there's nothing to worry about. Can you tell me what happened?"

She fell to her knees beside Marco, reached for the elderly man's hand, and stroked it gently, while casting him a weak smile. "Tio Vincenzo, don't worry." She turned to Marco. "This is my uncle Vincenzo. He was fine just a couple of minutes ago, then he just grabbed at his chest, moaned and fell to the ground."

Marco glanced around, seized a nearby chair, and tipped it over to form an inverted 'vee'. "Get me some cushions from one of those lounge chairs, and lay them on this chair," he directed one of the guests. He turned back to Vincenzo. "Hi. My name's Marco, and I'm gonna help you, okay?"

"Sure thing, young fella…man, this is… embarrassing."

Marco shook his head. "No need to feel embarrassed. Now we're gonna sit you up, and lean you against this chair, so it will help your breathing." Marco helped him sit up, then eased him back against the cushions. "Better?" he asked.

Vincenzo nodded. "Thanks," he mumbled, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. He grimaced, shook his head, and took a more shallow breath. "That's a little better. My chest hurts like hell, er… like heck," he replied.

The girl chuckled and squeezed his hand. "You don't have to guard your language around me anymore, Tio – I've been of age for quite some time now. I am a grown woman now, you know."

"Hah! You'll always be my sweet little sobrina, no matter your age."

"Just try to take it as easy as you can, sir," Marco said. "I'm gonna take your tie off and loosen your clothing okay?"

Vincenzo nodded and reached for the tie, but Marco forestalled him.

"You just relax, and let me do the work. Help is on the way. How do you feel?"

Vincenzo gave a weak laugh. "Well I could come up with a smart-ass answer like 'with my hands', but my chest hurts too much. Like lots of pressure, squeezing." He cleared his throat. "At least I can breathe better… good idea with the chair." He shifted slightly, a look of puzzlement on his face. "I don't get it, though. I was feeling just fine, listening to real music instead of a record." He cast a glance as the girl, who shrugged and gave a sheepish grin, then continued. "We were dancing a bit… and then, all of a sudden, I felt light-headed and got this crushing pain in my chest."

"Is it any better at all?" Marco asked, slipping his fingers to Vincenzo's wrist to take a pulse.

Vincenzo blinked, frowned, and stared at Marco as if seeing him for the first time, his eyes lingering on the elaborate mariachi outfit. "You're the lead trumpet, aren't you?"

Marco paused in his counting, and gave a slow nod. "Yeah. Guilty as charged," he replied slowly, unsure about the elderly man's reaction.

Vincenzo relaxed a fraction. "Huh. Okay, imagine you're tensing up to go for a high D… you know what I mean?" he asked.

"Si," Marco replied. "Lots of push in the belly."

Vincenzo smiled, and squeezed his niece's hand. "Told you. Musicians speak a different language." He nodded at Marco. "You got it. Just put it in the chest instead of the belly, and that's what it feels like right now."

Over the hubbub of the crowd, Marco heard the welcome sound of a siren approaching, then suddenly ceasing. "Good. The paramedics are here, and they'll get you to the hospital really soon." He caught a glimpse of a pair of uniform shirts entering the room before the crowd surged and blocked his view of the responding paramedics. Oh, I hope it's nobody I know, or I'll never hear the end of comments about these threads…

He flashed a reassuring smile at Vincenzo, and stood up. "Hey, folks, please let the paramedics through!" he called. His smile became a sickly grin as the crowd pulled back and he saw Craig Brice and Bob Bellingham move forward with their equipment. Dammit! He tried to ignore Bob's twinkling eyes and Craig's raised eyebrows as they set down their equipment next to Vincenzo, taking in Marco's emerald green finery. He cleared his throat, and tried to sound as professional as possible. "Uh… this is Vincenzo, and he's having chest pains. Pulse has gone down from 110 and thread ten minutes ago to about 96 a couple of minutes ago. Respiration has gone down from 24 and laboured to 18 and more easy, since we got him into this position."

Juan, who'd been hovering in the background, cleared his throat and tapped his watch. "Hey, Marco, we're overdue on the bandstand if you're done here. The music oughta help clear the crowd away, and give them something else to do beside gawk."

"Sure, Juan." Marco turned to the paramedics. "Do you guys need a hand with anything else?"

Brice scrutinized him from head to toe, then he pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. "No, I think we can handle things here, Lopez." He pulled out the blood pressure cuff and wrapped it around Vincenzo's arm.

Vincenzo beckoned. "Hey, Marco, mi amigo." He held out his hand to the firefighter.

Marco crouched down and shook Vincenzo's hand.

Vincenzo tilted his head toward his niece. "Thank you… and could you do me a great favour? Could you play 'Desafinado' for my niece, Jasmine? It's her favourite, and I can tell from hearing your playing before that you've got the chops for it."

Marco grinned. "One of my favourites, too. I'll ask the bandleader if we could do it now, so you can hear, too." He straightened up, gave Jasmine a wink, then threaded his way through the crowd back to the bandstand.

Craig wrote the vital signs in his notebook, then asked, "Sir, has anything like this ever happened before?"

Vincenzo exhaled slowly around the oxygen mask Bob had put in place. "Nothing quite like this before. I've had a couple of little twinges before, but they went away, so I didn't think anything of them." He drew a breath, and grimaced. "This one is hanging on, though. It's better than earlier, right Jas?" he said, nudging his niece, when he notice her eyes were focused on Marco's retreating posterior.

She blushed, but nodded, turning her attention back to her uncle and ignoring Bob's smirk as he followed the direction of her eyes. "Yeah. He was practically grey when he first went down, and really sweaty and breathing hard, but that seems to be better now."

Bob opened Vincenzo's shirt and began attaching cardiac leads. "We're gonna call the hospital and get a doctor on the line while we wait for the ambulance to get here."

Craig asked, "Sir, how old are you?"

"I'm 58, young fellah. Old enough to dance, but not so old to not dance, if you get my drift." He lifted his head and smiled broadly as the strains of 'Desafinado' soared over the noise of the crowd. "Hah! I knew he could do it. That man has talent… pity, though. That young man would shine in a proper jazz combo, instead of this insipid mariachi stuff in a wedding band. I wonder if he's in any other bands…" He squeezed his niece's hand, both of them missing the startled look that Bob shot Craig as the tune quickened in pace and the crowd started moving toward the dance floor. Bob raised his eyebrows in a question; Craig pursed his lips, and nodded slowly. He mouthed 'You take care of it,' Bob gave a decisive nod, then both turned their attention to their patient.

- A to Z and then some - J is for Jazz -