Chapter 6

And so the days went by. Joel found a temporary morning job filling in for an employee at a little café. However, it only lasted for two weeks. Then, he was out of work again except for playing the piano. He found another one shortly after, filling in for a checker at a grocery store who'd had a fall and needed recovery time. That one lasted a month. By the time he'd been in LA for three months, he'd had five different temp jobs and while he wasn't rolling in the dough, he felt like he was okay moneywise. He didn't dare go and get a real apartment simply because his employment status was so iffy. However, Jack had made no hints that he should and so he had a secure place to live. All in all, things really weren't bad on that front.

If only he could remember who he was. Every so often, he'd say something or think something and somehow he knew that it was from his nebulous past. He knew that he was a movie connoisseur. When he got into conversations with others in the bar, if they talked movies, he could hold his own. He was finding the limits of his piano abilities. He wasn't an amazing pianist, but he could play competently, and he felt that playing without music was normal for him, that he liked just playing what he remembered and making up the rest. It stood him in good stead in the bar. Occasionally, Jack would say or do something that would remind Joel of someone. There was something in his personality that Joel found almost familiar. The tantalizing bits were frustrating, but if that had been all, he would have been okay with that, too. Not thrilled but okay.

However, the dreams continued. More details had become visible in his dreams over the weeks. There was a man he was now seeing in the dream. There was enough detail that he would recognize the man if he saw him in real life. The problem was that he kept seeing this man dead. Or at least, he must have been dead. He saw him fall from a height and hit the ground. He saw the fear in the man's eyes as he fell. He felt grief at seeing it. Every time. Sometimes, the man had a gun and was firing it... at what? Sometimes, he didn't. Sometimes, Joel saw himself actually pushing the man before he fell. Sometimes, the man was grabbing for him as he fell. Sometimes, there were others in the dream, people he couldn't see well enough to identify. Other times, it was just the two of them.

What came out of the dreams was that something really bad had happened, something that he had been intimately involved with, even if he still didn't know what it was. But it wasn't anything simple. People didn't get killed over simple things. There was an edge in the dreams, too. Something about what was going on wasn't right.

What if the man he had seen die was real? What if he was the only one who knew that this man was dead? What if he wasn't dead? What if the version he'd seen where he seemed to be responsible for the man falling was the right one? What if the man had been trying to kill him? That wouldn't explain the grief he'd felt...unless the man had been a friend who stabbed him in the back.

There were far too many explanations for what he was seeing in his dreams... and he really couldn't even say that they were definitely real.

However, one thing he did know for certain was that, if the man from his dream ever showed up, he'd be very wary of trusting him. There would have to be a very good reason... like getting his memory back, before he'd just blindly accept that this man had good intentions. The only other people he knew of from his past had tried to kill him. And this man hadn't exactly been a pacifist...at least in some versions. So holding him at arm's length seemed like a good idea. If he existed.

Part of him wondered if that was the best course of action, but without knowing who was on whose side, including himself, he just didn't dare trust anyone suddenly appearing out of the woodwork.

With a sigh, he looked at the clock. Jack would have already been there for an hour. If he was going to get in some practice, he needed to go down.

It was with some reluctance that he did so. This morning had been one of his worse mornings, and he never really wanted to confront the world in this state, but he did it anyway. No choice really. Plus, practicing usually got him an extra free meal, even if it was just some leftovers. Free was not to be sneered at.

Squaring his shoulders, he crafted his usual unconcerned expression on his face and headed down the stairs. He knocked as usual and Jack let him in to play.

Joel walked over to the piano and started to run through a bunch of different songs. He'd started making a list of everything he knew he could play. A few trips to the local library had given him some other music to practice and add in, expanding his repertoire. But his melancholy and anxiety about his situation was still percolating in the back of his mind. After about an hour he started plinking around at random and his mind settled back on a song that had been coming up again and again in his mind.

"I've been livin' for the moment
But I just can't have my way
And I'm afraid to go to sleep
'Cause tomorrow is today.

People tell me life is sweeter
But I don't hear what they say
Nothing comes to change my life
So tomorrow is today."

He played through it, singing along, not loudly. He wasn't trying for attention or anything. It was just that the tone of the song, if not all the words, reflected how lost he felt most of the time. Finally, he reached the last bit.

"Though I'm living and I'm singing
And although my hands still play
Soon enough it will all be over
'Cause tomorrow is today."

Then, he sat there for a while, rubbing his fingers over the keys, wondering what in the world he had to look forward to when he didn't know who he was or where he came from. Even the lowliest drunk in the bar had an advantage over Joel... because at least he knew who he was.

And I've got nothing, he thought to himself.

"Don't play that song."

The voice startled him and he looked back to see Jack looking at him with some concern. Joel took a breath and forced a smile.

"It's not my best anyway. I wasn't planning on performing it."

"That's not what I meant," Jack said.

He came out from behind the bar and walked over to the piano. Then, he did something that Joel hadn't expected. He ran his hands almost reverently over the top of it and looked regretful.

"I don't have to play it, Jack. I'm not tied to it," Joel said. "You're the boss."

"This piano belonged to my uncle. He was a real musician." He smiled a little. "A lot of people can play music, but the music isn't inside them. I can play, but I'm not a musician. Uncle Mike... he was an artist. This piano has seen better days on the outside, but he always kept the inside immaculate and so do I. That song you keep playing... that's... that's all we got as a suicide note. He wrote those words down and left them on the piano. Aunt Darlene didn't want the piano after. It was too hard for her. His son, Louis, didn't really want it, either, although he protested when I got it."

"Wasn't the guy on the sidewalk the day you hired me named Louis?"

Jack nodded. "He never really got over what his dad did. Started drinking. Never stopped. I gave him a job to help him find his way. He didn't take the chance so I had to put my foot down. Aunt Darlene was upset, but she knows that Louis brought it on himself. I didn't know what to do with the piano. I didn't really have room for it at home. I put it in storage for years, but when this bar finally started paying for itself, I got it here, tuned it and played a little. Decided that I wanted to have it be used the way it should have been. The way Uncle Mike played."

"I won't play the song, Jack. I promise," Joel said.

Jack shook his head. "No, the reason I don't want you to play it isn't because it reminds me of what Uncle Mike did. The reason is that you play it like Billy Joel must have felt it. He wrote that song about a time when he attempted suicide. He would have been dead but one of his bandmates found him and saved his life. You get too stuck on it, you might decide to go the route Uncle Mike did. I don't want to see that happen. Whatever's going on in your life is your business. You don't want to tell me, that's fine. But I don't want to see you do anything that's going to be fatal. And the way you sing tells me that you could go that way if you let yourself."

Before Joel could think of a response to that, the door to the bar opened and Langston walked in. He was walking differently than he had been at the grocery store or when he usually came into the bar. He was more formal...but that wasn't quite right.

"Hey, Lang. What is it?" Jack asked.

"Business," Langston said.

Joel tensed a little. He didn't like the tone in Langston's voice. There was something very familiar about it. Authority. He was speaking with authority to command cooperation.

"What about?"

"There have been rumors."

Jack shrugged. This was a different kind of interaction than they had when Langston just came to the bar to drink. It was a little stiff, not very friendly.

"There are always rumors," he said. "They're not always true."

"What about this time?"

"I haven't heard anything, and that's the truth," Jack said. "Not a whisper in here, and I think I would have heard something if there was anything to hear. Come on, Lang, you know I don't hold back when there's something important."

Langston nodded and relaxed a little.

"I know that, Jack. Keep your ears open, okay?"

"I always do."

Then, Langston looked over and saw Joel sitting there, staring. He smiled.

"Got a new day job yet?" he asked.

"No. Are you a cop?" Joel asked.

Langston laughed. "Guilty as charged. Took you long enough to figure it out."

"You act different when you're just here as yourself."

"Are you surprised?"

Joel forced himself to laugh. "Yeah. You just didn't put off a cop vibe... until today."

"What's a cop vibe?"

Joel searched for the right words for what he meant. Then, he shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

"Authority. You walked in here, knowing that you could ask for things Jack might feel uncomfortable sharing. You knew you had the right to ask, no matter how Jack felt. And Jack reacted to it."

Langston raised an eyebrow. "You're pretty observant, Joel. More than I'd expect from a guy playing piano in a bar."

Joel forced himself to smile. "I'm a maze of hidden talents."

So well hidden that even I don't know what they are, he added to himself.

For just a moment, Joel worried that Langston was going to start probing, and that glint in his eye said that he wouldn't be fooled by the prevaricating that Joel would have to do. ...but then, the moment passed and he looked back at Jack.

"All right. Thanks, Jack."

"You're not usually on call on a Sunday."

"Yeah. Rumors."

"Gotcha."

Langston nodded and then left.

After he was gone, Jack looked at Joel again.

"No talking about this to anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because people don't like knowing that the bartender talks."

"You think you have criminals coming in here?"

"Probably, or at least people who know criminals. This isn't a bad area, but it's still a bit grimy around the edges. Those of us running businesses know that business is better when you don't have to worry about drug busts and drive-by shootings. Some people don't like informers, even if it's just about passing on rumors. I don't want to lose business and I don't want to have to worry about myself. So no talking about this."

Joel mimed crossing his heart. "Won't hear about it from me."

There was a long pause. Joel was thinking about whether or not he should ask the question that was in his head. He decided just to do it, not sure what he should expect.

"You play?" he asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Just curious. I thought you said that you could play."

"Yeah."

"Play me a song, then, Boss," he said.

Again, Jack raised his eyebrow, and Joel was struck with an overwhelming feeling of familiarity, like he should recognize everything about this interaction... except it shouldn't be Jack. It should be someone else.

But then, the moment passed and Jack stood and walked over to the piano. Joel stood and got out of the way. Jack sat down.

...and he started playing like a classical concert pianist. His fingers flew over the keys. The melody was familiar, but Joel couldn't place it. Apparently, classical music wasn't his forte.

Then, Jack finished with a flourish.

"Wow. What was that?" Joel asked.

"Rimsky-Korsakov. 'Flight of the Bumblebee.'"

"Oh, Green Hornet. I knew I'd heard it before," Joel said.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Rimsky-Korsakov," he said again. "From his opera, The Tale of Tsar Saltan."

Joel grinned at his irritation. "Green Hornet."

"They only use music like that because it's in the public domain."

"Right. So... why get someone like me to play for you? You can clearly play way better than I can."

"I can play. Classical. That's all I ever learned. It's not the same as performing for a bunch of people who are here to drink. Never was very good at performing. Besides, I run the place. I can't be performing and supervising at the same time."

"I guess."

"Now, I've got work to do. You done?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Get out of my hair," Jack said gruffly. "And grab something from the back on your way out."

Joel smiled. "Will do."

He went back to the kitchen and found some of the leftovers that kept well. He took the plate up to his apartment and warmed it up in the little microwave he'd purchased the week before.

He sat eating and looking out the window to the rest of the world. Everyone around him had hidden depths...but they knew what those depths were.

"What are my depths?" he asked himself.

Then, he sighed and finished eating his meal. He needed a rest before he started working that evening.