Chapter 5
Rags and a Poem
Amanda laughed, pausing briefly to wipe her eyes after hearing the story Rocky told her, something regarding a heist involving pig farmers and Rocky and Freckle setting their barn on fire with Molotov cocktails and flaming trucks.
"You really had to do it to them?" she said, trying to breathe, but she sputtered. She finally recovered herself and took a sip of her gin, trying not to get it all over her dress. She managed a couple of swallows without spilling the drink, and she laid the empty glass back on the counter, still laughing as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I had to," Rocky said, wiping his eyes and taking a final swig of his drink. "There was no way these sons of bitches could get off scot-free."
Once the gale of laughter had passed, they ordered two new drinks and settled down to watch the surroundings.
"Are the parties usually this big?" Amanda asked, watching as Mordecai stepped away from his position at the door and joined the festivities, though he avoided contact with a large cat that had an eyepatch, disappearing through a door and taking position at an empty bar.
"Yeah," he said, knocking back some more gin. "Great social times and drinks to go around."
"So why isn't Mordecai attending it?" Amanda said, watching his eyes sweep the bar, but mostly focusing on that large car with the eyepatch.
Rocky looked at Mordecai and tracked his gaze. He felt a pang of sympathy towards him as he looked at Viktor. "Oh, Mordecai?" he said. "He isn't interested in relationships." He then slid closer to Amanda and whispered in his ear. "He had a falling out with the business and Viktor, that cat with the eyepatch. He joined some other group called Marigold who wanted us all dead. Fortunately, he warned us, and we managed to get him back. He still is his regular self and on the run from them."
Amanda gasped, and held a hand to her mouth. "Poor fellow," he said, watching as he poured a pair of drinks. He left them on the counter, and Viktor swiped them, almost hitting Mordecai in the process, before leaving a pair of bills behind. "Did Viktor forgive him for…what he did?"
"Sort of," Rocky said, the glass in his hands suddenly cold. "Let's just say that Viktor won't be having a spring in his step for the rest of his life." Amanda looked back and saw Viktor limp back towards his table, sighing heavily as he sat down, the table creaking as he leaned forward heavily. He sighed deeply, and his voice seemed to be heard even above the instruments that were playing a sort of jazz melody, the melancholic notes perfectly fitting the mood that Viktor was going through.
"Poor thing," she said, turning back to face Rocky. "That must have been one hell of a situation for him and you to go through." Rocky nodded but didn't respond. Instead, he swirled his drink around with a small wooden stick. His grip on the stick tightened, and he swirled his drink harder, sometimes splashing some gin onto the floor.
Oh dear, Amanda thought. The ordeal must have left him stressed beyond anything. Rocky… Feeling bad, she reached over and put a hand on his arm. He stopped shaking and looked at her, the color returning to his cheeks.
"Thank you," Rocky said, finishing the last of the gin and depositing the glass on the countertop. "Sorry to burden you all of a sudden."
There was a commotion, and a smattering of applause as several people bearing cellos came onto the stage. Once they finished tuning, they started to play a catchy rag that Rocky knew.
"Shall we?" he said, extending a hand to Amanda. She nodded, and took his hand, smiling wide.
They glided onto the dance floor and twirled around, free of the stress that haunted them just a moment ago. Rocky smiled wide at Amanda as he danced to the Sunburst Rag, making sure that she enjoyed it to its best. She appeared to be enjoying it, and even once, she caught his gaze and smiled.
At that moment, all the troubles that had plagued him vanished, and he promised himself that tonight was to be a good night, free from everything troublesome.
Even if it meant dealing with the demons in the Ninth Circle.
A few songs later, and they were back at the bar, hampering down the endless supply of whiskeys, Chardonnays, and gin, all the while laughing at various things.
Rocky giggled gleefully as Amanda recalled a skittish move that she learned a while back at a waterfront club.
"And so, the bartender said to me, 'When you find the perfect guy to do it to, make sure to do it in front of all the others,'" she said, to which Rocky howled with pleasure. He then took a moment to compose himself.
He turned to the bartender and ordered an extra thick Glennfiddich. As he stared into his selection, he noted the dark amber liquid sitting amongst the ice.
"Old Man River," he said, earning him a confused look from Amanda.
"What's that?" she asked.
"A poem," Rocky said. "One I made myself." He then continued.
"That seems far too austere a name, for something made of mirth and rage," he said, swishing the liquid around. "O, roiling red blood river vein, if chief among your traits is age, you're a wily, convoluted sage."
Other patrons passing by stopped to listen. Amanda noticed their glances. They appeared to be interested as well.
"Is 'old' the thing to call what rings, the vernal heart of wester-lore, what brings us brassy myth-made kings, and preponderance of bug-type things," he continued, swatting away a fly.
"To challenge titans come before? Demiurge to a try at Avalon once more!" he declared, raising his glass with a flourish.
"And what August vitality in your wide aorta stream, you must have had to oversee alchemic change of timber beam, to iron, brick, and engine steam!" Amanda couldn't stop smiling. So you are a master poet as well as a charming one? My, my, you are full of surprises, Rocky.
"Your umber whiskey waters lance, this prideful, sober sovereignty," Rocky said, staring into the glass once again. "Of faulty-haloed temperance, and wilt her self sure countenance: Yes, righteousness is vanity, but your sport's for imps, not elderly." By now, half of the club was listening. Even Ivy and Freckle had stopped mingling over by the snack bar to come and listen as Rocky launched into the last verse of his poem.
"So if there's a name for migrant mass of veteran frivolity, that snakes through seas is prairie grass, and groves of summer sassafras… A name that flows as roguishly, as gypsy waters, fast and free… It's your real name, Mississippi." With that, he threw back the entire glass of Glennfiddich as the speakeasy erupted into applause. He deposited the empty glass on the counter, and took a bow.
"Encore?" he quipped, glancing at Amanda.
She just laughed and applauded.
Whew! That was a long chapter to write. As most of you know, that poem Rocky said comes from the beginning of the Lackadaisy comic. It's really good, and I would recommend supporting the team that made this amazing project! As for how Mordecai rejoined the Lackadaisy… That will be explained in a future story. Stay tuned for that!