26
Erik
Saturday came miraculously quickly. I arrived at the restaurant in Manhattan fairly early so I could find a place well concealed but not far from the stage. I watched five young men, three black and two white, set up the stage and tune their instruments as excited adults and teenagers, some of which I recognized from the folder of headshots Nicole gave me. She was nowhere to be seen until seven o'clock sharp. She came seemingly out of nowhere, wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, jeans and sneakers. An unusual amount of cleavage came through the shirt. I didn't think she would be so comfortable so exposed. She was beautiful. She sat down behind the metallic blue drumset and produced sticks. She tapped the drums a few times under the sound of the two guitars, bass, saxophone and keyboard. After a minute or two, one of the young men with a red electric guitar approached the microphone and said, "Evening, everybody. We're Wayward Kingdom."
The teenagers, mixed with a few adults, had gathered directly across the stage and roared, shouting, "Yeah, Dante!" and "Yeah, Nikki!" Nicole flashed a smile as the frontman started strumming the guitar. Nicole then joined on the drums, followed by the keyboards. The frontman said in the microphone, "I know when to go out. Know when to stay in. Get things done."
The frontman sang the verse and Nicole harmonized. I couldn't hear the other band members sing. It was she, and only she. Everything she did was right, and the teenagers agreed. She sang with the band for four songs, never alone, until the band stopped for a moment to wipe off their sweat and drink from water bottles. The frontman, after emptying his water bottle, said, "As a tribute to her mother, New Orleans R'n'B queen Imani Lasalle, our substitute drummer, Nikki Lasalle-Jones, everybody!"
The teenagers and some of the adults screamed for her and she laughed. The keyboardist played along with her on the drums something terribly familiar. I finally heard my angel of music sing alone and in person, but everywhere else was Imani, singing, "Last night I had the strangest dream. I sailed away to China in a little rowboat to find ya, and you said you had to get your laundry cleaned. Didn't want no one to hold you, what does that mean? And you said," The band joined in, "Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride. Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh no, I've got to keep on movin'! Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride, I'm running and I won't touch ground. Oh no, I've got to keep on movin'!"
This song was Imani's first cover hit. I couldn't bear even the original version or any other after hearing it. No surprise, I was dazed by her version. I wouldn't change a thing about it. The song ended and her supporters roared for her, but she didn't look at them. She caught my eye somehow, and I nodded at her as I applauded with everyone else. That was what brought a smile to her sweet lips and she turned her attention to the rest of the crowd.
She sang backup for the rest of the night, except for the second to last one she had a few solos. She was perfect, as expected. It was nine o'clock when it ended and the next band was to come on. The frontman concluded gleefully after the last song, "Thanks for coming, everyone. Good night, we love you."
The entire place roared, even me. The male members of the band left with their instruments as Nicole went to greet the commoners. I pulled a single rose from my other jacket and left to put it in her car.