I went to the sink and pulled about four feet of negative out of the vat and dropped it into a container full of water that acted as a stop bath. We quickly got dressed and left the room with the film.
After the negatives dried, I scanned them and found that most were black until the very end. There were three photos, each with a single word on a piece of paper. Piano. PBR. Peanuts.
I looked up at Grace. “Three Peas?” I asked, referring to a little dive bar near our dorm, which had a piano open mic night on Fridays. I often hassled Grace to play and sing for me there, but she never would.
“You got it. Let’s get Tati and Brandon. This is so fun!” she squealed and then yanked me down the hall toward our friends.
Outside, Tati produced a flask of whiskey from her purse. “You don’t mess around,” I said.
“I thought Grace was gonna drag us to a bunch of museums. I had to be prepared. Want some?”
I took a swig and then Grace yanked it from my hands. “I’m the one who’s gonna need it. Let’s go.”
By the time we got to Three Peas, we were all sufficiently buzzed. It was empty except for a female bartender I didn’t recognize. Grace leaned over the bar. “I’m doing this little game for my boyfriend and my friends, and I was wondering if I could do a supershort song up there?” She pointed to the stage.
“Oh my god, she’s gonna do it,” Tati said.
The bartender looked up and smiled. “Knock yourself out. No one’s here. You want somethin’ to drink?”
“Sure. Four PBRs.”
The bartender served our beers, and we all watched Grace down hers in three large gulps. “Oh boy,” I said.
Just as she made her way to the piano, I heard the jingling of bells as the door opened. I turned around and watched a few suits on their lunch break enter and head for the open stools. There were seven of them. Grace’s audience had grown exponentially in a second.
She scooted the piano bench closer to the piano, which made a screeching sound across the wooden planks of the stage floor. “Sorry.” She mumbled into the microphone, which was set way too loud. The suits and the bartender turned their attention toward her. She looked thoroughly nervous. I smiled at her and her face softened a bit. She leaned back and turned a dial on the sound system. “Better?” I nodded.
Tati yelled, “You got this, girl!”
“Okay, here’s a song I wrote, but it’s also your next clue, so pay attention, you guys.” Her nervous laugh echoed through the silent bar.
“Grace writes songs?” Brandon asked.
Tati and I both shushed him at the same time.
Grace played a long rhythmic introduction that sounded like typical jazz bar fare and then picked up the pace until a melody emerged. She could play any instrument so effortlessly; it was mesmerizing. Still, when she started to sing, we were all holding our breaths. No one had heard her really sing, but like everything else, she was a revelation.
Run to the place where your royals play,
Your friends gather and we hide away.
In the open but unseen,
How reckless those moments we have are,
How precious.
Why don’t we run to the place where the children dance,
Generals stand,
And we can wade to our knees in the summer . . .
When she was finished, we all stood up and clapped. “Bravo!” Tati yelled. The businessmen all clapped and shouted, “Great job!”
“Dude, that was pretty good. I didn’t even know she could play the piano,” Brandon said.
“She’s amazing,” I said quietly as I watched her step down from the stage. Tati nudged me in the arm and winked.
The bartender called Grace over. “You’re a million times better then most of the people who come in here on open mic night.” I pulled her into my arms, beaming down at her. She was looking up at me, smiling. Her face was beet red. I kissed her on the nose. “Washington Square Park?”
She laughed. “Was it that obvious?”
“Kind of. You suck at clues, but this is still fun. Shots before we go?”
The bartender poured us a round of whiskey shots, and then we bought hot dogs from a cart on our way to the park. We were severely drunk, and it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. I was afraid if we didn’t eat a lot more than hot dogs, I’d have to carry Grace back to the dorms by the time this was all over.
“I’m having fun. I’m glad you arranged this,” I told her. The truth was that Grace and I could have fun folding laundry, and Brandon and Tati were always up for whatever we had planned. It was just easy with the four of us.
Once we were in Washington Square Park, we sat together under our usual tree. Brandon lit a joint and all we all took turns passing it around. I laid my head in Grace’s lap. “I can’t think of a better way to spend a Wednesday.” I yawned.
“You know, Graceland used to do this for her brother and sisters back home.” Tati said.
“You did?” I looked up at her and smiled.
“Yeah, just to pass the time.” Grace said absently. “But, actually, this case is a little different.” She paused and drew in a deep breath. “I wanted to gather you all together and tell you that I got into grad school. I get to stay at NYU!” She threw up her arms in celebration.
“Oh my god!” I stood and picked her up, spinning her around. “I’m so happy for you!”
I noticed that Tati was quiet and Brandon seemed clueless. Grace noticed, too.