Brian Larney: In preparation

The train arrived at Penn Station early Saturday morning. Brian wouldn’t have to be at Carnegie Hall until Sunday late afternoon. A whole day to play in New York City! Of course, Brian knew, he’d go to the hall to practice, limber up his fingers, go through his recital a few times. But he knew perfectly well he’d have a lot of free time to wander the streets of New York, go into a few ale houses for some beer, even perhaps meet someone special for the night.

“Name, please,” the eyes greeted him through a narrow slit as he knocked on the street-level door.

He looked about him, pleased with the weather. Greenwich Village always sparkled in May, the sun’s rays shining through new green leaves on the maples, oaks, and elms. He knew exactly how to answer to gain admission.

“Theda Bara, of course.”

A burly man with a walrus moustache and hairy forearms opened the door and let him in. “Right this way, Miss Bara.”

Brian walked inside – dark for a Saturday just after lunch, but he knew the shutters of this establishment would be closed, regardless of the time of day. He sat at the front bar and took a look around. Six men, all over fifty and wearing light-colored suits, sat around a table on one side of the bar, nursing martinis during a rummy game. Two heavy-set men in black funeral suits stood at a barstool, eyes for no one but each other. Three other men sat at the front bar, talking with the barkeep. Brian sat next to the man on the far left side.

“How do you do today?” the man asked Brian. He turned to look – sharp, chiseled features. About thirty or thirty-five, and married, judging by his wedding ring. He’d met them before, usually here in New York. He never dared to go out in Philadelphia – too close to home. But here in New York, he’d always come out and meet someone, married more often than not, but looking for an afternoon siesta.

“I’m better than usual,” he answered with a wink and a nod, “and I expect it’s going to get better this afternoon.” The man smiled, Brian smiled back, confident in the power of his youth. And an afternoon in his hotel room with this married man would be the best preparation for his Carnegie Hall recital he could imagine.