Everette listened to the man’s story with great attentive attitude, and he did so as he held his cheek in the slightest manner, making it seem as casual as possible. The French man, Terry Gillet, was an aspiring man in the musical arts, something Everette could relate to, and he apparently had been somewhat if not successful enough, something Everette could not relate to. Sadly, unlike Terry, Everette had not had any luck, or rather any talent, in the music industry as a writer or composer of music, but it heartened him to hear of the aspiring man that could have been Everette in another life, even though he had the lungs of a cricket and the vocal capabilities of a walrus. Listening to the man, Everette recognized some of the names that Terry bounced off from his exciting career, and a sudden flare of connection sprang from one of the names that he had too met.
“I met ole Charlie a couple years back as well, well only a few, and I wrote music for him. Well, pitched music to him for maybe the chance to write,” chirped Everette, excited that he had such a grand story as the obviously prestigious man, but he left the story at that, not including the rejection part to his tale.
“Must of missed you in New York. However, I think your name might of chimed its way passed my ears before. I met a flapper in Tennessee once, quite a spirit for my rural days, and she and I were smitten from the start. I think she was the one to said it, maybe, or was it in Chicago that I heard it? She and I went steady for a while, but when I got back from the war I found her…” Everette trailed off, obviously getting into deep thought, and when he noticed he fell into those depths he automatically corrected his posture, especially not wanting to bring that to light.
“I digress, and I am terribly sorry for that. Name’s Everette D. Osborne. Well, Dr.Osborne technically, not the medical kind though. I joined the war as soon as it started, and they told me I did well, even though never felt like it. What good came of it was that my metals help me get my honorary doctorate in Chemistry, but my true passion is writing music. Was. Anyway, I was a chemist after the war and floated around the East Coast for a while, but war got me down so I came here,” said Everette.
He looked around, totally forgetting about the woman he came looking for, and the pain from the punch was nearly gone. He looked around for something to do.
“Whaddya say we go catch a drink at the bar, on me. A thank you for saving my ass back there. I also thought I saw the fellow American walk that way. Shall we?”