Devonne Brown

Matt and Steve exchanged names over handshakes and beers at the bar. They were both friends of Bill’s, Matt sang baritone and Steve sang tenor. Steve liked to joke that he “sang best ten or twelve miles away” when asked, but volunteered just the same. Tonight was Christmas Carol night up in the Tap Room, an old art deco bar filled with triangular shaped frosted glass lights and neon. He’d hoped there would be single women at the sing along. He could use a woman in his life, maybe the guy he just met would introduce him to somebody. What was his name? 

Bill’s friend, the guy he’d just shaken hands with was talking to a couple of nice looking women. He didn’t see anything shiny on their hands but a pinky ring on one of them. This looked promising. One of the ladies was a redhead, probably a soprano. Her hair was short and curly, sort of a cross between strawberry blond and orange. She had that pale skin that burnt to a crisp five minutes in the sun. He knew a girl like her in high school. Everyone teased her and called her a vampire because she couldn’t take the sunlight. 

Steve started toward the three to enter the conversation with his recent buddy. What was his name? He waited a moment to approach the group, tartled, he’d completely forgotten Matt’s name. 

“Steve! Come here, meet Jillian and Suzanne. They’ll be singing with us tonight. They’re both sopranos,” 

The redhead stuck out her hand, “I’m Jillian, how long have you and Matt been singing here?”