Muddy Waters by Stone Eric Chance

Author:Stone, Eric Chance
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lost & Found Publishing
Published: 2022-08-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chief was being extra quiet in the JanSport backpack as they entered the elevator down to the lobby. Once in the Bronco, Jules took him out of the makeshift carrier and put him on her lap. Rick set the GPS for Beale Street. It said the drive would take them fifty-one minutes with traffic.

They arrived and parked in a covered parking garage right off of Beale Street on Second Street, only a three-minute walk to B.B. King’s place. They decided to walk the entire street for exercise and sightseeing, plus it was only a little after five thirty.

“You want a Big Ass Beer, Jules?”

“Just a regular.”

Rick just laughed and pointed to a kiosk up ahead with a huge sign that read, Big Ass Beer. Jules laughed and they both got one for fun. They were big—thirty-two ounces. Rick chugged his and helped Jules finish the last quarter of hers. She just couldn’t fit it in. They kept walking and doing the tourist thing. Jules carried Chief on her arm for a while, then the bird hopped onto Rick’s shoulder. Several people stopped to take photos.

Around seven o’clock, they entered B.B. King’s Blues Club. They could hear the live music all the way down the street. Chief was snug as a bug in a rug in the backpack, munching on his allotted grapes. It was fairly dark inside, and no one was the wiser. A guy was playing piano and ripping it up. Rick walked up and tipped him a twenty after his set. He thanked Rick and introduced himself as Mitch Woods.

“I’m the original boogie-woogie piano guy,” said Mitch.

“Nice to meet you, Mitch. Not only did you tickle those ivories, but I think you sent them into a tickle frenzy!”

Mitch laughed, stepped off the stage, and joined Jules and Rick for a drink. Another act was setting up on the main stage. Mitch talked about a Blues Cruise he did every year in the Caribbean and told them they should consider going on it sometime. They exchanged cards, and when Mitch saw Destin, Florida, on Rick’s card, he got excited.

“Man, I love playing down there. I usually roll through there on my way to or from New Orleans. I play at the Funky Blues Shack. Well, I used to. I heard they closed.”

“That’s true, they did. I tell you what, now that I know what kind of music you play, I’ll shoot you a text if I find a venue you might like.”

“I sure appreciate that, Rick. I wish I could stay longer, but I need to head to Nashville. I’m playing a little show at 3rd and Lindsley tomorrow night.”

“Okay, Mitch, be safe out there on the road and keep doing what you do.”

Mitch left, and Jules and Rick ordered another round of drinks called the Hoochie Coochie Man. They listened to most of the next trio’s set then decided it was time to head back to Tunica. It had been a long day. Since it was dark and

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