Old Scores by Scott Mackay

Author:Scott Mackay
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626818118
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Gilbert sat with Nina the following Tuesday evening in the waiting room of Dominion Medical Laboratories. They were here to get her second test done. The waiting room was crowded, and Gilbert realized it would be a while before Nina’s name was called. He had his arm around her. Nina pressed her cheek against his shoulder, something she hadn’t done in a long time. The waiting room television played the MuchMusic station. Five black dudes rapped suavely, gesticulating with fork-fingered hands, wearing big baggy pants, medallions on gold chains, and backward baseball hats—the whole South Central L.A. uniform.

“You all right?” he asked Nina.

He could tell things were getting to her, just sitting here, hoping her name would be called next.

“I’m nervous,” she said.

“You’re going to beat it,” he said.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because I’m your father, and I know you’re going to beat it.”

“I don’t get your logic.”

Everything had to make sense to Nina, or she unabashedly challenged it.

“There’s no logic,” he said. “It’s just a gut feeling.”

She sighed. “You’ve been a cop too long, Dad. I’m getting sick of your gut feelings. Is Dr. MacPherson going to call us at the cottage when he gets the results?”

“Yes,” he said. “He has our number up there.”

“What if it turns out to be positive?” she said.

“It’s not going to be positive. It’s going to be negative. You wait and see.”

“I’m not so sure,” she said.

The five black dudes on the TV finished. Who should come on next but Phil Thompson—a new video from Phil Thompson Unplugged called Old Dance Partner.

“Check it out,” said the veejay. “Phil Thompson in a mellow mood on his new CD, grasping for gold. That’s right, Unplugged reached certified gold status last week, a first for Phil since Another Party Girl back in 1979.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Gilbert. “It’s Phil Thompson.”

Nina peered at the TV. “Who?” she said.

He listened to the song. Phil Thompson had returned to his roots—that fundamental building block of all good rock and roll, the acoustic guitar. The insistent way he played the guitar gave the song a catchy rhythm. Nina nodded her head to the beat. Phil’s great height gave him a presence on video many recording artists might envy. The video’s visual mood of nostalgia, enhanced by the use of a yellow camera filter, fit the song perfectly. Phil, dressed in a suit, his hair long and flowing, danced in classic ballroom style, maneuvering a beautiful young woman in a gypsy dress around a honky-tonk dance floor with the ease and grace of a latter-day Fred Astaire. Gilbert was glad to see a man in his fifties looking so spry. It gave him hope.

“He’s kind of dreamy,” said Nina.

With that, Gilbert knew Phil had as good as sold a hundred thousand records. Nina was never wrong when it came to pop singers. If she thought Phil Thompson was dreamy, then a million other seventeen-year-old girls would think he was dreamy, too. That meant they would be down at record stores buying his new solo effort sooner rather than later.

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