Dropping The Ball

Closing his peepers, admitting wrong, and realizing reality confronting, the piano player artist, George Flatt, opened his eyes observing policemen prepare traditional festivities celebrating, the world’s next chapter.

“I cannot believe I let the ball drop,” he thought, walking slowly down a tourist friendly New York City street. Entering the theater goers favorite hangout, “Mardi’s” George peered towards the keyboard area acting like staged furniture, sitting isolated, waiting for someone to come over and tickle it’s ivories. “Not tonight, honey,” George mumbled quietly inflicting a performing tone, “I have a headache.”

“Then take five and call me in the morning,” an invisible voice bellowed from the back, “George Flatt, Happy New Year, what can I get you?”

“Glass of water,” George answered.

“Nothing stronger?” The bartender inquired.

“No, I dropped the ball again, due to a Christmas Eve night cap and mistletoe,”

“Another up-and-coming dancer, George,”

“No, she sung like a canary serenading the wharf but have to admit she really did swing her west end,”

Smiling, the jolly character handed over the drink when the door opened allowing a long-legged cover model image to walk through its blockade.

“Gina, you are looking sharp tonight,” the proprietor announced, alerting the empty establishment’s ghostly population.

“Just came to pick up what I am owed,” Gina declared, “George, do you have it?”

“I dropped the ball, Gina,” George confessed.

“You know I needed that number; our dress rehearsal previews start twenty hours after the ball drops in Times Square,” Gina’s teeth gritted before continuing, “what was?”

“Her name?” George finished the scripted line, “Deborah,”

“You mean Debbie,” Gina corrected not needing a dance captain’s list.

“I mean Deborah, she had this Gibson guitar and made it talk,”

“You had conversations with a Gibson guitar and a singer named Deborah!” Gina commentated, “how much bubble gum did she blow?”

“The whole wacky pack,” George disclosed, “and she left this athletic card, he is a hunk as you would say.”

“George Flatt,” Gina halted, “your fired.”

“Who is going to compose your big number in the show?” George innocently asked.

Glaring back Gina expressed, “I have a backup,”

“Plan?”

“No, George,” Gina paused, “dancer he is young, aggressive, and knows how to choreograph.”

Saying nothing, George Flatt watched his long-time professional partner, Gina Sharp disappear, understanding she ‘called it quits’. Flipping a twenty on the counter, George acknowledged, “this should cover the water and peanuts.”

“George, you do not have to,” the kind service worker softly spoke.

“It’s December 30th, yes I have to,” George clarified, “I dropped the ball and need to payoff the debt I started.”

Stepping outside George stared towards heaven observing the twinkling lighted ball getting ready, emotionally challenged in dealing with downward decline journeys, “I here, right now, I am making a New Year’s resolution and never will drop the ball again.”

Three-hundred and sixty-six days elapsed, and New Year’s Eve’s reservations once again demanded priority attention, leaving George Flatt alone, going nowhere, except the freeway expecting toll road laws activated when midnight strikes. Outside the sign escorted falling snow, sending the saleable message, “Vacancies” along with broadcasting the business’ name, “Mary Ott’s Romantic Rendezvous”.

Waiting arrival George Flatt comforted his instrument, “play Misty for me,” one drunk requested then fell asleep.

“Hey, it’s one hour to go until the uncharted adventurous future.” George barked out while plucking the keys.

“So, did you have a New Year’s Resolution this year?” A patron inquired

“Not to drop the ball,” George grinned seeing a shadow, waltz into the lounge.

“And?”

Pausing preparing himself, knowing the stranger graced his path in the past, George proceeded not changing any hospitality dialogue, “in fact I put together a full musical and the local high school senior class production, actually paid me with a certificate during their graduation.”

Getting positive approval, George then heard the outburst, “George Flatt playing the Mary Ott,”

“A wonderful boss, I must say, since the checks never bounce,” George promoted using his piano prop, “Gina Sharp, what are you doing in these parts?”

“Ski weekend getaway, a few exits north,”

“And”

“Okay, George we had no melody, or harmony,”

“I thought your back up dancer created perfect choreography?’ George remembered their last discussion.

“It just did not work,” Gina admitted, “and you came here to a Mary Ott’s rest stop for a,”

“Single evening engagement,” the booked talent proudly boasted.

“One night stand, you mean,” Gina retaliated.

Keeping the soulful sounds flowing, George exercised his musical partner, “I want everybody to give a season’s greetings to the legendary island star down south, Gina Sharp.”

“Hello, everybody,” Gina provided a humble wave.

“We performed decades at Mardy’s and produced shows,” George notified the small audience.

“What happened?”

“George, kept dropping the ball,” Gina informed, “and I had to hire my back up dancer, since he could not electrify the scene.”

“You wanted to add some razzle dazzle to the big finale.”

Shaking her head affirmatively Gina honestly stated, “then when the backup dancer went downhill, slip sliding away, I ordered the forty ninth way to leave a lover.”

Checking his watch, “five minutes!” George proclaimed.

“There are no televisions, George,” Gina showed concern, “how do you see the ball drop?”

“Balls no longer drop, Gina,” George grabbed her hand, carrying his drink toward the fire.

Taking a seat, they watched the warm flames, “I made a New Year’s Resolution to no longer drop the ball.”

“And what is replacing dropping the ball in the cold bitter winter?”

“Cozying up, watching the yuletide blaze, dancing its choreograph piece,”

“No swinging singers playing Gibson guitars, blowing bubble gum?” Gina confirmed.

“And none are back up dancers,” George mentioned hearing behind them, “five, four, three, two, one,”

“It’s going to be a good New Year,” Gina made a resolution.

“And nobody is going to drop the ball,” George gave his other half a kiss.

“Wasn’t that your annual commitment last year?” Gina laughed enjoying the loving embrace.