3AM Exercise 4: The Unstable Self

Write a story that alternates between the I and the he or she (or the name of the narrator), making sure you don't confuse the reader with the switches. You might also consider other ways of indicating instability - voices (in italics), commands, or out-of-body perspectives. (500 words)

***

Jaguar Skin Piano

I lean against the baby grand and talk to Chai Bello while he plucks a tune on the keys, waiting for Maya to come back for her encore. I lick the rim of my Dust Bowl one more time, but I don't feel anything - no heavenly chorus, no wings or light. I think they need to replace the angel dust with something else. Maybe gold dust. Or star dust.

~love the way he plays~

I do. His fingers remind me of Anna's. Thin, sleek, directed - like a magician's.

"Stop doodling and play something," I say. "Play 'Temptation'."

"I never play with temptation," and he pauses for a moment, foot on the sustain, chord slowly fading. "Unless I get a fat tip. Then I'll play anything."

"Music whore."

"Oh, yes. I played piano in a bar in a town called Temptation. Once. I've always wanted to go back. They wanted me to play something called 'Suicide King'. Coincidence?" And Chai winks, and tickles the keys, his version of a drum roll.

~lead Cinnamon not into Temptation, but back to Blacktree~

I’m happy here. But sometimes, it’s – pardon the pun – tempting. Cinnamon ran away from home looking for a better life. She came to The Suicide King a year ago and became me, a humble cocktail waitress and Anna's assistant. I'm off-shift at the moment, but Cinnamon wants to get good and schnockered before I get cut in half for the 9-o'clock show. I order two manhattans and a metropolitan--hoping for a city-wide buzz.

Maya struts back on-stage and holds the microphone like a lover. Chai and the Band launch into a lounge version of "I Let a Song go out of my Heart". The torch singer slow burns through the number and Cinnamon--

~want her voice, wish I could steal it~

--starts with the crazy talk and I almost give in. Instead I examine the finish on the piano very carefully. It's striped and spotted like a jungle cat ~hunted them to extinction. The only jaguar skin pianos left are the ones in captivity. They try to breed them, but they just can't~ and toss back the last drink and sink my fingers into the wood. It's soft like kid leather and velveteen ~mother lost her right hand to a jaguar skin piano~ and I peel the skin from the instrument, the wood soft white and new underneath, bleeding pitch ~blood sticky on her hands~ and when I'm done peeling the top I wrap myself in the jaguar skin cloak and lay down on top of the piano ~everyone's looking~ my drink glasses shatter on the floor ~it's a jaguar skin wedding!~ and I laugh and Cinnamon laughs.

The song ends. Maya blows kisses to me and the audience as she leaves the stage.

"You okay?" Chai feels my cheeks and forehead.

"M'fine."

"You're fucked up, Cin."

"Just a little bit."

I roll off the piano top and fall to the floor, face first. Not the smartest thing. Cinnamon's got shards of glass sticking out of her forehead when I stand up ~I'm the Suicide Quee~

"I'm the Suicide Queen. Here's my crown. Here's my robe," I say.

The audience gasps, there's a pregnant pause, then they erupt into applause. Chai reaches out but can't bring himself to touch me. Perhaps he's afraid Cinnamon will shatter like the glass at his feet.

There's no blood--I'm a windrose--but it fucking hurts, so I laugh and bow and sneak away while Chai stares. I wonder if he'll figure out how Anna saws me in half now that he's seen this.

I wait in Anna's dressing room, staring into the bright light mirror, picking pieces of glass out of my head and wonder what I'll be doing a week from now, a month from now. I wonder if I'll ever grow roots.

The buzz starts to fade about a half hour before curtain, just as Anna sweeps into the room, a black and white tornado. She pulls a rose from her sleeve, ~a windrose~ kisses me on the top of my head and winks.

Showtime.