Page 17 of Best Friend Burden

Ernie took a drag on his e-cig and looked Natasha up and down. “What are you, 14?”

“I'm 23,” she said, slightly indignant.

Ernie looked at me, giving me a look as if to ask, “Can you believe this chick?”

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice got a little bit louder and a little bit faster. “Is it because I'm young? Because Charlie Parker was four years younger than me when he developed Bebop.

“Or maybe it's because I'm a woman. Like Sister Rosetta Tharpe. You know, the one who invented a little thing called rock and roll?”

Jackson leaned over to me and whispered. “She gets real pissed off when people judge her like this.”

“I'd never say that,” Ernie said. “I'd never say women can't play music and don't put words in my mouth.”

“Maybe it's because I'm Chinese, then,” Natasha said, “and, you know, maybe you'd have a point there. There really hasn't been a major Chinese jazz artist. Then again, maybe I'll be the first.”

Reality must have caught up to her because her face immediately turned red. “Oh my God,” she said. “I'm sorry. I got a little carried away there.”

Ernie laughed and looked at Jackson then back at Natasha. “Girl, you have what my grandpa used to call 'moxie.'”

Jackson nudged me as if to say, “Let her do it.”

Seriously?I thought, and he nodded in response.

I sighed and looked at Natasha with sincerity. “You think you can do it?” I asked.

The confidence of her speech seemed to have faded away as she took a step back. "I mean, if you couldn't do it, you're the professional, so maybe—”

I cut her off by waving my hands. “I have no ego,” I told her. “Do you really think you can play the part?”

A sly smile crept across her face, and she nodded.

“Let her give it a shot, Ernie,” I said.

Ernie raised his hands in defeat. “Go ahead.” He gestured towards the studio.

“You need to warm up or anything?” I asked.

Jackson stopped me. “Let her do her thing.”

“Lead sheet’s on the stand,” I said.

“The lead sheet’s up here,” she said, pointing to her head. “I can use your bass?”

“It's all yours.”

She left and walked into the recording area, then put on the monitor headset. With Peterson, she checked the instrument's tuning and indicated that she wanted a louder volume coming in through her headphones.

“You want me to actually record this?” Ernie asked.

“It's digital,” I said. “Worst comes to worst, just delete it.”

Truthfully, at that moment, I didn't know what to expect, but I told Jackson I'd help him out, and this was me giving his friend an opportunity. Maybe a once in a lifetime opportunity. She said she was ready and so I took her word for it. If anything, she'd at least demonstrate how challenging the part was so Ernie could understand why I was struggling so badly with it.

But she didn't do that.

No, the click track counted the two of them in and Natasha didn't just keep up, she was pushing him forward. She was sending him musical questions that he was responding to right away. None of the recordings I'd done so far had lasted more than five minutes. Natasha and Peterson kept going for a full twenty minutes. All the while, the three of us in the control room watched with awe at this private concert we were getting.

The expressions on both the musicians' faces were pure joy, as if they'd forgotten we were even recording and had completely immersed themselves in the sound, effectively sending each other into a state of consciousness that I'd never been able to reach without narcotics.

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