Floating just above the clinks of wine glasses and murmors was the sound of a jazz pianst. He was wearing a half-buttoned shirt covered in bunches of grapes and had adorned the top of the piano with little empty wine glasses. Orpheus noted the conspicuous lack of a spittoon.
He noticed her because instead of just spitting into the spittoon, she was leaning back a little to put her chair on two legs, holding the spittoon at arms length, and making a fountain of wine from her mouth that was landing perfectly in it.
He was impressed. He was in love. (This kind of thing happened pretty often for Orpheus.) He went back to tasting his wine and cleaning the cheese off the toothpicks.
"Hey, dude, can you play that thing or is it just a prop," Orpheus heard a voice say.
He looked down at his guitar case, then up at the bartender. The bartender nodded behind him, so he turned around. The wine-fountain-making girl had her hand on the back of his barstool-chair.
"I can't," said Orpheus, "But I'd like to one day. That's why I carry it around, as a reminder."
"You carry a guitar around as a reminder, eh? Full of shit," she said, "but that's okay, so is everyone else here. I fucking hate this place." She was looking around.
"Alright," he said, trying not to lose her, "maybe I play a little. I'm working on a song. I was gonna try it out at McGilligan's. Got cold feet right as I was set to go on, and did a little Irish exit. Saw the sign for the wine tasting, and just came here instead I guess."
"Wow," she said, "that's super... lame."
"Oh?"
"Yea, you should be more confident."
A few piano keys went BONG-BONG. They turned to look at the pianist. He was clapping for himself.
"Like that guy?" said Orpheus.
"Thank you, leddies and gentlemern..." the pianist was saying, "I'm here everynight. Every night!" A couple of people booed, a few others clapped and wooed.
"Ugh, it's like clockwork with him," she said, "watch." She put her back to Orpheus and crossed her arms.
"Just gonna take a quick break here", the pianist said, stretching out his arms above him and vacuuming in a big, deep yawn. Then he laid his head on the paino, making a gentle cacaphony with the keys, and closed his eyes, smiling.
"Sweet dreams, Dionysus," she muttered.
When she turned back she saw the boy taking out his guitar.
"I thought you got cold feet," she asked, flatly.
"Well I couldn't have asked for a better opener," said Orpheus, walking toward the stage, "mind if I give this a go?"
The bartender shrugged her shoulders.
And when Orpheus began to sing, the girl suddenly felt like a struck lightning rod, and realized she had never heard a voice anything like it before.
"You said you hated this place," said Orpheus, sitting down, "does that mean you, like, wanna get out of here?"
She paused.
"Maybe," she said.