Page 24 - SpontaneousSuccessMatos

As I descended the winding stairs, the sound of jazz
drifted up, tantalizing me. But the club was almost
deserted, the patrons scattered and sparse.
A couple of locals cuddled up on a sofa in the corner,
while a rugged guy with a military haircut fumbled about
in a booth. Perched at the bar, a large middle-aged man
in a tight suit knocked back Haig whiskey, chatting with
Thomas.
I took a seat where I could see the stairs, and a young
waiter in a white shirt and black bow tie scooted out to
take my order. I asked for red wine, my eyes scanning the
room for any sign of what the night might hold.
As I waited, three separate couples arrived, had a
drink, and scurried off. A German-speaking family of six
groped their way down the stairs, looked around, burst
out laughing, and left. The man in the tight suit
stumbled off his bar stool and clambered his way up the
stairs.
Thomas signaled for me to come and join him at the
bar. As I sat down, he smiled, and we found common
ground, chatting away like old friends. But I couldn't
shake the feeling that there was more to Thomas, and to
this club, than met the eye.
When he wasn't changing records, keeping an eye on
the waiter, and nodding at the odd new face that poked
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