Amelia Cheryl Monet, a thirty year old New Orleans entrepreneur had successfully turned an abandoned warehouse in the Big Easy into Mova’s Jazz Café, the hottest chill-out lounge in the South. That is until August 29, 2005, when Hurricane Katrina destroyed not only the physical structures of the city, but many long-held dreams. Determined to keep her club alive amidst the mass exodus of business from New Orleans, Amelia thought the solutions to her problems would be within the musical incantations of a mysterious stranger. Enter London Zao Thomas, a wealthy womanizing jazz man from Chicago. Whose charismatic charm and good looks were accented by his mastery of the guitar. His talents would seemingly be the spark needed to not only revitalize Amelia’s Café, but her life as well.London would eventually end up taking Amelia on a journey of love and pain that would turn out to be more destructive than any hurricane could ever be.

Mova's Jazz Cafe

INVISIBLE IN NEW ORLEANSBy ROGER T. MAXEY

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Roger T. Maxey
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-9460-7

Chapter One

"Someday My Prince Will Come" -Miles Davis

The storm passing over The Big Easy gave no signs of calming its tears over the moving traffic below. Its fury was certainly unrelenting for Amelia's white Four-Runner that was traveling down the narrow brick pathway to Mova's Jazz Cafe.

Tonight would mark the one-year anniversary of the reopening of her café since the unspeakable destruction that occurred five years ago.

Amelia made a conscious effort not to think of the hurricane that had caused her so much pain, for to say its name gave it life and credit for destroying her club's existence. Mova's Jazz Café was still breathing. She just had to figure out a way to let the people know that.

Prior to August 29th, 2005, the café that Amelia had started up from a life insurance policy had been riding the wave of success for almost five years. She had raised the café from an abandoned warehouse in its infancy to the hottest chill-out lounge in the South.

There wasn't a more beautiful sight to see than Mova's, firing on all four cylinders: the kitchen cranking out the food, the bar feeding the fishes, the music mesmerizing the listeners, and the people flooding the dance floor. Those earlier prosperous times made her feel like being a club owner was her destiny. But the life that Amelia had breathed into the establishment seemed to be slowly slipping through the cracks of Katrina's destruction.

Amelia brought her SUV to a stop next to the large blue metal door that was the back entrance to her café and loft upstairs.

The full moon, combined with the swirling sheets of rain, created a strange vibe that didn't sit well with her. It wasn't the bad weather that was bothering her, so much as the uneasy intuition of another presence around her. For the past couple of days, her normal daily activities had been marked by the eerie feeling of someone or something watching her. She tried to ignore her suspicions due to the enormous pressure that she was under lately, but now, as she waited in her car for the rain to stop, she couldn't help but feel an ominous shadow around her.

Amelia, seeing that there was no reprieve in sight from the rain, decided to go outside. Going to have to make a break for it, she said to herself, reaching for her umbrella in the glove compartment.

Grabbing the handle, her eyes caught the shape of someone in the back alley. Amelia quickly turned around to see who was watching her, but there was nothing but blackness in the dimly lit alleyway. Sitting back in her seat, she let out a deep sigh of exasperation.

"Get it together, girl, your mind is playing tricks on you. That's what you get for coming down the back entrance to avoid an ex-boyfriend," she angrily mumbled to herself. Perhaps, the bad sensations she had been experiencing of late was her sixth sense telling her that it was too soon to bring Mr. Jabez Hamilton back into her life.

Amelia had recently hired her old boyfriend as extra security at night, due to the increased crime level in New Orleans. Certain parts of the city had become battlefields for drug dealers and gang bangers trying to reestablish their turf following the devastation of the hurricane. Luckily, none of the violence had spilled over into the tourist areas around the downtown and warehouse district, where her café was located. But she wasn't taking any chances.

Amelia had known Ja for almost eleven years. She met him when she was just a college sophomore. Their friendship blossomed into the total spectrum of feelings that came with a college relationship. But with age came wisdom, and although their physical relationship carried on further than their romance, she had finally moved on past his infidelities even if he had not.

Amelia often thought that, had she known Ja still had such strong feelings for her, then she might not have hired him to work at the café. His advances on her were tired and borderline harassing. Tonight was a big night for her reemergence as a club owner in New Orleans. She didn't have time to reminisce about how it was, or how it was not, going to be with an ex-lover. So, as she stepped out into the rain, she started to recite a short prayer for the evening:

"Help this to be a successful night of entertainment. Let Five & ½ Deep be the band that I'm looking for to fill my club again." Smiling, she looked up into the sky, and recited the most important part of her prayer. "And please, God, don't let Ja answer the door. I do all of these things in honor of my father and in your name, Lord Jesus, Amen."

Spur-of-the-moment prayers and mantras were nothing new to Amelia; she had been doing them since she was a child. They helped to keep her motivated and focused on the task at hand. And never, at any other point in her life, did she need a prayer to come to fruition more. Amelia recited the words several times as she walked up to the red, brick-covered entranceway. Removing her keys from her purse, Amelia could hear the heavy dead bolt sliding back. No, no, no. The door opened and standing before her was a man dressed in an all-black suit that was soaking wet. His heavy breathing indicated that he had rushed from somewhere.

Damn, Ja, Amelia said to herself. What the hell are you doing working the back entrance? As Amelia watched him swing back the huge door, she remembered how he used to be the big man on campus at Tulane University, around the same time she was across town at Xavier. She, like so many other young college girls, had fallen victim to his football-star power and his Kappa Alpha Psi pretty-boy charm.

In Amelia's own defense, she thought, what nineteen-year-old girl wouldn't have been impressed with a six-foot-six muscle man, who possessed a powerful square jaw that could have easily been chiseled from an image of superman. But she was a thirty-one-year-old woman now. His silly womanizing ways were not what she was looking for anymore.

"Hey, Ja," Amelia said with her best fake smile. "What's it looking like in there? Do we have a full house or what?"

"Hi, beautiful," Ja replied with a grin that was spread from ear to ear. "It's still early. Five & ½ Deep is warming up. I'd say we've got a minimal crowd right now."

Amelia let out a deep sigh. Not the news she wanted to hear at all. The group in question was a five-member brass band that had one wicked seventeen-year-old drummer, hence the name Five & ½ Deep. They were one of the hottest local talents prior to the storm and they usually brought with them a huge New Orleans following. When they played, the snare-drum precision combined with the power of the tuba, and other wind instruments, gave an authentic rawness to their sound. But it would be all for naught if there was no one there to hear them.

"Katrina, you bitch, you may not have flooded me out, but you're going to be the end of me just the same," Amelia whispered to herself.

"What's that, baby girl?" Ja said.

Amelia looked at Ja with the fury of a woman scorned. "Ja! I've told you before. My father is the only one who can call me his 'baby girl,' so retire that phrase from your rolodex."

She normally kept her emotions in check, but sometimes her Creole spice could spring out and bite. There were certain topics, like the one just mentioned, that were still third-degree burns on her heart when she heard them.

"Sorry, Amelia, you know I would never purposely disrespect you or your father." He took one step back, away from Amelia's anger. "I just want you to be my everything. No more, no less," Ja said in a shaky voice. "By the way, did I tell you how sexy you look in your little tight green dress?"

She shook her head at his feeble attempt to change the subject. Amelia didn't have the patience for one-liners and come-on's right now. "Boy, I don't have time ..." She tried to nip the nauseating Mack Daddy lure before it started, but Ja had already gotten his groove going and he would not be denied his shameful pick-up lines.

"Straight up, Amelia, you look like a tall Salli Richardson in those green pumps." He straightened out his neck and looked her up and down. "Didn't J-Lo wear something like that to the Grammies a while back?"

Amelia folded her arms over her chest to block his gaze, which had wandered down to her low-cut dress. "Ummmm no. Look, Ja, I know you're just being you, but you've got to get it through your head that what we had is over-we both need to move on to bigger and better things."

Amelia hated to be tough on Ja because he was a good friend who was going through a difficult time. He had been suspended off the police force for allegedly being on the Take for a large post-Katrina drug bust. And on top of that, he, like Amelia and so many others in New Orleans, had lost his home with the flooding waters.

"I know, you're right ... you're right," he replied, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "And I do appreciate you and the girls giving me a job here; money has been pretty tight lately, ever since my misunderstanding with the police force." Ja raised his eyes to meet hers. "But Amelia, you're my little butterscotch beauty, so I am always gonna be looking out for you," he said. His hand lightly stroked her bare shoulder.

She didn't know quite how to take that revelation. His touch against her skin felt cold and unnatural to her. Their relationship had clearly gone past the point of no return.

Amelia shook her head and took a closer look at the man in front of her. "What's with the wet clothes and the heavy breathing? Have you been having another one of your ménage a trois, or I think they're called ménage a twizms now."

"Funny, Amelia," Ja said, removing the smile from his face. "I told you a long time ago that that part of my life is over with. I'm a one-woman kind of guy now." His voice was starting to become more aggressive. "And as far as the wet clothes go, I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a storm outside, so people tend to get a little wet in the rain."

Amelia closed her umbrella and walked inside past Ja. "Take it easy, Mr. Sensitivity, I'm just messing with you." She playfully flung some water at his face. "Have any of the other ladies made it here, yet?"

Ja's face regained its cool demeanor. "Only Victoria's crazy ass is here. She's sitting at the back table, dressed to kill."

Victoria Bailey, along with Sabine Harris and Felecia Lavel, was a member of Amelia's quartet of friends who were her backbone in life. Inspired by the song 'You Send Me Swinging,' by Mint Condition, 'The Ladies of Swing' was the nickname they had come up with to describe their unbreakable union of friendship and music.

Victoria's free-spirited ways held many titles at Mova's Jazz Café: MC, Bartender, and Waitress. But the title that seemed to fit her best was that of Amelia's Best Friend.

Amelia tried to imagine what outfit Victoria had on. A short mini-skirt and high heels? Perhaps ripped jeans exposing her junk in the trunk? Or maybe just a braless blouse flashing her headlights to the world?

"And I have to say, if anyone looks as good as you tonight, it's got to be her," Ja continued. "She's already drawn attention from some of the band members in Five & ½ Deep."

"Well good for her, maybe she can work off some of the money they're charging me," Amelia replied, entering the back hallway of the café that led to her upstairs office.

She could feel Ja's eyes watching her walk away. No doubt trying to figure out whether she was wearing panties or not. She gave her hips an extra twist to make sure he saw what his cheating ways had caused him to miss out on.

Amelia took the stairs up to her office to try and get a handle on her emotions that were slowly running out of control. Stumping into the room, she sat in her burgundy office chair. The rich smell of leather from the upholstery often comforted Amelia when she was feeling down, but not tonight. Kicking the wall behind her, she sent the chair into a fast spin that made the yellow and blue walls of her office appear to turn green.

So much for the first part of my prayer, Amelia thought to herself, as she lay back and melted into the cushioned seat. She hoped that Ja's greeting was not a foreshadowing of a terrible turnout at the club, but she couldn't seem to dispense the bad vibes that had been brewing inside of her lately.

She swiveled around to the mirror that hung over her antique desk and looked at her reflection. She was tired and weary and it was beginning to show in her face. People often remarked about how her long, autumn brown hair, which blended in with her light brown complexion, gave her an imaginary glow. But that glow had dimmed to a faint glimmer now, and her body felt like she was carrying the weight of triplets in her belly. Not that she would know what that feeling was like because she didn't have time for a personal life, let alone a family.

Ahhhhh, please, God, take these negative thoughts out of my head, she screamed inside.

Amelia hated feeling like this. It was not her personality at all. "Always stay upbeat and confident, greeting everyone with a smile, and it will become a part of your personality" - that was the philosophy she tried to instill in her coworkers. It was an ideology she had picked up from her parents. But at this moment, the words had no effect on her saddened state. Amelia could think of only one other time in her life when she felt this depressed, and that was the night when she had killed her father.

Amelia's daydreaming bubble was burst by the sound of the trumpet solo on stage. She took that as her cue to go downstairs and see exactly what kind of turnout was in the club tonight. The tranquil melody was a fitting escort for Amelia.

She descended the stairs and walked through the hallway decorated with photographs of her favorite horn players: the famous headshot of Miles Davis, silencing the room with his long dark finger pressed against his satin lips; Wynton Marsalis, playing at the library dedication at Xavier University; Kermit Ruffin, playing at the Maple Leaf; Terrence Blanchard on the set of the movie, Mo Better Blues. All of the pictures led up to the most famous of them all: a photograph of her father, serenading her with "Happy Birthday" at her sweet-sixteen party.

Amelia rounded the corner and entered the music-filled room. The resonance of the ding ... ding ... DONG from the clock striking the midnight hour could be heard. It blended in perfectly with the rhythmic baseline from the band, as they transitioned their way from the trumpet solo into the song, "Midnight in New Orleans." The thick, rich groove enveloped the noises of the club like a musical vortex and shot it back to the people with augmented fury.

Amelia smiled when she saw Victoria at one of the back tables, dancing and shaking her moneymaker to the music. You and New Orleans are made for each other, V.

Ja's description of her attire had not been exaggerated. Victoria was wearing a tight black tube top that was struggling to hold on to her thirty-four, double-D eye-catchers. They were matched with an equally tight pair of jeans that were screaming for attention from anyone who would notice her apple-bottom frame.

Amelia walked up behind Victoria and gave her a surprise hug. "Wow that little drummer and his crew are trying to do something up there!"

"Hey, sweetie," Victoria said, turning around and greeting Amelia with a kiss on the cheek. "You're right about the band. They seem to be in their own little world up there on stage. I just wish more people were here to see them." Victoria adjusted her top and took a sip of her Purple Passion daiquiri. "If you would've told me that Five & ½ Deep would be playing at Mova's on a Saturday night, with only twenty people to hear them play, I would have told you to give me a hit of whatever you were smoking."

Amelia nodded her head in agreement. "I know, right." She took a seat across from Victoria. "It's going to take some time for people to realize that we're still open."

Amelia didn't really believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth. Turning her head and looking at the crowd, Amelia became painfully aware that Five & ½ Deep wasn't the answer. The place was no longer the hotspot that it once was. New hardwood floors, new stage lighting, and a new island bar all meant nothing if there was no one there to see it.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Mova's Jazz Cafeby ROGER T. MAXEY Copyright © 2011 by Roger T. Maxey. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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