the jazz singer 2011

CROONER Write about a crooner at a local jazz joint who seduces and murders his most adoring fans, from the perspective of the victims, a witness, or the man himself.

He’d never actually SEEN The Jazz Singer, of course, because nobody watches movies that old. At least nobody born past 1973, someone with adoring fans that came to the Trembling Lizard two nights a week to hear cover versions of Al Green and Marvin Gaye. Crowds of lonely tourists and wives and bohemians, soaking in the chipped wood walls and tables, the dull reverberation of the bass through the cramped lounge. 

Meeting them was easy, because they were searching. He was an avatar of love and desperation. An easy catch - because he wanted to be - for a hungry hunter. 

It was the same routine. Almost every time. Finish a set. Buy a drink. Sit alone. Project an air of mystery. Wait. Make small talk. Use a deep voice and don’t reveal much. He had learned it was best to let them fill in the lines with the colors they wanted. That was the improvisation - he had enough of his own improvising on the stage. He let them take control of the band, because they needed control. 

They would walk home. She would expect a classically decorated apartment with the trappings of an artist - and it would not be the last time they guessed wrong. 

If they had sparked an air of interest in him, he indulged the fantasy they’d created. He played their protector or savior or liberator. And then he had his fun - and he was meticulous in cleanup. There were empty places all over the city to hide unwanted leftovers, and he knew them, and he kept finding more. Nobody ever looked for those that went missing. They didn’t search as hard as the missing had searched for a thrill. He never had to look at all. He would just walk confidently into work later, and because he never stopped swaggering, nobody had ever suspected a thing. 

One day - he vowed - he’d let himself experience that search; and the pileup would end, with Al Green “Love and Happiness” on the stereo, and a man on the couch, sleeping. 

***

thanks to tumblrfiction for the prompt

http://tumblrfiction.tumblr.com/post/11995861295/crooner-write-about-a-crooner-at-a-local-jazz