Bomani looked up, and a broad grin filled his face. "It'll be the first live music Portland has seen in years."
Minerva smiled, happy for her husband but worn out from a long day. She joined Bomani, sitting down on the floor. Her pleated business-skirt deserved better than a dusty, concrete floor, but Minerva was too tired to care. Her mind was filled with a different thought: what would Bomani's gig do to their anniversary plans? One hundred and twenty isn't the most important number, but they ought to celebrate somehow...
Minerva was steeling her nerve to mention the subject when Kenny emerged from the coffee bar's kitchen, brushing off flour from his hands.
"You been back there all along?" Bomani asked.
"What, you think I'm gonna let some crazy, middle-aged, wannabe rock-star, work alone in my bar? Of course, I'm here."
Bomani greeted Kenny with a handshake. "You are not gonna regret this," he said. "Having a live band in here is the best thing you could do."
"You're an old friend, Bo, but let me tell you: I'm not worried about regretting this; I'm worried about going out of business. If the retro novelty of letting your band play here can rustle up a few more customers, you've got yourself a long-term location for your mid-life crisis. If not, I'm going to scrape up every silver dollar I've got and buy myself one of those Ent-Ind screens."
"That would be a mistake."
"Well, then, get your stuff together, and show me I don't have to." Kenny patted Bomani on the back and pointed him to his work.
Before Kenny could leave, Minerva rose from her seat on the floor and dusted off her skirt. "It's been awhile," she said. "Time to catch up?"