As I regaled the tales of the K Fed concert to Mark at Rue B last night (he, listening with a half deaf ear, as if my own debasement in going to see Kevin Federline would somehow transfer directly onto him just by listening to the mere words), my awareness stayed half-fixed on the piano music coming from behind us, or shall I say the creator of that gorgeous jazz….Harry (as in, the piano player I saw after my bday party recently and who I briefly dated long ago) was ticklin’ those ivories like I’ve never seen or heard the likes of before.
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