Midnight at the Sapphire

Life on the Edge

Rain pounded like a boxer's fists, relentless and unforgiving. Inside the Sapphire, the crowd whispered over their drinks, wrapped in the smoky wail of a tenor sax. At the piano, Blake played the city’s soul—worn out, restless, and steeped in shadows.

Vivian was perched at the bar, a designer red dress hugging her like a secret she wasn't ready to spill. Her eyes tracked Blake, the man who once ignited her heart. But tonight, her gaze was different—cold, calculating. She needed him, but not for nostalgia's sake.

Blake closed the set with a note that lingered in the air, an unanswered question no one dared to address. The applause was weak, the crowd more interested in their whiskey. He didn’t care. He played for himself and maybe for what he used to have with Vivian.

She approached, her heels tapping softly on the worn floor. Blake caught her reflection in the piano’s polished surface.

“Vivian,” he said, without turning. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

"Blake," she said, her smile razor-thin. "You don’t expect much anymore, do you?"

“I expect the worst. Usually, I’m right.”

“Not tonight,” she purred, her voice sweet with an edge of danger. “I’ve got an offer.”

“Another gig?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he finally looked up. “This one’s fine, Viv. Pays the bills.”

“No,” she said, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Something bigger. Something that pays more than bills.”

Blake leaned back, studying her face. Finally he spoke. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” she lied, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Just a favor between old friends. There’s a man—Marcus—giving me trouble. I need someone who can get close, find out what he’s up to. Someone who doesn’t look like trouble.”

“Why me?” Suspicion crept into his voice.

“Because he knows me,” she whispered, her breath warm on his ear. “But you? You’re just a pianist. Harmless. You can go places I can’t. Talk to people who wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“And what do I get?” Blake’s eyes narrowed, his tone hardening.

“A steady gig,” she said, her fingers tracing a line down his arm. “And maybe, what we lost.”

Blake felt the old spark, but something darker gnawed at him. He pushed it aside. Desperation’s a powerful thing.

“Alright,” he said, finally. “But this better not blow up in my face, Viv.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It won’t. I promise.”

Blake found Marcus at The Velvet Room, where the drinks were strong, and the crowd even stronger. He’d been playing there a few nights a month, enough to catch Marcus’s eye. Blake was intrigued by Marcus. The man had charm, but underneath it, Blake saw the rot. Marcus was also connected and Blake did everything he could do avoid the mob. Anyway, they sometimes drank whiskey and talked blues, Marcus was pleased with the company of a washed-up pianist who didn’t ask too many questions.

The intel came easy—too easy. Marcus bragged about his operations, the new territory, the connections. Blake listened, but the unease grew. This was going too smoothly.

Then Marcus mentioned Vivian. It was if he had a script.

“She’s in over her head,” Marcus said, swirling his drink. “Thinks she can take me down? She’s dreaming. But dreams are nice until you wake up bleeding.”

Blake’s heart skipped a beat. “She’s dangerous?”

Marcus shook his head, a tired look in his eyes. “No. She’s scared. I’ve seen it before. People get desperate, they make bad choices. She’s trying to survive.”

Blake kept his cool, finished his drink, and left with more questions than answers. He needed to confront Vivian. The pieces weren’t fitting, and he felt the darkness closing in around him.

The showdown came in the back room of the Blue Orchid, after hours. At four am, the club was silent, the city’s heartbeat slowed to a whisper. Vivian was waiting, her eyes cold as ice.

“What’s this about, Blake?” she asked, arms crossed, ready for a confrontation.

“You tell me,” he shot back, pacing. “I’ve been playing your game, but something’s off. Marcus, he’s a threat. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her face stayed cold. “You didn’t need to know.”

“Like hell I didn’t,” Blake growled, stopping to glare at her. “I’m in this deep, and you’re keeping me in the dark. Why?”

She stepped closer, her voice low and sharp. “Because, Blake, you were always a tool. I needed someone close to Marcus, someone he wouldn’t suspect. But now? You’re a loose end.”

The realization hit him like a fist. “You set me up.”

She didn’t deny it. “It’s business, Blake. Not personal.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” he snarled, his hand moving to the revolver in his waistband.

Before he could draw, the door creaked open. Marcus walked in, alone, his expression weary but determined.

“Blake,” Marcus said calmly, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We don’t have to do this.”

Blake hesitated, his grip tightening on the revolver. “She used me. She used us both.”

Marcus nodded slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. “Shooting each other won’t fix anything. Don’t let her drag us down.”

Vivian sneered, a flicker of fear in her eyes. “You’re a fool, Marcus. He won’t hesitate.”

Marcus ignored her, his focus solely on Blake. “We all got played, but we can walk away.”

Blake stared at Marcus, the weight of the gun heavy in his hand. The rage, the betrayal, it all threatened to consume him. But Marcus’s words cut through the fog. Slowly, Blake lowered the revolver.

Vivian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re both cowards!”

Before anyone could react, a single shot rang out. Vivian fired, the bullet grazing Blake’s shoulder before he could duck. The room went still as Marcus lunged forward, wrestling the gun from her hand.

The door burst open, and the cops stormed in, guns drawn. “Drop the weapon!” one of them shouted.

Marcus raised his hands, stepping back from Vivian. Blake clutched his shoulder, the pain sharp but not life-threatening.

Vivian was cuffed and dragged away, still cursing under her breath. As they hauled her out, she shot Blake a look of venom. He met her gaze with nothing but exhaustion.

As the cops led Blake and Marcus out, Marcus turned to him, a small, rueful smile on his lips. “We dodged a bullet tonight.”

Blake nodded, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, we did. But for what?”

The night ended with sirens and flashing lights, the city’s underbelly laid bare. Blake and Marcus were shoved into a patrol car, but the weight of betrayal had lifted, just a little.

The music had stopped, but maybe, just maybe, they’d live to hear another tune.