@noble-stag-elijah from here:
Gia left New Orleans with her bag on her back and a great deal of money in a bank account she could have sworn should be barely in the two digits. But she didn’t question it, just like she didn’t question the driving need to get out of New Orleans. Or the times and places and people she couldn’t quite remember. Like how exactly she’d become... what she was... a vampire. She assumed the memory loss was part of it. Coming to terms with what she was had been surprisingly easy and though for a little while her playing had suffered, she’d gotten that back too.
So she traveled.
To India for a while. And then Greece. Italy. Now France, with Spain the next intended destination. Manosque might not be the first place people thought of when they went to France but it had a particular draw for her. The jazz musician Olivier Gatto had been born in Manosque in 1963. And so she’d come. And found this little bar, barely more than a hole in the wall. Everyone seemed to agree that it was the best place for good music.
It had good drinks too. She sipped her drink- straight bourbon, something she’d never enjoyed before- and watched the people. Or rather. One person. The guy at the piano. She watched him order the same drink she herself had ordered. But it wasn’t until he returned to the piano that she approached.
“Piano man?” she said, smirking. “Is that on the set list for tonight? Or are you just a very big Billy Joel fan?”














