The Devil's Blues

A Short Story

Quick author’s note: I was inspired to share this after I viewed Sinners (dir. Ryan Coogler). I wrote this short story for my honors writing class in 2023. Imagine my surprise when I watched the movie, the plot made me chuckle. A dark soul being entranced by the Blues. I felt seen. So now, I share it with you!

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The Devil's Blues

On the third Saturday of every month, Araminta “Lucky Mae” Briggs, her younger brothers Freddy and John, along with their Cousin Roy, would play at the Sweet Shack Inn. The Sweet Shack Inn was neither a shack nor an inn. Instead, it was a tiny but lively juke joint, servicing patrons throughout northern Louisiana and western Mississippi. Hortense Berry, a widow whose husband, Henry, was killed in World War II, owned the place. She gained a small sum from his death and decided to invest in a bar, mainly because everyone knew that next to religion, sinning was the next best source of income. And since Hortense hadn’t been a religious woman and Pastor Johnny Allen Moore knew that all her customers would become his customers (and the Lord’s, of course) by Sunday morning to plead for forgiveness, the two had a quiet understanding.

Religion, like partying was, after all, a business.

Lucky Mae and Her Boys, a title earned from all who knew Lucky and well, Her Boys, traveled through the Chitlin’ Circuit during the week. The only day they didn’t perform was Sunday, mainly because Lucky Mae, Freddy, and John promised their parents they wouldn’t. If she had it her way, she would have performed every night if the mood was right. And for Lucky Mae, the mood was always right.

But she didn’t want to disrespect her patient mother or charming father. Had it not been for him and his skill of sweet-talking, their mother wouldn’t have allowed Lucky or her brothers to perform with Cousin Roy. And Lucky inherited her father’s smooth talk with ease. Normally, when they showed up to the various juke joints and parties to play, they were always met with hesitation–Lucky being a girl and all, but she always got her way to get on that stage.

Not only that, but The Boys had promised they wouldn’t let an ounce of harm come to Lucky’s head, and they kept that promise, too. Anytime a man even glimpsed too long at the slit on one of Lucky’s dresses, John would pull his switchblade right in the middle of a performance. She knew she was pretty. It’d been something she heard all her life and since she inherited her doe eyes, button nose, and plush lips from her mother – who was constantly lauded for her beauty, Lucky had no other choice but to believe it.

But none of that ever mattered to Lucky. Not really. It helped when she needed bar owners to understand her talent or when other male musicians tried her bluff. But the music was always what mattered most.

And this Saturday night, her love of music was tested in ways she could never believe.

The night started like any other, as Lucky swayed from side to side, stringing her guitar, affectionately named Virgie, in her arms as she leaned into the mic crooning. Tonight’s biggest hit was Little Walter’s My Babe, a song she and the band immediately fell in love with once they heard it playing on the radio.

Her voice was light and full of mischief. She lifted her brows each time she mentioned any part in the song about “cheating” and smirked anytime she sang “babe,” glossy red lips puckering dramatically for the crowd. Freddy stepped to the front and accompanied her with his harmonica while she danced around him, plucking the guitar like she knew nothing else in the world to do.

The stage, if it could be called that, took up the smallest space in the bar. Lucky and her family had been playing in this bar for so long they had worked up silent communication with Hortense. Suppose she looked to the left, then that meant a fight was starting. Lucky knew to switch the song to something with a jollier tune, something that could ignite more dancing and have it spread throughout the entire juke joint. If she gave a loud whoop, the money was great, which meant more money for Lucky Mae and Her Boys. A toss of the towel over Hortense’s shoulder meant it was time to slow the tempo and usher the remaining customers out.

At 2:30 AM Willie Earl Bracket shouted that he’d won his spades game, Edna Grier had successfully pulled her husband by the collar of his neck away from the bar, and Hortense Berry tossed her towel over her shoulder. Though Hortense wasn’t a religious woman, she was spiritual, and she made it a point to ensure everyone was out of her bar before three – the Witching Hour. Usually, most people complied. Respect for things that could not be explained covered this town like a soft blanket. And if a person didn’t, they had to answer to Hortense’s little brother, Big Cholly. Although little was debatable since Cholly had to be no shorter than seven feet tall with shoulders as wide as Texas, and a punch so mean it could knock a man into the middle of next week. Cousin Roy confirmed this to be true by sharing a story of how he’d seen Cholly knock some man’s lights out after a game of Craps. The punch packed so much power that it put the man in a coma for two weeks. So, if Hortense wanted you to leave the Sweet Shack Inn, Cholly made sure you did just that.

After hours of revery – dancing, drinking, and card games – it was time to pack it up. John placed a stool in the center of the stage while Lucky took a seat on it. He went to the piano, playing a gentle, haunting melody while Lucky Mae cradled the microphone like a lover, softly purring the words, singing her rendition of Ray Charles’ The Midnight Hour. A few couples, established and otherwise, slow danced a little, while solo patrons began their exit. Meanwhile at the bar, Hortense tossed back a small glass of clear liquid that made her finish with a scowl.

While the customers exited, and Lucky Mae gave her best Ray Charles, a man slowly walked in, sauntering past Big Cholly, and for a second it distracted her. Big Cholly hardly glanced in the man’s direction, too focused on pushing the town drunk, Spinning Ralph, out of the bar. The patrons of the Sweet Shack Inn always came through in their Sunday best, but they were also primarily poor folks living in a small town that considered going to a bar or church the best rendition of “going out.”

This man dressed differently from the locals. Sure, they dressed in their Sunday best, but their Sunday best was still the same scuffed, shiny, patent leather shoes they wore anytime they wanted to dress nice. Lucky’s eyes slowly sized him up, impressed by the immaculate state of his clothes. A crisp burgundy suit, with matching Alligators.

The stranger, handsome and tall with big brown eyes and a neatly trimmed mustache, locked eyes with her. He offered a small, crooked smile as he tipped his porkpie hat toward her. Lucky perked a brow, leaning back as the song finished. She was never a fan of porkpie hats, but something about how this man wore them made it seem like they were made just for him. John’s beautiful piano playing filled the entire club, causing a ripple of calm to wash through it.

With the bar now nearly empty and only about a handful of customers milling about, how had he managed to get past Cholly and Hortense without fuss or interaction? It almost seemed like Lucky was the only person that noticed him. Almost.

He leaned against the bar, practically beckoning Hortense to him with a ‘come here’ motion of his long, slender fingers. He slowly turned back toward Lucky, taking the hat from his head. His hair was cut low in smooth waves atop his head. She couldn’t deny how handsome he was. One would say devilishly handsome. She was reminded of Cary Grant in His Girl Friday. Well, if Cary Grant were Black, of course.

As Lucky stood from the stool, straightening out her dress, a slim fitting red number that clung to the little bit of curves she had. She pulled the slit down, so it didn’t venture up her thigh too far while the stranger began to clap. He clapped so loudly that Lucky held her hip and stared at him.

“To the best singer I’ve heard in my life, I got to give you a standin’ ovation, girl!”

He spoke with such vigor and praise that Lucky almost felt she’d known him all her life. His deep baritone rang through the emptying bar, and no one paid much attention to him. It was enough to make her honestly believe him, which made her heart thump a little faster than normal.

She wasn’t sure why. She just knew that it did.

Hortense slid a small glass of amber liquid down the bar counter, and the stranger caught it smoothly with one hand. He took a long swig from the glass and released a satisfied grunt.

"Hortense, honey, that is the best hooch I have ever had in..." he paused and smirked, "well, in an eternity! Would you like some?"

He then lifted the glass in Lucky’s direction. Her answer was an eye roll. She turned from the man now to pat the boys on their backs. They were more than ready to leave for the night, and Lucky felt the same. Her feet ached from dancing around in heels all night, there was a plate of fried fish waiting for her (thanks to Hortense’s little sister, Lizzie), and there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to let her head hit the pillow. It would be time for church in a few hours, and Lucky wanted to get as much sleep as possible. Being called out in church for your sins because you were nodding off during church announcements was not something she wanted to experience.

“You still taking requests?” His question made Lucky pause.

She turned to face him, hand on her hip and face in a frown.

“Requests? Mister, we’re closed for the night. Plus, Hortense don’t allow no business going during the witching hour. Ain’t that right, Hortense?” Lucky called out to her.

Hortense wiped her bar counter with the white towel. She didn’t bother looking up when she answered.

“One song won’t hurt, Lucky Mae.” Then he added with a playful, light whisper, “Lucky Star.”

Lucky narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. She turned to her brothers and cousin, packing up their instruments.

“Go on, Sister, just one song so we can finish this up and go home,” Freddy kept his back to her.

Lucky sighed, reluctant to grant the stranger’s request. She took her time scanning the bar. It was nearly empty now. Cholly was outside arguing with Spinning Ralph. Her brothers and Cousin Roy were almost done packing their instruments while Hortense kept wiping the counter. She clenched her jaw, slightly frustrated at the odd behavior around her. Had Lucky lost it? Was she dreaming? Just in case, she pinched herself but felt silly about it immediately afterward.

“Why ya’ pinching yourself, darlin’? It ain’t a dream,” the man smiled wide, revealing beautiful white teeth except for a pair of gold canines.

Well, that’s all it was then. Hortense thought the man was rich and would pay extra money. Lucky could play along.

“This performance is gon’ cost you extra, Mister.”

Hortense had slid him another glass, and he tipped it in Lucky’s direction. She sat on the stool again and put the guitar in her lap. The emptiness of the bar caused a slight echo, but she ignored it. It made her uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

She cleared her throat.

“This song,” Lucky licked her lips, “is for you.”

He nodded with another crooked smile. Lucky tapped the front of her guitar, starting a rhythm. She closed her eyes, rocking her head from side to side. Her red heel tapped on the stage floor. Then, she began to strum her guitar.

Early in the evening,

The devil came knocking at my door.

He walked to table closest to the stage, setting his hat atop it, and sat in the chair with his glass of brown liquor.

I say, early in the evening,

The devil came knocking at my door.

Heat built in her chest as she sang, and Lucky knew it must have stemmed from her nerves. It seemed internal, almost like she could spit fire.

I said, “Don’t you know devil?

The person you lookin’ for-

They ain’t here no more.”

The handsome man pointed to her and laughed. He carefully crossed one leg over the other, showing off a pair of matching burgundy socks! Lucky watched him momentarily, not missing a key as he tossed the drink back in one great gulp. He didn’t flinch at the strength of moonshine Hortense offered him. Her alcohol was a unique concoction brewed by Cholly and some of his gambling partners. Lucky had never tasted it, but she smelled it once and was sure she’d singed every nose hair that belonged to her.

Her eyes drifted shut as she gently plucked her guitar strings until, eventually, the song finished.

Lucky wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but his table was next to the stage. He gazed at her adoringly, with large brown eyes full of wonder and, dare she say, a bit of lust. It made the heat crawling through her body stronger, and her white blouse darkened in the front from her sweating.

“Lucky, do you realize how beautiful your voice is?” he asked in a soft, warm voice, low enough that only she could hear. His voice was like rich hot chocolate on those harsh winter days when her nose burned because she was so cold. She almost leaned in but held her composure.

“Beautiful enough to have strangers come from all over the country to come and see me?” Lucky asked casually.

“Not just the country, sugar. The world.”

Lucky sensed something was wrong no matter how well he sweet-talked her. Charming and handsome as he may be, it would not be wise to slip so easily into this man’s will. Not one of her brothers bothering to question his intentions or challenge him was enough to give her pause, but she also sensed that he wasn’t going to leave until they probably talked.

Lucky noticed Hortense was still wiping that countertop in the same spot.

“I got a proposition for you, Lucky. And I don’t think it’s an offer you can refuse either.”

He motioned silently to the empty seat across from him at the table. Her brothers were nowhere to be seen, Hortense was starting to wipe a hole into that spot, and Cholly was outside shouting. None of this made any sense, but what the hell, why not? She could go for some entertainment. Lucky placed her guitar down gently on the stool and sat in the chair across from the man. She mimicked him, slowly crossing one leg over the other, leaning back, and folding her hands in her lap. Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a deep breath, releasing it with a sigh.

“Now, what is this here proposition you talkin’ about?”

“Oh, Lucky,” he cooed, “I can change your life.”

“More than it’s already been changed?”

“More than anything you’ve conjured in your wildest dreams.”

Lucky’s dreams got pretty wild.

“I can make you the biggest star in the world.”

She narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t buying it.

“Lots of men have come into my life saying that. In fact, not only do they promise it, but they also bet their lives on it. And if I ever took them seriously, they’d be dead. So, if we’re done here–”

He gently grabbed her wrist and pleaded with those big brown eyes for her not to leave. Not quite yet.

“Now you’ve got the voice of an angel. You know you sing good, and I know you sing good, but does the world know it?” He opened his arms wide, “I have the power to help you influence the world, darlin’. Let me help you.”

Lucky folded her arms and leaned back in the chair a bit more. She kissed her teeth and looked in the direction of the stage. Where in the hell were her brothers? Where was Cousin Roy?

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. They’ll be okay,” he lazily waved a hand.

Without saying anything, the stranger pulled photographs from inside his jacket pocket.

He spread them across the table and continued, “The pain in your voice sounds like a fallen angel. If anybody should know about that, it’d be me.” He paused to look at her and laughed. “Under my guidance, I could get you singing in places where you had a real stage and not sweating in some hole-in-the-wall juke joints.”

“I happen to like this here hole in the wall!” Lucky protested defensively.

The man held up his hands apologetically.

“Sure, sure!” He demeanor didn’t seem to match his apparent regret. “Of course, you like it,” he paused, “but do you love it?”

“I do! I love playing my guitar more than anything in the world. Getting on stage and singing-”

“I know you love singing, but do you really love playing in these little bars? Stuck on the Chitlin’ Circuit because you can’t get some white DJ to respect your art and music? Or how about all these predatory managers and talent agents? They walk in trying to take your money and your dream.”

She sat quietly, thinking about how this man, with his beautiful face and infectious charm, might have been right in his statement.

“Now, I want you to have a look at this table, Lucky.”

Lucky leaned in to get a better look at the photos, and her eyes widened when she saw this same man standing in all the images with famous singers and actors, embracing him like an old friend. Several of them were white, and that was the moment she realized he might have been working with someone with a little more power than she had initially thought. How many Black men just stood and took photos with white people – powerful ones at that, like it was a normal occurrence of life.

Was that…? She gasped.

“Yes, I even know him, too.”

Lucky knew that jet black bouffant, pale skin, and handsome smile anywhere. She sighed, her stomach tightening from anxiety. She wanted to ask the man how he knew him, but even the thought made her throat close.

“And think, you’re more talented than him on your own. Imagine what could happen with my help,” his eye twinkled, and he flashed one of those gold teeth.

With my help…

“And what about my brothers? And my cousin?”

“Lucky,” he said, placing his hand on the table and tapping his fingertips lightly. Do you really want to take your brothers and cousin with you?”

Lucky tilted her head to the side, mouth open and ready to offer a rebuttal.

“No, I want you to really think about that. At the height of your success, being given access to places you never thought you’d see in your lifetime, and then at the end of it all, having to get permission from your brothers if you want to go out. Or if you want to make your own decisions. Does that seem fun to you?”

Lucky hadn’t thought much about that, but the stranger was correct. It was she who wanted to be a musician and take this career beyond just hopping from each tiny juke joint to the next. Her brothers could take or leave this lifestyle. They hated the bar fights, all the drinking, and the leering men and sometimes women.

“Listen,” he cut through her thoughts, softly speaking as if they were in a crowded room, and he didn’t want anyone to listen in, “don’t you want this to be easy? To hell with the rest of them.”

To hell with them was not something Lucky liked hearing about her brothers and cousin, no matter how they felt about musicianship. She put the photo she was holding down and shook her head.

“It’s Freddy that wants to be the pastor, doesn’t he?” The stranger couldn’t stop the smug smile at her eyes going wide. “Why do you think he’s so adamant about making sure y’all get to church on Sunday? I know it isn’t you because, well, you don’t really seem like the religious type.”

Maybe he was trying to pull her bluff by slipping in that Freddy wanted to be a preacher, but this was a small town. It was no secret that Freddy was tired of making this sinful music on the road. And it was no secret that the star was Lucky. People came to hear her sing. Watch her play.

Lucky raised her eyebrows and scoffed, “So, who are you? You don’t strike me as much of the religious type either.”

His eyes darkened, and the easy-going expression sobered. He didn’t seem so handsome when he was brooding like this. Without his smile, he was terrifying. His nostrils flared, and his ears perked on the side of his head like horns.

“Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Well, that’s in the book of Joshua, but I’ve always found God to be full of shit. And I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but he picks favorites.”

“And you think I’m one of his favorites or something?” Lucky placed her chin in her hand while she plopped her elbow on the table.

“Well, I don’t think they call you Lucky just for the hell of it.”

Lucky sighed, “You know, God ain’t ever visited me in a bar to promise me success without explaining the catch. And there’s always a catch.” She narrowed her eyes, “Only one thing in this here room is full of shit, and quite frankly, Mister, you stink.”

The man shrugged, “I think by now it’s kinda’ apparent what I need of you.”

“Why don’t you just say it? Just spell it out,” Lucky didn’t hide her exasperation.

He wiped his hands on the table, instantly making the photographs vanish. Lucky moved back with a start at the disappearance of photos and gasped as the small flame flickered on the table. Though it only lasted a second, she couldn’t mistake it.

“You need me to spell it? Do you want those letters big or small?” He laughed, a thunderous, belly-deep sound that seemed to bounce off the walls. As his amusement intensified, the once jovial chuckles twisted into something distorted, almost sinister. An unsettling growl formed in his throat, sending shivers down her spine.

He abruptly ended his laugh and stood from the table. He hopped on the stage, a bit dramatic if Lucky could say so, and held his arms wide.

“Fine! I’ll tell you. And you won’t find a better offer than what I can give you.”

His voice was booming, and flames danced and twirled in his eyes, casting a glow that made Lucky uneasy. He seemed over seven feet tall now. Lucky had to tilt her head back to gaze at him while her heart pounded with fear and fascination. She chose to stay silent, patiently waiting for him to finish.

“I need… You.”

He softened now, returning to that handsome man who’d snuck inside the bar. He lowered to a squatting position to level with Lucky, sitting in her chair.

“But why?” Lucky asked. “I mean, you can influence so many people, and surely, some Black girl performing in the Chitlin’ Circuit ain’t gon’ be the influence you need.”

“Oh, but you don’t get it. See, this is a partnership. I help you, and you help me. We could get us a nice lil’ thing goin’ here.”

Lucky got up from the chair and began to pace around the nightclub, tugging at her bottom lip with her fingers. Why on earth would something like this be happening to her? She feared God. She fed stray animals. She took care of her cousins, nieces, and nephews with no complaints and those children would tear up hell if given the chance. Lucky could have lived a million lives without choosing this!

“Take all the time you need, sugar. I got nowhere to be.” He stood to his full height and hopped off the stage, watching her as she paced. “With your soul, I can make you move mountains. You’ll influence the world. Of course, now, the world can’t see you for what you are-”

Lucky scoffed.

He continued, “But I have the power to make them acknowledge your powerful voice, your skill on that guitar, your beauty… I can show them what they’re missing out on.”

“How do you do this?” Lucky stopped pacing.

He smiled, a broad, toothy grin of satisfaction. He stepped with a strut over to Lucky and sighed.

“I do all the heavy lifting for you. You sing a few songs during your career, get them under your influence, and that’s all. See how easy that is?”

It may be too easy. Lucky had spent a few times in her career being given these offers by men who looked just like this ol’ devil, offering a lifetime of happiness and success while carefully omitting all the stipulations.

And she was tired of that.

“So?” Lucky frowned, and her gaze lingered on this handsome stranger with the dangerous smile and mischievous glint in his eyes. Of course, she knew what his proposition was, but she still needed to hear it.

“Oh,” he leaned in closer to her. She could smell the cologne, spicy and heady. He smelled rich. “I think you know what the catch is, darlin’.”

Lucky hesitated in her response. Her stomach suddenly felt heavy. Though she already had an inkling of this requirement, it frightened her to even consider it.

“Why don’t you say it for me?” She asked in a whisper.

He lifted one of those long, thin fingers and cupped her chin. His response was just as low as a whisper.

“I want your pretty, little soul.”

Lucky clenched her jaw and pushed his hand away.

“And what happens when I die?”

“Oh,” he shrugged, gazing briefly, “You don’t have to worry about that. Once you’re mine, you’re mine.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Instant success seemed like a dream, but none of this sat right with her. Did she need the success of a star that badly? And eventually, everyone’s star faded. She knew this much to be true. How could she think of belonging to him at the end of it all?

“Tell you what,” he cut through her thoughts, “if that seems a little too much for you, then I have positions open for wives when all is said and done.”

Lucky’s face contorted into a deep frown, and she snorted.

“I can tell you now that the last thing I want to do is answer to some man. Or be a wife. I gotta’ answer to my Daddy. I gotta’ answer to my brothers. The pastor. The club promoters. And in the end, when it’s all over and done, I have to answer to you. Another man?”

“Well, ain’t that life, Lucky? You go from one instance to another, answering to this man and that. When you’re in your church praying to be famous, you wait on His answer, don’t you?” He lifted his brows, then shrugged. “Listen, I don’t make the rules, but I do try to make them easier.”

Lucky wasn’t so sure about that. She could spend a lifetime being successful but an eternity paying for it. She’d gotten a lot of bum deals in her life, but this one seemed like the worst of them all.

“If I say no, then what happens?”

“Well, I can’t promise the world will value you the way they appreciate Elvis, not without my help anyway. All I can do is wish you luck.”

Lucky frowned, “That’s it? Nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” he replied. With that, he stood from the table and put on his hat. “The thing is, there are hundreds of thousands of people like you in the world. Your one ‘no’ could be a thousand more ‘yes’s. So, I move on to the next soul willing to cut a deal.”

“I can’t say that I’m in the business of making deals about my soul,” Lucky said proudly.

He tipped his hat to her, accepting her answer. He walked towards the exit, in confident even strides with his shoulders straight and his hand in his pockets.

“Hey!” She called out to him.

He slowly glanced back with one corner of his mouth lifting in a sly smirk.

“If you had been a woman, I might have said yes.” And then it was her turn to toss him a devilish grin of her own.

-17 pgs, 4881 words
-©Davalyn Baker, 2025