Flash Fiction: Jane likes guitar

It had to be raining for Jane to play her guitar.
Otherwise, she'd say, it just didn't feel right.
It was a funny thing, her always playing in the rain. Especially since Jane would write some of the happiest songs you ever heard. Her fallbacks were major chords, upbeat and vibrant, and some of her best songs - "Valerye Man," "Garnished Pages" "Total" - all used them.
But don't get me wrong, Jane's songs were never simple. In fact, they were some of the most beautifully complex things I'd ever heard.
Jane played the guitar like a piano. The chords were always just a backing. And as she gently caressed the frets of her worn twelve-string her fingers always managed to pluck out some sort of melody. Sometimes you'd expect what she'd play. Sometimes you wouldn't. Sometimes it be light and slow and sometime the music would be so hard and fast it really did sound like rain. And Jane liked that.
She was a musical genius. But of course you've never heard of her. That's OK, don't feel bad. No one outside of King River has. But here she's something of a legend, that's for sure. Go ahread, say the name "Jane Simmons" down at the Coffee Bean and I gaurentee some latte-sipping music nerd will chime up with a story about how Jane almost scored that life-changing contract with Virgin Records for "Baby, Shake Your Band." Or about how she almost opened for Crosby Stills and Nash on their world tour of '83. Or how she almost joined Bob Dylan's backing band. Or how she almost ...

Tonight Jane took the stage without any fuss. Quiet and reserved, as always. Her twelve string sat next to a birch bench and she uttered not a word before flying into "Darker Coils," one of the Coffee Bean's crowd favorites.
Jane never spoke in between songs. She never spoke at all on stage, in fact. It was part of her persona. Disembodied.
And you never saw her face on stage either. Sure you'd see it when she walked out. Those glinting green eyes looking equally bored and thrilled as she walked out on the stage to thunderous applause. But after the music started, her face disappeared. Auburn hair cascaded wildly over all her features, wrapping itself around her head and neck and forming a makeshift mask. Jane on stage. Disembodied.
And playing some of the best damn stuff you ever heard.
"Garnished Pages." "Total." "Valerye Man." And she ended with what we always assumed was her favorite, since she always ended with it - "Nigel's Rain."
The piece started out slowly, ethereal melodies layered over tapped bass notes. She made it seem easy, but it was some of the toughest stuff she played all night. As the song picked up so did her fingers, flying wildly over all stretches of the fretboard and coaxing a universe of sounds. You got transfixed. You got transported. Her hands were mesmerizing and the music a thing of enchantment. The melodies flew and flew and by the end, it really did seem like it was raining. And maybe that was why Jane was so damn good. She had to simulate the beauty of nature to play. She had to make it rain.
How else could she play?