Page 105 of Playing By Ear

Jamie slid over until he was as near as could be. “Then, bang in the middle of the ‘Purple Rain’ solo—which was a religious experience—Prince breaks his pick. He goes to chuck it away, then looks right at me, gives a wee smile, and throws the pick in my direction.”

Perry gasped. “And you caught it?”

“No. He was a shite tosser. It went flying over my head. But not my da’s.” He reached toward the ceiling. “I’ve got this slow-mo memory, Dad snatching it out of the air. Then he puts it in my hand and says, ‘Gonnae never let go of this.’”

He opened Perry’s hand and placed in it a small white plastic piece of shrapnel, two-thirds of a broken guitar plectrum.

“Here.” Jamie nudged his other hand. Perry took what turned out to be a lighted magnifying glass, almost exactly like his own. “I bought one as a backup in case you lose yours. I know you’re far too organized for that to happen, but, you know, in case.”

Perry kissed him, then peered through the magnifier at the pick, which was imprinted with a P in a purple script on both sides. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s a medium-gauge D’Andrea.”

“Ah.” He loved when Jamie geeked out on music things. “Have you seen him perform again since then?”

“Aye, two years ago on the Hit and Run tour, where he would announce in the morning which venue he’d be playing that night for, like, ten quid. A busker mate in London got tickets for one of the Electric Ballroom shows, and I jumped on a train in two shakes.” Jamie sighed. “But that first time, there could never be anything like it again.”

Perry gave Jamie a moment to savor the memory, then held out the plectrum on his palm. “Thanks for showing me this.”

Jamie folded Perry’s fingers over it. “Keep it. This way, while I’m at my dad’s you’ll have something of me besides cheeky text messages and a falcon live cam.”

The reality of what Jamie was about to endure settled over Perry like a heavy cloak. He put his other hand to Jamie’s face and stroked his thumb over the soft beard. “When you were, you know, helping me out during my session…”

“Yeah?”

“Saying those things—not just the sexy things, but the other bits—was that part of the act?”

Jamie’s gaze flicked up to meet his. How long before those cerulean blue irises faded to gray in Perry’s sight? He would commit them to memory now, before his cones could die and take that luster with them.

“It was…it was all true. How I…”

“Good.” Perry kissed him again, with just the sweetness of lips. “Because I’m falling for you, too.”

Chapter 20

MEEEEEEEP!

Jamie jerked awake at the car horn blaring outside his bedroom window. He groaned and rolled away, tugging the spare pillow over his head to block the morning sunlight filtering through the thin blind.

MEEP-MEEP MEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Surely a case of criminal noise pollution. Jamie shut his eyes, teetering above the abyss of sleep.

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!

“Fuck!” He leapt out of bed and stalked to his window, which some absolute rocket had just pounded on. He yanked up the blind.

His father stood there, grinning like a loon, wearing knee-high boots and…a tweed jacket?

Jamie shoved open the resistant window. “What time is it?”

“Drive time!” Martin made a flourish toward the sleek silver Mercedes parked in the space that would’ve been Jamie’s if he’d had a car. “’Mon, a Saturday jaunt’s what we need.”

Jamie rubbed his face hard. He had to be dreaming. “Where’s Gerry?”

“I gave him the slip.” Martin winked. “You should text him once we’re out of the city, so he doesnae think I’ve been kidnapped.” He smacked the windowsill twice. “Gonnae get a shift on!”

Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, Jamie slipped on a pair of jeans, a pullover hoodie, and his well-worn pair of boots. Thank God Perry wasn’t there. Jamie had been meaning to invite him over but hadn’t yet found the courage to show his wee hovel to his boyfriend.