Page 120 of Playing By Ear

“TMZ says they’ve confirmed with sources close to him.”

Jamie scoffed. “What the fuck does that gossip rag know?”

“They have an exclusive.” Perry was dismayed to be defending TMZ, but they’d been right when they’d broken the deaths of Michael Jackson and Heath Ledger. He held out his phone with the article. “I’m so sorry.”

Jamie turned his face away. “I don’t want to see.” He pressed his fist to his mouth. “How?”

“They’ve only said he was found at home, not breathing.” Perry reached for him, but he stepped aside.

“I need the—I drank a lot of water.” Jamie hurried into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Perry went into his bedroom and fetched the Prince plectrum Jamie had given him. He didn’t know what else to do, apart from making tea.

The kettle had come to a boil and the tea fully steeped before Jamie finally appeared.

“My plan was to stay in there until I stopped crying.” He sniffled hard. “But that’s not happening, so I came out in case you needed the loo, like, sometime today.”

Perry went to him, opening his arms. “It’s all right if you don’t want a hug, but⁠—”

Jamie lunged into Perry’s embrace and clung to him, his body shuddering with sobs. “Why is this—it’s not like I knew him.”

“You did know him, because he shared so much of himself in his music. And fifty-seven is tragically young.” Perry bit his lip, wishing he could take back that last sentence. Jamie’s father was a year younger.

Jamie made an incoherent noise, then let go of him. “Need to blow my nose.”

While Jamie made use of the kitchen roll, Perry sat down at the table.

Jamie came and sat beside him. “Thanks for the tea.” His voice was tight but no longer clogged with tears. “I cannae believe he’s gone.”

“It’s a shock.” Perry laid the pick on the table. “Would you like this back?”

“Oh.” Jamie’s face crumpled, but he picked up the plectrum. “Maybe, for today.” He grasped his mug with his other hand, but didn’t drink.

Perry filled the silence with commiseration. “I was eleven when Kurt Cobain killed himself. I didn’t understand what depression does to the mind. All I knew was that he’d taken away something I loved.”

“His music, you mean?”

“Exactly. For years I couldn’t bear to listen to Nirvana. It made me so fucking sad, and then I’d be angry at him for making me sad. I felt betrayed.”

“That makes sense. But I’m not eleven. I should be an adult about it.” Jamie’s phone rang in the pocket of his jacket. “Christ, why am I still wearing this?” He stood up, shed the jacket, and pulled out his phone. “Shit.” There came a light boop as he answered. “Dad, you okay? Is everything—” He fell silent, then walked slowly toward the kitchen window. “Yeah, I heard…oh…thank you.” Jamie sniffled, this time drily. “Of course I remember Brixton.”

Jamie’s phone chimed another tone, but again the sound came from the direction of his jacket—which he was no longer wearing. Why in the world did he need two phones? Did he have a separate one for his mysterious family?

None of my business, Perry told himself as he went to the cupboard to search for biscuits. The only sweet items inside were chocolate-almond protein bars.

“Me, too,” Jamie was saying into the phone now. “Thanks for calling.” He hung up. “You’ll never believe what that was about.”

“I gathered from your end of the conversation.” Perry set the plates on the table and sat down again.

Jamie remained utterly motionless at the window, as though any movement would crack the world. “He’s going downhill.”

Perry sucked in a breath. “Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Jamie returned to his seat. “He’s changed his mind about radiation treatments, but it might be too late.” He shifted the pick, scraping it back and forth on the table. “Even going private, he cannae be treated until the nineteenth of May. That’s four weeks from now, and by then…” He looked down at his plate. “Is this a protein bar?”

Perry blinked at the swerve. “Think of it as a protein biscuit.”

Jamie took a bite and crunched, staring through the wall again.