Page 167 of Playing By Ear

A clearly confused Brodie joined the hushed conversation. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” Russell said, then something-something sunglasses, and then…Falcon.

The borders of Perry’s face heated, and he wished for a stiff breeze.

After the word Jamie, the whispering became inaudible, which destroyed Perry’s eavesdropping but hopefully kept Andrew, Ben, and John from hearing it too, since they sat farther away from the gossipers.

How had he thought no one would ever recognize him? Sure, it was statistically unlikely, with only a few hundred followers, mostly in North America. Camming was perfectly anonymous…until it wasn’t.

“Yaaaas, perfect pass, Ali!” John sat forward. “Get in there, Evan, you beautiful beast. Far post, Colin, far post. You can—yaaaaaaaaaaaaasssss!”

The crowd leapt to their feet around Perry. He jumped up to join their cheers, relieved both that the Warriors had doubled their lead and that the conversation about his camming had stopped for the moment.

He opened his texting app to tell Jamie about the goal.

“Warriors scored exclamation mark,” he said into the microphone. “More details when I get them.” He pressed send.

As he sat down, his phone said, “Message from Jamie. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssss,” stuttering over each a. Everyone around Perry laughed, and he pretended to join them.

“Those defensive backs are utterly outmatched,” Andrew said. “How is this the same team who beat Moray Rovers in their quarterfinal? They look half-asleep out there today.”

Speaking softly into his phone, Perry summed up the goal discussion in a message to Jamie. Then he lowered the volume so that when the reply came through, no one else could hear it.

For the first time in months, he felt ashamed. Not of the side gig he did of his own choice. Ashamed of the disability he couldn’t control. Whenever he ventured out into public, people always wanted to know more about him. They could never simply leave him alone. Now, as a blind sex worker, he would be a double curiosity.

Perry shook his head to break the trance of self-pity. He wasn’t the only one affected. Jamie had to be warned. This disaster was too sensitive for a text message. Perry would phone him tonight when he was alone in his flat.

Their friends might not judge, but what about the world at large? What about Perry’s editors? His readers?

And what about the MacKrays?

Chapter 32

“Un-fucking-believable!” Jamie punched the air as he read the final scoreline from Perry.

“What now?” his dad asked from the bed, where he and Layla were dozing to the replay of the previous week’s Celtic victory over Hearts, which seemed to soothe them both.

“We absolutely battered Stirling Hill, five goals to one.”

“Well done!” Martin lifted a hand for a high five. Jamie skirted the chairs and medical equipment to deliver it. It was an awkward maneuver, but not as awkward as leaving his dad hanging.

“We’re going to Hampden. Fucking Hampden!” The stadium’s capacity was more than fifty thousand, five times the size of Firhill Stadium, where the Warriors had once played a charity friendly match.

“I cannae wait to watch the livestream. Who’s your opponent?”

“Let me see if the other semifinal match is finished.” He searched for the result on his phone. “Ooh, it’s Forthside United. They won the cup three years on the trot but crashed out in last year’s semis. They’ll be keen to take ‘their’ cup back.”

“Have you played them before?”

“They beat us in last year’s quarterfinal.” Even that blistering memory couldn’t dispel his euphoria. “Now the only question is, will I be fit to play?” He clomped over to his chair in the corner of the room, dodging his guitar, songwriting jotter, and the book on penalties. It was exactly two weeks since he’d injured himself, and he’d superstitiously waited to test his ankle until the Warriors’ result was final. “Time to see if I can stand on my own two feet.”

“You’ll be a lot quieter moving about this place without that boot.”

“Preserving your beauty sleep is, of course, my primary concern.” He undid the Velcro straps and pulled his foot free. If the injury was truly a minor sprain and not a tendon tear—please please please don’t let it be a tendon tear—it should be healed now.

Jamie massaged his foot, then slowly rotated it, the way he did when removing the boot to sleep or shower. There’d been no pain for almost a week, but this would be the first time putting weight on it.

He pushed the sole of his foot against the rug. “Stiff but not sore.” He took a few steps at the foot of the bed. “I think it’s sound. I’ll wrap it next training session to be safe. Hang on, gotta let Perry know the good news.”