Page 69 of Playing By Ear

“Perry!” A short man popped up into view. “So glad you could come. I’m John, and that shrieking wonder behind me is the Rainbow Regiment.”

“Hello.” Perry offered his hand to shake. John’s grip was firm but not overpowering.

Perry slid his other hand down Jamie’s arm. “Kiss for luck?”

“Please.” Their lips met for a long, sealing moment. Jamie’s mouth trembled against his, whether with nerves, anticipation, or both. Then, with a last squeeze of Perry’s hand, he was gone.

“Here,” John said, “sit to my right so you’ll be in the middle of all us POWs.”

“Prisoners of⁠—”

“Partners of Warriors. It’s an acronym in progress.”

Perry moved past him, tilting his head down and putting out a hand to make sure he wasn’t sitting on anyone’s lap.

John sat to his left. “Now the introductions. To your right is Ben, who claims to hate football and is only here because his boyfriend is our attacking midfielder.”

“Hi, Ben.” An easy one to remember, because Jamie had said he looked like Ben Whishaw, who’d played Q in the last two Bond films, complete with black-rimmed specs but straighter hair.

Ben took his offered hand. “Lovely to meet you, and I don’t hate football anymore. I’m here as much for the camaraderie of the Regiment as I am to see Evan play.”

“Ah. Okay. Great.”

“Ah. Okay. Great”? Top-notch banter there. Really winning them over. Was he making enough eye contact? Was he sufficiently smiley, or did he have Resting Dickhead Face?

A voice came from directly behind Perry. “I’m Brodie, Duncan’s partner and current vice president of the Rainbow Regiment.”

“Brodie, good to meet you.” The lad’s hand was softer than Perry had expected from his growly Doric accent. He’d forgotten which actor Jamie had used as a visualization cue for this one. Maybe Iain De Caestecker from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“And last but never least,” John said, “behind me is Lord Andrew Sunderland, our esteemed treasurer.”

“How do you do,” said a velvety voice, making it a statement rather than a question. “Please, call me Drew.”

“Drew. How do you do,” he replied, wincing inwardly at the accidental rhyme. At least Andrew’s face was so famous he needed no assigned actor.

With the introductions over, Perry slipped on his sunglasses and almost moaned with relief. It was one of those Glasgow days which most would call “fine,” wherein the sun popped out frequently from behind fast-moving clouds. The fluctuating light created a slow strobe effect that was pure retinal hell.

The inevitable headache would be worth it, though. He was here to make friends and support his…whatever Jamie was.

“It’s good that I’m to commentate for you,” John said, “as it’ll distract me from how fucking feart I am.”

“Glad to be of service.”

John gave a melodious laugh that made Perry like him instantly. “To begin with, tell me what you can see, and I’ll fill in the details.”

Perry looked out over the pitch, swiveling his head to survey the playing area with his limited visual field. “I see a teeming cloud, which I assume is composed of footballers.”

John described the Warriors in their purple-and-white-striped tops with black shorts, then Balornock Thistle FC in blue and yellow, and finally some of the individual players on the home side.

Warm-ups ended, and John narrated the coin toss. “The two captains, one of whom is an exceedingly tall, handsome ginger, are meeting on the halfway line with the officials, who are dressed in black like the minions of evil they are.”

Perry hesitated, then threw caution to the wind. These were Jamie’s mates, and they were worth taking a chance on.

“Funny thing,” Perry said. “I used to be a professional referee.”

“What?” John asked in a horrified whisper, his dark eyes bursting wide.

Behind him Brodie asked, “Did you say you were a referee?”