Beer Truck by Emily Carrington

Author:Emily Carrington [Carrington, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BIN 010801-03512
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Published: 2023-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The next afternoon, around five, Harvey sat on his porch and drank. Not alcohol. The reminder of death and coming death for members of his family made his stomach churn. He hadn’t decided what to do about Terry being here in their hometown, and he admitted to himself that he was listening for the guitar because he wanted to make sure Terry was still among the living. He didn’t really think his ex would commit suicide but, well, he’d known others who seemed more stable and had still succumbed to the brutal and dubious comfort of dying. He was absolutely sure that if Terry had been on the verge of a breakdown, the paparazzi would have picked up on it.

In about an hour and a half, he’d need to get to the bar. Probably listening out for Terry playing was a waste of time. Except, just then, he heard the sounds of a guitar being tuned. It didn’t take long, the wavering notes ringing true after only a minute or so. Two chords were strummed, and Harvey’s mouth went dry. Music major he might not be, music being a thing that escaped his tongue and his feet, but he knew the chorus of “Lost.” He hummed the notes, offkey, and then quit so he could hear Terry playing.

Terry had never serenaded him. But when he heard “College Sweetheart” for the first time, maybe eight months after Terry had left Marisburg, he’d recognized the words. Because Terry had shared his lyrics with him, either as poetry or as what Terry had called “future songs.” “College Sweetheart” had been Harvey’s favorite one. He’d hoped Terry would turn it into a song. Most of Terry’s poetry ended up as music, even if he didn’t ever share it with Harvey specifically.

Terry finished “Lost” and started playing “My College Sweetheart” now. Even though the words “his square hands” had been changed to “her soft hands,” it was easy to think of Terry singing to him.

Oh, but he had it bad. He’d known his obsession with following “TJ’s” career would come back to bite him in the ass. No matter that he’d kept his feelings secret, it was going to curse him now. He wanted so badly to cross the street and capture Terry’s hands in his own. He rose from the chair, drawn like the rats by the pied piper. He moved to the screen door and rested his fingertips on the latch.

Terry began playing something less familiar. It took Harvey several seconds to figure out what he was playing. It was, or at least might be, the same melody Harvey had heard that first day he’d heard live guitar music coming from Abe and Peter’s house. He opened the door and trotted down the steps. He needed to see the other man.

Terry sat on the Yoshidas’ porch, which wasn’t screened in, and he played. Why wasn’t he singing? Did he think to hide his identity by restricting himself to the guitar only? That seemed less likely than it had the first time Harvey considered it.

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