Page 178 of Playing By Ear

“Play your songs,” his father said.

“Okay.” Jamie cleared his throat. “But I telt you, there’s nae words.”

Martin managed a snort. “Liar.”

Fine, then. Jamie was done pretending he had ever been anything but a long-broken mess.

Making muffins did help Perry think, mostly about his conversation with fellow model Nancy. Writing a piece on the lives of cam workers appealed to him more and more. He would fill it with the insights and respect only an insider could have. And if anyone asked about his own camming—he shuddered to think—he could point them to the piece.

Perry’s authorship would remain anonymous, obviously.

He’d just pulled the muffin tins out of the oven when the front door opened. Belinda’s voice rang out from the living room. “What’s that amazing smell?”

“Chocolate!” The rap of Lucy’s hard-soled shoes approached. She dashed into the kitchen, followed by her parents.

“Our miracle worker’s here, thank God.” Belinda drew close and asked softly, “Perry, how’s Jamie?”

“Better this morning. I imagine he has a lot to discuss with your father.”

“As do I, but that’ll have to wait. I’m just dropping Stuart here before Mass. Still, I’ll pop upstairs for a quick check-in.” Her footsteps receded back into the living room.

Lucy made a beeline toward the pan of muffins on the cooling rack. Perry said to her, “I heard double chocolate chip was your grandda’s favorite.”

“Mine too! Daddy, can I have one now? Please?”

“Hang on, let’s not get it on your dress, or your mum will knock seven bells out of me.” Stuart ripped off a sheet of kitchen roll. “One for your left hand.” He tore off three more sheets. “One for your right hand, and two for a nice big bib.” She giggled as her dad tucked the sheet into the collar of her bright-yellow frock. “All right, Perry, you may bestow one muffin upon Her Highness.”

Perry gingerly pried a muffin in its wrapper from the tin and held it out for Lucy to take, as he didn’t want to misjudge the distance and accidentally mash chocolate against her face. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you,” she said without prompting.

“I leave you three alone for one minute,” Belinda said as she reentered the kitchen, “and find a chocolate bomb about to go off.”

“I’m being careful,” Lucy said through a mouthful of muffin.

“Your da awake?” Stuart asked his wife.

“Maybe,” she said, “but Jamie’s playing guitar and singing for him, so I left them alone. I didn’t recognize the song this time. Maybe it’s one of his own?”

“Not if he was singing,” Perry said. “His songs are beautiful, but they’ve no lyrics yet.”

“Perhaps it’s by one of those sad, obscure singer-songwriters he loves.” She clapped her hands softly. “Lucy, you and I need to head to Mass, and no, you can’t bring that muffin in the car—and extra no, you can’t shove it all into your mouth.”

“I’ll keep the rest of it for you,” Perry told Lucy.

She placed the warm, chocolatey lump on his outstretched palm, then wiped her hands with the kitchen roll as she followed Belinda, the scratchy noise fading with their footsteps.

Perry started transferring the rest of the muffins to a basket, occupying himself whilst alone with the man who’d once torpedoed his career as a referee. The situation couldn’t be more awkward.

“Now it’s just us,” Stuart said, “let’s me and you have a chat about your job.”

Perry paused, one muffin poised above the basket. “Job?”

“The one where you strip for sickos.” Stuart stepped closer, his voice turning smug. “At least, I assume that’s part of it. I didnae look for myself.”

So, the situation could be more awkward.

“How did you hear?” Perry asked in what he hoped was a steely tone.