Page 3 of Playing By Ear

“No, thank you.” What else could he add, apart from something creepy like, I want to know you?

The guitarist kept singing, either oblivious or indifferent to his reverence. So Perry mumbled another thanks and turned away.

Wait, was that a missed chord? The musician continued playing as though nothing had happened.

Perry continued down Buchanan Street, passing several more shops before realizing his left hand was empty. He’d forgotten his coffee.

No matter. That song had made him feel more alive than caffeine could ever do.

To Jamie Guthrie, there was no sweeter noise than the thunk of a pound coin striking the inside of a guitar case. It sounded like freedom.

The pounds were falling like hail at the moment, as they always did when Jamie played “Uptown Funk.” Since starting this song, he’d gained back half the audience who’d wandered away during his original tune. What had possessed him to play “Slow Sad B Minor”? Even without its dismal lyrics, it wasn’t exactly a crowd-pleaser.

Directly in front of him, a trio of smartly dressed weans—two girls and a boy—were dancing their arses off, arms in the air, fingers splayed. The smaller lassie’s face was tilted up to the cloudy sky with the rapture of one basking in full sunlight. Jamie danced as he played, feeding off the kids’ energy.

Despite the fun and lucrative session, all Jamie wanted to do was drop his guitar mid-tune and read Hot Blind Guy’s note. It was wrapped around what looked like a business card, but he couldn’t be sure, no matter how many glances he threw at it between lines.

If the HBG hadn’t left his contact info, Jamie needed to find him, pronto, to see if their connection had been real, if the spark he’d felt had been mutual.

The wee dancing lad tripped, then pitched forward onto his hands and knees. His younger sister exploded into giggles, but his older sister, maybe eight years old, bent to help him up before their parents could react. She steadied him with one hand and brushed dust from the knees of his black dress trousers with the other.

Jamie kept playing with the same verve as before, even as his mind spiraled into memories of what he’d lost long ago.

No, not lost. Relinquished.

He ended with a flourish, lifting his foot with a crescendo of strumming, then stomping down in a silly headbanging maneuver on the final chord. The crowd loved it.

Jamie beamed at their applause. “Thanks very much,” he said into the mic. “Hang on a second. I need to check something.”

He bent over and reached inside his case, grabbing a different plectrum and the HBG’s note.

The back of a receipt read:

Sorry I’ve no cash but I wanted to thank you for sharing your gift. Your original song was sublime. - Perry the Not-Totally-Blind Blind Guy

The sloppily scribbled words were followed by what might have been a drawing of a heart.

Accompanying the note was a Beano Supremo loyalty card, with two rows of punched-through cartoon coffee cups. No phone number, no email.

He returned to the mic. “Sorry, everyone. They make us move pitch every hour, and my time’s almost up.”

“Almost?” piped the lass who’d pulled her wee brother to his feet. “So, not totally?”

“One more song!” The boy spun round on his toes.

Jamie looked at their parents. The mum stroked the older girl’s hair and told him, “They’ve sadly just lost their grandda. My dad.”

“That’s why the weans aren’t at school,” the father added. “His funeral was this morning.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jamie hesitated, then stuffed the receipt and coffee card into his jacket pocket. “What was your grandda’s favorite song?” he asked the kids as he shifted his acoustic purple Ibanez guitar on its strap.

“‘Happy’!” yelped the smaller girl. As she bounced in place, her black velvet headband slid out of her blond hair and tumbled to the ground.

“By Pharrell Williams?” Jamie asked the mum. “All right if I play that?” It seemed out of place after a funeral, but he’d never been to one of those, so what did he know?

“It’d be brilliant.” The woman sniffled as she picked up the fallen headband. “He used to dance with them to it.”

“All right, then!” He looked at the kids. “Thing about this song, though, I need at least three people to sing ‘Because I’m happy’ while I do the other part of the chorus. Do you know anyone who can help with that?”