Page 6 of Playing By Ear

“Right. Why?”

“So I know which arm will be easier for you to guide me with.” Perry crossed behind Jamie to his left side, then took his arm just above his elbow, bringing his face near enough to reveal a trio of freckles between his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

Mind getting closer to the most stunning man he’d seen in months? “Just tell me what to do.”

Perry looked like he wanted to say something cheeky, but simply took back the umbrella and held it over them. “Start walking.”

Jamie gave the trolley a push, dislodging the wheels from their comfy rut in the pavement. “Is this okay?” he asked. “I feel like I’m dragging you.”

“A sighted guide should always walk a half-step or so ahead.” As they sank into what felt like a natural rhythm, Perry said, “I’m new to the cane, so using it takes a lot of concentration. Now we can actually talk.”

“Cool.” Jamie tweaked the standard chat-up line. “I would ask if you come to Buchanan Street often, but you’ve got a Beano Supremo loyalty card, so…”

“I’ve not been here much this last year, but I’ve seen you before. Well, semi-seen you,” Perry added with a chuckle.

“‘Semi’? I mean, you called yourself the Not-Totally-Blind Blind Guy in your note.”

“I’ve got tunnel vision, so I can only see what’s right in front of me. Even then, anything farther than a few feet away might as well not exist.”

“Ooft, sounds rubbish.”

Perry laughed. “It is absolute shite. God, it’s refreshing to meet someone who can acknowledge it without sounding like I’ve died.”

“You seem pure alive to me.”

Perry beamed at him as though it was the nicest thing anyone had said to him all week.

They made their way up the street, Perry offering tips on being a sighted guide. When the pavement grew crowded, Jamie shifted his supporting arm behind his back so Perry could walk behind him, sliding his hand down to hold Jamie’s wrist. The adjustment was meant to keep him from stepping on Jamie’s heels, but it also brought their hands closer, enough so Jamie felt the heat of Perry’s palm.

They reached the coffee shop, where Ruby, the magenta-haired barista, greeted them both by name, raising her eyebrows in a hmm face. The café was nearly empty, so they chose a loveseat in the corner where Jamie had room to stash his trolley. Then he headed to the bar to place their order.

“Hiya!” Ruby said, tucking a cloth napkin into the pocket of her lime-green apron. “Usual? French roast for your pal? And for your heavenly voice, ginger-lemon tea with a double shot of honey?”

“For him, aye, but this storm’s got me done singing.” Jamie produced Perry’s loyalty card and ordered one of the elaborate specialty drinks he usually couldn’t afford.

Ruby took the card and fanned herself with it. “Cheap date.” She took his pound coins for Perry’s coffee. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We just met.”

“Out there, with it pishing down?” She winked at him as she drizzled change into his palm. “Rain can be pure romantic.”

He gave her a sheepish smile and held up a pair of crossed fingers.

As Jamie approached the loveseat with their drinks, Perry peered up at him through a set of regular specs with thick lenses. “You ordered something glorious for yourself, I hope?” he asked, drying his sunglasses on the tail of his dark-green shirt.

“Caffè Medici. Double espresso with chocolate and orange. Extra skooshy cream.” To avoid dripping all over his companion, Jamie started removing his “busker’s uniform,” the layers that kept him warm on Glasgow’s often sodden streets.

“How long have you been busking?” Perry asked.

“Since I left school ten years ago,” he said, unwinding his brown wool scarf.

“Were you playing when you were at university, then?”

When? “I didn’t do uni.” Better to know now if he was dealing with an intellectual snob.

Perry looked unfazed. “So how is it you’ve performed so brilliantly for a decade and haven’t been discovered?”

Jamie thought of his three-inch-high pile of business cards from would-be agents and managers. “I was pretty dire when I started.” He tugged off his knit cap and fingerless gloves. “My first day busking, I made £4.73 in eight hours, mostly pity pennies.”