Page 7 of Playing By Ear

“But you persisted. Good on you. Talking of money, how do you deal with thieves? All that cash sitting in the open. Doesn’t it make you nervous?”

“Nervous?” He rubbed the less soggy glove over his beard to banish the rain from his face, recalling the night some random ned had scooped up two handfuls of money from his guitar case. Jamie could still see the orange tracksuit disappearing into the night, the lad’s white trainers flashing in the streetlight as he raced off. Then that same tracksuit, those same trainers, spattered in blood when the thief was hauled back by the scruff of his neck, ordered to return what he’d stolen, with interest. “Nah, not really.”

He took a seat on the couch and picked up his coffee drink.

“Did you have all that equipment at the beginning?” Perry held up a hand. “Sorry if I’m asking too many questions. It’s in my nature as a journalist.”

The word stopped Jamie cold before he could take a sip. “An investigative journalist?” If Perry said yes, this would be their first and last conversation.

“No, mostly culture. I used to be a sportswriter, but… ” He blinked a few times and shifted his shoulders. “Sometimes I still do features, trends in sport, that sort of thing.”

Jamie wanted to say I’m sorry for the loss of a pursuit Perry clearly loved, but he suspected his sympathy wouldn’t be welcomed. “That’s a grueling gig, isn’t it? Sportswriting?”

“It can be, especially when you’re starting out, drudging through match recaps.” A smile sneaked onto his face. “Nothing saps the will to live like describing a goalless draw between West Brom and Stoke City.”

Perry’s phone dinged with what sounded like a custom tone. He pulled it out. “Sorry, it’s a text from my orientation-and-mobility trainer. This is my first solo excursion with the cane, and she’s probably wondering why I’ve not checked in yet.” He tapped the phone. It spoke in an unintelligible rush that sounded like an LP played backward at 78 rpm. Perry smiled, then pressed the screen and said, “Everything’s going well, full stop. Call you later.” The device uttered more blether, and he thumbed the screen again. “That should ease her mind.”

“How do you understand all those fast words?”

“Practice. I haven’t got bionic ears, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a bionic brain, which is even better.”

Perry held up the phone. “At the risk of killing my mystique, care to see how it works?”

Jamie scooted over, certainly curious but also glad for an excuse to get closer. Perry showed him how, when he passed his finger over the screen, the phone recited the names of the icons he touched.

Jamie’s jaw dropped when he tried it. “Amazing.”

“Technology for the blind has come a long way since I was a kid.”

“So you were always—” Ooft, was this too prying a question? “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“My vision was fine until about ten years ago. What I meant was, my mum’s blind, so I grew up watching her use loads of adaptive tools. Nothing as revolutionary as talking smartphones, of course.”

“You got it from her, then? Not the phone, but the…” Jamie tried to look at Perry’s eyes without looking like he was looking at Perry’s eyes. There was nothing obviously unusual about them apart from their beauty, each deep-brown iris framed by long, thick lashes.

“Yes, retinitis pigmentosa is genetic. I’m lucky to have a parent to show me how to deal with it. And to make it more normal, I suppose.”

“Sorry if I’m sticking my neb in.” He shifted back and folded his leg between them to face Perry straight on. “You must be bored of answering the same questions all the time.” He picked up his complicated coffee drink for the first sip. The bittersweet, chocolate-orange goodness flooded every taste bud.

Perry shrugged. “You caught me on a good day. Usually when people ask how I went blind, I tell them it was too much masturbation.”

Jamie’s snort pulled whipped cream up his nose. Panicking, he pressed a hand to his chest to fight off the reflexive cough.

“You okay?” Perry asked.

“Mm-hmph.” Desperate for air, Jamie inhaled, drawing the cream into his sinuses. In a prudent rejection of this maneuver, his body delivered the most colossal sneeze of his adult life.

Coffee and cream fountained from his face onto Perry’s lap.

“Oh!” Perry jerked back.

“I’m so sorry,” Jamie croaked, his eyes watering. “Shouldn’t have ordered extra skooshy cream.” He swiped his dripping chin with his sleeve.

“You guys okay over there?” Ruby called out.

“Splendid,” Perry replied, his voice curling with amusement. “Perhaps a few more napkins?”