THE GUITARIST: Work Begins

We met at Dixon’s Diner, a short walk for each of us.  The sky was a clear blue and the air was thick with humidity.  At least that’s what I blamed for the sweat on my forehead.  I approached the door and saw her coming from the opposite direction.  Her smile gleamed radiant, her hair, now a medium brown with blonde highlights glinted in the bright Charleston sun.

“You’re tenacious,” she said, as we were seated.  “I’ll give you that.”

“Is tenacity a bad thing?”

She dealt with her cutlery and napkin while forming her answer, but when she raised her head, her face answered me before her words did.  “No, not necessarily.  I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.  Why didn’t you return my call?”

“Good afternoon.  Welcome to Dixon’s.  Can I start you off with some drinks?”

The interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time, but come, it did.  We ordered our food along with our drinks and the waitress left us. 

“How did you know to look for me at Trader’s?” Caitlin asked.

“I met someone you know.  He told me.”

“Who was it?”

“Why?” I asked.  “Would you give him a hard time on my account?”

“Depends on who it is,” she said with a grin.

“Penn Singleton.”

“Penn that works at the store?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I’ll definitely have to give him a hard time.”

My face rather fell, but then she laughed and placed her hand on my arm.

“I’m only kidding!  How did you meet Penn?”

“He also works for Billy Farmer.  I met him in the studio.”

Our beverages arrived and were served.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” I insisted.

Her smile faded, but she looked me in the eyes.

“Nicholas, I could fall for you in a skinny minute.  From the time I had my very first crush, I’ve always fallen for musicians.  I’ve been really, truly, painfully in love four times in my life.  Three of those times my heart was broken by musicians.  The last time was Jesse—not a musician—we were happy for so long and then my heart was broken again by a senseless accident.”  She dabbed her eyes with her napkin.  “I just . . . I just don’t think my heart can take another . . . breaking.”

My eyes softened, I sighed and studied her face.  I reached for her hand just as our food was served.  Neither of us looked at it.  Once the server left, I got her hand again and she allowed me to take it.

“I don’t know what to say.  I’m not familiar enough with the emotion of love to know what it feels like.  I’m certain I’ve broken my share of hearts through the years even though I’ve always tried to be honest with the women I’ve, um, dated.  And I’ve seen the train wrecks left behind by other musicians, so I rather understand what you’re saying, albeit second or third hand.

“What I want you to know is that the time we spent together in Manhattan was special to me.  You are special to me.  When we were together . . . I’m not sure how to describe it.”  I laughed and glanced quickly away.  “You know, I’m usually a pretty cool chap.”

She gave me that wrinkled-nose smile that did me in, and I was able to return to her a smile of my own.

“But when we were together, a  . . . sense of calm came over me.  A sense of . . . belonging, perhaps?  It felt right being with you.”  I paused for a moment and looked at the food in front of me before I continued.  “Other than onstage, I haven’t had a place to call home in a very long time.  Decades.  With you, I felt at home.  Does that make any sense?”

Her eyes didn’t waiver.  “It does.  And I felt it too, but I didn’t want to give in to it because of, you know, my past experiences.”

“I get that.  I do.  But when you left—the way you left—I felt empty.  I tried to hide it, I tried to tell myself you were just another woman.  That it didn’t matter if I never saw you again—there are hundreds of them out there that didn’t matter.”

“More like thousands,” she said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes in acknowledgement.  “Let’s just call it a lot.

“But I was miserable, Caitlin.  Thank God my music didn’t suffer—I can tell you my blues got better—but all my mates were on me about it.  So, finally I called.  And when you didn’t phone back, I had my answer, didn’t I?

“Then Billy called and . . . here I am.”

She poked at the salad she’d ordered with her fork, and studied the movement as she did so.

“It would take a tremendous leap of faith for me, Nicholas.”

“For me, as well.  Don’t you see?”

“I’m just not sure I have it in me.  The risk is too great.”

“Is everything okay?”  The waitress had reappeared and looked worried at our uneaten food.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” I replied.  “We’re just catching up.”

Caitlin looked at her phone for the time.  “Yikes.  I’ve gotta get back to work.  Could you bring me a box to go?”

“You bet.  For you, too?”

“Sure,” I said with a smile and a shrug.

To Caitlin, I said, “Will you let me walk you back to work?”

“I’d like that.”

*          *          *

We stopped just short of going inside when we reached the grocery.  Caitlin still had a few minutes.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“It’s been my pleasure, believe me.”

“Don’t break my heart, Nicholas.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“Well,” she said.  “I’ve gotta get back.”

I put my hands on her shoulders.  “Wait.  I badly want to kiss you again.  May I?”

“Not here,” she said with a shake of her head.  “But I will take a hug.”

We held each other just long enough and she whispered to me, “Call me when you get back to the hotel.  I swear I’ll answer the phone.”

With that, she flashed me her smile and walked into the shop.

It seemed I was always watching her walk away.

*          *          *

“Did you see her?” Raymond asked as we pulled away from the hotel.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I s’pose it went all right.  I think I’m still processing it.  We talked.  She let me buy her lunch and she wants me to call her when I get back to the hotel.”

“That’s a start,” he said.

“That it is,” I said with a sigh.  “Say, what do you know about running that big bridge?  I noticed a lot of people on it when I walked down to Caitlin’s work.”

“I know my wife's always trying to get me to go with her.”

“Have you?”

“Oh, hell no,” he said with a laugh.  “You should ask her.”

“So, what do you think about this band Billy’s nurturing?”

“Not bad.  They seem like nice kids.  Polite.  Not like some of the arrogant little shits that come through here.”  Raymond glanced back at me.  “But they can use a real guitar player and that’s no lie.”

“Are they local?”

“Yeah.  Real local.  Mt. Pleasant local.”

“Billy said they work together well.”

“Yeah, which is sometimes unusual in itself.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Raymond dropped me off at the front door of the downtown studio.  A sign proclaimed, “Rock House:  Be Prepared.”

“Is that a warning or a promise?” I asked with a laugh. 

“Little of both, my man,” Raymond answered.

Inside the front door, faint strains of music reached us from the studio.  Billy saw me coming. 

“Nicholas!  Welcome back.  Our boys are here today.  It will be interesting.”

Raymond came through the side door from the car park. 

Billy said to him, “Your musical talents have been requested in rehearsal room one.”

“All right!” Raymond said, turning to go up the stairs. 

“Oh, and if you don’t mind, would you leave Nicholas’ guitar with Dougie?  Thanks.” Billy turned to me.  “C’mon in my office.”

Billy’s temporary office space was decorated with gold and platinum records and other awards he’d earned through the years, as well as photos of himself with various recording bigshots.  On the wall behind his desk he’d mounted an ancient Fender Stratocaster signed by Jimi Hendrix.  It all struck me as a bit surreal, considering the walls were unpainted plywood.

“The sign on the front door is brilliant,” I said.

“You like it?  I thought it was rather brilliant myself.  This was actually a bar and music venue for years, until the owners put more profits up their noses than back into the place.  When the studio and music hall at the compound are finished, I may give this place another go as a nightspot.  For now, we’re producing some of rock’s rising stars and needed a place to do so.  I know you’ve heard of Purple Strap, but we’ve also got Charlotte Knew, Lightning Streak, and some others.”

“I toured with Purple Strap last year,” I said. 

“Yes, actually it was after I heard your guitar work for them, that I invited them to join us here.  You’d already moved on to work with Taylor by then.  We’re encouraging them toward an edgier sound with more guitar, more thoughtful lyrics and less screaming.  They’re challenged, but rising to it.”

I smiled remembering my time with them.  “They’re a good bunch of lads.  I understand Jonathon just became a father.”

“Yes, lord.  And a doting one he is,” Billy said.

I wondered what that would be like.

Billy stood up.  “Let’s see how Penn’s doing today.”

We watched the young band in the studio from the window.

“They’re very good.  Very young.  Extraordinarily good looking,” I said with a laugh.  “I suddenly feel old as dirt.”

“I know that feeling very well,” Billy agreed.  “These kids are quite promising.  They’ve been together . . . really, most of their lives, and like I told you yesterday, the chemistry between them is unforced and natural.”

“Brilliant harmonies, from what I can hear.”

“Let’s go in.”

Dougie Chappell was at the sound board, wearing headphones, hands manipulating controls while watching the computer monitor.

“Guys,” Dougie spoke into the mic.  “Special guest visiting.”

The young men of the band called Battery Park seemed excited to meet me.  Billy introduced us all around, Penn puffing up a bit like we’d been long-time mates.

“All right,” Billy said, “let’s get to work.  I’d like to give Nicholas an idea of where you’re starting, so go back and play the same song you were just practising.  Play it like your lives depend upon it.”

The opening riff was catchy enough, but right away I could tell that even though they put their all into it, the song was lacking a cohesive lead, just as Billy had said.  Penn seemed to know the basics, but couldn’t grasp the nuances.  On the guitar at least, he was an adequate technician more than a musician.

That said, the rest of the band was quite talented and in fact, I could see—rather hear—that Penn was a brilliant vocalist with an ear for harmonies.  I kept my eye on the rhythm guitar player, Damon.  I saw him wince when Penn missed something, and clearly, he heard in his head what Penn could not.

“You said they’ve known each other a long time?” I asked Billy.

“Yes,” he said.  “Nearly all their lives.  What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking Damon has a better ear for lead.  D’you think Penn would have a problem about switching roles?”

“I don’t think so,” Billy said.  “And now that you’ve brought it up, I see what you mean.”

Billy and I entered the inner studio as the song ended.

“Great song, mates,” I told them. “Good lyrics, the bass line rocks.  The harmonies are brilliant.”

Penn blushed and hung his head.  “I know I’m holding them back.”

“Not totally,” I said.  “Mate, your harmonies are more intricate than anything out there.  They’re bloody genius.  True, you’ve got a long way to go with lead guitar, but what do you think about trading lead for rhythm and making lead vocals your emphasis?”

Penn and Damon looked at each other.

“I’ve never done lead,” Damon said.

“That’s all right.  I’ll give you direction.  I know you can hear it.  I saw you.  Let me show you what I mean.”

I picked up my Les Paul and looked over the effects pedals in front of me.  I smiled.  “Oh yeah, I can work with this.”

The drummer counted off and the song began.  From the very first note, which I bent using the distortion pedal, I brought a whole new level to an already decent song.  I heated up the main riff with the wah and string rakes, blistered the solo with trills, staccatos and high-neck tapping.  I made good use of three out of the four effects pedals and ended it all with a feedback scream that set the whole song apart.  Even Dougie was impressed.

Dougie played it back and I approved.  Me, being my own worst critic.

It was decided that I would play lead guitar on a couple of the songs while training Damon on the basics.  A glorified guitar teacher.  I laughed at the thought.

We finally stopped working about nine-thirty, having taken a short break for dinner when Bryan arrived to bring us sandwiches and fresh fruit.  By the time we met in Billy’s office for an after-party of sorts, all of us felt exhausted, but sated.  Billy poured us drinks and we settled in to relax.

“Raymond told me you got to see your lady today,” Billy said.  “How’d it go?”

“I think it went all right.  She didn’t send me away and she let me buy her lunch.  We talked about some of our issues, but I think there are a lot more that need addressed.”

“On your part as well as hers,” Billy said.

I arched my eyebrow in acknowledgement.

“Wait a minute.  Wait a minute,” Dougie said.  “Nicholas Trent is serious about a woman?  Bloody hell?!”

“With any luck, Dougie, it’ll happen to you one day.”

“Bollocks!” he said.  “You’ve been my role model.  ‘How to Have the Time of Your Life While Staying Single.’”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know,”  Billy said then turned to me.  “Has she softened her stance on you, then?”

“I know she enjoys being with me.  We enjoyed lunch today.  I’m hoping she’ll be able to . . . I dunno.  I know I’ve never felt so happy and so miserable at the same time.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, mate,” Dougie said.  “I think I’ll keep the happy and pass on the miserable.”

Billy laughed.  “Have you told her you love her?”

“No-o-o.  Not yet.  I’m not sure I’m ready for that.  I’m not sure she’s ready to hear it.”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Billy asked.

“She’s a widow—almost a year and a half.  But her husband’s spirit is always very close to the surface because his brothers—well, two of the three—are giving her a hard time over his estate.”

“Shouldn’t that have all been sorted out by now?”

“You would’ve thought so, wouldn’t you?  But it’s holding her back from moving on with her life.”

“That’s too bad,” Billy said.  “And once it is all sorted, how do you envision your future together?”

I leaned back in my chair and sighed deeply.  “I dunno.  The only lives we’ve known are totally incompatible.  I’m never long in one place and she never travels.”

*          *          *

It was nearly eleven o’clock before I could ring Caitlin, but she answered straightaway.

“Is it too late to call?”

“I was starting to wonder, but I wouldn’t answer the phone this late for just anyone, you know.”

“Well, I thank you for that.  You can’t imagine how it makes me feel just to hear your voice.”

“Aww . . . you’re sweet.  How was the studio today?”

“It was good.  We made a couple of personnel shifts and I think it’ll work out fine.  How was your day?”

“It was okay.  Got bombarded this afternoon with arrangements for a funeral and we have more to do before the service tomorrow, but it’ll be okay.  If it wasn’t work, they’d call it fun, right?”

“Rather like my job.”

“Yeah, no fair.  Can we have lunch again tomorrow?”

“Sorry, no.  I’m going to the studio in the morning but if it’s anything like today, I should be back in time for dinner.”

“Oh,” she said.  “I’m setting up plants for a catering event tomorrow night.”

“Hmm.  Well, what about Wednesday?”

“Okay, uh . . . I sort of let it slip that you were in town and my brother-in-law invited us over to his place for dinner that night.  Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, I s’pose.  I hoped we’d have some time together so we could talk some more.  But that would be all right.”  I yawned.

“Great, ‘cause my nephew, Colby—remember I told you about Colby when we were in New York?”

“Vaguely.”

“He’s the one that plays guitar, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Well, he’s really excited to meet you.  He can’t believe his Aunt Cait could know someone so cool.”

“Well, in that case, I’m sure we should go.  How old is he again?”

“He’ll be seventeen in November.”

“And he’s been playing how long?”

“Seven or eight years, I believe.  I think he’s really good and I think you will too.”

“Given your taste in music and guitarists, I trust your judgment.”

“What’ll you do tomorrow, then?” she asked.

“I think I’ll run that big bridge when I get back from Billy’s.  It looks like a good run.  Have you ever done it?”

“I don’t have the knees for running, and I haven’t yet walked it, but I’d like to.  It looks like a challenging bike ride.  If I ever got back into biking, I might like to do that.  Be careful out there, okay?”

“It looked like there were lots of people on it.  A lot of crime up there?”

“Not that I know of, still . . . I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

That made me smile.  “Thanks.”  I yawned again.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.  I should let you go anyway.  We both have early days tomorrow, don’t we?”

“Yes, but I hate to let you go.  Get some rest, all right?”

“I will.  You too.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  Caitlin?”

“Yeah?”

I wanted desperately to say, “love you,” but I kept it to myself.

“Goodnight.”

THE GUITARIST: Nicholas Finds Caitlin

It was late afternoon before Raymond drove me back to the hotel.  Food was the furthest thing from my mind, but there were still a few hours of daylight left and a good run would be just the thing.

I changed my clothes and stopped by the concierge’s desk to ask the whereabouts of Peninsula Traders.  She brought it up on an electronic tablet and showed me how to get there. 

I ran past shops—large, small, quaint and gauche.  Caitlin was right, history was everywhere in the old buildings, cobblestone streets, and carriage tours.  I came to a section of elegant old homes on the edge of a commercial area, and ahead in the next block, I saw the sign for Peninsula Traders.  A busy street ran between me and the supermarket. As I waited to cross, I saw Caitlin come outside dressed in khaki pants and a white button-down shirt.  She looked tired, but gorgeous.  She got in her car and I ducked into a doorway so she wouldn’t see me as she drove by.  Christ, I feel like a stalker.

I continued my run back toward the hotel, passing a large library, a large construction site and a huge building that claimed to house the county department of education.  They must have good schools here.  On another block, I came across several buildings associated with a college, there was a theatre with an old fashioned marquee and an interesting vintage bookstore with a blue bicycle parked outside.  Lots of restaurants, bars, and more shops of all kinds lined my way back to the hotel.

*          *          *

The next day, I wasn’t expected at the studio till afternoon.  I’d stayed up late writing music so I slept in a bit and had a leisurely breakfast in my suite.  I left the hotel for Peninsula Traders dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and my trainers.  It was a short few blocks to the market.

As I entered the grocery, the scent of freshly baked bread greeted me, along with a young man who said, “Welcome to Traders.”

“Thank you,” I answered.

“Would you like a shopping cart and a sale ad?”

He was so bright and fresh, I couldn’t help but smile.  “No, thank you,” I said, “but could you direct me to the floral department?”

He pointed me in the right direction and I sauntered toward it looking at the displays along the way.  Like the young man at the door, the supermarket itself was bright and fresh.  Every display was perfectly arranged.  The labels of the tinned goods all faced forward, boxed goods stacked just so.  Flawless produce in rainbows of colour led into the floral section, where I spotted Caitlin working alongside a young woman behind a counter.  A young man watered green plants on the sales floor.

I pretended to inspect apples as I planned my approach.  Would she be glad to see me, or would she still think it a bad idea?  I had no way of knowing, but when the sound of her laughter reached me, I knew I had to take the chance.

When I entered the floral area, the young man, whose name tag pronounced him “Joe,” came up to me.

“Good morning,” he said, just as brightly as his co-worker up front.  “May I help you find something today?”

“Thank you,” I said in a soft voice, “but I believe I’ve found it.  I wonder if you might quietly point Caitlin Flynn in my direction.”

Joe’s eyebrows shot up and his smile widened across his face.  “Cait?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

“Yes, thank you.”  I nodded.  “Quietly.”

“Sure.  You must be why she’s wearing makeup again,” he said with a grin.

I couldn’t help my own grin at his comment and wondered if it was true as he walked toward the counter where Caitlin and the other woman trimmed roses placing them into large, black vases.  When Joe got there, Cait looked up and saw me.  She covered her mouth with her hand in a gesture of surprise.  I couldn’t tell if she was happy to see me or not.

I drew in a shaky breath and stood my ground, though my instinct urged me to fly to her and fold her into my arms.  I was so nervous, I may have bitten my bottom lip.

I couldn’t hear what Joe said to her, but the woman beside her took Cait’s flower pruners and gave her a little push toward the sales floor.  I read her lips as she told Cait to “Go!”

Caitlin's breath was shallow by the time she reached me.  I wanted desperately to take her trembling hands in mine, but I kept them to myself.

“Nicholas,” she said, with a tentative smile that matched my own.  I relaxed a smidgeon when she put her hands on my arms so I kissed her on both cheeks.  “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m helping Billy Farmer with a project while we’re on our break.”

“Billy Farmer?”

“Yes.  He lives near here.”

“Oh, that’s right.”  She looked less sure than ever and I was afraid of what she would say next.

“Look, maybe I shouldn’t have come,” I said, “but Billy called for my help and I couldn’t stay a few blocks from here and not see you.”  I shook my head at my shoes and took a deep breath.

“How did you even find me here?” she asked, more curious than annoyed, I was pleased to note.

I looked around.  “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” I asked, tension building in my chest.

“I can’t right now,” she said, glancing back toward the counter where her co-workers, who had clearly been watching us, quickly busied themselves.  That made her show me the smile I had longed for.  My heart picked up its pace.

“I get off at seven,” she said, taking my hands.  “Dinner?”

I shook my head.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be at Billy’s.  I’m not going there till one-thirty.”  I brightened.  “How about lunch?”