Drowning in Neptune’s Pool

I returned to the office hours later to find the place empty. Corey was probably out running the errands that Pete hated to do, and then he’d be off teaching at night school. Which left me with nothing to do but answer phones and take messages until Pete’s arrival. When he walked in, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. “You have a few messages, basically some prospective clients, and one repeat.” “Thanks.” Pete glanced at me. “What’s wrong, Jimmy? You’ve been in a bad mood all day. Didn’t Mrs. Teague’s peach pie help you feel better?” I chuckled, despite myself. “It was tasty, as always. I’m just going through a bad patch. The band broke up, and I’m still pissed.” He looked sympathetic. “Ah, geez, I’m sorry, man. I know how much you love to play. You’ll find another gig, though. Just give it time.” Pete had been to a few of our shows. “Right now, I don’t know if I want to be in another band. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I grabbed my backpack and headed home, a ten-minute walk from where I worked. My apartment was on the third floor in an older brick building. It was kind of a haven for creative types, with musicians, writers, and artists populating each floor. Which was why I loved it. I could play my banjo most nights without complaints from anyone. It was warm when I went up to the roof that evening with my beer and a sandwich. It was one of my favorite spots in town, and the view was to die for. A few pieces of furniture dotted the ground, and the heat from the waning sun felt good on my skin. I sat in a corner and stared at the skyline in the distance. As I chewed my tuna fish snack, I heard the door creak as it opened. I turned to see a guy about my age or a little bit younger carrying a fiddle as he walked in my direction. When he spotted me, he stopped. “Sorry, man. I hope I won’t disturb you.” “Naw, it’s fine,” I said. “Company is always welcome. Have a seat.” He smiled at me. “Thanks.” I watched as he set himself up on the bench across from me and tuned his fiddle. He started to play “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” and I almost dropped my food. He was the best fiddle player I’d ever heard, and that was saying a lot, since I’d hung out with some of the most talented of his kind in the region. I tapped my foot, playing some of the parts in my head that I would add on the banjo to complement his interpretation of the piece. By the time he was done, I felt I’d died and gone to heaven. “Dude, you are f*****g awesome. I mean…Goddamn!” I gushed, something I rarely ever did. He flipped wavy black hair off his face, a bright pink stripe visible down one side, and smiled. “Thanks. It’s one of my favorite songs to play.” “You totally nailed it, dude. You play anywhere around here?” I asked. He shook his head. “Just got into town. Left a band behind that had s**t for brains and more attitude than talent. It’s not that I make a living at it, but I like to play with people that love it as much as I do and are serious about their craft.” “I know what you mean,” I replied. “I play the banjo, and my band just broke up because of egotistical drama.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Despite the fact that most of them were assholes, I still miss the music, though maybe I’ll keep it low key for a while.” “Yeah.” He walked over and sat next to me. “Landry Flannery.” He held out his hand. I shook it. “Jimmy Fassett. Nice to meet you, fiddle man.” His touch sent a lightning bolt up my spine, and I swallowed. That had never happened to me before. “Well, I’ll leave you to your tuna,” he said, grinning when I blushed. “Oh, God, sorry about my breath.” He winked at me. “It’s okay. I like tuna.” Landry stood. “See you around, Jimmy Fassett. Maybe we can play together one evening, up here on the roof.” “I’d like that.” * * * * The rest of the week, I did my regular job, but I was thwarted by weather in going up on the roof in the evenings. It also meant that we didn’t clean many pools either and that left filing paperwork. Which I hated. With a passion. Friday was the first time it stopped raining, and I was anxious to spend more time with the mysterious Landry. As it was the start of the weekend, more people were around on the roof, but they were in groups, doing their own thing. I spotted Landry right away. He sat tuning his instrument, his pink-striped hair hard to miss, even in the sunset. There were lights above us, and I made my way to where he sat by himself. “Hi.” I joined him on the bench, my banjo in hand. “That’s a nice instrument,” he said, looking it over. “Old?” “My father’s. He gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.” I carefully patted the strings. “He used to play in a band in the seventies and eighties. He gave it all up to raise us kids. He taught me how to play, since I was the only one among the five of us who was interested in music.” “Five, did you say?” Landry seemed shocked. “Yup, and it would have been more, but Mom told Dad that the only football team in their house would be on TV. So he had to get snipped.” “Oh, that’s awesome,” Landry said, laughing long and hard. “My parents are unique, to say the least.” “They sound like mine,” he replied. “My dad, his dad, and on before him were fiddlers. I’m carrying on the tradition in a long line of Flannerys.” “I see. So since you’re new to town, what are you looking to do?” I asked as I tuned my strings. I used a tuner app on my phone. “Well, I’ll be teaching music at St. James Community College. I got my Master’s degree a few years ago, but I got tired of the scene back home. So here I am.” “Wow, that’s cool.” He didn’t look old enough to have done everything he’d said, but what did I know? Maybe he just had good genes. He smiled. “You’re thinking I’m young, aren’t you?” Chuckling, I nodded. “I get that all the time. Maybe it’s the stripe in my hair. I’m thirty years old, and I still get carded.” “We should all have that problem,” I retorted, and he laughed. “You’re probably right.” We both finished tuning, and then he asked, “So what should we play?” “How about we do that Charlie Daniels song again?” “Let’s hit it.” * * * * Oh, man, we played so well together! Everyone within listening distance stopped what they were doing and gathered around us, tapping their feet or dancing with each other. It was so cool. I’d missed this kind of energy. We jammed for a couple of hours, the crowd continuing to grow until it seemed most of the building was on the roof for an impromptu party. Finally, enough was enough. “Okay, folks,” Landry said. “I’m tired, and I’m sure Jimmy is, too. Rain check?” He was a natural at this. People were disappointed, but the prospect of having us do this again sometime soon was well-received. We got a huge round of applause as we left to go back to our respective apartments. “That was awesome, man,” I said as we stood before Landry’s door. He was on the second floor. “I had a great time. We seem to have a lot of chemistry together. Playing, I mean.” I bit my tongue. Now was not the time to be flirting. If Landry caught my slip, he didn’t say. “I enjoyed it, too. Maybe we could make this a weekly thing. We should get together, figure out some music, see where it goes. If you want to, that is.” “I’d love it,” I said and shook his hand. “Thanks. I really needed this.” “I’m glad I could help.” The look in his eyes said he might want to help me with something else, but the timing wasn’t right. Seemed my vibe about him had been correct. I stepped back as he unlocked the door. “Let’s exchange numbers, and you can text me when you have time to practice.” Once we did that, I said, “Later, Landry.” “Bye, Jimmy,” he replied and went inside.