Chapter 11 #2
Gene’s heartrate quickens, and a sudden warmth rushes to his cheeks. “Yeah, of course, Ray. I’d love to.” He smiles, but then turns his head toward the woman next to him. “Would you be fine here by yourself if I go upstairs with Ray?”
“You don’t need to ask me that,” Toshiko giggles. “Yes, please spend time with your best friend. Besides, I’m not by myself. Stefan is right there.” She gestures toward Stefan, sitting in the armchair by the record rack, reading a book in silence. He’s always so damn quiet, I forgot he was here.
“Alright. Wait, Ray…” Gene holds his pointer finger up. “Where’s Carol? She’s not with you?”
“She was running out of make-up, so she and Pat went out to buy some,” Ray says, resting his hands back by his sides. “She told me she wanted to prepare, to be done-up and pretty for my birthday, y’know.”
“That makes sense.” Gene nods, jutting his lower lip out.
He tries not to get too jealous, especially now that Toshiko is beside him.
But it does give him an idea—I’ve never tried wearing make-up.
Ray sometimes wears it for shows, but maybe I could, too.
Some eyeliner could look nice. “You know when they’ll be back? ”
“Not sure, honestly.” Ray shrugs. “But I figured since I had some time alone, we could maybe spend it together?”
That warmth surges through Gene again, beckoning him toward Ray. “Of course. Yeah, however long is fine. I think Santi and Nicky must still be in my bedroom, so we can hang out in yours.”
“Sounds good.” Ray smiles sweetly.
“If you’ll excuse me, dear,” Gene says to Toshiko as he stands up.
Gene grabs one of his acoustic guitars, the one resting in a stand next to the couch.
He keeps one down here in the living room along with one upstairs in his bedroom, just to always have one on-hand.
He also has three electric guitars too, but those are usually stored away unless the whole band is jamming in the garage.
All he needs for writing is the acoustic, though.
He can transpose whatever they write to electric later.
If it doesn’t work acoustically, it won’t work electrically, Gene has always thought.
The two men make their way upstairs, finding themselves in the room Ray shares with Carol—the young lady not present at the moment—and Gene shuts the door.
Ray’s room is a bit smaller than Gene’s, as there’s only one bed instead of two.
But there’s more than enough space, as Gene sits down on the carpeted floor with the bed supporting his back, Ray following suit after he grabs his pocket notebook and pencil from the top of the dresser.
“Did you already have something in mind?” Gene asks, situating the guitar in his lap.
“No, but I figured we could just work on something new together,” Ray says. “I… I just missed hanging out with you.”
That surely makes Gene’s cheeks burn again. “I missed you too. I’m sorry that… that I haven’t been around much.”
“I mean, you’ve been here still, but just kinda… hidden away a lot of the time.”
Shame floods Gene’s senses, the awful feeling replacing the good one he was experiencing a moment earlier.
How would Ray react if he were to tell him that he plans to be even more distant, physically, by visiting California soon?
Possibly even Japan, too? He can’t ruin the moment now by saying that.
They’re here to make music, not argue about such things.
“I’m sorry, Ray,” Gene says. “But I’m here now. I’m glad you asked me to come up here with you.”
Ray smiles at that. “Santi encouraged me to. He’s good at that, knowing what to do to get us back together.”
Gene chuckles. “Well, I’m glad he did. So, I guess we could just start with anything, right?”
“Yeah. Pick a chord, any chord.”
Gene laughs again, strumming a random chord like Ray suggested.
He noodles around, plucking strings that match the key of the chord, finding a bluesy rhythm.
The songs that they wrote during their Fourth of July trip were love songs, rock-’n’-roll, or even country-sounding, since a lot of what they heard up north was country music.
But for this song, Gene feels the need to go back to their blues roots.
Honestly, probably now more than ever he could write a good blues song.
It was said by the masters that the best way to write the blues is to get your heart broken.
He definitely felt his heart split in two that mournful day about a month ago, caused by none other than the man sitting next to him.
The music flows through him with each twang of his strings.
He bobs his head to the beat, and he sees Ray do the same.
It’s a game waiting to see who speaks up first, who will find the melody, or who will think up words.
He looks into Ray’s eyes as he keeps strumming, searching—and those beautiful blue eyes send a spark right back at him.
“I got some lyrics,” Ray says. “You’ll need to help me with the melody, though.”
Gene never stops strumming, continuing the groove. “Alright, let me have ’em.”
Ray sing-talks the lyrics, “Doin’ fine—, doin’ well—, can’t say the same no more.” He waits for Gene to strum the next measure, then he speaks again, “Doin’ time—, no crime—, she left me, out the door.”
“Heartbreak blues, yeah,” Gene says. “I was thinkin’ something like that.”
Ray chuckles and shakes his head. “How come?”
“I don’t think I need to answer that.” Gene chuckles as well, still strumming. “What matters is that we’re in sync. Say those lyrics to me again.”
Ray does as asked, in time with Gene’s rhythm. He hears notes in his head that match the chords, and once Ray is done, Gene recites them in a melody. “Write that down,” he says after he stops singing. “Then sing it back to me.”
“Alright.” Ray grabs his pencil and jots the words down. He sings the same melody back, “Doin’ fine—, doin’ well—, can’t say the same no more.” Gene strums, and Ray sings the next line, “Doin’ time—, no crime—, she left me, out the door.”
Hearing Ray’s voice singing the blues rustles butterflies in Gene’s chest. Ray is a master at it, hence why their band has gotten so popular.
But it’s not just that—something about Ray’s singing touches Gene’s soul in a way he can’t describe.
He wants more of it, to always be able to listen to his best friend’s voice until the end of time.
It’s funny, he heard Toshiko sing plenty of times this past month, either in person or via her new record, yet he can’t remember feeling the same flutters.
Yes, her singing is phenomenal—there’s no question about that—but there’s something about Ray’s voice that hits differently.
He can’t deny it—Ray soothes him in a way no one else can.
“I love that,” Gene compliments. “Let’s figure out some more, I think we got that down.”
“For sure.” Ray nods. “I’ll continue on the same lines as that… Ah, okay.”
“You got something?”
“Yeah.” He sings the next line, “Why does life test me so? Why can’t I let her go? I try so hard but it leeeaves me soooo dryyyy—”
It doesn’t matter if the song is about a hypothetical woman—Gene feels the emotions strike the fiber of his very being. Ray is so good at that. Gene can’t get enough of it. “Fuck, yeah, that’s beautiful,” he says.
“Thanks.” Ray smiles. “You want me to write that down?”
“Absolutely.”
Ray jots down the words, and they continue on like that until they have the entire song written.
It’s so refreshing, being able to write with Ray again.
Oh, how he’d love to reach out and kiss him—especially since it’s just the two of them in the room—but he knows that’d be a bad idea.
Carol may be out at the store, though there’s no telling when she’ll be coming back.
She could waltz right in whenever she wants, since this is her own bedroom, after all.
But Gene will take whatever he can get with Ray, even if it’s just this.
During this whole past month of barely hanging out with him, it’s like a piece of Gene was missing—the piece that Ray occupies.
Sure, they’re still living under the same roof, but it’s not the same as spending quality time.
If he visits California—possibly even Japan—he’ll be missing Ray even more. He knows he will.
Should I even bother going at all?
Of course he needs to go. He and Toshiko are literally a couple now; he can’t just go back on his word to his own girlfriend.
My girlfriend. He still hasn’t told Ray about it.
Just like how he hasn’t mentioned California, either.
But he can’t, not now. Not when he’s feeling so good jamming with him.
He’ll just have to remember to tell Ray later. He’s not leaving until Saturday. That’s still a few days away. He’s got time.
Right now, all he wants to do is make music with his darling singer.