Chapter 12 #3
Ray isn’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol or something more, but it’s so easy to look at Gene and imagine feeling his lips instead of hers.
The way Gene looks at Ray sends another flutter through his chest, especially so, when he can see the veins popping in Gene’s hand, grabbing his cup a little tighter.
Slowly, Gene takes another sip, never dropping eye contact with Ray.
As hard as he might try, there’s no hiding the redness that flushes over Gene’s face.
Ray and Carol’s lips part, and he focuses on her again.
“Happy birthday, Ray,” she says with a smile.
“Thanks, Carrie,” he replies.
The song changes again to another slower one: ‘Wild Horses’. Carol doesn’t seem to want to let go of him, but Ray needs space. His nerves are too jumpy after that. He glances back at Gene, then back at her. Carefully, he pulls his hands off her waist.
“I think I’d like more to drink,” Ray says, lightening his words with a chuckle. “We can always dance again later.”
Carol pouts. “Aw, really?” When Ray simply gives her a shrug, she finally pulls her arms off him, shaking her head. “Well, whatever. It is your birthday, after all. You can do what you want.”
He steps around her, closer to the kitchen—and therefore closer to Gene. His best friend smiles, giving Ray a gentle wave.
“Happy birthday, Ray,” Gene says, voice tender. “I’ve got a present for you, but I was waiting for the right time to grab it.”
“Oh, sure!” Ray grins. “Go ahead.”
“Alright, I’ll be right back.”
Gene steps away and sets his cup down on an end table by the couch, walking past all the people in the living room to run up the stairs.
While Ray did want a drink for himself, he figures that can wait until after he gets Gene’s present.
In no time at all, Gene is already back downstairs, holding what looks to be a piece of paper behind his back.
“What’s this?” Ray asks.
“Here.” Gene holds the paper low out in front of him, showing a realistic shaded pencil drawing that bears a striking resemblance to…
“I drew this of you, Ray. I haven’t really drawn much since I graduated art school, but I figured if there was anyone’s face I wanted to practice drawing… it’d be yours.”
“Gene, this is beautiful.” Ray accepts the artwork, holding it closer to get a better look at it, his cheeks feeling warm. “It looks just like me.” He looks up, catching Gene’s sweet smile.
“Thanks. I’m rather proud of it.”
“Woah, a drawing? Let me see!” Santiago cuts in, hovering over Ray’s shoulder to get a look for himself. “Holy shit, Gene! That’s amazing. I’ve always thought you were ridiculously good at drawing, much better than me.”
“Hey, don’t put yourself down, Santi. You’re great yourself,” Gene chuckles. “But thanks anyway.”
“You should frame that, Ray,” Santi says.
“I definitely should.”
“And Ray, if you don’t mind…” Gene says, tilting his head. “I wanted to play a song for you. But it can wait until the record’s done—”
“Oh no, please, play for me!” Ray laughs. “We can just stop the record and come back to it later. We’ve got all night.”
“A song, eh?” Santi rubs his chin. “A cover, or something else…?”
“One that Ray and I wrote together. You’ll know it.”
Ray wants to guess which one it might be, but figures he’ll stay quiet to keep the song a surprise.
Thankfully, Santi does too, and offers to turn off the record player for them.
After he does so, Gene grabs his acoustic guitar from the stand next to the couch and throws the strap over his shoulder.
He stands in front of the TV, becoming the center focus of the living room, and Ray calls everyone to gather round.
Ray has a front-row seat in the middle of the couch—still holding Gene’s precious drawing—with Carol sitting on one side, Santiago on the other, and the rest sitting or standing about.
“I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous to play for you all like this,” Gene says, gripping his guitar neck tight. “I know we’ve played in front of thousands of people on tour, but that’s as a whole band. I’m not used to playing… by myself, y’know.”
“You’ll be fine, Gene,” Ray says, giving him an encouraging smile. “You got this.”
“Alright. Here goes nothin’...”
Gene plucks a soft arpeggio, tickling Ray’s ears with the sweet melody.
Of course, he instantly recognizes it. How could he not, when it’s one they wrote together?
They haven’t played it in a while, not since they recorded it in Vegas a couple months ago.
But hearing it again excites him. Especially so, when it’s one he holds dear to his heart.
“It’s you who has it all…” Gene sings, strumming along. “All of me, always you. You’ll catch me when I fall… All of me, always you.”
Gene holds Ray’s gaze as he sings the lyrics. It’s a love song they wrote, one that Ray insisted that Gene sings lead himself on. As Gene’s soft voice flows through the room, it makes Ray’s heart soar. He thinks on that sentiment again—a love song they wrote.
A love song.
“It was always you…”
Those notes hit Ray’s very soul.
“It was ah—ah—ah—always you…”
He wishes he could reach out, touch Gene’s face, pull him close.
“You cause all my laughs, you cause all my tears. But it always feels so right, holdin’ you near.”
Carol brushes against his shoulder, sitting next to him on the couch.
He ignores her touch, focusing solely on Gene.
“It was ah—ah—ah—always you…”