Dawn in the Orchard

by Cooper West

  The third day he planned to start on the two closed-off rooms upstairs or maybe get the freshly cleaned den set up as his studio. But those plans changed the night before when a thorough sorting of the den revealed boxes and boxes of old records, most of them standard vinyl LPs from the sixties and seventies, but also included was a cache of pre-WWII 78 rpm shellac records. Allofthe music was old-schoolcountry and traditionalbluegrass, heavy on the banjo and guitar. Gary was nearly frothing at the mouth to listen to them. Afew were hideously warped, but most were not, and he knew a few tricks on how to salvage a moderately wavy vinyl, anyway. He wanted to hear the music, but apparently Harriet had not: there was no record player in the house that Gary could find, and he tossed the place after discovering the records, even climbing up the scary attic access ladder in the upstairs hallway to peek into the ruins held there. Trunks and more unlabeled (and, Gary thought grimly, roach infested) boxes, but no record player.

  On a mission and feeling good about it, the next morning he drove straight into Holden, ate breakfast at the localdiner, stopped into talk fruitlesslyto the coffee shop manager again, got another latte (this time at full price) then set off to troll the shops to find an older record player. He needed one that could do both the regular 33s and 45s as well at the ancient 78s, which any player could do theoretically, but he was hoping for a solid piece of technology that would not cost him an arm and a leg. He found a Jurassic hand-crank phonograph at one store for the incredible deal of $7,000, a price which was several orders of magnitude greater than the amount of money he actually had to his name. There were a few early 1980s horrors in what were junk shops off the main drag, but that was the extent of his success rate when he finally walked into Everett’s store, tired and depressed and thinkingthat he was just going to go back to the house, finish setting up the den, then go back to sleep. When he walked in, he heard Chuck’s music mix playing again, and it slightly changed his mood from “despairing” to “melancholy.” He decided that ifhe stayed there longenough, he might evenmake it to “cautiouslyoptimistic.”

  For a while he sat in a corner inspecting a handyman’s encyclopedia set from 1957, which contained fascinating period photos. It was too ratty to be a collectible but in good enough shape to be interesting, which was the description of most of the items in the place. Aside from a few show pieces—the deco-era leopard-etched mirror, for instance—most of the inventory was midrange collectible, but it was all veryinteresting. Toys he had not seen in twenty years, funky glass ashtrays, and lots of bric-a-brac, like salt shakers and martinisets.

  He looked up to find that he had once againspent over an hour going through the place, with Elba glaring at him the whole time. Gary smiled back at her, plastering on his best “good neighbor” expression and wondering unkindly if Elba was Chuck’s sister, cousin, or both. He closed his eyes in horror at his own flippancy, then slunk to the very back of the store to hide behind a chifforobe.

  And thenhe saw it. There was no mistaking the awkward set of an old-fashioned stereo cabinet, no matter how much style and fashion sense it was dressed up in. This one, though, was dressed in a late ’50s elegance of blond wood and spindle legs that marked it as something special, somethingEuropean, and sure enough, in the lower right hand corner of the side speaker was the magic charm: “Multiplex Stereo—Blaupunkt.” It was gorgeous, but it could also be empty. Gary had already seen three gutted stereo cabinets at other shops, and this one was so beautiful it was almost beyond comprehension that it was not in some other way faulty. He pulled open the drop-front cabinet door and out slid a perfect turntable, framed by a radio set on top. There was a variable-speed switchfor the RPM settings and a rest for the needle armto be placed on when not in use. Cutting-edge technology for the era it was made, and if Gary knew anything, it was that Blaupunkt was serious about playback. He closed it slowly, hunting around for a price tag. The back showed a complete hook up of wires, so if the inside speakers were still functioning as well as the whole piece looked like it could, he would be in business. Except for the missing price tag. Gingerly he stuck his head back out from behind the chifforobe, forcing his mind to a more charitable place of residence, and looked directly at Elba, who was predictably staring right back at him. “How much for the stereo cabinet?”

  She pursed her lips. “A grand.”

  Gary wondered if this was one of those situations where it would be considered rude to bargain or not. The price was probably high, but also probably not too high, because the stereo was not just a turntable, it was a collectible worthy of any serious audiophile’s showroom. He slunk back out of sight again and stood inspecting it, knowing that, one way or another, he had to buy it, and trying to figure out how to lowball convincingly. There was a reason he had a manager, and it was because he sucked at bargaining. It was one thing Roger accused him of that he never bothered to deny, because it was true.

  “Works.”

  He looked up and straight into Chuck’s impossiblyclear blue-grayeyes.

  “And looks good. But a thousand dollars’ worth ofgood?” He shrugged and looked back at the cabinet, hoping that he radiated confidence and disinterest and knowingthat he failed miserablyat both.

  “Youwant it?”

  Gary gave him a sharp look. “Of course I do. Whydo think I’mhere?”

  Chuck looked at him as if he was studying his mood, inspectinghimcloselyfor honesty. Garyblushed, quickly looking back at the cabinet just to get out from under the weight of Chuck’s gaze. They were silent a while before Chuck stepped closer to the cabinet and spoke again.

  “Not much call for turntables these days. It’s all electronic media.” He tapped the top of the piece thoughtfully, then ran his long fingers along the edge. It was a sensual movement, slow and longing. Gary coughed and looked away because no way was Chuck Everett makinga playfor him. Ever.

  “Found a stash of albums. Old stuffAunt Harriet boxed up, mostly all traditional music. Even a few old shellac 78s.”

  Gary glanced back to see Chuck raise his eyebrows. “Mr. Lee played banjo.” He tapped the top again.

  “Yeah, he did. I remember himplaying that more than him playing records.” Gary blinked, surprised at the unexpected memories that nearly swamped him of holidays where his uncle and his father—who played guitar and was Gary’s first music teacher—sat around strummingtogether.

  “Been gone a long while, but I remember playing withhimout at Brunhilde’s.”Chuck’s voice was soft.

  “Right, the Lower Forty.”He nodded, and Chuck looked surprised.

  “You already making yourself at home.” His lips curled into a smirk, as if he had caught him out after hours.

  “A… friend mentioned it. I haven’t been there since I was a child, so I didn’t know about the conversionHarvdid.”

  The humor left his eyes. “A ‘friend’?”

  It was a presumptuous question, and Gary found himself caught between his heritage (“Yes! Fran! You know her?”) and Chicago (“None of your damn business”). He stalled long enough for Chuck to give him a casual shrug, although Gary could tell he was standing a little more stiffly than he had before. He rolled his eyes.

  “Since whendid myreputationhit the skids?”

  “Begpardon?”Chuck frowned at him

  “Some bartender named Fran mentioned it when I was at the restaurant the other night.” Gary folded his arms, annoyed at both himself and Chuck, because the conversation was out of control before he even realized that he wanted control of it. He told his libido to take a hike, whichwas as successfula tactic as it ever was.

  Chuck stood up taller but seemed to relax at the same time. “Some of us more friendly than others.” He smiled, looking at him, and Gary smiled for a second before stepping backward into the chifforobe, breaking the mood and cussing at himself for flirtingwith the straight guy. Not to mention an Everett, from Cornerstone, and Gary did not need extra warnings about how closed-minded that group certainly was. He tried to remind himself that he was there fo
r the turntable as he righted himself, only to find Chuck’s hand on his upper arm, pulling him gently. They both stopped for a moment, and Gary wondered if the vibe he was picking up on was entirely imagined before he shrugged off Chuck’s hand in what he hoped was a fairlypolite way. Chuck took the hint and stepped away apace.

  “Franinvite youout to play?”

  “Yeah. OnThursdays?”

  As if that changed the tone of the conversation completely, Chuck nodded. “She takes her banjo seriously. Best player infive counties.”

  “And you’d know?”

  He looked genuinely surprised that Gary would questionhis judgment. “Yeah. I would.”

  “You play with her.” He pointed at him, finally figuring it all out, then blushing when Chuck raised his eyebrows at the playonwords. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant.” He smiled with a mischievous look, his eyes lit up with amusement. Gary rolled his eyes.

  “She’s what, a cousin?”

  A dark expression clouded Chuck’s face. He was expressive, if guarded, and that was something Gary decided that he did not find attractive. At all. While he made the decision, Chuck’s eyes turned warm again, and he gave one of his minimalist shrugs. “Something like that. But yeah, I join her up at the Lower Fortysometimes. Yousayyouplay—come by.”

  It was as good an invitation as he was going to get, and one he did not really want. He cast about for an excuse. “I, uh, am out of practice on the traditional stuff. One reason I want this.” He reached out and tapped the stereo cabinet. Chuck looked down at his fingers, and Garydrew back instinctively. He wondered if Chuck even knew he was flirting like a Mack Truck, and the thought hit him that he could be some closeted localplayer, picking up the gay boys who came through town for fun. It was a question he was not likely to get an answer to, but the thought put a chill into Gary’s interest.

  They stood silently again for a moment, then Chuck gestured at the cabinet.

  “Five hundred.”

  “Halfprice?”Gary squawked before realizing that was not a good wayto bargain.

  He kept smiling. “I canask for more.”

  “No, no, no! Five hundred! Yes, that’s great. Five. But I don’t… and my bank is still up in Chicago, wellit is stayingthere, the bank I mean, but myaccount, which really isn’t that special, I might not even close it out, because… anyway I don’t have the cash on me, and my checks are not much good unless you want to wait a month for it to clear across state lines, so can I…?”He waved at the door, feelinga little crazy.

  “Go get cash?”

  “Right. That.”

  He nodded, and Gary sprinted for the door, feeling like a thief. Chuck had cut the price beyond anything that would give the store a profit, and Gary was not sure he wanted to know the reasonwhy, but he sure as hell was not going to refuse the offer. He had $150 cash on himand managed to coax $400 out ofan ATM. He was back, clutching the money like a crook, within twenty minutes. Chuck was standing in front of the counter, listening to Elba talk about something but watchingGarywithguarded interest.

  “Five.” He handed over the cash, keeping the final fifty dollars for groceries. Chuck glanced at it, then passed the money to Elba, who took it with a squinting face and begancountingit carefully.

  “Yougot a wayto transport it?”

  “I think it’ll fit in my SUV if I knock the back seats down.”

  “Youparked close?”

  “Oh. No. Downthe street a bit.”

  Chuck nodded, then put out a hand as if to stop him, despite the fact he was standing still. “Let me open the back up. Stayhere.”

  “Okayyyyyy.” Gary watched as he walked off, trying not to do so with any kind of blatant admiration. He was single, not dead, and Chuck really had a great physical charmto himthat anybody would be insane to miss.

  “Chuckie likes ya,” Elba drawled in his direction witha knowingsmirk onher face.

  That could be taken ten different ways, nine of them possibly lethal, and Gary knew it. “Well he’s a nice guy. Helpful.” Gary nodded noncommittally and moved off a little, over to the display of old makeup compacts. He picked up a garish pink one and looked it over, only realizing after the fact that he could not have done something more gay if he had tried. He quicklyput the compact back.

  “Sure, that’s what they say about Chuck. Helpful.” Elba drawled out the word, indicating her disbelief. Gary was not certain what she was really fishing for, dirt on him or dirt on Chuck, so he nodded againand tried to shuffle closer to the stereo cabinet.

  “Papa said youcharmed himgood.”

  It was like a surreal scene from the Twilight Zone, only more dangerous, and Gary just barely kept himself from hightailing it out the door. “Like I said, Chuck’s a helpful guy. I’m glad that your family is still goingto be managingthe orchards.”

  Elba nodded at him, but her eyes were narrow and mean. “Bet youare, at that.”

  The situation was getting strange, and Gary wondered where Chuck was and if he should just go get his car.

  “Sorry, damn roller jammed on the back bay door.”Chuck was back, wipinghis hands ona rag.

  “I’ll get Frank up here on that.” Elba nodded obediently at the younger man, and Gary saw the family resemblance then, despite the differences in age, height, and frame. Something about the set of the face was the same, and he cast a quick look between them to compare. Chuck caught his expressionand frowned but turned back to Elba.

  “Do that. We’re goingto get the car.”

  Gary was unceremoniously shuffled out the front door before either he or Elba could answer.

  “Family business, I guess?” he asked, knowing there was no reasonto fake ignorance.

  “Most are, around here.”

  They walked side by side, and, after a moment of discomfort, Garyfound theminaneasymatched gait.

  “So the planhere is to drive back to the store and load the cabinet inmycar.”

  “Yeah. Just, the back alley is a little tricky to find if you don’t know where it is. I’ll ride with you and show the way.” He was dressed in a long-sleeved dark shirt and worn jeans—clean working clothes, well tended and carefully mended like his truck. Like him, Gary thought absently, as he watched him out of the corner of his eye. He noticed several pedestrians give Chuck a double take and shuffle discreetly aside. Gary thought it was unfortunate that a decent man might be tainted bythe habits ofhis forebears.

  Chuck was not smiling but not frowning either, and Gary took some comfort in that. They got to his car, and Chuck automatically opened the back to peer inside. Then he was crawling in, and Gary had a great view ofhis ass, which was skinny but not flat. He was a muscular man, despite being spare and lithe, and Gary tried to distract himself quickly by paying attention to what he was doing.

  “They fold down pretty flat.” Gary pointed at the seats that Chuck was alreadyfoldingover.

  “Lay it down, and she should fit in here fine,” Chuck stated from his position curled up inside, one knee holding the seat down while he locked it in place. He paused and looked back at Garywithaneasysmile, and Gary was helplessly smiling back at him before he realized it. He tried to back-pedal his expression, as if that was even possible, but Chuck crawled out with a triangular grinonhis face.

  Stuck for something to say, Gary stuck to the niceties. “Uh, thanks for helping, here.”

  “Mypleasure.”

  “Mytrunk is your pleasure?”

  Chuck gave Gary a clever grin as his eyes flashed humorously, and Gary groaned when he understood his unintentionalinnuendo. “Forget I said that.”

  Chuck’s head bobbed in acknowledgement, but he was still grinning, and Gary could not stop himself from laughing self-consciously. He waved Chuck over to the passenger side while he settled in the driver’s seat. As he pulled into traffic, following Chuck’s directions, he kept trying to glance out of the corner of his eye at his passenger. He decided that he was being too obvious, again, and groped for somethingto say.


  “Thanks for this… I mean, the price cut and the help and everything. I reallycan’t afford it, but I want to hear those albums, and….” He tried to make his frivolous irresponsibility sound conversational, shrugging for added casualness. Chuck nodded but stayed still in the seat, as if captured by a stop-motion camera. Gary wondered if Chuck had been flirting at all. He was thrown, because either Charles Everett was seriously flirting with him for serious and dangerous reasons, or he wasn’t and Gary was an idiot. Gary was laying 50/50 odds while they stared at each other at the stop light.

  Chuck finally relaxed and leaned back in the seat, then gestured toward the sandwich shop across the road. “Pull in here. I’ve not had lunch yet, and Elba’s got the store. Youhungry?”

  With that invitation in his lap, Gary knew Chuck was very serious indeed, although Gary still was not going to guess in what way, specifically. It was a friendly gesture and could be taken as something as simple as that, or it could be a way for Chuck to scope him out for whatever reasons the mysterious Everetts might consider important. Gary forced himself to understand it was not because Chuck was secretly gay for him—for one thing, his luck was never that good. So he nodded and tried to fly casual as he parked, and theygot out again.