Dawn in the Orchard

by Cooper West

  “This looks… like a barn.”

  “No, the barnis inthe back.”

  Tally peered around. “So, are they actually licensed to serve food out here?”

  “They wash their hands and everything. Come on.”

  It was quiet for mid-afternoon, the lunch crowd moved on and the dinner crowd not off work yet. They walked into the gloom of the low-ceilinged restaurant and looked for a hostess, but Franspotted themfirst.

  “Gary! Come on over!” She waved them to a table in the bar area. Gary shrugged at Tally’s raised eyebrows, and they sat down as Fran yelled from the bar. “Whatcha drinkin’?”

  “Beer. Somethingina bottle.”

  “What he said.” Tally sighed in defeat as he took off his coat and folded it up carefully on a chair. Fran brought over two lagers, eyeingTallycarefully.

  “Lunch?”

  “Yeah, a menufor Tally. Thanks, Fran.”

  Franstuck her hand out. “FranJackson.”

  “TallyMcGuire.”Theyshook hands like wrestlers sizingeachother up.

  “Tally’s mymanager, downfromChicago.”

  “Manager?”

  “I told you I’m a professional musician. I don’t just playonstreet corners.”

  “Well hell, ain’t seen you play yet. How should I know?” Fran laughed. “You come to check up on our boy?”She turned to Tally, who choked onhis beer.

  “Yes.” He wiped his chin with a napkin and grabbed at the menu Fran passed over. Fran left to check on the two lone regulars at the bar, and Tally leaned over.

  “What the hell?”

  “Welcome to Marker County:everyone’s family.”

  “Jesus.”

  “That too.”

  Tally sighed heavily. When Fran came back, they put in their orders, but she stalled to give Gary a tentative look. “Saw Chuckie last night. Ina right mood, he was. Spent most of the night drinking.” She nodded at the bar.

  Gary felt himself flush and glared at her. “Not my problem.”

  “Yeah, okay. But is it your fault?”

  “Shit, Fran, shut up.”

  Her mouth went into a thin disapproving line that reminded Gary a little too much of his own father. She did not say anything else, going to turn their orders in to the kitchen.

  “Chuckie?”

  Gary wanted to bang his head on the table but also did not want to spill his beer, so he groaned instead. “Chuck Everett. Head guy in charge of my pecanharvest.”

  “And Francares because….”

  Gary hissed at him. “We had a one-night stand, okay? Okay? For fuck’s sake.”

  Tally looked thoughtful while shaking his head. “Stilldon’t get whyFrancares.”

  “Honestly, neither do I. It’s not her business.”

  Tally dropped the subject for about one second. “So you’re fuckingthe hired help, now? How traditional ofyou.”

  “Ohgod, shut up.”

  Tally went quiet when Fran served their food while glaring at Gary. When she walked off, Tally played with the red cabbage. Gary could see it coming, so he shoved a huge bite ofbeefinto his mouth.

  “You’re not really the one-night-stand kind of guy, Gary. What’s up?”

  Gary waved a hand around while he chewed. Tallyate for a while untilhis patience ranout.

  “Seriously. Gary. What’s up withthis Chuckie?”

  Garypicked up his beer and took a large swallow before fielding that. “Nothing. He’s the eldest son of an important local businessman, and so far in the closet he makes Roger look progressive.”

  Tallywhistled quietly. “Bad planning.”

  “Well I wasn’t thinking with the right head, okay? He snuck in under the radar, and by the time I figured himout… shit.”Garyrubbed his face.

  Tally was silent for a few beats before speaking with a quiet sensitivity that Gary did not hear out of him often. “Youreallyliked him.”

  “Youmake me sound like a teenage girl.”

  “You totally, like really really liked him.” Tally grinned, his eyes stillfullofsympathy.

  “Maybe. Willyoushut up now?”

  “Oh. No.” He waved Fran over. Gary hissed again, but Franwas there ina shot.

  “So this Chuckie is a friend ofyours?”

  “We playtogether.”

  Tally’s eyes went wide, and Gary coughed. Fran rolled her eyes.

  “As Gary knows full well, I mean we play music together. I playbanjo; Chuck, the fiddle.”

  “Realllllyyyy….” Tally rolled out the word with anaccusingglare at Gary. “Youleft that part out.”

  “Because it doesn’t matter.”

  Fran glanced at him with a thoughtful, cunning look before turning back to Tally. “Tomorrow’s Thursday. Drag Gary out to the Lower Forty for the jamsession.”

  “Will do!” Tally grinned, although Gary knew the man had no idea what she was talking about. Fran smiled back, thenbounced offagain.

  “I’mnot playing. Don’t eventry.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Gary, it’s not my goal to give youa complete nervous breakdown.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  Tally waved a fork at him. “Finish your food. We need to get back to the house before the deliveryguys.”

  “We need to make room for the mattresses. Get readyto work for a change.”

  Tallywhined. “Damnation.”

  Fran waved at themas they left, and Gary hoped she had got her fill and would stop meddling, although that hope was farfetched and he knew it. Back at the house, Tally carefully changed into pressed jeans and polo shirt before they tackled the bedrooms. The mattress set Gary had was old and easily moved. He vacuumed the space under the bed frame while Tally shifted things around inthe other roomto clear a pathto drag the sleeper couch out, complaining about the dust and his sinuses the whole time. The couch proved to weigh about four tons, and they had finally scraped it out onto the porch when the delivery truck showed up at dusk. By the time night had truly fallen and the new beds were in place with linens, both men were covered in dust and grime and sweat, and Tally looked murderous.

  “You! Are fixing me dinner. I’m getting clean.” He tossed his luggage into his room, grabbed a clean change of clothes and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Gary managed to placate him later with macaroni and cheese and beer, but it was not untilthe pancakes Garyfinagled out ofhis pantry supplies the next morning that Tally stopped bitchingabout the beds and moved onto a new topic.

  “I never knew pecan harvesting was so fucking noisy.” Tally clutched at his coffee mug like a dying man.

  “Huh, yeah, I guess. They’ve been at it over a week now. I don’t evenhear it anymore.”

  “Luckybastard.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Gary sat down to start on his food.

  “Music. You’re playing those songs for me again, and then we’re finding at least five more for you to arrange. Youstillhave that beater keyboard?”

  Garynodded.

  “Okay, I’ll plunk around on that. You need to think about what kind ofbackup players youwant.”

  “Small. Fiddle, banjo, keyboard.”

  “Works for me. Singers?”

  “Nope, I want to keep it instrumental.”

  “Okay, good idea. Hmmm… unless I can get a ‘name’ to guest on a song or two. You opposed to that?”

  “Not ifit gets me airplay.”

  “Smart man.”

  It was a working day, and Tally was a harsh taskmaster. They broke for a short lunch, but even then Tally played several albums on the stereo, looking for interesting songs, following Gary’s suggestions, and adding a few ideas of his own. By the time the sun set, Gary’s brain hurt more than his fingers, and he waved his hands around theatrically when Tally started pecking out another song on the old, crappy keyboard that sounded more like a MIDI ringtone than a musical instrument.

  “No no no! Done! Enough!”

  “Wimp.” Tally smiled but massaged his hands in surrender.

&
nbsp; “I spent less time arrangingsongs inconservatory. Jeeze.”

  “Yeah, but they weren’t as good as these are. I think we’ve got the first one nailed, and are going in a good direction with at least two others. Keep this up, and we’llhave that albumout ina couple ofmonths.”

  “I stillneed a backup band.”

  Tally leaned back, rubbing his thighs. “Speaking of, isn’t there that jamsessiontonight?”

  Garyglared at him. “Maybe.”

  “Let’s check out the localtalent—ohwait, you’ve alreadydone that,”Tallysnickered.

  “Youare not lettingthat go, are you?”

  “Nope!” Tally grinned and got up. “Let’s change and go out to this jam. Theyserve beer there, right?”

  “It’s the barn behind Brunhilde’s, so yeah, they do.”

  Tally went to change while Gary straightened up the studio, putting away sheet music they had written out. He could go back and score later withthe software on his laptop, but doing it by hand was too ingrained in bothofthemand was a good startingpoint, anyway. By the time Gary changed into clean jeans and a fresh flannel shirt, Tally was twirling his keys and looking beautiful in the living room. Gary was immune to it for the most part, but whenTallyput forththe effort to look good, it was hard to ignore.

  “You’re totallyshowingme up.”

  “What canI say? It comes naturallyto me.”

  “Chuck reallyisn’t your type.”

  Tally snickered. “No one in this godforsaken place is my type, and Gina would castrate me for cheating on her. I’m just trying to make you look good.”

  “You are making me look like your poor cousin,” Gary griped as they got into Tally’s rental car and headed out. Tallylaughed.

  The place was already busy as Gary slunk in behind Tally. They got a number of looks—some less friendly than others—but Fran waved them over to the bar, beckoning with beer. Gary tried really hard not to look around, but he did anyway and spotted Chuck by the stage, staring at him. Or, rather, at Tally. It was an uglyexpression.

  “You’re not playingagaintonight?”Franasked as they leaned against the bar, all the stools already claimed byother patrons.

  “Gary suffers from severe stage fright. It’s all he can do to play in front me,” Tally said casually, as if it was no bigdeal. Garybarelyheld back fromhittinghim.

  “Really? Wow.” Fran stared for a second. “Because Chuck said youwere damngood.”

  “Oh, did he now?” Tally leered, and this time Gary did punch him in the arm. Fran laughed, trying hard not to, flappinga bar ragat themas she walked off to serve others.

  “Hate you. So much,”Garygrowled into his beer.

  “Really seems like an open secret.” Tally shrugged.

  Gary nodded at that. “Usually is, in a small town. No one really cares too much, as long as no one flaunts it. There are always the holy rollers, but in general, keeping the status quo is more important. No one gets hurt untiltheybuck the system.”

  Tally nodded back at him. “Okay, I get that. Still, this Chuckie guy… he’s bigmanintown?”

  “No, but his father is big man out in Cornerstone, which is south of here. And Chuck’s the eldest boy, going to inherit the whole shebang when the old man kicks off.”

  “I’m beginning to get a clearer picture of the problem.”

  “And I did not even mention his teenaged kids fromthe divorce.”

  “Ack.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Still, kind of reminds me of a Jane Austen novel or something….”

  “Don’t make me throw you to the wolves, city boy.”

  “Oh, bringit.”Tallygave hima feralgrin.

  “Gary.”

  Gary nearly spit out his beer at Chuck’s sudden appearance next to him. Coughing, he nodded. “Chuck.”

  Chuck waited a beat, then turned to Tally. “Chuck Everett.”

  “Right, the pecan guy.” Tally gave Chuck a firm handshake. “TallyMcGuire, downfromChicago.”

  “Saw your car at the Lee’s place this morning. Figured Garyhad… guests.”

  Garydid not like the spinChuck put onthe word. “He’s my manager. We’re working on the next step for mycareer.”

  “I’m sure.” Chuck nodded politely, disdain dripping off him. “Gotta go help set up,” he said and walked off.

  Tallyblinked at Gary. “He’s anasshole.”

  Gary groaned and dropped his head into his hands, remembering the last time Tally told him his boyfriend was an asshole. He knew Tally was right, but it stillhurt.

  They kept offthe topic while a localband opened the night. It was only the one group on the “official” playlist for the night, so they went long with a short break between sets. By the time they cleared off the stage and people started milling around, anxious for the jam to start, both Tally and Gary had finished several beers each. They were relaxed, and for once Gary was not stressed about appearances or his future or love life, enjoying having his friend and manager there to keep him distracted with tall tales of his clients on the road meeting unfortunate stages or even more unfortunate groupies (since, as a rule, jazz groupies were some of the most belligerent fans in the universe). They had scored a small table when some people left early, and theywere bothsprawled out, knees knockingwhenever they laughed. Afew single women shot theminterested looks, but Tally effectively tuned them out, which got themevenmore interestinglooks.

  The jamstarted, as usual, with Chuck playing the opening bars of a standard. There were fewer players that week, despite a bigger crowd, and at some point Fran got relieved at the bar, so she grabbed her banjo and joined in. She was a solid player, nothing fancy or showy, and gave good backup to Chuck and the other soloists as they all wandered to hell and back playing riffs and tangents. Tally was grinning, because, while the music was not his preference, he always got a kick out of musicians playing well together. That made Gary grin in turn, enjoying the fact that they were simply enjoying themselves.

  “Oh, I know this one.” Tally nodded at the fastpaced tune that Franstarted off.

  “Everyone does. It’s ‘Foggy Mountain Breakdown’. You can’t turn on a radio station down here without hittingit at some point.”

  Tallynodded as the familiar tune got picked up by another banjo player on stage and taken off in a different direction. Tally gave Gary a critical look, then pulled himself out of the chair and went over to the stage. The old stand-up piano that was pushed off to the side did not get much workout during the jams, as it was not an instrument used much in bluegrass bands. Chuck glared over his fiddle as Tally sat down and exposed the keys.

  Gary watched, fascinated, as Tally studied the keys, then set his long fingers over the keyboard. He started on a basic chord as back up to the banjo player —who was stillstrutting his stuff—introducing the piano slowly to the mix. The approach worked for the other players, who all visibly relaxed when it became apparent that Tally at least could carry a tune on the instrument. Gary smirked, waiting for it, knowing that Tally could strip everyone onstage of their egos in ten seconds flat ifhe wanted to.

  He did not want to, apparently, as he kept playing around the edges of “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” while the other players went to town. Eventually Chuck stepped up as the song wound down and picked up another tune entirely, one Gary did not recognize and knew for a fact was completely foreign to Tally. He glared at Chuck, knowing that Chuck had done it on purpose. Even the other players on stage looked somewhat confused by the choice. They backed off, letting Chuck take the reins with a solo that, Gary had to admit, would make angels weep. Tally stayed focused on providing counterpoint, not looking at Chuck, but Gary knew Tally was smart enough to know a challenge whenit was throwndown.

  At a point where Chuck finally let up and nodded at Fran to move more into the song, Tally snapped a wrist and took off, and Gary nearly laughed out loud at the confusiononstage as Tallyruled themall. He did not need to know the song, as Chuck had done a great job of schooling him on it with his showy s
olo, and Tally could suss out a tune from pick-up sticks when he wanted.

  The entire barn went still as Tally hammered on with his unique riff, throwing in jazz chords and complicated switchovers that only a classically trained genius could even think of, much less execute, out of a melancholy traditional folk song. He stayed with it for nearly five minutes, and no one tried to push in because it really was astoundingly unique and beautiful. Fran looked stunned, playing on automatic as she watched Tally’s hands. Chuck had shut downcompletely, staring out over the audience while he went through the moves of playing. He was outclassed, and everyone in the whole place knew it. Most people probably did not even care, but Gary did, feeling a glowing pleasure at the pettyrevenge.

  Finally Tally wrapped it up, and all the players let him, winding down around his playing until the song ended on a plaintive note. It was probably not where the song was supposed to end, but it sounded so naturaland perfect that the audience yelled and clapped and stood up to applaud. Gary finally laughed out loud, amused at Tally’s triumph. He wondered what it would feel like to not even have to try hard to outplay everyone within a fifty-mile radius, his jealousy tempered by his pleasure at knowing Tally and seeing that kind oftalent inaction.

  Tally stayed on stage, chatting with Fran and a few of the other players. Gary drank his beer, glowing withpleasure.

  “I can figure out what you see in him,” Chuck perched on the edge of Tally’s chair, fiddle clutched in his hand.

  “Hey, not myfault he’s a fuckinggenius.”

  “Suits you, I guess.”

  Gary blinked through his beer buzz in surprise. “He’s not myboyfriend.”

  Chuck’s eyes narrowed. “Really.”

  It was not a question so much as a statement. “Really.” Gary glared back. They sat like that for a few moments.

  Finally Chuck glanced off to the side. “Guess you don’t reallydo longterm, I suppose.”

  “What the fuck? What would you know?” Gary leaned forward, knowing he was close to making a scene but not caring. Only a strongly ingrained survival instinct kept his voice pitched low. “I don’t do secrets or living in a fucking closet. My last boyfriend treated me like his biggest mistake, and I’m not going to commit to someone who can’t even take me on a date without getting lynched by his own family.” Gary stood up, a little too fast, but then Tally was at his elbow to steadyhim.