Jimmy Fassett’s band just broke up, but then he meets Landry Flannery, a truly gifted fiddle player. It doesn't hurt that Landry's a looker and has a bold pink stripe in his hair that drives Jimmy crazy. The two men jam together in the evenings -- banjo and fiddle -- and they hit it off.
Soon, Jimmy wants to turn their budding friendship into something more, but Landry keeps putting obstacles in the way and inviting more and more people over to play. That’s not what Jimmy wants, so he walks away.
Fate, however, isn't done with the two men. At the end of a festival where Landry's band was the headliner, Jimmy is forced to take Landry home because he's sloppy drunk. The two men argue the next morning, and Jimmy refuses anymore contact, until Landry forces the issue.
Could things work out between the two men, after all?
As I walked by the living room, I checked to see if Landry was still there. Yup, there he was, sprawled all over the couch and snoring. I could smell his body odor from where I stood. Jesus.
Not worrying about making noise, I made my coffee and took the frying pan out to cook eggs and bacon. When I was done, I sat at the kitchen table to eat my breakfast.
Halfway through the meal, there was a groan from the couch. “Fuck,” I heard Landry say as he sat up.
“Morning,” I called out, and saw him wince.
“Don’t yell, man,” he begged, rubbing his face. He needed a shave.
“Sorry,” I replied. But not really.
“You brought me here?” he asked.
“Yup.” I kept on eating.
“Thanks.” He sniffed his armpits and smelled his shirt. “I stink.”
“Yes, you do,” I replied.
He stood and glared at me. “You’re just a fount of information today, aren’t you?”
“I’m not the one who was so drunk he passed out in his own truck last night. You’re lucky someone was around to help you out. What happened to the rest of the band?”
Landry yawned. “They left pretty soon after the show. Took the money and ran, basically.”
“Good show, by the way,” I offered, chewing on bacon.
He grunted. “You gonna offer me some coffee and breakfast?” Landry asked, walking slowly toward me.
“You’ve got some nerve asking for that.”
“What’s with the bug up your ass, man?” Landry growled as he stopped at my table.
I could smell his breath, and it was foul. He was a mess. “Look, Landry, you need a shower and a toothbrush, okay? I’ll make you some coffee, but then you need to take yourself home and cleanup. Whatever happened to you that turned you into a slobbering drunk, you need to figure it out. Do you do this often, man?” I got up and poured more beans into the grinder.
“Not really,” he replied. “It just ... happened, I guess.”
There was more to the story, but I was in no mood to push. Once the coffee was brewed, I set a steaming cup before him on the table.
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
I shrugged and made some toast, since I was still hungry. I took butter and jam out of the fridge and set them on the table, along with two plates and a couple of knives. I put the toast in a stack in front of Landry.
“Eat,” I said gruffly, and made more for myself.
He mumbled something, then ate everything.
We said nothing more to each other until the food was done. Then, Landry asked, “So you liked the show? I appreciate you coming out to see us.”
“It was fantastic. Certainly better than anything I’ve heard of that caliber,” I replied, since it was the truth.
“Thanks,” he said, but he didn’t sound happy.
“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear? That you were awesome, the best thing ever?”
“Only if it’s true,” he replied.
“It is.”
He burped and leaned back in the chair. “Why don’t you want to hang out with me anymore, Jimmy? I thought we had a good thing going.”
I sighed. “Now’s not the time to go into that, Landry. You need to go home, take a shower, and get some rest. You have to teach tomorrow.”
“I can’t seem to figure you out. Are you playing games with me, hot and cold?” he asked.
I was incredulous. “What? I’m the furthest thing from a player. You simply have too much going on in your life to spend time with someone, one on one. It’s like you use the multitude of activities surrounding you as a shield to guard against anything serious,” I replied.
“How would you fucking know, Jimmy?” he snapped. “At the first sign of anything that makes you even remotely uncomfortable, you split. So what, our little feel good one-on-one music sessions were all you could handle, and when things changed, you got all pissy? Grow a fucking pair!” he yelled, then his eyes widened as he realized he’d gone too far.
“Ah geez. I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to --”
I stood, stalked to the door, and flung it open. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
Landry scrambled out of his chair. “Wait, Jimmy. I’m sorry. What I said, it’s just my hangover talking. Forgive me.”
“Get. Out.” I said, enunciating each word carefully.
He grabbed his stuff and walked out into the hallway. “Jimmy, please listen. I’m really s --” I shut the door in his face. Asshole.
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