After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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"Pants on fire."
I raised my eyebrows at Alfie's greeting as I sat on the bench next to him.
They promised some rain later in the afternoon. The day was blustery and gloomy, fitting for my foul mood.
"My pants are okay, Alfie," I said, faking a smile.
"Not your real pants, Jim O'Brien." Alfie laughed.
A heavy sigh left my mouth. "How did you know?"
Alfie shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of his brown coat. "The girls love music. I saw you on TV — you and some other guys in a video."
"My bandmates."
"That's right. I thought my eyesight failed me, but it was really you. Now I understand why you don't have a wife. I bet every girl wants to be your only one. It would be hard to choose."
No wife and probably no girlfriend. I looked at my lap and then nodded toward the accordion I'd put on the bench next to me. "I kept my promise. Now you have to play."
Alfie's eyes shone when he reached for the instrument. His hands shook slightly, but as soon as the accordion was in his grip and his deft fingers danced across the buttons, the tremors went away.
Several residents swiveled their heads when the notes of the melody filled the air. I smiled at the way Alfie tapped his boot-clad feet to the music, absorbed in the song he was playing.
"It was amazing," I said when the echo of the last note faded. "Didn't look that easy to me."
"It's your turn now," Alfie said, disregarding my compliment.
I reached for my guitar. My fingers positioned themselves on the fret, ready to play one of my band's songs — a sad, nostalgic one.
By the time I played the last chord, I'd gathered quite an audience. Cora and some of her colleagues joined the residents in the garden and huddled around the bench where Alfie and I sat.
The next song Alfie chose was a cheerful, upbeat one. Everything coming from my guitar was the exact opposite, but nobody seemed to mind.
"Thank you for bringing it," Alfie said, lowering his gaze to the accordion in his lap when the impromptu concert was over. "I missed playing."
"I'm glad I could help. If you need anything else, let me know. The house is okay. I have to take care of the garden. The grass is a bit overgrown."
Alfie nodded. "Thank you." His eyes focused on the accordion again. The way he looked at it and the moment in itself felt almost too intimate.
"Melody loved listening to me playing it," said Alfie. "What about your girl?"
