“Far too long,” Ian said. “Sorry. I was having fun.”
“Were you now?”
“It’s been a long time . . .” He waved that aside. Not yet. Not here. No need to break the happy spell. “Can you use it?”
Arthur scratched the hair curling beneath his earphones. “You do realize we’ll cut that down to two, maybe three minutes.”
Ian nodded. “Sorry to give you extra work.”
Arthur squinted at him. “I’m thinking we’ll add electronic keyboard, maybe a stand-up bass and flute. One segment was crying out for some backup power.”
“Sounds like a great idea.”
“Does it now?”
“What’s the matter, Arthur?”
“‘What’s wrong?’ the man asks. Well, lad, I’ll tell you. When Danny called to say he was sending you up, I insisted he was making a terrible mistake. We don’t have time to work with some vagrant star like your good self. And I won’t put up with tantrums. I told Danny I had left all that sordid mess in LA. Along with stars who think they know enough to tell me my business.”
Ian leaned his guitar on the neighboring stool and used a towel draped over the music stand to wipe his face and neck. “I’m glad he insisted.”
“Not only that, Danny used the one argument I had no choice but to accept. He said even if you proved to be the complete and utter pain I knew you’d be, all I needed to capture was thirty seconds. Less. Then I could boot your good self out on the street. We’d still have Ian Hart’s name to use in the film’s publicity. Right in the middle of all the world dining on your misery. Surely I could hold my breath through a thirty-second take, Danny said. Now I ask you. How in blazes was I supposed to argue with that?”
“That’s a tough one.”
“There you are. So now I’m sitting here behind my little apparatus withnineteen minutesofsolid gold. Shame on you, lad. I hate being made to look like a cantankerous old sod.” He began shifting the mixing board’s controls. “What say we go for a take with songs three and four?”
* * *
Two hours later, Arthur sent him away. There were decisions to be made, he said. Choices that didn’t involve a musician who was intent on making Arthur eat his words. Arthur moaned over how Danny would no doubt laugh himself silly and then remind Arthur foryearshow wrong he’d been about Ian. Arthur said all this while resting his hand on Ian’s shoulder, accompanying him back around the house.
When they entered the forecourt, Arthur stopped and squinted at Ian’s ride. “And what exactly is this?”
“A rental. Old and tired and smelling of too many other hot drivers.”
“It’s a death trap with four tires. An insult to good cars everywhere.”
“With my financial situation, it was all I could afford. I’m pretty sure my aunt has a car I can use.”
“A unicycle would be an improvement on that.” Arthur watched him settle his guitar in the trunk. “And what were you planning to do tonight? That is, assuming you make it down the hill in one piece.”
“Stop by the grocery, go to my aunt’s place, open cans, and collapse.”
“No, no, we’re not having any of that.” He pointed at the unseen town beyond his garden wall. “You hop on down to Castaways. Ask anyone in town, and they’ll tell you where to go.”
“Arthur—”
“Tonight’s a special occasion, one you shouldn’t miss. There’s a local pianist, another star who doesn’t put on airs. I have a place reserved at the bar, but now with what you’ve just handed me, I’ll be too busy to attend. I’ll call and set you up. Go have yourself a good meal on Danny. You deserve it.”
