Page 31 of A Much Younger Man
“Not at all.” I didn’t even know why I kept the thing. Maybe because it made me look cooler than I am. “I know like…three chords.”
“That’s all you need, right?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Three chords and the truth.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
“As long as you don’t judge me. I haven’t taken that guitar out of its case since college.”
I had to turn my back to get plates, and when I heard him give it a tentative strum, I shuddered.
“Dude.” He winced like he’d bitten a lemon. “You need new strings.”
“I meant to get around to that. There are some in the case.”
“Oh. Awesome. Got a dishtowel or a microfiber cloth?” As if he couldn’t help himself, he laid the instrument on the coffee table like a surgical patient.
“Yeah.” I tossed him a clean one from the drawer where I kept them. “Need wire cutters?”
“I have tools in my case.” He hopped up to get it. “I hope I do anyway.”
“I didn’t know to check.”
“We’re…good. Thanks.” He seemed relieved as he got his tools and began the work of restringing my guitar.
“I think you’re to guitars what I am to stray animals.”
“You have to make sure they’re in working order?”
“Something like that.” I cut an avocado and added that, along with diced tomatoes, canned beans, and sweet corn to the salad mix then tossed it with a simple lime vinaigrette dressing.
Since Beck was consumed with his work, I took the time to heat some bread sticks.
When everything was ready, I set the table for two with water for both of us. Rico went back to his perch in his cage. I half expected him to complain, because I often ate with him perched on my shoulder like some tragic, lonely pirate. Instead, I put his cage on the other end of the table and left it open so he wouldn’t feel left out.
When Beck was done winding all the strings on, he glanced up. “Hey, you should have told me you were ready. I can tune it after we eat.”
“It’s okay. I like watching you work. You obviously know your way around a guitar.”
“I’ve changed hundreds of strings. Thousands, maybe, because I always did it for the posers at school.”
“Like me, you mean?”
“Nah. Are you?”
“With a guitar? Yes. Yes, I’m a total poser.”
He laughed. “It’s not for everyone.”
“The problem is guys like you make it look so easy.”
“Ten thousand hours. Isn’t that what they say?” He came into the kitchen to wash his hands. Callie followed and found the water dish.
Beck leaned over the Crock-Pot. “Mm. Smells so good.”
I picked up the ladle and poured some chili onto a clean spoon.
“Try it. Does it need more salt?”
