Just Beyond the Curve (3 page)

The man took the file and walked over to a Steinway,
grand piano and took several sheets of the music out. He studied
them for a few seconds, then looked up at John. “Did you write
this?” he asked.

“No, Sir. My daddy wrote ‘em before he died.”

“I’ll be damned,” the man exclaimed half under his
breath. “I thought the name was familiar. Well, let’s see if they
work. Unusual arrangement,” he mumbled, placing the sheets in front
of him. After a second of concentration he began playing them
flawlessly.

John stood big eyed watching every move the man’s
hands and feet made. To him, every move the man made made perfect
sense. It was like a roadmap in his mind and for some reason he
knew he could replicate what the man had done.

“Beautiful!” the man said with a big smile, beginning
to rock with the beat of the music flowing from his fingers across
the ivory keys. “Your daddy was a genius!” he said when he finished
the piece.

“It didn’t look that hard,” John said. “Mind if I try
it?”

“Sure, help yourself,” Hall replied looking smug as
John took a seat on the bench.

After three false starts John smiled up at the man
and said, “Ain’t as easy as it looked. Is it?”

The man laughed. “No, nothing ever is...” He began to
stammer as John’s fingers began to find the keys in the proper
sequence and the music began to flow from the Steinway.

“I’ll be damned,” the man whispered. “A real idiot
savant! Right here in Hall’s Music Emporium!”

John continued to play the song until he reached the
end. He looked up with a smile. “Pretty simple, really. Once I got
the hang of it. Thought it would be harder.”

“Let me show you another,” Hall said. “It’s a little
harder. See if you can play it.”

The man chose a sonnet from
Midsummer’s Night
Dream
. When he finished and stood, John sat and as if replaying
the man’s performance in his head, he played the sonnet flawlessly
from beginning to end.

“Amazing!” Hall said breathlessly.

“Do you know anyone who can show me how to play the
guitar?”

“Can you sing?” the man asked ignoring John’s
question.

“Don’t know,” John shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve
never tried.”

“Can you read?”

“Of course!” John sounded insulted.

“I’ll play your daddy’s song and you sing the words
in tune with what I play, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll try,” John replied, figuring he was about
to make a complete fool of himself. But he had made his promises to
his folks and he would do what he had to do to keep those promises.
Better to learn early on if he had what it took, or not, he
figured.

Hall began replaying the music and to his complete
surprise John came in perfectly in time and tune. His voice was
clear, crisp and came from the very bottom of his diaphragm. He was
as surprised as the merchant.

At the end of the song both of them were surprised by
the enthusiastic clapping from behind them. They both turned to see
a very pretty young woman standing behind them clapping excitedly.
She appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties. She had
long tawny colored hair and deep blue eyes. John thought she maybe
stood five six or seven and maybe weighed a hundred and ten pounds
or so. She wore casual clothing and filled them out nicely. John
stood speechless, his mouth open, staring at the beautiful girl in
front of him.

“You sure have a beautiful voice,” she said,
realizing the discomfort her interruption had caused John. “I
thought it was Angels when I came in.”

“Thank you,” John replied shyly. “I’m John Travis. I
promised my Momma and Daddy that I’d become famous, just for them.
Can you show me how to play the guitar?”

“I’m Judy Rivers,” she said offering him her hand. He
took it gently and held it maybe a little too long. “No, I can’t. I
just came in for a set of drumsticks for my little brother. Nice to
meet you though, Mister Travis.”

John’s expectant smile dropped. He realized this was
going to be a lot harder that he had first believed. He felt
tenseness in his stomach that he had never felt before.

Hall stepped forward from the piano bench,
“Drumsticks? We have quite a collection to choose from. If you will
follow me, Miss.” Hall walked off through the store eager to make
his first sell of the day.

Judy stood staring at John with obvious attraction.
“Good luck, Mister Travis,” she said, not really wanting to leave
this handsome young man.

“Thank you,” John said with a trace of disappointment
in his voice. Would you call me John? I don’t want to put on airs
an’ all.”

“Sure,” Judy smiled, nearly laughing. “If you like.
Maybe you could go to a bar where they have live music. Maybe
someone in a band could show you some things.”

“Shoot, I wouldn’t know how to act in a bar,” John
said seriously. “Never been in one before.”

“If you intend to make it in the music business,
you’d better get used to it,” Judy stated seriously. “That’s where
everyone gets started.”

“Are the drum sticks for you?” John asked
curiously.

“No,” Judy replied, looking for the salesman.
“They’re for my little brother. He’s taking band this year. He
wants to be a drummer.”

John nodded his understanding, then looked back
longingly at the piano. He put the sheet music back in the folder
and the folder back into his backpack, then slipped into it. He
picked the guitar cases up and started for the front door of the
store.

“I’ll see you,” Judy said to his back, thinking he
was a little strange. “Good luck, again.”

John stopped and turned back around. “Would you go
with me,” he said. “To a bar? My treat. Where they have live music.
I would never harm you, Judy.”

“Do you have a car,” she replied after a few seconds,
realizing she would be perfectly safe with this innocent young
man.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head sadly, then
glanced back at the piano.

“Driver’s license?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head again.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“Wimberley.”

“Where are you staying here in Austin?”

“No place, yet,” he confessed. “I just got here.”

“We have a garage apartment at our house. You can
rent it, if you want,” she said.

“Don’t have much money,” he confessed.

“We’ll work something out.” She smiled largely. “Come
on.”

CHAPTER THREE

Judy drove overly cautious it seemed to John. She was
a very feminine and animated speaker. Once she warmed to him a
little she talked non-stop about her family, brother, dreams and
what she was studying in her junior year in college. She was
attending the University of Texas at Austin and she was majoring in
business with an elective in accounting.

She drove from Hall’s Music Emporium, which was
actually a long ways from down town, to a nice middle income
residential neighborhood. John rode in silence, listening to Judy
talk. He found he loved listening to her and watching her while she
talked. He had been a little surprised when she had taken a pair of
small rectangular eye glasses from her purse and put them on in the
car. His heart melted.

Her car was an oxidized, faded, light blue Monte
Carlo Sport. The interior was worn and torn. The fenders were
dented and one of the back windows was a piece of cardboard cut to
fit, duct-taped in place. The passenger door hung on worn hinge
pins and had to be lifted slightly before it would close properly.
Despite all its faults it seemed to run perfectly and had plenty of
get-up and go.

Their house was a one story half-brick from the
sixties. In the middle of the roof was a chimney for a fireplace.
Around it, the shingles were bare in places and in obvious need of
replacement. It was pretty much the same design as the rest of the
houses in the tract. The grass in the yard was pretty much like the
shingles on the roof; bare in places and a dried out tannish-brown.
There was an abandoned bicycle leaned up against the three steps up
front porch. Two four-inch square posts held up the small roof over
the porch. John figured it was only there to protect the rusting
black mail box on the left-hand side of the plain wood door with a
diamond shaped window high up.

In the driveway two cars and a pickup sat. The pickup
was up on blocks and had been for quite a while from what John
could see.

“Looks like the girls are here,” Judy stated a hint
of disappointment in her voice. “Avon girls,” she clarified.

John didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
He followed her to the door and inside feeling conspicuous and just
a bit out of place.

In the living room there were eight women sitting on
every available place. The whole house smelled like a perfume
factory. John was nearly overwhelmed by the cloying stench of the
many different scents. It was thick and he could taste it on his
tongue. He rubbed his nose, as Judy closed the door behind
them.

“Now, that’s what I call a handsome man!” Misty
Rivers stated in a knowing tone, when she looked up at the sound of
the closing door. Misty was tall, blond and in her late thirties or
early forties. She was still very attractive and not bashful about
checking John out from head to foot.

“Behave Mom!” Judy said, turning slightly red in the
face, turning from the door and surveying the women. “This is John
Travis. He wants to look at the apartment.”

“I hope he does more than just look!” Misty laughed
suggestively. The other women laughed and commented, nodding their
heads in total agreement with Misty. They all nine looked at John
lustfully, as if any one of them would, and could, eat him in one
bite if given the chance.

“Come on John,” Judy said embarrassed at the
wantonness of her mother and her friends. “I’ll show you the
apartment.” She took him by the arm, held it possessively tight and
led him through the house and out the back door to the garage
apartment.

“Lucky girl!” she heard one of the women say as they
went through the kitchen.

“Sometimes they are very embarrassing!” she said
disapprovingly.

“I’m mostly honored. They don’t mean no harm,” John
defended them. “They’re just teasin’ me an’ playin’ a little.”

“Hah!” Judy barked.

In the living room Misty looked around like the cat
that ate the canary. She defended herself by saying, “Well, you
know I’ve been single for five years now. I’m gotta take it where I
can get it!”

“Yeah me too!” several of her friends agreed at once.
Then they all laughed when one of them said “Any place! Any way,
too!”

John gave Misty a hundred of his two hundred dollars
and carried his guitar cases to his new three room apartment. There
was a bedroom and a bathroom and living room. He laid the cases on
the bed and opened them. He sat looking at the guitars for a long
time. Not having a clue what he was doing, he began to try and tune
the Martin acoustic.

He had been at it for over an hour when a knock
sounded on his door. He lay the guitar aside and opened it. A young
boy stood looking up at him. He was maybe twelve, John guessed,
with brown hair and blue eyes. It was easy to tell he was Judy’s
brother. He stood beside a taller and older boy. The boy, John
guessed, was maybe eighteen. He was tall, with red hair, freckles
across his nose, and green eyes.

“Hi John, I’m Billy, Judy’s brother and this is my
friend Danny.” the boy said with a large friendly smile. “Can we
come in?”

“Hi,” Danny said a little shyly.

“Sure, come on in,” John said, holding the door and
stepping back out of the way.

“Danny plays the guitar,” Billy said, leading the way
into the room.

“Just a little,” Danny confessed. “I’m not very good.
But, I brought these. They may help, some,” he said showing John
the books and videos he had brought.

“What are these?” John asked, looking at them and the
tapes, then handing them back.

“Training books, man. To study. You won’t learn to
play the guitar over night!” Danny stated incredulously.

“Will you show me?” John asked, seeing his potential
salvation.

“That’s why I’m here, my man,” Danny replied smugly.
“So, let’s get started,” he added stepping to the bed and looking
into the guitar cases. He stood as if frozen in place. He dragged a
deep breath into his chest and sighed a breathless, “Holy Shit!” as
if in disbelief. “You know what you got here?”

“Two guitars in cases,” John replied, not having a
clue what Danny was talking about.

“Man, you got maybe the two
best
guitars
ever
made! May I?” he asked, indicating his desire to pick
up the Martin D-10.

“Guess you’ll have too if you are going to show
me.”

Danny picked the Martin up out of the case reverently
as if afraid he would damage it. He sat carefully on the edge of
the bed, made a G cord on the neck and strummed the strings.
“Aaaahhh! No wonder you can’t play these,” he grimaced painfully.
“I guess you don’t know how to tune them.”

“I don’t know anything,” John confessed truthfully,
shaking his head sadly.

“We got a long way to go, then,” Danny grinned
knowingly. He began to tune the guitar until it was close to
perfect.

“Mess it all up again and let me try,” John said when
Danny had pronounced it in tune.

Danny smiled and began turning the tuning pegs until
the tuning was devastated. When he was satisfied he handed the
guitar to John and watched him, smiling with doubt.

“I’m usually pretty good about being able to do
things after I see them done once or twice,” John said tuning the
low E string, then moving to the A string, one string down. He then
went through D, G, B, and finally the high E. He then made a G cord
and strummed the strings. It was pretty close to dead in tune.