It took a solid minute for Hyde to realize that William’s song wasn’t about a cat, but then he got the joke in the last verse and laughed with the rest. From the little he knew of music, his neighbor was insanely talented.
The song was over and the twisting piano came to a stop. “That’s all for tonight, my friends,” William said. “Duane’ll be out in a few.”
The man stood a head and neck taller than Hyde. His full breadth was exemplified in wide, boney shoulders. He removed a blazer from a hook behind the piano and tapped the bulging right pocket. As he turned to leave, Hyde jumped from his stool and intercepted him on the way to the exit.
“William? William Carmel?”
The man was already stuffing his arms into his jacket. He looked at Hyde and narrowed his brow. “I’m not in the mood to sign autographs.”
Autographs? Was he serious? “I heard you play. I think you’re amazing. Can I buy you a beer?”
“Afraid I don’t drink.”
Hyde laughed nervously. “Neither do I. How does Coke sound?”
The man’s eyes were grey without a tinge of color. “Sarah sent you,” he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“My wife. She’s trying to hook me up.”
Hyde grinned and looked at the floor. “Somethin’ like that.”
“And may I ask the name of Sarah’s new stooge?”
“My name’s Hyde. Whitaker.”
“I’ll tell you what, Hyde Whitaker; I’ll accept your Coke. We’ll chat. And if we don’t like each other in ten minutes, you can tell your wife we had an interesting time and she’ll tell my wife we had an interesting time and we never have to see each other again.”
The tension was gone. If William was opposed to this as much as he was, they might just get along. “Deal,” he said.
They stepped to the bar and sat down. “William Carmel,” Hyde said. “Like the candy?”
“Like the mountain.”
“Awesome.”
“And my wife calls me William.” Will signaled the female bartender. “Two Cokes, Milly?” he said, then looked to Hyde. “How does a boy make it through your generation without drinking?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“It’s a moral thing?”
“I watched alcohol destroy my friends in college. I have too much to accomplish to let that happen to me.”
“I respect that.”
“My wife doesn’t like it much, either.”
Will nodded. “And what do you do for a living, Mr. Whitaker?”
“I run my own business; Whitaker Electronics.”
“So you’re a salesman.”
“Technically, but--”
“My brother-in-law’s a salesman. Owns an alpaca farm in Virginia. Waste of skin.” Will wasn’t the first to insult Hyde’s profession.
“I guess I prefer speakers and blu-ray players over farm animals.”
“Where’s your store?”
“Three blocks down Boulevard.” He nodded south. “It’s nice working over the hill from my home.”
YOU ARE READING
The Brandywine Prophet
General FictionSuburban life has turned William Carmel from a drug-fueled creative prodigy to a gentle husband and father. When the voice of God commands him to construct a million-dollar amphitheater on the hill behind his home, the budding prophet obeys and unle...
