Chapter 6
Kate had been right; by 9 o'clock the place was buzzing.
House had moved to a table close to the stage. He had propped his leg up on a second chair. The other chairs had gone to whoever asked so nobody would actually end up sitting down with him and try to make small talk. He was here to relax and enjoy some music, not make new friends.
Finally, the lights were dimmed and the noise died down; the entertainment portion of his evening was about to start.
Matt Davies didn't stand on ceremony. He hopped up on the stage, beer in one hand, grinned in House's direction and picked up one of three guitars someone had set up for him earlier.
That grin was no coincidence, seeing as House was probably the only person in the audience he recognized. Matt Davies was 'The Beard' from the day before. Musician had not been on House's list of possible professions for the man.
By the time the first song was over, House had recovered enough from his surprise to listen to the introduction.
"Good evening, folks, and thanks for turning up. My name is Matt Davies. Some of you have heard me before, because I've been touring around this area for a couple of weeks. If you're one of those people – thanks for coming back, I obviously did something right the first time you heard me. By now you'll have noticed that I don't hail from here. I'm from Wales, but I won't bore you with folk songs from home." There was some laughter at that. "Sorry to disappoint the gentleman in the back. What I'll play for you tonight are some of my own songs, which you won't recognize, and others which you will. The next one is about an item of immaculate confection."
And with that he launched into an up-tempo, lap slide version of Tom Waits' Chocolate Jesus.
Well it's got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied
This was either an inspired or a stupid choice for one of the first songs when there was no way Davies could've gotten a feel for his audience yet. Judging by the applause, House decided to go with inspired and hoped it would set the tone for the rest of the evening.
It did.
For the next half hour or so House listened intently. This guy had chops. His hands were a joy to watch as they flew across the guitar. Sitting so close to the stage had been a good choice – House didn't miss a thing.
This was exactly what he had needed – good food, a few drinks and good music. He began to relax and tapped along on the table.
By the time Davies announced he would play one more song and then take a break, House had signaled to Kate for more beer. When the singer stepped off the stage, House raised a bottle.
Davies came over and took the offered drink. House pushed the extra chair over for Davies to sit on.
"Thanks. Didn't think I'd see you again. You tell your wife you'll be home late?"
House grinned. "Don't worry. Nobody's going to report me missing any time soon."
"Perfect. By the way, I'm Matt. In case you hadn't guessed already."
"Figures." House hesitated for a second, but then blew caution to the wind. Hell, he was on his way to claim his life back. Why not start here. "Greg."
Davies nodded. "Nice to meet you. Again."
They sat in silence for a while. Finally, House could no longer contain his curiosity.
"Is that a Weissenborn you have up there?"
Davies smiled. "Yup. Want to take a look?"
"Yeah, okay," House shrugged casually.
"Nice collection," he conceded after taking a closer look at the guitars lined up on the stage.
"You should see my shed at home." Davies looked at him for a moment and then asked, "You play?"
House nodded. "A little."
"Well, help yourself then."
House hesitated for a second and then picked up the Weissenborn he had spotted earlier. It was a beautiful dark color.
"It's koa wood, native to Hawaii," explained Davies. "Go ahead and play if you like."
House shook his head. "I'm not the lap-style type."
He couldn't play like that even if he wanted to. So he put the Weissenborn back and took a black, big-bodied acoustic instead.
He set his cane aside and sat down on the edge of the stage, carefully resting the guitar on his good leg. The instrument felt good in his hands, comfortable even. He picked a short tune.
"Sweet sound."
Davies nodded. "She's one of my favorites for live gigs."
House thought for a moment and then began to play. He was keenly aware of Davies watching and listening. It had been a while since he had played with anyone but Wilson as an audience. When he finished, the other man sat down next to him.
"That didn't sound like 'a little'. That's an unusual song to play when trying out a guitar. Blind Willie Johnson. It's actually part of my set. You a blues fan?"
House picked a few more notes in reply. "Blues and all its relations."
"Interesting way of saying you're a musician." Davies paused and looked at House appraisingly. Finally, he said, "want to sit in on a song or two?"
The temptation to say no and leave was strong. But he liked how the guitar felt in his hands. He also liked the way this guy played.
House stopped picking. "What makes you think this isn't the only song I've got? This could end badly."
"For you maybe," Davies laughed. "It'll only make me look good if you mess up. Besides, if you play Nobody's Fault But Mine when trying out a guitar no way is that the only song you know."
House began to play Big Rock Candy Mountain.
"And this isn't what people play to make an impression either." Davies finished his beer. "But I get the feeling you're not actually out to impress anyone, right?"
House didn't reply, but launched into Bob Marley's Redemption Song instead.
"Good, that's settled then."
Even though he wasn't quite sure what he had gotten himself into, House was reluctant to pull out. This man was a good musician, perhaps even a great one, and he hadn't played with anyone in a long time. Noodling around by yourself was one thing, but playing with someone else was something else entirely. There was no way he could let this chance pass him by.
"I've found a traveling companion while you were all guzzling beer at the bar," Davies said by means of introduction after the break. "It's always handy to have a wingman, so you've got someone to blame if things don't go as planned."
After the laughs had died down, they started the second set off with Nobody's Fault But Mine.
This version was faster than what House was used to playing, but he found his place quickly. Seated a little behind Davies and to the side, he also let the man have the limelight musically. He had no intention of stealing anyone's thunder, even if he'd been able to. And it was clear that he wouldn't have stood a chance because Matt Davies wasn't just an excellent player technically. He didn't just copy a song, he understood it, felt it and made it his own.
During the applause, Davies turned around to House and said, "Stay if you want and tag along whenever you feel like it."
House recognized this as the high praise it was. He had passed a test. No musician would voluntarily share the stage with anyone he felt wasn't up to the job. And yet, nobody would care if he just went back to his table, had another beer and enjoyed the rest of the gig.
Except, he'd be itching to play along the entire time.
Realizing the audience had gone quiet, he patted the guitar and gave Davies a quick nod. "What's next?"
Next were a couple of Davies's own songs during which House was content to provide a backdrop. At times he echoed Davies, at times he just offered a steady rhythm as accompaniment.
In truth, Davies needed no backup and no wingman. The man was a great musician, perfectly capable of holding the audience's attention on his own. And his playing was beautiful, House had recognized that right away. All this made the invitation to stay and play along even better.
A jamming session with someone was fun, but sitting on a stage with a professional musician was on a whole different level.
And House lapped it up. Time flew and when Davies announced the last song, House felt like he could have gone on for hours yet.
"And now it's time for me, and for you too, to go home and go to bed. Whether it's your own bed is up to you," said Davies. "Thank you very much for turning up tonight, I hope you've had fun. I, or maybe I should say we, have one last song for you. It's practically made to be the last song at a gig – and I should know, because I wrote it. This is Can't Help Moving."
House had enjoyed feeling his way into new music, picking up strands, playing and teasing them out in the background.
He'd had fun.
But that last song was, for him, the highlight of the evening. As much as it was Davies's song, about halfway through he took a step back, continued a regular rhythm and by doing so, created an opening for House to pick up the melody and take it wherever he wanted.
It took House by surprise, and yet, it shouldn't have. He'd had a feel for this song the moment Davies hit the first note. He had never heard it before, and yet he felt as if that blues note had opened a door. He walked right through into a very familiar place.
So he didn't hesitate when Davies made the offer; he stepped in, took the song and played with it. The tune felt completely at home in his hands; it tickled his fingers and rolled and jumped and breathed. It was alive.
He forgot he was on a stage, playing with a stranger, to strangers. He didn't think about what lay ahead, and he didn't think about what was behind him.
He didn't think at all.
And he loved it.
When he was done, he passed the lead back to Davies who took the song on to its intended ending.
The applause felt like a rude awakening from a dream.
When Davies stood up and packed away his guitar House stayed seated as there was no way he could have gotten up right away. His leg was cramping because he hadn't moved in so long. He was stuck until he could relieve the cramp a little.
By the time he had managed to put the guitar carefully back into its case, the spotlights had been turned off, Davies had gone to talk to a few people, and House was able to make his way off the stage without anyone noticing how stiff and sore he was.
He needed to pay his tab, and he'd also have another bourbon so he could get back to the motel. A bourbon and a couple of Vicodin. The House way of ending a great evening, he thought grimly.
Kate shook her head when he asked to pay and pushed a card towards him. "All settled by the gent over there."
At the other end of the bar, surrounded by people, Davies gave a quick wave.
House pocketed the card and raised his glass in reply.
To listen to the first and the last song House and Matt Davies play together, look up these tracks on YouTube (you'll need to remove the spaces as FF doesn't let me post the actual URLs):
Nobody's Fault But Mine - youtu. be/rXP74hcCMUs
Can't Help Moving - youtu. be/vG5lh2MGt8o
