Page 7 of Tumbling Hearts

So baby…”

Pat’s drums slam harder with each and every beat, rising with intensity as their voices in real life match the ones in the recording, louder and louder, as they enter the chorus⁠—

“Oh, we could burn this whole place down…

Ohhh, we could burn this whole place down.”

Gene’s heart flutters with warmth. This is exactly what he wanted—to sing with Ray, play music, and have fun. There’s no one else he’d rather be with. In this moment, he knows for sure, the only one who could make him feel this way is Ray. They’re perfectly in sync as Gene taps the steering wheel to the beat, grooving along with his best friend.

No matter what happens, whatever sort of relationship they have, he yearns for Ray to stay close to him.

The two arrive at the motel in St. Ignace later in the afternoon. Ray is glad to finally be out of the car, and he helps Gene take their luggage out of the trunk, which isn’t much since they’re only staying two nights. The room is in Gene’s name—Ray was surprised Gene took the initiative to do the booking when, in the past, usually Ray was the one to do that sort of thing. But Gene has been showing him with not only his words, but his actions how much he wants to take care of Ray. It makes Ray’s heart soar. He knows he never could expect this sort of hospitality from Carol, as bad as that sounds. Regardless of the roles that men and women are supposed to have—it’s nice to be the one being taken care of for once.

This motel is a couple miles north of the city, with the back of the building facing the enormous Lake Huron. There isn’t a beach here—more like a large, grassy lawn that transforms into some ferns and rocks as it reaches the lake—but that’s not an issue. What Ray plans to do for a majority of this trip is simply spend time writing songs with Gene. That, and watch some amazing fireworks displays.

But… what else could happen between us…?

He figures it’s probably better to not worry about it and just see what happens. If he’s going to be honest, if Gene were up for something romantic, Ray would be fine with it.

Some boyfriend I am.

But they’re here alone. Nobody really knows who they are up here. No guests outside the motel stop them for their autographs, and the clerk inside the office makes no comment either, simply stating Gene’s name as if he were any regular person. Granted, they’re not as famous as someone like Mick Jagger, and Ray can tell from the radio stations around here that most people listen to country music instead of their own rock-’n’-roll. Which works out well for them. They’re hiding in plain sight.

Gene gets the keys from the clerk, handing one to Ray, and Ray stuffs it in his shorts’ front pocket. They walk outside to find their motel room: number six, all the way on the end. As Gene unlocks the door and opens it, Ray notices something, instantly, as soon as they step inside.

“There’s only one bed,” Ray says.

“Yeah,” Gene says nonchalantly, setting his encased acoustic guitar down to rest against the dresser.

“You didn’t tell me that until now…” Ray’s face is burning up. He closes the door behind himself, and finds an open spot on the floor to set down their shared suitcase.

“I thought it’d be fun to make it a surprise.” Gene smirks. “Since it’s a busy weekend, all their two-bed rooms were booked and this was all they had. Which, I don’t mind. I figured you’d like it too. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

“Y-yeah. Plenty of times.” He chuckles. “As long as no one around thinks it’s weird. I guess the clerk didn’t seem to mind when she saw it was just the two of us…”

Gene gives him a warm smile. “I think you’re thinking too hard about this. Friends share beds all the time. They probably get tons of people booking this same room who are just friends. So that’s easy.”

“Yeah. For sure.” Ray’s stomach twists in a nervous knot. While Gene’s words seem to imply that they are ‘just friends’—and their situation doesn’t have to mean more than that—he can tell there’s some underlying notion in Gene’s tone. One that sparks a little excitement.

“Well, now that we’ve checked in, you wanna go find somewhere to eat? I’m starving after all that driving,” Gene says.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go somewhere good.” He smiles.

After eating at a friendly mom-n-pop diner in town—and thankfully, with nobody recognizing them—the two head back to their motel room. It’s already getting close to sunset, with how late they ended up arriving here. But there’s no rule saying they have to be in bed early. So Ray wants to take this free time with Gene to, finally, write some music together. Instead of hanging inside, Ray suggests they pull the lawn chairs into the back yard. That way they can watch the waves of the lake as the sun goes down, and hopefully catch some fireworks too while they’re at it.

They situate their chairs as close as can be, the plastic armrests touching each other. Gene is always considerate when Ray sits next to him so as to not whack him with his arm when strumming his guitar, so it’s fine. I like it better this way, anyway, Ray thinks. He holds a short pencil and his pocket notebook in his lap, ready for when lyrics start to form.

Gene tunes his acoustic guitar, barely having to do so by hearing the correct notes in his head. That perfect pitch magic has always impressed Ray; how easily Gene figures the notes out. Ray’s a bit jealous he wasn’t born with the same musical gift, but what can he say? That jealousy is stomped out when Gene uses his gift to help him in song. How the hell did he get so lucky having such a talented best friend?

Gene strums a random chord, floating along like the long blades of grass on top of the shallow waves. Ray thinks he knows this song—yes, it’s the intro to ‘Fly High’. But then Gene changes it up. Another chord sounds from his guitar, switching key suddenly, yet somehow it makes sense. A new song is starting, pulling its inspiration from the first.

“What’s that chord? I can’t name it just by hearing, like you can,” Ray says.

“D7,” Gene says, strumming it again. He moves his hand, and then plays another one. “This one’s a G. But let me try…” His fingers change again on the fretboard, making a lower, deeper chord. “Yeah, that sounds better.”

“I like it too.” Ray nods.

“I’ve heard this silly myth, one that the rock legends have told,” Gene muses as he keeps strumming. “Guitarists know so many chords, have learned almost all of them that can be played on the instrument, but apparently there’s one that mystifies them all. It’s called the Lost Chord. No one’s ever found it.”