At nearly the last possible moment, the three members of Liner Notes came together for a rehearsal. Mitch already committed to the gig with Basil on board, and Darius managed to sort the date out with his wife, so they were good to go. They agreed to meet at Darius’ house in Lowell, because transporting a few guitars was easier than hauling around a drumset; furthermore, neither Mitch nor Basil had families that they’d be missing dinner with by going to band practice.

Since Basil lived in Somerville and lacked a car, Mitch offered to pick him up from the train station. While waiting in the parking lot, he reviewed Jodie’s songlist and tried to envision the songs’ arrangements per her request. The train’s horn blared and yanked him from out of his thoughts, and he made sure that he let Basil know what car he was in. Except, he remembered, Basil already knew, the car model stayed the same for the last decade.

His eyes narrowed when someone unfamiliar approached, a redhead in a flannel with a stylish quiff haircut and a small goatee. Then the immaculate cheekbones tipped him off, and Mitch lit up in recognition. “Dude!” he exclaimed when the passenger’s backseat door opened and a guitar case was unceremoniously tossed onto the seat.

“Dude!” Basil parroted back.

“Is the hair color natural? You’ve been bleach blonde as long as I’ve known you,” Mitch asked, practically tripping over his own words. “Oh and like, holy shit! You’re handsome as fuck!”

“Thank you, I know! Spent a lot of money to look this good.” Basil’s smooth voice was surreal at first, but also so natural and a wonderful thing to listen to. Not a single hint of cynicism from days of yore, just a perfect self-assured calm that Mitch always envied. He dropped into the passenger seat, and as he buckled up proceeded to explain, “And yes, I’m a natural redhead. I shaved my head before starting T, like some kind of ‘breaking up with myself’ symbolic gesture.”

“That’s so cool,” uttered Mitch.

“Right? I thought so. Anyway, I kind of dug it when it started to grow back in, and leaned into a more natural me for the first time in my adult life.”

“I’m so goddamn happy for you!” Mitch grinned.

“Thanks, man. I’m happy for me too,” Basil smiled back.

They stopped for some fast food before heading over to Darius’ house, and 15 minutes later pulled up to a small classic New England cottage in a quiet neighborhood. From inside of the house a dog furiously barked, but the bark was much bigger than the bite. Mitch and Basil grabbed their instruments from the back, pushed past the chainlink fence’s gate, and ascended the front steps. Basil pressed on the doorbell which made the dog bark louder, and a toddler could be heard joining the cacophony as the small voice shouted “Door! Door!”

The door swung open, and Darius’s tall frame blocked out the light that poured out of the entryway. Attached to him clung a small child, who scurried away as soon as she was face-to-face with adults that she was unfamiliar with. From between Darius’ legs, a miniature schnauzer mix whined a few times then squeezed through, its little body wiggling as it demanded attention, which Basil was happy to lavish it with. “Twizzler!” Darius attempted to settle down the 10lb perpetual motion machine, but to no avail. “Sorry about him,” Darius said while he pulled Mitch into a side hug. “He acts as if he’s never had any human contact whatsoever”.

Basil had to decline any sort of hug due to his chest, so he and Darius exchanged fist bumps. When asked if he’d be able to play, Basil assured them that he’d gotten clearance. Even if he started to ache, he could just keep the bass down low. “If all else fails, get me a stool to sit on and I’ll be fine.”

They pushed past various colorful toys that were spread out across the floor like an obstacle course, but before reaching the basement door, Darius’ wife Evelyn apprehended them and asked if they had dinner. “Just ate!” Mitch informed her, and she proceeded to chew Darius out for not inviting them over sooner.

“I’ll pack you both some for the road!” she asserted, and neither Mitch nor Basil protested; it’d be insane to decline, since Evelyn was a professional chef-turned-caterer in Boston’s North End. She then shot a stern look at Darius, and warned, “Invite them next time!”

“I’ll invite them next time baby, sorry!” he relented, throwing his hands up in surrender.