May 10 2009; Spin Records; Kevin Spacey and David Tennant; G
Cross posted to tennant_d and our_quarter

David looked around him as he made his way down the sidewalk of the French Quarter, trying to take in all the sights at once. He couldn't help thinking that even though he'd been in this city over a year, he was woefully naive about just how much this part of the city had to offer. He hadn't really gotten out a lot since he'd moved into his house in the Garden District and taken over the bookshop from his cousin; he'd spent so much time restocking the place, taking inventory, and making sure that the donations he received from various people in the area were taken care of and carefully catalogued that he really hadn't gotten out much. In fact, he'd only gotten around to joining the local theater group a few days ago, and that was something he'd meant to do when he'd first arrived in New Orleans.



There was a lot that he hadn't had a chance to do yet, he thought with an inward sigh. Well, that wasn't quite true. He hadn't given himself a chance to do much of anything but work, if he was going to be completely honest. He hadn't wanted to get emotionally involved with anyone; the way his last relationship had ended still made him shudder, and a part of him almost expected to see his ex-boyfriend around every corner, exactly as he had done in Paisley. That was ridiculous, he told himself sternly; Padraic was back in Scotland, and he was here. There was no chance of them seeing each other again.

The thought of his ex had slowed his steps, and he realized that he was in a part of the Quarter that he'd never explored before. Catching sight of a shop window that seemed to be filled with posters of bands, he squinted and stepped closer, trying to see past the window displays and look inside. But he'd actually have to go into the place before he'd be able to have an idea of what it was like; just standing on the sidewalk and squinting didn't help. He hadn't planned to do any shopping today, but he really wasn't in any sort of hurry to get home. Going back to an empty flat wasn't very appealing at the moment. Taking a deep breath, David pushed open the door and entered the shop, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the interior of the place after being out in the bright sunlight.

Kevin coughed as dust flew out of the cloth he was using to clean. He had been meaning to get to those shelves for a while now, and it seemed his work was well overdue. However, the tinkle of the bell over the door signalled a customer, and he popped the cloth on the shelf below the counter and wiped his hands on his pants.

He gave the guy a shy smile, and then looked down at his receipt book, remembering he really had to call a customer who was overdue on his lay away payments.

David's eyes had lit up as he entered the place; he couldn't believe that there could possibly be somewhere that was stocked with the jazz music he enjoyed listening to. Not that he didn't like more popular music, of course; he could talk for hours about obscure 80s bands. But he'd grown up listening to jazz with his parents, and they'd instilled a love of that music in him from the time he was a small child.

He heard a cough from deeper inside the store, and his eyes widened as he looked around to see where it came from. It took him a few moments to realize that there was someone standing at the shelves on the side, cleaning them -- and kicking up a lot of dust in the process. He blinked, trying to keep himself from wrinkling his nose and sneezing as a dust cloud seemed to float through the air towards him. He ignored the particles, thinking that it would be rude to introduce himself to someone while he was attempting not to sneeze in their face.

"Hello," he ventured, holding out a hand towards the other man, a smile on his face. "I was just passing by, and I couldn't help being intrigued by your place. I had no idea that there was somewhere in the Quarter that carried jazz music. I've loved jazz since I was a wee one, so I can see myself spending a lot of time in here. I'm David, nice to meet you." He could feel a sneeze coming on, and he had to struggle to keep it back -- but to no avail. He quickly turned his head to the side, hoping that the other man didn't think he was rudeness incarnate for letting out three loud sneezes, one right after the other.

Kevin was rather taken aback by the overt friendliness of the man. Once he was over his sneezes he tentatively took his hand. "I'm sorry about that. It's usually pretty quiet about now. I took the opportunity to clean up. There's a bit of stock here I really need to move on." He stopped, realising he had spoken more words in those few seconds than the past few days. "Feel welcome to look around...or do me a favour and go through these old records. If there's anything there you like you can have it. They're just gathering dust." He let out a slight laugh.

David blinked at the response; he hadn't expected the proprietor of a store to just offer him something for free. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly ...." he began, before he realized that it would probably seem rude to turn down such a generous offer. "All right -- if you'll come to my bookshop sometime and take some of the things I don't seem to be able to sell off my hands," he said, hoping that he didn't sound ridiculous. But it seemed to be the least he could do, after what this man had just said. Though it was a bit strange that he hadn't given his name ....

"This is a marvellous place," he said, looking around, his eyes taking in the abundance of music. "Music stores always seem to have a lure about them, don't they? I'm sure there must be a lot of people who come here around the time of the Jazz Festival. I was there this year, but I had no idea that there was a store around that catered to people with that particular taste." He wanted to wander around and look, but he also didn't want to seem rude by turning his back on this man. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands after the handshake was done with, he shoved them into his pockets, hoping that he didn't look as awkward as he felt.

"Thanks...thanks a lot." Kevin veritably beamed. "I...I'm into all this stuff and..." He grabbed a pile of records and put them on the counter. "Some of these aren't in the best of condition but if anything takes your eye..." He smiled. "A bookshop. I'd love to come by. I'm looking for something new to read."

His eyes gazed around his own store, taking it all in with the insight and encouragement of new eyes.

"I'm Kevin...Kevin Spacey."

"It's nice to meet you, Kevin." David watched as Kevin lifted the pile of records onto the counter, his eyes lighting up again at the sight of the album on top of the stack. "Benny Goodman! I love swing music." He stepped forward, unable to keep himself from shuffling through the pile of records, exclaiming as a few more caught his eyes. "Etta James! She's one of my favourites."

He held up the aforementioned Benny Goodman album in front of him, looking over at Kevin with a smile -- a genuine one, not just the smile of a not-too-interested customer. "I miss vinyl. I still have a record player, and I make sure it's kept in good condition. There's .... some indefinable feeling about holding a vinyl album in your hands, isn't there? It's just so .... solid." He held up the album in front of him, studying the cover. "And you can actually see all the artwork, without having to squint the way you do to look at a cd."

"You're welcome at the bookshop any time," he said, nodding as he placed the records he'd found on the countertop. "I mostly deal with used books, out of print and first editions, but I do carry newer things, as well. It's a bit of a concession to popular tastes -- sometimes I hate to do it, but surprisingly, there are people who read newer books and who also have an appreciation for more well-worn collectibles." He blushed a little as he spoke; his tendency to talk a lot was getting the better of him, and he hoped that he wasn't making too much of a fool of himself by being long-winded.

"Benny and Etta have been looking for a good home for a while," Kevin smiled. "They're not in tip top condition so the collectors won't have them, but they're not hip enough just for people to buy to listen to. I'd be happy for you to rehome them."

Kevin warmed to this guy; warmed to him faster than most people. He seemed to share the same enthusiasm as Kevin himself.

"Album artwork," he sighed running a finger over the glossy cover. "It was an art in those days. Even just a picture of the artist said so much. And players...just the feeling of placing that needle down on the vinyl."

David nodded, enthusiastic about finding someone who seemed to share his interest in jazz and in vinyl records. "People don't appreciate this medium enough any more. It's as though they think that because something is 'old,' it's not worth having any more. It's sad, the way that people can be so fickle and move on to the next shiny new thing." He shook his head, frowning slightly.

He could hardly believe that this man was giving him these records; most people would have given him a definite price. He almost felt guilty, as though he were managing to whisk some treasure away from this man, but he stopped himself before he could protest. Kevin seemed sincere in his wish for David to re-home the music, and he'd been looking for copies of these for a while now.

"You know that I'll have to repay you for these in some way," he said, tilting his head and giving Kevin another genuine smile. "You'll have to come into the bookshop and pick out something. I won't take no for an answer, so don't shake your head," he warned, holding up a hand to forestall anything that Kevin might say to turn him down. "It's not often that I find someone who shares my love of good jazz, so the least I can do is return the favour."

He couldn't help but agree with Kevin's assessment of the artwork. "Artwork for album covers is really .... at the risk of sounding redundant, a lost art," he sighed, looking at the album on top of the stack. "And the excitement you feel when you put the needle down, the feeling that you're going to hear something that will make your heart pound and let your imagination soar .... nothing quite beats that, does it?" He laughed ruefully, shaking his head again. "Maybe I missed my calling. I should have been a musician, instead of working in theater."

Kevin took a last glance at Etta; a classic photo. A simple cover which expressed so much. It proudly said that the woman was the artist. She wasn't an overt beauty but there was a pride to her face which made her attractive. No brazen garish artwork; simply the singer.

"You act?" he asked pulling himself back into the real world. "And have a bookshop?" The mention of the bookshop reminded him.

"I'd be delighted to come and have a look around. You might even be able to help me get in a few bios I'm after."

David nodded, blushing a bit at the question. "Yes, I did a lot of theater work when I lived at home in Scotland. I just joined a local group called the Lucid Dreams Theater a few days ago -- I'm hoping to get back into it, though I haven't done any work with a theater since I moved to New Orleans last year. I missed it, so I thought it would be a good idea to jump back into the groove, as it were. And yes, I own a bookshop too." He laughed, feeling a little more at ease when talking about the bookshop than about his own talents. "It's going to make the days fairly full for me, doing both things, but keeping busy is better than sitting at home with nothing much to do. I've let myself do far too much of that lately."

His face lit up when he talked about the bookshop; it was obvious that he loved the place. "You're welcome to come by any time you like. I'm sure that I'd be able to help you find some books -- biographies take up a fairly large section, since I'm into them myself. And I have a good selection of out-of-print books, so you may find something that you've been looking for but couldn't manage to lay your hands on."

'Out of print?" Kevin's face lit up. "I'd love to see if you have something on some of the old singers...and the clubs they worked in. Maybe some time I could come and rifle around?"

"I believe I do," David said after a moment of thought. "I'm not sure exactly what I have -- I deal with so many books every day that it's hard to remember titles -- but I'm sure that I have some books on jazz singers. You're welcome to come by any time and take a look. I hope you'll be pleasantly surprised." His pride in the place that he ran came through in his voice; he obviously loved his business and wanted others to enjoy it, as well.

"You're also more than welcome to come by the house and visit if you'd like to," David ventured, feeling a little shy about extending an invitation to his home but deciding that he needed to jump right into trying to be social. After all, Kevin was a nice man, and he couldn't keep himself locked away in the house all the time when he wasn't working or wandering about the city. "It's in the Garden District, just behind the shop. Very easy to find."

Kevin was speechless. He rarely met such generous friendly people. Most came into the store, bought, and left.

"I...gee thanks. That's....Garden District?" Kevin had toured the area on the cable car but had never imagined going into one of those glorious houses.

David nodded, hoping that Kevin wouldn't have a bad opinion of him for living in the Garden District. He knew that there were people who thought that anyone who resided in that area had to be some kind of snob, but he didn't want anyone to think that he was that sort of person. Actually, he felt a bit uncomfortable living there -- it seemed so upscale, not the kind of place that he would have chosen for himself. But his cousin had said that the lease on the house came along with the shop, and he'd needed a place to live, so he'd taken it.

"Yes, it's in the Garden District," he confirmed, a little hesitantly. "But don't let that stop you -- it's not nearly as overwhelming as it might seem. The house is rather small -- which is a good thing, as I'm not much of a housekeeper," he added with a somewhat nervous laugh. "I don't really know many people in the city yet, and it would be lovely to have a friend come over to visit. It can get a bit lonely, living by myself."

It can get a bit lonely, living by myself. The words echoed through Kevin.

"I'd really like that," Kevin smiled, ostentation forgotten and possible friendship warming his heart.

"Wonderful! Then I'll definitely expect to see you sometime -- both in the shop and at my house," David said, smiling warmly. It would be marvelous to have a friend to talk with, someone who he could discuss jazz music with and just .... talk to. That was something that had been sorely lacking in his life since he'd arrived in New Orleans, and it was past time that he rectified it.

"You really do have a great place here," he enthused, looking around at the shop. "It's almost like stepping back into a past era -- I won't say when things were better, just when they were .... different. A time that we can only dream of these days." His gaze returned to Kevin again, his look curious. "How did you develop an interest in all this? I did because of my parents -- were you the same way? Or did you come across it on your own?"

Kevin rarely had a chance to talk about his passion. He could almost weep with joy. Tentatively, because too many times this had ended in ridicule, he began.

"My mom loved it all. She would play all the oldies. She had an old stereophone and we'd sit on a Sunday together and just listen."

David nodded, understanding completely. "It sounds like what my parents would do. My mother loved the older jazz music ...." His voice trailed off as he pictured his mother, nodding along with the music and smiling. There were times since she'd passed away when he missed her so terribly that it was an almost palpable sadness.

But he didn't want to feel sad, not on a day like today, not now when he was making a new friend who seemed to have quite a lot in common with him. "I listened to other music too, when I went through the 'rebellious teenage years.' But I can't help loving the oldies -- there's something about them that seems to reach out and grab you in the way that the music of today just doesn't do."

"Well come in any time and just sit and listen. I have coffee out the back. You're very welcome," Kevin smiled.

"That sounds lovely. I'd love to have a place to come and listen to music -- and a friend to share it with." He felt a little as though he was taking advantage of Kevin's generosity, but it seemed to be genuinely offered.

"I keep coffee at the bookshop, too -- you're more than welcome to stop by any time. And I haven't quite given up the practice of afternoon tea, either," David laughed, feeling a little silly at the admission. "It's a bit of home that I couldn't quite see myself doing without. I suppose everyone feels the need to keep doing some of the familiar things they're used to, even when they're starting a new life in a different place."

Kevin just could not believe how friendly this David was. "Thank you. Thank you," he said softly.

"You're very welcome," David replied with a smile. He looked around as he heard someone else enter the store, then turned back to Kevin with an inquiring look. "Do I owe you anything for these?" he asked, still unable to believe that someone would let these albums go for nothing. Not that he didn't appreciate it, of course, but he didn't want to feel that he was somehow sneaking off with something.

"No no," Kevin smiled. Truth be known he was thankful enough to have someone to talk to who shared his passion. "It seems they are now where they belong."

David laughed, nodding and picking up the albums. "I'm glad you feel that way. It's always good to match things up with a person who's going to care for them, isn't it? I do that with books all the time. It makes me feel as though I'm giving them a new lease on life, so to speak. And when someone finds a book they've been looking for .... as silly as it may seem, it's a good feeling to know that I've made someone happy."

He felt bad that he hadn't actually bought anything, but he knew that he'd be back in this place many more times. And now that he'd made a new friend, that would be even more impetus for him to come back. "I should be going," he said, holding out his hand again. "It was marvelous to meet you, Kevin. Please stop by the shop any time you want -- and come by the house, too. It'd be nice to have some company."

Kevin took David's hand awkwardly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"You're very welcome," David murmured, shaking Kevin's hand. "I should be going. It's been wonderful meeting you, Kevin. I hope I'll see you again soon."

Me too Kevin thought gratefully. Me too.