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and whoever’s singing harmony noodles over it?”
    If this is going to work, I need to stop being so defensive, I decide. I can boot his ass off the street at noon when we’re still broke. Until then, I’ll play along. Literally. I also realize that it’s kind of cool to have someone to talk to during what’s usually a pretty lonely stretch of time. Which I would never tell him.
    “That should work.” I slurp my coffee. It’s still awesome.
    Derek slides down the wall and sits Indian style, and I reluctantly join him. We tune up, and he looks at me expectantly. I throw a fairly obscure song at him.
    “You know ‘Thirty Days in the Hole’?”
    He cracks his crooked grin. “Lead on.”
    I give him a starting note and, on my nod, start the chorus refrain a cappella. His voice matches mine, the harmony perfect, no guitars, and a thrill goes up my spine. I strum the chords that start the verse and sing it loud. When I get to the part about weak in the knees, I realize that perfectly describes how I feel.
    We keep going well past the point where we should have stopped the song, jamming along. The final chorus extends for a good minute, his voice entwined with mine, both of us riffing in and out of the melody. By the time we finish, I realize something special happened. It was exciting and raw and powerful.
    He holds my gaze for the last thirty seconds as we sing, locked on me with laser precision, and when we’re done, it feels like the world comes back into focus, like someone turned on the color after everything being all black and white.
    A few bystanders clap, and one whistles. I look down. There’s a dollar thirty-five in the case more than when we started the song.
    “Get a room, already,” a familiar voice says. I look up, and Melody’s there, studying Derek like a jeweler with a fine diamond.
    “What are you doing here?” I stammer, genuinely surprised that she’s dragged herself out of bed.
    “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new partner?” she says, her voice totally fake and innocent.
    Derek beams up at her and then looks to me with one raised eyebrow.
    “Oh. Um, this is Derek. Derek, Melody,” I say, my eyes narrowing slightly.
    Derek reaches out a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice smooth as velvet. I already hate how this is going.
    “Mel,” she corrects, approaching and shaking, her hips doing her very best Shakira with every step.
    Derek glances back at me. “That was pretty good for our first time.”
    I don’t trust myself to speak. Melody has enough words for both of us.
    “It was incredible. Really.” She eyes Derek like a snake eyes a mouse. “You’re very good.” She switches to me. “You too, Sage.”
    I find my voice. “Thanks, Mel.” I look at Derek. “You know any Michelle Branch?”
    He nods. “Sure. ‘All You Wanted’? ‘Are You Happy Now’? ‘Breathe’?”
    I thought I’d stumped him. I only know “All You Wanted.” How many guys know three Michelle Branch songs?
    I play the first notes, and he jumps in, leaning over and whispering in my ear like he’s telling me a secret. “You take the vocal on this again. Me trying to sing this with you next to me’s plain stupid.”
    Melody retreats to the parking meter she was leaning against, and we start in. A couple of quarters land in the case as I give it my all. So far, we’re cleaning up.
    The morning wears on, and after a few rough patches, we’re sounding pretty good. My assessment of Derek’s ability the prior day was conservative. He can play a guitar like nobody’s business, and when he opens his mouth, it’s magic.
    When we decide to give it a rest after the lunch rush, it’s 1:45, later than I’d mentally decided the cutoff for our experiment would go. Melody wandered off after half an hour, when Derek didn’t follow her every move with his tongue hanging out.
    He counts the money while I wipe down Yam, enjoying the sun’s warm afternoon glow on my face.
    He