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“So. You've discovered my deepest, darkest secret,” Dev said.
“I don't know why it has to be, but, yeah, I guess so,” Hazel replied.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he said. “No one can know.”
“Aw, what’s the big deal, Dev?” she asked with a shrug. “Lots of people like country.”
“Do you like country music, Hazel?” Dev asked, staring skeptically over his shades. “Lots of people judge country fans.”
“Well, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not really what my family listens to, so I never seek it out. I couldn’t say one way or another if I liked it.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said. He crossed his arms and turned his back to her.
“Well, why don’t we listen to some of your favorites together?” Hazel asked. Dev peered back at her from over his shoulder.
“You would do that?” he asked.
“Yeah!” she said. “It sounds fun!”
“Okay,” he turned around. “Come over to my house on Saturday. It’s better on vinyl.”
Cosmo and Wanda had a Fairy Godparents Union meeting at the same time Hazel planned to meet Dev, so she went ahead without them.
In his bedroom, Dev opened a hidden hatch in the wall and pulled out a long crate full of records.
“My dad’s not a country fan. He grew up listening to it but stopped when he ‘discovered literally anything else,’” Dev made air quotes with his fingers. “But he doesn’t usually complain if I put one on because it was papaw’s favorite. These were all his.”
“Papaw?” Hazel asked, uncertain whether she had heard right. Dev turned and glowered.
“Uh, hello?” he said. “Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome?” He rolled his eyes.
“Oh, uh, right,” she said.
He dug through the crate and pulled out a record.
“This was one of his favorite LPs,” he said, and snapped his fingers. “O-Pair 1! Turntables!”
An O-Pair flew down and modified itself into a turntable. Dev carefully withdrew the vinyl from the sleeve, sprayed it with a light blue liquid, and dried it with a microfiber cloth before setting it on the player.
“Just… listen to it all the way through before judging me, okay?” he said.
“I wouldn't think of doing otherwise,” Hazel said, and Dev put on the needle.
Hazel sat back, resting on her palms, and swung her feet side to side with the music. Dev sat cross-legged on his bed, arms crossed, hunched into himself. His head tilted down toward his bedspread, but Hazel felt fairly confident he was stealing glances at her from behind his shades, trying to gauge her reaction.
She picked up the sleeve and inspected it. Johnny Cash with His Hot and Blue Guitar! As the title suggested, the songs were mostly accompanied only by guitar.
“Be careful with that,” Dev said, confirming her suspicion. “It's an original from 1957.”
“I think my grandma is a Johnny Cash fan,” Hazel said. “I remember her saying my grandpa took her to a concert once.”
“Really?” Dev took off his shades and set them aside. “That’s so cool…”
“I’ll have to ask her about it the next time I see her,” she said.
O-Pair 1 reached its arm out and flipped the record the moment the A-side stopped.
“Whoa,” Hazel murmured.
The second half caught her interest a little more. She nodded along and jiggled her foot.
“I'm not going to lie, Dev,” Hazel said when it ended. “At first, I wasn’t feeling it that much. Not that I didn't like it! But those last few songs? That's where it got really good. I can definitely see the appeal.”
Dev smirked. “Yeah, hard to argue with Johnny Cash. I figured he’d be a good starting place.”
He put the record away and returned to flicking through the crate.
“My favorite off that album is ‘Folsom Prison Blues’. Country is at its best when it’s telling a story. Like, ‘what if a stranger blew into town, shot an outlaw, and left?’” He stood bowlegged and pointed his fingers like guns. He wiggled his thumbs and made gunshot sounds from the corner of his mouth. Hazel giggled.
“I’m guessing that’s one in that box,” she said.
“I’ll play it if I can find it!” he replied.
Hazel shifted to lie on her stomach and kicked her feet. It always made her feel good to see him smile in the non-Dimmadome way, just looking relaxed and happy to share something he loved.
“This one always makes me think of papaw,” Dev said, holding up Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy. “Mostly because he used to call me and my dad his ‘rhinestone cowboys.’”
Hazel laughed and Dev bristled.
“That’s so cute!” she exclaimed. “And it’s true. You are rhinestone cowboys, especially with those pants your dad wears.”
“My dad hated it, though. Dimmadomes don't wear rhinestones.” He frowned down at the album. “I don’t want to put this one on right now,” he said, and put it back.
“Oh, um. Okay,” Hazel said.
“Hmm, let’s see…” Dev flicked through more albums. “There’s Charley Pride, who was the first Black artist to break through in an otherwise lily-white genre. Dolly Parton is as legendary for her voice and persona as for her beehive hairdo. And all of country music stands on the shoulders of Hank Williams.” He turned to look at Hazel. “We don’t talk about Junior.”
He pulled out Loretta Lyn’s Coal Miner’s Daughter.
“This one always got papaw reminiscing about his childhood,” he said, and cleaned it as he had the previous record. “The title track especially. He said it was similar to his own childhood, except his dad worked on an oil field, not a coal mine.”
“Sounds like you loved him a lot,” Hazel said.
“Of course I did. He was Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome,” Dev said. He drew up his knees and hugged them to his chest. “I miss him."
“Yeah,” Hazel sighed. “I miss my grandpa, too. He died a couple years ago. He was sick for a long time, so we went out to visit him. I’m glad I got to see him one last time.”
“Lucky you,” Dev spat. “With papaw, it was too sudden for goodbyes.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“He used to let me sit on his lap. He would put his hand on my shoulder and tell me about how he started his various businesses.”
Hazel bit the inside of her cheek. The idea of having to be allowed to sit on a relative's lap–something she had always taken for granted–made her stomach turn.
“One time, papaw took me to Nashville to see his recording studio,” Dev said, and retrieved a keepsake box from a drawer. “I got to sit in for a recording of the album Combination of the Two by Kristi Ann.”
He pulled a photo out from the box and held it up for Hazel to see. In front of the Dimmadome Records logo stood an unfamiliar blonde country star beside Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, who held a smaller Dev in the crook of his arm. Little Dev’s hair wasn’t slicked back, instead curling into his face, and his arms were as far around his grandfather’s shoulders as he could reach. His smile had a gap from a lost baby tooth. When Hazel looked closely, she could see his tongue poking at the space. Notably absent was Dale.
“Aww,” Hazel cooed. “Look at you! Too cute!”
Dev yanked the photo back and put it away.
“Anyway. Nashville was fun,” he rocked happily back and forth. “My dad was too busy, so it was just us. And papaw’s business associates. But mostly just us.”
“My grandparents took me to Memphis, once,” Hazel said. “It’s a music city, too. But it’s more known for stuff like soul and R&B and rock and roll. That’s what they’re into.”
“Memphis,” Dev hissed. He glared and shook his fist. “My musical nemesis.”
The two stared at each other a beat before bursting out laughing.
They spent the afternoon playing at being Nashville stars, outlaws, haunted mine explorers, and pondering what would happen if Kennueth and Duckworth wound up in Depression-era Kentucky. They paused roughly once every half hour so Dev could choose another record.
“Check this out.” He opened his closet and stepped on O-Pair 2 to lift him to the top shelf. He pulled down a round box and set it down in front of Hazel.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed as she opened it. Inside was a white Dimmson hat with a leather hat band around the body. The band was studded with gems. She lifted it and admired the rainbows that sparkled off of it. “Like a… rhinestone cowboy?”
“These aren’t rhinestones,” Dev said and put the Dimmson on her head. “They’re real.”
“Wow! Wow!” Hazel ran to the mirror and posed in front of it. “Look at it sparkle! This has got to be the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn!”
“It is,” he replied.
The two posed in front of the mirror and took pictures with their phones. Hazel took Dev’s sunglasses and put them on.
“Whaddya think?” she asked.
“Hazel,” Dev closed his eyes and pressed his fingers together. “That is the coolest anyone has ever looked.”
After putting on another album, rather than going back to their game, Dev opened the keepsake box again. He pulled out a small, ovular frame and held it with both hands before turning it to show Hazel. The photo was of a smiling woman, probably only a little younger than her parents, her face framed by auburn curls. In the woman’s lap sat what appeared to be a young Dale, wearing a more sincere smile than Hazel had ever seen on him.
“This is my mamaw,” Dev said. “Dorothy ‘Dotty’ Dimmadome. I never knew her. I think she died when dad was really young; he doesn't like to talk about her.”
“She’s really pretty,” Hazel said. “You have her smile. And her chin.”
“Uh,” Dev slapped his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks? I guess.”
“You're welcome!” she replied. “Is that your dad with the curly hair?” She pointed to him in the photo.
“Yes,” Dev replied, curtly, and covered the image with his hand. He returned the photo to its place in the box and put the box back in its drawer.
“Dev, I thought I told you to wear headphones if you’re going to listen to papaw’s music.”
Hazel and Dev both jumped and turned to see Dale standing in the doorway. He didn’t lift his gaze from his phone.
“Dad! I didn’t know you were home,” Dev said.
“Just got in. Can’t stay long,” he replied. “Anyway. Headphones.”
“But dad, I can’t,” Dev said. “Hazel’s here.”
“Hello, Mr. Dimmadome,” Hazel greeted.
“Oh, hello Basil,” Dale gave her the barest glance. “Here’s another pair, then.” He tossed Dev a spare set of headphones.
“Thanks,” he muttered as Dale disappeared into the house.
“Well,” Hazel said with an awkward laugh, “I guess now we’ll hear it in more detail, right?” She held her hand out for the headphones, but Dev held onto them. He turned off the turntable.
“No, that’s okay,” he said, fidgeting. “It’s getting kind of late. You should probably head home.”
“I don’t need to go home yet,” she said. “And we haven’t finished the record. He didn’t say we had to stop.”
“Maybe some other time,” Dev started cleaning up.
“Do you need any help?”
“No.”
“Well… okay,” Hazel rubbed her arm. “I had a lot of fun today! We should do this again sometime.” As Dev stood to put the crate away, she pulled him into a tight hug. He tensed for a moment before returning it.
“Yeah,” Dev said with a weak smile. “See you Monday, Hazel.”
“Bye, Dev!”
Hazel started the walk home, admiring the tree-lined streets and old brownstones. A pair of familiar faces appeared on the fidget toys on her backpack.
“How was Dev’s, Hazel?” Wanda asked.
“It was fun,” Hazel said, looking down at her feet.
“It doesn’t sound like you had fun,” Cosmo remarked.
“No, I did! We were having a lot of fun,” she said. “I dunno. It’s like, when his dad shows up, he shuts down.”
Cosmo and Wanda frowned at one another, but said nothing.
“I don’t know how to get him to open back up without making things worse.”
“Oh, you’ll figure it out, squirt,” Wanda said.
“I hope so,” Hazel replied. “How was your union meeting?”
“Oh, it was uneventful. We decided new terms aren’t needed at the moment.”
“Yeah, and there was only one dance-off,” Cosmo added.
“Sounds like we both had pretty good days, then,” Hazel said and smiled up at the trees.