by Lane Hayes
He shifted to make room, then handed me a small paper bag. “I bought you a pretzel. Cinnamon sugar ’cause it’s the best.”
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a dork. It’s on me.”
“Thank you.” I unfolded the bag and sniffed. “Damn, I love the smell of cinnamon.”
“Me too. It reminds me of Christmas.” He opened his arms and gave me a comical look. “And this crowd is Christmas-sized. Did you know it was going to be like this?”
“No. I haven’t been to a mall in years,” I admitted.
“My mom dragged me to the one by her during the holidays. It was torture. You get lured in by the lights and the music and next thing you know, you’re battling with an old lady over discounted slippers no one in their right mind would wear.”
I chuckled. “You’re a good son.”
“I’m the only one she has now, so I feel like I have to be.”
“She doesn’t talk to your brother, right?” I asked, trying to remember what he’d told me about his family.
Justin nodded. “Yeah. But we aren’t here to talk about my effed-up family. This is about love, right? Love at a mall. Color me confused, maestro. I have no clue what to look for. Show me the way.”
I popped a piece of cinnamon goodness in my mouth and grinned before glancing around. We were in an ideal spot for people-watching. Our bench was in a corner facing an atrium. Ample seating surrounded the grassy area that I imagined was home to the Easter Bunny and Santa’s house during the season. I scanned the crowd for couples and came up with a few good examples.
“First and foremost, we’re looking for body language. Young, old…doesn’t matter. You can tell a lot by how close a couple sits—if they touch, how much they touch, and how they look at each other. Check out those two.” I inclined my head toward a middle-aged man wearing a red shirt and the younger blonde beside him. “They’re infatuated with each other. Not in love.”
Justin scoffed. “How can you tell? He’s got his arm around her, and he’s giving her a mushy look.”
“They’re sitting too close and smiling too hard. They’re too attentive, if you know what I mean.”
“No one knows what you mean,” he quipped. “Isn’t that all good?”
“Sure, but their language tells me their attraction is mainly physical.”
“You gotta start somewhere. Sex is the best place to begin, if you ask me.”
I chuckled at his adamant tone. “You’re right, but that’s not the song we’re writing.”
Justin hiked his knee on the bench again as he shifted to face me. “That’s the million-dollar question. What kind of love song is this? There’s all kinds of love. Tiers of affection too. You might really like your neighbor, but you don’t feel affection for him. And you might feel a deep affection for certain friends without really loving them. Then there are special friends you’d give your left nut to if they needed it. You love those friends, but you aren’t in love with them. Lovers are a whole other category. Some are sex-only partners, some are friends too, and others have that extra something that inspires a sappy song…like the one I’m assuming we’re trying to write.”
“We’re going for authentic and genuine. Not sappy. Something that evokes longing and hope at the same time.” I glared when Justin stuck his finger down his throat and gagged. “Behave.”
“You gotta admit, that’s kinda nauseating. Do you personally know anyone who’s been in love like that?”
“My parents,” I replied automatically before turning my gaze back to the seating area.
“How so?” Justin prodded.
“They just loved each other. Anyone could see it. They were married for fifty years. I was their surprise kid. I had a sister who died of leukemia before I was born. They were devastated and they didn’t think they’d ever have other children. Then I came along.”
“Oh. I’m sorry about your sister,” he said softly.
“Thanks. I didn’t feel her loss personally, but I think my folks were a bit more involved in my life because of what they’d been through. And I think they were more appreciative of one another too. My dad looked at my mom like she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was pretty for sure, but he saw something no one else did. And because he saw it, she became it. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. That’s very…poignant,” he said softly. We were both quiet for a moment; then Justin inched closer. “Was it hard being an only child?”
“No. I didn’t know any different. Being an orphan at thirty-nine was harder. I don’t have any family left. My aunts, uncles, and cousins have either passed away, or we just haven’t kept in touch.” I smiled wanly. “I miss my parents, but I don’t mind being alone. I was the nerd in school who preferred reading comic books and playing piano to hanging out with kids my age.”
“You look more like a former football player to me than a nerd.”
I laughed. “I was painfully thin until my early twenties. I started going to the gym and bulked up a bit after I moved to LA.”
“To fit in with the cool crowd?”
“In a way, maybe. It wasn’t intentional. You go through times in your life when you try to be what everyone else wants. The obedient son, a hardworking citizen, a good boyfriend or husband…and then realize you’re not paying attention to yourself. You lose yourself in everyone’s expectations. It took me until my thirties to let that go and do what felt right for me.”
“That’s a nice goal. I think people get the impression I do that naturally. I don’t.” Justin kicked his feet in front of him and looked down at his sneakers. “Family expectations kill me. I’m neutral territory for my mom and my brother. And it’s a lot of work being the go-between. It stresses me out.”
“You should go to the gym,” I teased.
“You know I hate the fuckin’ gym.”
I chuckled and put my arm around his shoulders and kissed his temple affectionately. “I remember.”
He looked surprised, but he didn’t pull away. “That’s what music is for. And video games.”
“And sex,” I added.
“Good point. Let’s see, you have an in-home gym, a music studio, a video console with a ton of games…and me. You never have to leave home.” Justin grinned mischievously, then popped a piece of pretzel into his mouth.
I traced his ear with my thumb and nodded. “True. My friends think it’s becoming a problem. I like staying home.”
“Then it’s not a problem. Hey, if I had a house like yours, I’d never leave either.”
“It’s cool, but it’s not where I’m from, you know. I didn’t grow up with a pool or a gym membership. I didn’t have Nintendo or—”
“Well, that’s because they didn’t have video games back then. No PCs or cell phones. I bet it was kinda like growing up in the dark ages,” he teased.
I gave him a dirty look before snaking my hand around his neck and rubbing my knuckles over his head. He batted me away with a laugh. All I could think was, Fuck, I want him. I swallowed hard and tried to remember what we were talking about. Oh, right…
“I grew up in the eighties. It wasn’t exactly the dark ages. We had computers and cell phones, smartass. They were just big and weighed as much as you do,” I huffed.
Justin made a funny face, then patted my hand and spoke slowly…and loudly. Like he was talking to a hard-of-hearing octogenarian. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Very disrespectful. I oughtta turn you over my knee, young man,” I chided playfully.
“I would not be opposed to that,” he quipped, waggling his brows.
We both burst out laughing a moment later. I impulsively tugged at his arm and pulled him closer still, then rested my elbow on the bench behind him. “We’re getting way off topic here. See that couple there…that’s who I want to write a love song about.”
Justin followed my gaze. “The old couple?”
“Yeah. And them too.” I gestured
toward the two men standing side-by-side in line at the pretzel store. “See what I mean about body language? Neither is touching, but you can tell they’re in sync. The trick about writing a song like this is to stay away from lyrics that evoke longing. We aren’t writing about what we wish we had. We’re writing about what we know we’re lucky to have. Appreciation, gratitude.”
“And you’re telling me that’s possible to do without sounding cheesy…’cause I’ve got my doubts,” he singsonged.
“I’ll give you a sample line. This just popped into my head. I’m not saying we need to use it, but…‘I want to feel your skin, touch your hair. I want to see you smile and know that you’re there. I want you to be my forever,’ ” I sang in a low and melodic tone.
I didn’t have the range or the sheer vocal power Justin did, but I excelled at writing hooks and forming songs from ideas. And another songwriter would recognize the hook instantly and might know how to build on it. Like playing volleyball with words. Justin was clever and quick-witted. I had a feeling he’d be good at this. I cocked my head and gave him an expectant look when he didn’t reply right away.
“That’s good,” he said carefully. “But ‘want’ is a yearning word. Maybe we should tweak that last line to ‘You are my forever.’ ”
“Yeah, I like that! It could be ‘you are my forever’ or some theme around ‘forever’ or—”
“Okay. Let me think.” Justin tapped his jaw thoughtfully. “Forever friend, forever lover, forever baby, forever guy I want to kick out of bed for snoring, forever girl who posts too many food pics on Instagram. How are we doing here?”
“Less specific, but I think we’re on the right track,” I said offering him a high five.
“All right. Let’s take notes.”
We brainstormed on our bench, throwing out suggestions and one-liners in rapid succession before pausing to snack on pretzels and people-watch. Justin was funny, good-natured, easy company. Which surprised me because he was high-energy too. He frequently jumped up and paced when a new idea hit him. And he wouldn’t sit again until he was sure I’d written it down. Or until a dog passed by. He must have stopped midsentence five times to pet a dog. The last one was a white French poodle. Her owner was a flirtatious college-aged girl with long brown hair and a winning smile who looked a bit dazzled by Justin.
“What’s her name?” he asked, petting the dog behind her ears.
“Miss Sweet Susie Sassafras. Sassy Sue for short,” she pronounced. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“Say that three times fast,” he joked.
The young woman giggled like she’d just heard the funniest joke ever. I watched the interaction from a couple of feet away and found myself slipping into my familiar role of observer. It was what all good writers did. We pulled away to take notes and build stories. But just as my brain wrote me out of the scene to create an unlikely love match, Justin turned to me with a radiant grin. And just like that, I was part of his story.
When the young woman and her dog walked away, Justin nudged my shoulder and grinned. “Sassy Sue might be the best name ever.”
“She liked you.” I immediately winced at the note of jealousy in my voice.
“Dogs love me.” He opened the pretzel bag and shook the leftover cinnamon into his mouth. “But I feel like I’m riding a serious sugar high right now. Between love songs, sugar pretzels, and Miss Sassafras, it’s like I’ve eaten three bowls of Cap’n Crunch and now the roof of my mouth is raw.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dog. The dog’s owner liked you. The girl. And you’ve got cinnamon on your face,” I said, pointing to his mouth.
“Where?”
I leaned in without thinking and swiped my thumb over his bottom lip. Justin captured my wrist, then brought the digit to his lips and sucked. I went still as I stared into his eyes.
“Um…” I cleared my throat and glanced at my watch. “Did you drive here?”
Justin grinned. No doubt he knew he’d gotten under my skin and was loving it.
“No. I took the bus.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “Why? I told you I’d pick you up.”
“I came from the coffee shop. Tegan, Johnny, and I played this afternoon. It was really fun. We had dueling guitars and a bongo drum. We took requests and played oldies for the yoga moms and after-school crew.”
“Sorry I missed it. I still would have picked you up.”
“Thanks, but I didn’t want you to. It would require explanation and I don’t want to tell my friends about you or your proposal until I can hash out a few details that don’t make it sound like I’m leaving them out to pursue a solo gig.”
“It’s not my proposal. I’m just the messenger. And there will be a contract involved to ensure you don’t get screwed.”
“Or to ensure I sign something I can’t get out of that fucks my chance at a real career later. I can’t afford a lawyer. I’m using every dime I have for rent and studio time.”
“I told you that you can you use my studio.”
“Yes, but that would require an explanation too. And like I said, they don’t know about the offer.”
“When will you tell them?”
He gave me a sharp sideways glance. “I saw Charlie this morning. He mentioned that he wants to represent or manage Zero. I don’t know much about this stuff, but according to Tegan…and Charlie too, he has a big social media following and might be able to help us. I didn’t say anything to the guys yet, but I know they’d be all for it. I wanted to talk to you first. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a good idea. You’ll have to rein him in a bit, but he’s very creative and I think he’s up to the challenge.”
Justin nodded thoughtfully. “Cool. One more thing. I haven’t contacted your friend yet, but…I want Zero to write and perform a song on the soundtrack too.”
That stopped me. “You know I have no say in that.”
“Yeah. I’m just bouncing an idea off you. I was talking to Charlie and—”
“Charlie,” I sighed, massaging the bridge of my nose.
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“But you have a lot to gain by just writing the one song,” I reminded him.
“Who cares? When you have nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. I don’t care about money. I just want to make music. As it stands, if I write a song with you, I’m choosing me for a short-term gain versus my band and a shot at something bigger than a possible one-hit wonder.” He raked his hand through his hair and gave me a lopsided smile. “I know the contract isn’t in your control, but I don’t want to discuss it with them until it’s real and Zero is in on the project. I don’t want to get their hopes up and disappoint them if I can’t deliver. I’m good at not following through on promises and…I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“Are you asking me to talk to Seb for you?”
“No, I’m a big boy. I can deal with him myself.” He laid his head on my shoulder and turned his body so he was sprawled on the bench. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. Tell me about your day instead.”
I studied the top of Justin’s head and tried to quickly process any possible red flags. He said he didn’t want me to interfere, but he had to know bringing up my best friend and my godson would get my attention. However, I didn’t detect manipulation on his part. I sensed that he was overwhelmed and needed to work through some ideas. That was all.
“Um…well, I worked on a couple of pop songs for a British songstress. If she likes them, I may have to travel to London. She hates LA.”
Justin sighed. “I’d love to travel someday. The only place I’ve been outside of California is Las Vegas. Where’s your favorite city?”
“Since I live in LA, I’ll say it’s my favorite. I also lived in New York and—”
“What’s it like? Is it electric? What’s the food like? Where’s the best music? Where’s the…”
I set my earlier misgivings aside, pushed my fingers through his hair, and started talkin
g. I described the streets and scenery, the food and the people of some of my more memorable trips to Boston, Chicago, London, and Paris. I talked and talked…and just when I thought I might be boring him, he’d ask another question. I stroked his head while I spoke and let my gaze wander. But after a while, I got lost in the moment. I tuned out the piped jazz playing through the speakers, the sounds of children laughing and people chatting, and focused on Justin. The weight of his body against my shoulder, the way his voice reverberated through me when he spoke. Hell, just the sound of his breathing grounded me.
He stretched his arms above his head and twisted to face me after a while. “Are you still people-watching?”
“Sort of. I’ve been watching you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Kiss me,” I commanded.
Justin looked around the bustling atrium. There were plenty of couples holding hands or standing closer than friends might. But the lone same-sex couple we’d spotted earlier was gone. And no matter how enlightened or accepting anyone claimed to be, two masculine looking men locking lips always turned a few heads.
“Here?”
“Yeah. Here. I dare you.”
He chuckled softly, then leaned in and sealed his lips over mine. It wasn’t an overly amorous display. It was just a kiss. But it felt like a promise.
I pulled back and threaded my fingers with his. “Come home with me.”
Justin
OF COURSE, he valeted. Gray snickered when I rolled my eyes and complained about wasting time and money. We chatted while we waited for his Porsche. We stuck to mundane topics like weather and traffic on the drive, but we both went quiet when he turned onto his street. The sexual tension built as we neared his house. It was subtle. We didn’t touch and we barely talked. We listened to Top 40 radio and commercials on low. But we weren’t lost in our own thoughts. We were both thinking of what we’d do the second we were alone behind a closed door.
Gray parked his car in the garage and paused at the door to wait for me before grabbing my hand and whisking me inside. He didn’t stop and he didn’t let go. He hurried down a wide hallway and led the way upstairs to his room. I gazed down at the blue lights of the pool and the cityscape beyond, but I didn’t bother commenting. I wasn’t sure I could use my voice anyway. My heart raced and a swarm of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. And yeah, my cock throbbed against my zipper like it had a pulse of its own.