by Lane Hayes
“Don’t,” he snapped. “Now is not the time.”
I let out a weary sigh and nodded. “I think I see her.”
Tegan glanced over his shoulder. “All right. Go outside and tell them to—”
“What’s going on?” A gruff voice echoed in the corridor.
I didn’t bother looking up. I always did my best to steer clear of my boss. He hated me, and the feeling was mutual. Sean Gruen was a divorcee with two kids who’d come out with a bang when he turned forty. He bought a few gay clubs and bars in LA and Palm Springs with a business partner and had made a name for himself in LGBTQ philanthropic circles. Most people would say Sean was a great catch. He was wealthy, successful, and those who were into tall, bald, muscular types with designer wardrobes and flashy cars thought he was hot too. He did nothing for me. Except remind me that I should be thankful that he gave my sorry ass a job when I needed employment quickly a few months ago. I liked working at Vibes…as long as I didn’t have to deal with Sean.
“Hey, boss. I’m taking a quick break.” I gave him a phony smile and stepped toward the exit.
“You just got here, Cuevas.”
“I’ve been here for a couple of hours actually.” Shit. She was closing in. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“I don’t think so. Take that bottle to the bar and get to work,” Sean commanded, gesturing to the nearly empty Tanqueray in my hand.
Tegan shot a distressed look between Sean and me and then over his shoulder at the raven-haired beauty heading toward us. I weighed the situation quickly before making one of my infamous snap decisions. The kind that usually got me into trouble. What can I say? Some life lessons didn’t stick.
I unscrewed the top, lifted the bottle in a toast, and drained the contents like it was a beer bong. Then I swiped my mouth and angled my head toward the exit.
“It’s gone now. I’ll throw it out for you.”
Sean clenched his fists and pointed at the door. “You’re fired, Cuevas. Get the fuck out.”
“You got it wrong. I quit.”
I set the bottle at his feet, then winked before heading to the door.
The moment I stepped outside, I realized I’d forgotten my shirt and jacket in the break room. And it was cold. I couldn’t go back in, and I couldn’t ask Tegan to throw my stuff out here. Not yet, anyway. I thought about asking the bouncer, but he was busy talking to someone and before I could think of a plan, Xena was there.
She paused in the doorway and gave me a thorough once-over. I did the same. I hadn’t seen her since that night at Carmine’s, and I liked it that way. Though I had to admit, she looked great. Her red lips were her only concession to color. She wore a long, black flowing dress with combat boots. Her long hair fell in spiral curls over her shoulders. She reminded me of a Goth model in the middle of a photo shoot.
I felt woefully underdressed in my jeans and bare-chested state. But I bet any passerby would think we belonged together. Like the badass rock couple I’d once thought we could be when I figured looks and ambition could take us to the top. It was unsettling to realize how delusional I’d been.
Xena stepped into the shadow and folded her arms. “Hi, Justin. This won’t take long. I heard that you—”
Tegan barreled outside and quickly inserted himself between us before growling at me. “I cannot believe you just fucking did that.”
“Justin is always just doing things,” Xena huffed. “Save your lover’s tiff. It’s fabulous to see you both again, but I’ve got better places to be.”
“What do you want?” I asked. I was edgy, anxious, and call me crazy, but I didn’t want to hang out in the alley—after unceremoniously telling my boss to fuck off—with my ex and my bandmate…oh yeah, who also happened to be my boss’s lover.
Fuck, this was messed up.
“Sign the contract for the song and take the money, Justin. You need it and I need it. It’s the perfect way to end our former relationship. And if we’re lucky, we both end up with new careers.”
“What is she talking about?” Tegan asked irritably.
Xena wrinkled her forehead. “You didn’t tell your boyfriend the news?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. And there is no news.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re fucking the songwriter,” she taunted. “Or so I heard.”
“From who?”
“Dec. He knows everyone. He’s a good person to keep close. Did he tell you we’re talking to an agent who thinks we can sign XenLA with a label?”
“XenLA?”
“Our band. We thought about going our separate ways, but my solo contract can help fund us. We have a new bass player and a drummer who can keep his dick in his pants,” she said, shooting an evil look at Tegan before continuing, “But everything is at a fucking standstill because you haven’t signed the damn contract. If this is about spite or greed, you’ve picked the wrong time to get even, Justin. Sign the fucking thing before we both lose out. You fucked me over once. Don’t do it again.”
I rounded on her with my teeth bared. “You got it wrong. You left me and the band and then—”
“And when I came back to get my stuff, I found you two were getting along just fine without me,” she hissed. “Declan can be a real asshole, but he did us all a favor that day.”
In a way, she was right. I hadn’t felt that way when Declan let Xena into my old apartment. We were friends, or so I thought. And well before I’d met Xena, Dec and I were lovers. The casual kind that didn’t stick around. But he must have wanted something more from me, because he’d been lurking in the shadows, eager to shine a spotlight on my every fuckup. Unfortunately, I gave him a lot of material.
“We were over. I didn’t cheat on you.” I annunciated each word and fixed her with a sharp, pointed look that unfortunately didn’t faze her in the slightest.
“No, you switched teams and changed beds. You’re a lowlife loser, Justin. You hang on till you suck the life out of everyone around you. I had to leave or I’d never get anywhere.” Xena pushed her hair back distractedly and stepped into my space, pointing her finger at my chest. “So yeah…it’s pretty fucking ironic and extremely unfair that I have to track you down to ask you to do the right thing by all of us. Sign the contract so I can finally get you out of my life for good.”
“I repeat…what is she talking about? What contract?” Tegan furrowed his brow in confusion.
Xena cocked her head incredulously, then flipped her hair over her shoulder and let out an evil-sounding half laugh. “He didn’t tell you? Wow. Lucky me. It looks like I get to see my boyfriend fuck you twice. Justin and I were offered a movie contract to write and perform a song. We can both walk away with a fat paycheck and a little publicity…when he signs the fucking thing.”
“You mean for Zero,” Tegan stated, turning to me for confirmation.
“Your new band?” she scoffed. “No. This one is for Justin only.”
“Is that true?” Tegan asked.
“Yeah, but…” I pursed my lips and sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t go into any detail about what I was trying to do for Zero with Xena there. It was easier and probably safer if she thought I was greedy.
“But…he’s trying to figure out how to screw me out of the deal. We’re running out of time. Maybe you can talk some sense into him before he blows it for everyone, T. If you could make that phone call tomorrow morning, I’d really appreciate it,” she said haughtily before turning down the alley.
I was aware of a lot of external noise at once…the clip of Xena’s boots on the pavement, the bouncer talking to a few rowdy customers on a cigarette break, my phone buzzing in my pocket. But everything faded to a dull static when I caught Tegan’s unrelenting stare. I shoved my hand through my hair and swallowed hard.
“Look, I’m sorry about that. I was waiting to talk to you guys tomorrow at practice but—”
“Are you quitting? We just started. I don’t get it. I thought you were into this.”
“I
am!”
“Then what was she talking about? Don’t sugarcoat anything and don’t think about lying. Talk. And hurry the fuck up before I get fired too,” he said gruffly.
“First of all, I didn’t get fired, I quit. Second, I doubt your boyfriend is gonna let you go. And third, and most important…I didn’t lie!” I yelled.
“No, you just push all the bullshit under a rug. You can’t talk about anything important without freaking the fuck out.”
“And you can?” I paced toward the trashcans and back again. “We’ve been walking on fucking eggshells around each other for months. We talk about the band and mutual friends and whose turn it is to buy toilet paper, but we can’t talk about what we did. We don’t say it was a bad idea or a good one. We don’t say it was stupid or short-sighted or desperate. We don’t even admit it was fun.”
“You thought it was fun?”
“Sex is fun, Tegan. Of course it was fun. And you know what? I’m not sorry it happened.”
“You’re sorry we got caught,” he snarked.
“Yeah. I am. Because we feel guilty and we shouldn’t. I want to blame Declan for setting us up and starting the shitstorm that led to me unraveling and winding up on your sofa for eight months, but all that ugliness led us to Zero. We have a chance at something special, T. We have to get back to normal…me and you. I don’t understand why it’s so hard.”
“Because I don’t fucking trust you. And that…” He gestured toward the darkness before smacking my arm. “…is why.”
“Xena?”
“No, asshole. The secrets. We’re friends, we’re in a band together, and until ten minutes ago, we worked at the same damn club. If you have some contract or a new boyfriend, shouldn’t I know about it before your ex?” He threw his hands in the air and shook his head angrily. “I don’t expect to know every detail of your life, but when you told me you wanted us to give one hundred percent to Zero, I thought you meant it. I rearranged clients at the gym to practice, and I’ve been working with Charlie to get us a couple of real gigs. And I got Ky onboard. I fed them every BS line you gave me about being the number one band in the world someday while you’ve been writing a love song with a Hollywood songwriter. A love song? What the fuck is that all about? Since when do you write that shit? That’s not who Zero is, or is it?”
“It’s a way to get a bigger contract, T. For the band. Not just for me. For all of us.” I launched into a brief explanation about the letter of intent I’d received. “Read the email.”
I pulled up the message and thrust my phone at him. Tegan scanned the message and handed it back.
“Interesting. Your boyfriend just texted you.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I replied, glancing at the text. What time are you off?
I replied before stuffing my cell into my pocket.
“Whatever. I wish you’d told me about this shit sooner.”
“I literally just got this email today. I wanted to—”
“That’s not what I meant. I asked you about him when you let me think you had a job filing records for him. I’m not an idiot. I knew sudden access to his in-house studio had to be tied to something. I thought it was your ass. I didn’t realize it was a sell-out contract,” he huffed derisively.
“Fuck you,” I hissed.
Tegan held his hands up in surrender and shook his head. “Hey, someone has to keep it real. Jus, has it occurred to you that they’re telling you what you want to hear to get what they want? Nobody shows up and hands a contract over because they heard you sing a few songs at a dive bar. It’s the same thing as showing up to Carmine’s only to find they booked us to open for Xena.”
“That’s what Rory said, but it’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly what it’s like. You’re losing sight of what’s real because you’re getting sex on the side. ‘It’s all good, man. Come on by. I’ll suck your dick and we’ll write a love song and you’ll be famous one day,’ ” Tegan chided in a laid-back “dude” tone. “Un-fucking-real.”
“You sound paranoid.”
“Maybe I am paranoid, but you know what? I have every fucking right to be. She walked in on us, Justin. Not just you. I was there too. When she blabbed all over town that she caught her ex with a man. That was me.” Tegan thumped his chest, then closed the distance between us until we stood toe to toe. “Me. And that was my reputation. And in case you’re curious, it sucks that I can’t walk into a club looking for a gig for our band without wondering if they’re willing to give us a chance for the same reason those Hollywood assholes showed up to Carmine’s in the first place. We’re a curiosity. A flash in the pan cashing in on a so-called scandal. Just like Xena. She’s right. Sign while you can. By this time next year, no one is gonna give a shit anyway.”
Tegan’s heated stare threw me off. This whole weird-ass chain of events threw me off. I was supposed to be the hothead, not T. He was strong and reliable, the friend everyone could count on, and the backbone of every band we’d been in together. If he was pissed, I knew I should listen up and try to make things right. But my gut insisted that in spite of all the warning flags, this was real.
“Wait,” I called as he turned toward the club. “Look, I was going to lay all this out for you tomorrow. I’m not hiding anything. I’m just…trying to get it right this time.”
“On your own. See, that’s the problem. If you’re in a fuckin’ band, there is no ‘on your own.’ Being the idiot who follows you around with a set of bongo drums to play for latte drinkers after stepping over your underwear in my living room has lost its charm. You eat my yogurt, you never replace the toilet paper, and you only sporadically pick up your shit. Now it turns out you’re leading a double life.”
“Christ, I’m not leading a double life! I didn’t want to overpromise and underdeliver. I was trying to do this the right way, but…I’m sorry. I’ll buy you more yogurt and I’ll—”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want anything but the truth. Why would you agree to write a love song in the first place if not for money?”
“I like Gray. And I’m writing the song because I like being with him. That’s it. I swear that part has nothing to do with my personal aspirations or even the band. It’s just him. He’s smart and funny and yes, I probably learn something every time he corrects my finger position on the fret, but I don’t care about that. When we get together to write or play music, I forget I’m supposed to have an end game.”
Tegan cocked his head and gave me a funny look. “Are you in love with him?”
“I don’t do love,” I scoffed. “And I’m not a total idiot. I’m not signing away a song for Xena unless Zero gets one too. I’ve been holding out because I wanted to give you something real. A letter of intent isn’t a contract, but it’s more than we had yesterday. We can’t give up now, T. We gotta practice like crazy and take advantage of every gig Charlie picks up for us. Not because we’re banking on the studio offering us anything, but because we want to succeed. For us.” I held eye contact for a long moment before continuing. “I know I don’t make it easy, but I’m beggin’ you to hang with me. We’re in this together, man. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not deserting you. I promise.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when he tentatively bumped my fist with his and then pulled me into a bro hug.
“I gotta get back to work. Some of us still have a job,” he said with a lopsided smile before stepping aside. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow. Oh, and Jus…”
“Yeah?”
“You owe me two blueberry, two strawberry, and two honey yogurts. And buy the right brand.”
“I didn’t eat six yogurts.” I scowled.
“I’m charging interest.”
I shivered when a cool breeze swept through the alley, reminding me that I still had to grab my T-shirt and jacket from the break room. Fuck. I sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It should have felt better, right? It was good to get old shit off your chest. It helped you breathe easier
. Or so I heard. I couldn’t seem to swallow enough air at the moment. I felt dizzy, off-kilter, and completely overwhelmed. I pulled my cell from my pocket when it buzzed and pressed Call instead of reading the new message.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Gray’s soft laughter soothed me. It crept through the connection and wrapped me in a light veil that seemed to protect me from my self-destructive thoughts.
“Did you read my text?”
“No. What did it say?”
“It was poetry. To paraphrase, ‘Come over when you’re off work. I’ll be waiting with two fingers in my ass, ready to go’…or something like that,” he said.
I smiled. “That’s so dirty…and kind of romantic.”
Gray hummed. “If you want romance, I can turn on Barry White too.”
“And stick your fingers in your ass? I might swoon.”
“Don’t swoon until after you get here. When are you off work?”
“Now. I quit.”
“You quit?” he repeated. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s just been a weird night. I, um…I miss you.” I winced. What the fuck was that? He was fifteen minutes away in the Hills. I didn’t miss him.
Gray didn’t reply right away. When he did, his voice sounded gravelly and thick with emotion. “I’m here. Come over, baby.”
Our exchange grounded me. I felt a little less alone and unsure knowing he was somewhere waiting for me.
9
JUSTIN
Fifteen minutes later, I entered the security code he’d given me for the front door and climbed the stairs two at a time and found him exactly where he said he’d be. Naked in bed, on his knees, fingering his hole.
“Wow,” I gulped, tearing off my clothes as quickly as possible. “You have no idea how fucking hot you look.”
Gray glanced over his shoulder and offered a sex-hazed lopsided smile. “So do you. C’mere. Let me suck you, Jus.”
I set my precum-slicked cock on his bottom lip and kicked off my shoes as he swallowed me whole. My adrenaline level was already off the charts, and the sight of Gray on his knees, sucking and licking me from base to tip as he fondled my balls was nearly enough to push me over the edge.