Press Play

by Sam LaRose

  “Take a message.”

  “He sounds a bit, um,” she pursed her lips, “irked.”

  “If he’s being rude to you, hang up. Otherwise, he can leave a message like everyone else.” Dylan turned in his chair to look at her. “I’m almost done with this avatar commission. I’ll save it in the folder under the invoice number. Can you send it this afternoon when I’m gone?”

  “Sure thing.” Harriet disappeared and was then back almost immediately. “Mr. Montgomery, he says there’s an article you should see on the Pick Magazine website.”

  “About what?”

  “That comic you had me take down on Monday. It wasn’t soon enough. It’s all over the internet.”

  “Fuck.” Dylan sighed. “I knew the sales weren’t good.”

  “Well, you watermarked it up the wahzoo, so we don’t need to issue any C and Ds,” she replied. “You want me to post a statement? Keep an eye out for any other problems?”

  “Yes please,” he replied. “I’ll see what Pick had to say about it and write something up if I feel it’s necessary. We haven’t had any calls, have we?”

  “No. Nothing’s been forwarded from the Foundation office either. Chances are, they’re harassing Mr. Stephens-Carter. Which would explain the irritated phone call.”

  Dylan turned back to the computer. “He’s not my problem any more than I’m his. If he calls again, tell him I said to fuck off and hang up.”

  “Got it, Boss.” She looked up at the clock. “You’ve got twenty minutes before you need to leave for class. Do you want me to stay late? There’s a pick-up delivery around four-thirty, and I’ll get those commissions e-mailed out. Will you be back? You have the CSG event tonight.”

  “No, and you don’t need to stay. Clock out after the pick-up, if you get everything else done. It’s been a busy week.”

  “Thanks! My friends want to go out tonight and they would have murdered me if I cancelled on them again.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Dylan said. “Have fun with your friends.”

  He turned his attention back to the computer. He put on a few finishing touches before he saved the work. Checking the time, he didn’t have enough time to start something else. He closed everything down and picked up his coat. He shouted a farewell to Harriet and made his way out of the house.

  He hopped on an uptown train. He had enough time to stop at Java Pub for coffee before class. Both groups spent their time finishing submissions for the Foundation hosted event coming in December. The CSG class was particularly antsy. The school’s Fall Event was taking place at a SoHo gallery that evening. Dylan wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Not because he didn’t support his students. He’d been surprised to have the head of the art department ask for his opinion on piece selection. He’d advocated for three of his students specifically. They had all been accepted into the show. One of them was not an art student, but in the music track. Telling them about their acceptance into the show had been a small joy.

  After the students had left, he made his way down to the Greasy Spoon. In a moment of delirium, he’d agreed to have dinner with the Polycule, as he’d come to refer to Jack and his band of boyfriends. The Polycule dinner date also included Jordan, this time. Since Kyle had been invited as a successful alumnus, he had already been planning on attending the show.

  “I’ve never been to one of these things,” Jordan said as they were finishing up dinner. “Is there anything I should know?”

  “Green stickers mean the art is for sale. Yellow means it’s not for sale. Red means sold,” Dylan told him. “All proceeds go to support the school. Most of the students are there on scholarship. I was probably one of the few students who actually paid my own tuition. My parents donate enough to pay for three students to attend every year.” He felt his jaw tick. “They did, anyway. I’m not sure if they’ve continued.”

  “Have you talked to them since you picked up your stuff?” Jack asked carefully.

  “No. Although David called today. Pick Magazine has an article about the comic.” He explained the accidental-on-purpose listing. “I haven’t read it yet. If there are any reporters lying in wait at the event tonight, please remember to go with no comment.”

  “Are you sure? I could give them an earful,” Jack suggested.

  “I’m positive.”

  “How’s your first week of sales been?” Kyle asked.

  “Great. I know it’s only because of my connections. I had to decline more commissions. I’m busy through at least Christmas. Harriet spent most of the week packing and shipping.”

  “That’s good. I’m jealous. It took months for Feathers and Fauna to take off.”

  “Do you want me to plug your shop? I could put a widget on my website,” Dylan offered. “Maybe I should put up a page of artists I recommend.”

  “My site couldn’t handle the load.” Kyle laughed. “Thanks for the offer.”

  “I’d also offer to hook you up with my IT guy, but unfortunately he’s not speaking to me.” Dylan cleared his throat.

  “Travis?” Jack asked. “What happened?”

  “He told me before that if I was drinking, he didn’t want to deal with me.”

  “You’re not drinking,” Jack reminded him. “You drank once. Have you had anything since?”

  “No,” Dylan replied, “but I also haven’t been to a meeting since.”

  “Do you want to go to a meeting?” Jordan asked.

  “Who wants to go to a meeting?” Dylan cocked an eyebrow. “It’s fine. Travis will either come around or I’ll find a new IT person. Not the end of the world.” He lifted a hip, pulling out his wallet and picking up the check. “We should get to the gallery.”

  Dylan had never attended a CSG event as an educator. He wasn’t sure he technically qualified as an educator, to be precise. The Soho gallery was one he’d had his own pieces in during his time at the school. The owner remembered him and immediately latched on to talk about what he was doing currently. He directed her to his website and gave her one of his new business cards. Another connection solidified.

  “Is this a good turn out?” Jordan was at his elbow as the owner’s attention was diverted by a parent. He handed Dylan a glass of green punch. “The lady running the refreshment booth looked at me funny when I asked what flavor this was.”

  “That’s because there is no flavor except watered down lemon-lime soda,” Dylan informed him. “You don’t have to keep me company, you know. You can go look with Kyle and the other two if you want.”

  “That’s okay. You invited me.”

  “It’s open to the public. I told you about it.”

  “Show me the pieces your students did,” Jordan requested.

  Dylan sipped the punch as they began to circle the room. They stopped, chatting briefly with a few students and parents. Some art track alumni that Dylan had gone to school with were also in attendance that stopped him to catch up.

  “Do you have to stay the whole night?” Jordan asked after they’d made a circle of the room.

  “No, but at least another—fuck.”

  “What?” Jordan turned, following Dylan’s gaze. “Oh, damn. Your parents are here.”

  “That would explain my use of the word fuck.”

  “They aren’t likely to make a scene,” Jordan replied. “They’re here to support the school.”

  “They’re here to show off and flash some cash,” Dylan grunted. “If I’m lucky, they’ll buy something and take their leave.”

  “Dylan!” He inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes closed. “There you are!” He exhaled, turning toward Martha as she approached.

  “So much for that,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t bother with a fake smile or cordiality.

  “Were you trying to avoid us?” Martha accused. She looked at him, perplexed. Jordan noted her start to lift her hand to touch Dylan’s arm. She thought better of it, clasping her hands in front of her instead.

  “Yes,” Dylan conf
irmed. If he noticed the movement, he didn’t show it. “I’m not speaking to you. Or were you not informed that I’m no longer your son?”

  “Stop being so overly dramatic,” she chided. “So your father was overzealous with some verbiage. We lost an excellent security staffer. I’ve never seen David so anxious. This past week hasn’t been pleasant for him. He and Clara got some bad news, I’m afraid—”

  “Mother,” Dylan cut her off, “I don’t care. The private lives of your staff aren’t my concern.”

  Jordan put a hand on his arm. He gave him a light squeeze, silently coaxing him to relax.

  “Now is not the time or place,” Dylan finally spoke, letting the touch do its job. “Enjoy the art and the refreshments. Kindly stay away from me.”

  “What did I do, exactly?” Martha gasped. “If you want to be angry with your father, that’s one thing. I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t even know what was going on until Mora and I got back from Vermont on Sunday. David said you drove over your phone? And took all of your art supplies to Stuart’s studio?”

  “It’s my studio now,” he reminded her.

  “Right. You inherited a few hundred thousand dollars and some property so you don’t need your actual parents anymore. Is that it?”

  “You adopted Mora so you don’t need your actual son anymore,” Dylan quipped. He set his punch glass down on the tray of a passing server. “Jordan, I need to go. Are you coming with me?”

  “Right behind you,” Jordan said. His hand went to Dylan’s, lacing their fingers. As they made way through the gallery, he caught Kyle’s eye across the room and motioned him toward the door. The quintet regrouped on the sidewalk.

  “What’s up? I thought you’d have to rub elbows for at least another half hour.” Jack zipped his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “My parents are here, so I’m going home. You can stay if you want.”

  “No,” Kyle replied emphatically. “I have seen enough. If I’m here for too long, my sister is going to show up and find me.”

  “Your sister?” Dylan asked.

  “Lydia. She goes to North Hill Prep, but she’s in a band with Jack’s sister Natalie and their friend Morgan –you know them. They’re in the show.”

  “I’m the reason Morgan is in the show. They’re an amazing artist.”

  “Small world,” Kyle murmured. “So, are we heading back to the apartment? It seems early and it is Friday night. We could go to the Chop Shop and see who’s playing? Or, and stick with me here, we could go to Dick’s.”

  Markus gasped. “We haven’t been to Dick’s since Simon officially retired. The second time.”

  Dylan winced. “I’ve been banned from Tricky Dick’s since I was fifteen.”

  “For what?” Markus’s face twisted in disbelief.

  “Mostly coercing drinks and buying drugs. It’s also one of the places I narrowly avoided a public indecency charge,” Dylan responded, casually.

  “That was years ago. There is no way that they remember you,” Markus argued.

  “You’d think that, but they definitely do.” Dylan waved him off. “You guys go out and have a fun night. I’ll head back to the apartment. I have some commissions to finish coloring if I want to have any free time this weekend.”

  “Oh, come on,” Kyle pressed. “So you’re banned from Dick’s. The Chop Shop is still an option. We could go to The Spot. We haven’t been there in eons. DragonSpyre usually has a good band on a Friday.”

  Jack wrapped his arm around Dylan’s elbow. “Please? You promised you’d be more social. You’ve hardly been out with us at all. Don’t think for a minute that Brit didn’t tell me all about your night out seeing Kitten Connection!”

  “Why do all of my friends have to be terrible gossips?”

  “You saw Kitten Connection?” Jordan asked.

  “Yeah,” Dylan nodded. “You know them?”

  “Heath introduced them to me. They’re great,” Jordan grinned.

  “Uh-oh, he’s nerding out over music. Let’s start walking,” Kyle ptompyrf. “I vote Chop Shop. They have better bartenders. Last I checked, Minimum Effort is opening for Six of Spades.”

  “I’ve heard neither of those bands,” Dylan argued.

  “Minimum Effort opened for us at that last...” Jordan let himself trail off, unsure if Dylan really wanted the reminder of his last visit to the venue. “Yes, you have.”

  “We don’t have tickets.”

  “They have door prices,” Markus reminded him. “We might not be able to get a good spot in the pit, being last minute, but that’s okay. We can find a good spot on the balcony.”

  “What about dancing?” Kyle raised an eyebrow at him.

  “We’ll survive.”

  “What about Six of Spades?” Dylan was asking. “I never used to stay for the headliner because, well, they were usually awful compared to DLT.”

  “Flatterer,” Jordan’s fingers squeezed his. “Six of Spades is a sort of pop-punk. Most of their songs are upbeat, but they have a couple that are more angsty. They like to close out their shows with a soft wind-down instead of a second wind.”

  “Are they any good though?”

  Jordan laughed. “I like them well enough that I own one of their t-shirts.”

  “Only one?”

  “Do you judge the quality of a band based on how many t-shirts can be owned?”

  “No, but if you had more than one, you’d have bothered seeing them more than once,” Dylan explained his reasoning.

  “I’ve seen them a few times. I was only inclined to buy one shirt. I actually wear it too.”

  “I’ve never seen you in it.”

  “You don’t see me every day.”

  “Is this how you two flirt?” Markus asked, breaking in. “It is not what I expected.”

  “This is not flirting,” Dylan scoffed. “Besides, I don’t need to flirt with Jordan.”

  “Effort is still appreciated,” Jordan muttered.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Dylan swatted him.

  As the two resumed their friendly banter, Kyle reached for Jack. He disengaged Dylan’s arm, letting them walk a few steps ahead.

  “What?” He asked, getting in step with his two boyfriends.

  “Can we agree to let those two be tonight?” Kyle asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Markus replied. “I thought we were going to the Chop Shop to have fun and dance. Maybe make out with a stranger, if I’m lucky.”

  “You can do that,” Kyle assured him. “But can we all agree, Dylan is off limits?”

  “I was not aware that Dylan was on limits,” Jack replied. “Since when?”

  “He’s not,” Kyle reiterated. “I’m just covering bases.”

  “Kyle,” Markus’s slid his hand into his boyfriend’s. “Are you trying to tell us something?”

  Kyle groaned inwardly. It wasn’t about wanting to sleep with Dylan. He got the appeal at a physical level. He was certain that it would be a fun experience, if Dylan let himself enjoy it. That was the part where he got squeamish about turning on the charm.

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “Are you trying to talk Jordan into group sex again? You know he hates that,” Markus continued.

  “No. I have enough of that with the two of you,” Kyle scoffed. “Would you stop projecting and listen to me for a minute?”

  “I am listening. You’re not saying anything I want to hear.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am serious. I had zero plans to woo the man. If he was interested in me, that would be one thing. However, you also know my interests and Dylan isn’t currently fulfilling my needs. Especially, I’m assuming, for a one-night engagement.”

  “K,” Jack leveled with him, “if you’re saying it for our benefit, it’s a non-issue. If you’re saying it because you’re interested, then you should talk about it with them.” He gave a jerk of his head in the direction of the other two. “I live with the guy. He’s been
very clear that he is not going to fuck me, regardless of how badly I may want to.”

  Markus laced his fingers with Kyle’s. “You know you can do whatever you want. I’d never stop you.”

  Kyle frowned. He knew it was true, but he didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Chop Shop was packed by the time they arrived at the venue. The earlier opener had relinquished the stage to Minimum Effort; a duo on guitar and keyboard with synthetic drums and bass. The pit was full, but not overwhelming. Markus and Jack waded in, unbothered by the amount of people.

  The other three showed their IDs for access to the upstairs bar. It was still loud, but more manageable to hold a conversation.

  “Would you like a drink?” Jordan asked after depositing Dylan into a chair at an empty table.

  “Just a bottle of water,” Dylan requested. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, depositing it on the table. He checked his messages while Jordan turned to Kyle.

  “For you?”

  “I’ll take a hard cider,” Kyle answered, taking the seat across from Dylan.

  Jordan made his way to the bar for the drinks. The two stared at each other, uncomfortably for a moment.

  “This is weird,” Kyle finally spoke up. “We haven’t been alone since that day I waylaid you into our apartment.”

  “I assumed you don’t like me,” Dylan confessed. “Especially considering Jordan’s interest in me. And Jack’s.”

  Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would that be a reason to not like you? I can’t control their feelings for you anymore than I can control yours for them.”

  “You told me not to fuck around with them.”

  “Was that too vague? I meant don’t mess with their feelings. They’re both more sensitive than they realize.” Kyle’s expression softened. “You are too.”

  Dylan didn’t have a chance to reply before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “If it isn’t Big Money. How’d you like our girl Molly?”

  It took Dylan a few seconds to place the girl who slid into the seat next to him. Her hair was pulled back differently since he’d bought the drugs off her at the Rose Room, weeks before. She looked less Rave Ready and more Emo for the evening.