Backbeat Rhythm

by J. D. Ryan

  He wasn’t quite certain how he should feel about Radioactive. On the one hand, Kit hadn’t actually lied to him—because it had never occurred to Max to ask directly, “Are you in a heavy metal band?” No, that was partly Max’s fault for not picking up on what in hindsight were obvious clues.

  However, the fact was that Kit knew how Max felt about that sort of music. He should have confessed, should have at least mentioned that he played the damn stuff. That burned. And trying to hide the poster so Max wouldn’t find out he was going to be performing—if that wasn’t an outright lie, it was certainly right up there next to one.

  Max resisted the urge to rip the poster from the announcement board, ball it up, and toss it into the nearest trash can…or perhaps touch a lit match to one edge. Vandalism wouldn’t help his mood. He strode angrily for the subway station. He was already irritated at having to meet his sisters at a damn bar, and now he had this to think about.

  Renata and Ariana had finally guilt-tripped him into joining their monthly chick-fest at Pete’s Downtown, claiming they never saw him anymore. Max should have stuck to his guns and said no, as usual. He hated bars—too noisy, too crowded, and he didn’t drink that much. Of course, a good, stiff drink might be just what he needed at the moment.

  He found the bar and looked around for his sisters, finally locating them at a back booth. “I hope you realize how much I hate these places,” he greeted them, not even trying to hide his mood.

  “Somebody got out of bed on the wrong side,” Renata retorted. “Order a drink and relax for once.”

  Max dropped into the seat. He did have a pang of regret about snapping at them. After all, they weren’t responsible for Kit’s betrayal. “I just found out Kit’s in a damn rock band.”

  Ariana passed a plate of nachos they’d been snacking on. “Of course he is. It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Not to me, it wasn’t.” Max absent-mindedly nibbled on a chip. He ordered a rum and coke when the waitress appeared at his elbow. The noise of the bar drowned out any hope of a quiet conversation, and he felt the beginnings of a headache lurking at his temples.

  He didn’t like the way his sisters looked at each other, as if Max was still their baby brother who needed mothering. Renata brandished a chip to emphasize her point. “You’re telling us you had no idea your boyfriend played rock music? With that hair?”

  “And all those tattoos,” Ariana added. “Those long sleeves don’t cover everything, you know.”

  “And him talking about the electric bass he plays?” Renata shook her head. “Are you really that dense, Max?”

  “It never occurred to me that the man even had time to play in a band. He works two jobs, for crying out loud, on top of being a single parent. How on earth does he fit a band into all that?” Max put his chin in his hand and stared at his drink.

  Renata shared another glance with Ariana before she patted his free hand. “People find time for the things they love, Max. Aren’t you learning that? You’re the one who swore you didn’t have time for romance, and now you’re spending nearly all your free time with Kit.”

  “That’s different—” Max had to bite off the words before he confessed that the whole thing was just a pretense. And if he had to admit the truth, he was confused about that as well. Was it just a fake relationship at this point? If he was honest, he’d admit to spending an awful lot of time thinking about Kit Barlow, an awful lot of time imagining a life with the man at his side. They had chemistry, that was certain, and they were good in bed together. But it was more than that, and he should just come to grips with the fact. He was falling in love with the man.

  That’s why this hurt so much. If Kit was only a pretend boyfriend, Max wouldn’t have cared less whether he played rock and roll or hip hop. If he didn’t have such deep emotions, it wouldn’t feel like Kit had stabbed him in the back with this.

  Max realized his sisters were staring at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to say something. Ariana had that little smug smile on her face that made him want to smack her—just like she always did when she was right about something. Renata looked just like their mother did when she was waiting for you to clue into what you’d just admitted to her.

  He sighed and slugged back a healthy jolt of his drink. The burn helped clear his head a bit. “It’s just that I trusted Kit—”

  “To do what?” Renata asked. “Avoid rock and roll music for the rest of his life just because you don’t like it? That’s hardly fair.”

  “He should have admitted he was in a band. He should have come clean.”

  Ariana shook her head. “Max, you’re acting like the man’s cheating on you. He’s just playing music. And I think you ought to give him a chance before you throw out what might be the best thing in your life. At least go to one of his gigs and see what the fuss is about.”

  Max had to smile a little at the idea of himself at a rock and roll concert. “I already know I don’t like that sort of music.”

  “But you don’t know that you don’t like Kit’s playing. What if he’s really good at it?”

  “I imagine he is good. I’ve heard him play at the school performances. He’s very talented.” Max polished off another nacho. “And that’s still not the point.”

  “The point is, you think the man should have confessed his deep, dark secret to you on Day One,” Renata said. “And the rest of us are wondering ‘What deep, dark secret?’ It’s not a crime to be in a rock band, you know.”

  Max could think of nothing to say in his defense. Maybe they were right: maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Kit had been afraid to admit he was in a band because of the way Max was acting now. Maybe the man had the right to be worried. Maybe Max should at least give him the benefit of the doubt before they got into a huge argument about it.

  And that was how he found himself standing in the crowd on the evening of the concert. Not even his sisters or mother could convince him to arrive early and compare Kit’s band to some of the earlier performers. It was going to be bad enough having to listen to that so-called vocalist screaming at him for however long Kit’s band would be performing. He could only hope the industrial-strength earplugs he’d bought would be enough to protect him from permanent hearing loss.

  They’d taken the stage right around sunset, which worked in Max’s favor, as he didn’t imagine the performers could see much of the audience in the gathering darkness. After all, he didn’t want a big confrontation—he simply wanted to see what it was that his boyfriend loved doing so much.

  Max winced as the first wave of noise struck. It was even worse than he’d imagined, being this close to the speakers. He could actually feel the bass rhythm through the raised hairs on the backs of his arms. And the lead “singer” - Max didn’t understand how the man wasn’t croaking like a frog after keeping up that volume for song after song. Surely it took some sort of talent to scream for that long without a break.

  The two guitarists gyrated about on the stage, prancing from one side to another, standing face-to-face or back-to-back for their solos. The drummer banged away like some sort of demented chimpanzee. Max wasn’t sure when one song ended and the next began. He tried to ignore the rest of the band and focus on Kit’s performance. That was what he was here to evaluate, after all.

  Kit played as if he didn’t know the crowd was even there—staring down at his feet or into space as though lost in the music. He had the same sort of expression Max imagined might be on his own face while he was listening to a particularly intricate piece of classical music. Max might not like this sort of music, but wasn’t it obvious Kit did? His fingers thumped the strings of the bass like hammers, beating out a heavy rhythm that got through to Max even if the rest of the song didn’t.

  And the way he moved—Kit’s wiry body swayed and rocked in time to that rhythm. Max felt a slow heat begin in his groin at the sight of that muscular body dancing onstage. Maybe there was a little point to this rock and roll after all. Max didn’t find the scr
eaming at all to his liking, but there was certainly something sexual about the way they moved to the music.

  By the time the band was ready to end their performance, Max had seen what it was he’d come to see. Kit was in his element on that stage. He looked as if he belonged there, dancing for the crowds and beating out a rhythm that had them dancing right along with him. Max didn’t know about the rest of the performers, but Radioactive certainly had the crowd up on their feet and ready for more. They screamed their approval as the band took a few bows, then left the stage.

  Max hurried around to the back of the stage, delayed somewhat by the security team that refused to believe he was the bassist’s boyfriend. Finally, he spotted Kit’s sister Val leaving the area, and waved her over. She vouched for Max and gave him a wink as he hurried over to where Kit should be.

  Max spotted him standing near the stairs to the stage, evidently waiting for the other band members. He froze when he saw Max standing there, and a look of sheer horror passed over his face. Max crossed his arms and waited for Kit to approach.

  Chapter 17: Backbeat Rhythm

  Kit swallowed hard, tightened his grip on the bass case, and joined Max at the stairs. His stomach churned and his heart pounded. The rest of the band thudded past them, calling out for him to join them at the bar. Kit had other things to worry about than how their performance had gone over.

  Max’s brows were lowered. He looked like a man who’d just bitten into what looked like a doughnut, only to find it filled with mayonnaise. Kit was in for it.

  “I can explain—” he began, only to have Max shake his head firmly. Was it that bad? Wasn’t he even willing to talk about this? “I know I should have told you—”

  “Can’t hear a thing” Max shouted. “Not over this noise. We need to talk.”

  Kit pointed in the direction the others had headed. “We can talk in the bar.”

  Max glanced over and spotted the rest of the band headed inside. He nodded and strode towards the street. Kit headed after him, his stomach roiling. This wasn’t going to go well at all. Max looked like he was ready to bite nails and spit out bullets.

  The bar wasn’t very busy, not at this early hour and with the concert going full blast practically next door. Kit gestured to Rod that he’d be there in a bit, then pointed out a corner table to Max. As they sat down, he tried again to explain.

  “I was going to tell you—”

  Max held up a hand. A puzzled expression crossed his face, then he reached up to remove a set of expensive looking earplugs. “Now I can hear. I think. It’s awfully noisy in here.”

  Kit didn’t think so, but he supposed the din of conversation and the thump of the bass from the current band in the park might be noisy to someone who liked soft music. “Max, I—”

  “I wish you’d just told me you played rock and roll, Kit. It feels like you were lying to me all this time.” Max frowned at the earplugs in his hand, then shoved them into a pocket of his jeans and frowned at the waitress who’d just shown up to take their orders. “I’m not here for a drink.”

  Kit ordered a Coke. “You could have dinner. They serve a good burger.”

  Max’s brows lowered even further. “I’m not really in the mood for bar food.”

  Kit’s shoulders tightened. Max wasn’t in a good mood at all. Kit’s heart was racing nearly as fast as the beat of the song currently blasting from the park stage. His stomach was churning so badly he wasn’t even certain a Coke would stay down. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

  “But you tried to keep me from seeing that poster the other night. You deliberately hid the fact that you were in a band.”

  Kit hung his head. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just know how much you hate that kind of music and——”

  “I do hate it. I listened to your whole performance, damn it, and I think your talent is being wasted.”

  “You listened to the whole thing?” Kit groaned. Was that a good thing or a bad one? “I didn’t even see you in the crowd.”

  “I wasn’t trying to attract your attention. I just wanted to see why you like playing rock and roll.”

  “I—”

  Max held up a hand again. “I need to say this, Kit. I don’t understand the attraction. I may never understand that. But if you really love playing that sort of thing, I can’t expect you not to do it. You’re obviously good at it. Everybody in the crowd was dancing along. And screaming. Lots of screaming. I’ll never understand the screaming.”

  Kit swallowed the lump in his throat. “You mean you’re not mad?”

  “I’m still a little mad that you tried to hide this from me. It’s obviously important to you.” Max thumped a finger onto the table between them. “If we’re going to be more than pretend boyfriends, we can’t keep secrets from each other.”

  Kit felt his heart thud alarmingly. “Are we going to be more than pretend boyfriends?”

  Max’s brows lowered again. “We’re obviously well-suited. We like the same things—aside from your damnable taste in music. We get along well and have fun together. I think your son likes me well enough.”

  “He does. He thinks you’re ‘p cool.’”

  “My point,” Max said firmly, “is that we seem to have moved beyond the pretend stage. Though I’m not exactly sure how that happened. It seemed like the perfect plan to get our families off our backs.”

  “I think it backfired.” Kit signaled for another Coke. He really might need something stronger if this stress kept up. “So you’re saying you want to actually try to have a relationship?”

  “I’m saying that we’re already having one. I think this is our first hurdle. Can we get through this—agree not to keep secrets from each other from now on?”

  “I swear that’s my only secret. And I should have told you to start with. I know that now.” Kit downed half of his Coke in one swallow. “The only thing I can say is I’m sorry. I won’t lie to you again.”

  Max glanced up at him from beneath his lowered brows. “That’s all I wanted—not to be lied to. I know playing rock and roll music isn’t a huge secret, but I felt betrayed that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. I felt like I was going behind your back to try to find out.”

  Kit dropped his head into his hand. “I guess I just didn’t think about that. I just knew you hated rock music and I didn’t want you to dump me. I really like spending time with you.”

  “I suppose part of that is on me, for making you think I would hate you just for liking that sort of music. Do you think we could just start over? Pretend this never happened?”

  Kit tried a smile. “I’m Kit Barlow—pleased to meet you. I’m in a heavy metal band.”

  Max chuckled. “I still hate rock and roll, but I’m not going to try to stop you from doing something you love.”

  “I can play classical stuff, too, you know.”

  “I’d like that.” Max shoved away from the table. “Did you mention something about dinner? I am getting hungry, but not for a burger.”

  “Val’s ordering us a pizza if you want to come over.”

  “I suppose a pizza would hit the spot. Should we stop at the corner store for some extra sodas?”

  Kit glanced at the band, now deep in conversation at their table. “Let me tell Rod I’ve got to leave. I can get the low-down on our performance later.”

  “I’ll wait outside then. Maybe it’ll be a little quieter out there.”

  Rod wasn’t exactly happy that Kit was skipping the post-performance analysis, but once he glanced outside and spotted Max in the doorway, he nodded brusquely. “Just be at the club early Friday night. We’ll go over everything then.”

  Kit met Max on the street and they headed for the corner store. His heart thumped hard when Max’s hand closed over his. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything totally. Maybe Max would be able to forgive and forget.

  “I still think you’re wasting your talent on that sort of music,” Max said as they bought a couple of two-liter drinks. “You should b
e onstage with an orchestra. You could be the next Yo-Yo Ma.”

  “I’d rather be the next Sting.” At Max’s blank expression, he explained. “He’s a famous rock bassist.”

  “So long as you’re happy, then. I guess I should keep my mouth shut. It’s your life, not mine.”

  “I’ll always listen to your opinions,” Kit assured him. “And I do know how hard it is to make it onstage, for a rock band or an orchestra. That’s why I work at the restaurant.”

  “Maybe I can help you get some exposure. Our office doesn’t handle musicians, but I’m sure I could ask around and see who does. I may not be an expert on the subject, but I know you’ve got a lot of talent. I’ll assume the rest of the band is competent as well.”

  Kit had to chuckle. “For a heavy metal band, you mean? Yeah, I think we’re pretty good. We write our own songs and everything.”

  “I’d like to help out, then. Maybe get you some better publicity to start with. I’ll see who knows what about the business Monday.”

  “That’d be great.” They rode the elevator to Kit’s apartment in silence. As they reached his floor, Max pulled Kit to a stop.

  “Since we’re starting over,” he said, bending to fasten his lips on Kit’s.

  Kit leaned into the kiss, feeling that old zing once more. Max Hill was the man for him, that was certain.

  Max came up for air, then looked into Kit’s eyes for a long moment. “If we’re not keeping secrets, I should tell you I think I’m falling for you.”

  Kit’s heart thudded out a heavy backbeat rhythm. “Me, too,” he murmured, leaning in for another long kiss.

  “Are you two going to stand out there kissing all night?” Val called from behind the apartment door. “The pizza’s getting cold.”