by Ian O Lewis
Tomorrow was Friday, and instead of practicing with Serge, I was meeting Bradley for drinks at Barcode. I was petrified to tell Serge, but I’d made these plans before we’d started our odd evening sessions. As usual, he ended the practice abruptly, getting up from the piano bench and snatching the sheet music from my stand.
“Serge?”
His gaze met mine, and he gave a quick nod of his head.
“I can’t meet with you tomorrow after rehearsal. I’ve got something else I’m doing. You know, made a commitment before we started… this?” I stammered. I had no name for what we were doing.
“So, what’s so important you don’t want to practice?” Serge’s eyebrows drew together.
“Well, um, I promised to give Suzi, you know that girl at the coffee shop, a cello lesson.” I turned away from his stare.
Why the fuck did I lie to him?
Serge jammed the music into his folder and stomped off to the door. He opened it, then turned to face me.
“I will see you Monday for our practice.” He breathed, then exited, allowing the door to shut softly behind him.
“So, my Mom told my sister she’d help her find the sewing pattern.” Bradley said, then took another deep breath and continued. “You know, historical reenactments are so much fun, but I also like going to renaissance fairs too. Mom has made me the coolest costumes, and she really does her research. Like, I’ve won first prize wearing them before. I’ve been trying to incorporate more historical realism into my sculptures, but unfortunately it hasn’t been very well received by the critics. Pisses me off, because…”
Bradley had been talking about himself for the last thirty minutes or so, and I was having a hard time keeping up with it. Shit, I hated being an asshole, but I’d already yawned with my mouth closed three times and I didn’t think it would get any better.
“Then one of my students brought me a real find. It was the Union soldier hat her great-great-great-grandfather had worn at Gettysburg. Just touching it was amazing. Did you know how tiny those guys were back then? Like seriously, this hat would have fit a six year-old, or something. It had little holes…”
I nodded my head every couple of minutes and wondered how long he could keep this monologue up. The bar was packed, and it was incredibly difficult keeping my focus on Bradley, when all I wanted to do was run screaming from the table.
“I went to the Confederate Museum on Arthur Ashe Boulevard, because I wanted to see if everyone was as tiny as her ancestor, and oh my God! They were! Even Robert E. Lee was…”
Fuck this. I just can’t.
“Hey, I need to go to the men’s room. I’ll be right back.” I leapt up from the booth before he could say anything else and nearly ran to the restroom in the back of the bar.
When I got there, I locked myself in a stall, pulled my phone out and dialed Luke. No answer. Then I dialed Spencer. He didn’t answer either, so I left a message.
“Spencer, don’t ask questions, just please, for the love of God call me back. I’ve done everything possible to get through this, but there’s no way me and Bradley will ever hit it off. This is possibly the worst date I’ve ever been on. Please call me back as soon as you get this message. I need the emergency call, anything to get me out of here without hurting his feelings.” I disconnected and groaned with frustration.
“He’s going to see right through you, unless he’s totally dense you know.”
Chills raced up and down my spine at the sound of that deep voice. The stall door next to mine opened and shut, then I saw a pair of Gucci loafers I’d come to recognize standing outside my stall.
“Excuse me?” I said, praying it was my imagination. This couldn’t be him. My heart pounded as waves of acute embarrassment washed through me.
I pushed the stall door open, and my heart leapt up into my throat. Serge was typing away on his phone. Without looking up he spoke again.
“The emergency call is the oldest trick in the book. Jesus, Joshua, at least come up with something more original.” He lifted his face from his phone long enough to wink at me, then went back to typing.
Shit. So now Serge had not only heard me being flaky about a bad date, he’d caught me in a lie about where I would be after rehearsal today.
“Oh, I thought your date’s name was Suzi. Isn’t she a bit young to be in a gay bar?” Serge bit his lower lip, and I could tell he wanted to laugh. Personally, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.
“Look, about Suzi…”
“No need to explain. So,” Serge stuck his phone in the pocket of his black velvet blazer, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Is that guy you are with really that bad?”
“Yes.” I blurted out without thinking. It had suddenly dawned on me that this was the first conversation we’d ever had that wasn’t about music. Of course, it had to be in the bathroom of a bar where I was trying to get rid of a bad date. Oh, and he’d also caught me in a lie.
Fuck me.
In spite of the alarms ringing in my head I kept talking.
“He won’t stop droning on about the most boring things, like sewing patterns, costumes, and his mother. I’m only out with him, because my friend went to a lot of trouble setting us up.” I felt embarrassed. This was our third date. If I was going to be completely honest with myself, all of our dates had been just as terrible, but I was so sick of being alone that I’d forced myself to go out with him, anyway. I felt nothing for Bradley.
And felt everything for Serge.
“Go back to your table. I’ll be there in a minute to help you out, okay.” Serge winked again, then walked out.
7
Josh
I stood there for a moment after Serge left to get a grip on myself.
“Well, there’s two good things that have come out of this. First, now I know he’s gay. Though, it doesn’t really do me that much good since he’s probably being swarmed over by all the men out there right now. Second, he’s not mad at me for telling that fib.”
I washed my hands and looked in the mirror. As usual, my flaming red hair was out of control, so I ran my damp fingers through it to try and calm the mess. After a minute I gave up, then realized Bradley must be wondering what the hell was taking me so long. I took a deep breath, opened the door and started toward our table.
Halfway there I noticed Serge leaning against the brick wall with a cocktail in his hand. Two young twinks were trying to talk to him, and I could see by the confused looks on their faces he’d probably either said something witty and nasty to them that went over their pretty little heads, or he’d totally ignored them. He lifted his drink in my direction as I walked by. The two guys looked at me and then back at Serge, then trotted off to find their next victim.
“I was wondering where you’d disappeared off to.” Bradley said as I sat down. My drink was mostly water by now from melted ice. I slugged it back then waved at the waiter who was passing by and ordered another.
“So, anyway, I was telling you about trying to inject more historical references into my work. It’s so relevant right now, especially with the movement to remove the confederate statues on Monument Avenue. I spoke to the head of my department about putting on a show highlighting the issue and… oh yeah, I forgot to ask if you wanted to come to a party with me on Sunday. It’s a bunch of renaissance re-enactors I hang out with. They’re having a bonfire and they’ll be serving mead.”
“Mead?” I had no idea what he was talking about. All I knew was there was no way in hell I was going to that party with him on Sunday. Where the hell was Serge? He’d seen me pass. I tried to not look obvious as I peered behind Bradley in the direction where Serge had been earlier.
“You don’t know what mead is? It’s kind of like beer, but it’s not. It’s made by fermenting honey, nuts and…” He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.
“May I join you Joshua?” Serge was standing next to the table, looking suave as fuck, and I’m sure Bradley was wondering who the hell
he was. An awkward silence ensued, then when I started to speak Bradley spoke over me.
“Aren’t you the guy on the cover of Style this week?” Bradley asked, his face turning pink.
Serge nodded, then glanced down at me. I scooted over so he could sit.
“Bradley, this is my musical director Serge. Serge, this is Bradley. He teaches art at VCU.”
“A pleasure.” Serge extended his hand. Bradley stared at it a moment, then shook it.
For the first time since Bradley and I had met, he was speechless, his eyes glued on Serge. I felt a slight twinge of jealousy. Damn it all, why the hell couldn’t at least one guy find me attractive enough to… what was I thinking? I didn’t want Bradley.
“You teach art?” Serge broke the silence. Bradley nodded. I could see why he was tongue tied. Serge’s dark hair was perfectly tousled in that casual I don’t give a fuck way that turned me on. Usually his thick locks were slicked back, but today I could see a bit of curl in them. His firm jaw was covered in three days worth of stubble, and his full lips appeared perfectly outlined, almost as if he had makeup on, but when you looked close enough, you could tell it was all him, no enhancements necessary.
“So... what kind of art do you teach?” Serge’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling for a brief second when he spoke, and I hoped Bradley hadn’t noticed.
“Sculpture. Josh and I were just talking about how I want to add more historical realism to my work, especially with all the controversy surrounding the confederate statues.” Bradley’s upper lip had a sheen of sweat over it. He absent mindedly swiped at it, then I noticed a booger threatening to escape his nostrils.
“Oh. How interesting.” Serge muttered, then turned to me. “How are your cello lessons going with that girl, Suzi?” A wicked grin spread across his face. Blood raced up my neck. So, maybe he’d not let me off the hook. Shit.
“Well, she’s a hard worker. She needs help with her technique, but I definitely see a future for her in…”
“You are an angel for helping the poor girl.” Serge interrupted. “Even taking time out of your own busy rehearsal schedule to teach her. So selfless of you.” He tossed back his drink, then stared into my eyes.
“Um, thanks.” He was definitely letting me have it. Fuck, why the hell was he even here in the first place? I could guarantee he would not help me with Bradley. Damn it, why the hell was he even at Barcode? I rarely ever went out on dates, and now Serge, the man I would rather be on a date with had to be there. Suddenly, Bradley found his tongue.
“Oh! I was just asking Josh if he wanted to come to a party with me on Sunday. For fun, me and a bunch of friends of mine like to dress up from the renaissance era, drink mead around the bonfire, that sort of thing. Would you like to come with us?” Bradley asked Serge. Acid burned in my gut. I was afraid to look in Serge’s direction. He would let me twist in the wind, somehow make it so I had to go to this lame party I had no interest in to punish me for lying.
“While that sounds like an interesting gathering, unfortunately I can not attend, and neither can Joshua.”
I twisted my head in Serge’s direction, wondering what the hell he was up to.
“Didn’t you get that email about Sunday?” Serge smiled in my direction. “I don’t know if Joshua told you about his working closely with me this season, specifically with the opera. He’s been a true godsend. Anyway, we are going to D.C. on Sunday to see a singer perform with the National Opera. I’m thinking they would be perfect for next season’s La Traviata.”
Bradley’s face fell for just a moment, and for a split second I felt a pang of sympathy for him. Then I remembered that if I went to that party with him I’d be even more miserable than I was now. I did my best to keep a poker face plastered on my features while a giddy feeling raced through my limbs.
Serge saved me!
“Well Joshua, I will see you bright and early Sunday morning. I must be off.” Serge placed his hand on my thigh for a hot second then stood up from the booth and shook Bradley’s hand.
“Give my regards to little Suzi.”
“Suzi, the morning rush is over. Go ahead and set up for us next door. Might as well squeeze in a lesson now while we still have a chance.” I said, delighted to see her smile in response.
It was Sunday morning, and to be honest, there wasn’t much of a rush at all. Suzi was working her first weekend at Percolate, and since I had nothing to do all day, I was downstairs giving them a hand. I had a feeling I wasn’t much help though. The way Luke looked at me a couple of times indicated I was probably just getting in the way.
I handed her the key to unlock the side entrance to Sneaky’s bar next door and ran upstairs to retrieve my cello and the music I wanted to go over with her. Since I’d been rehearsing with Serge every day after main rehearsals we had spent little time together on music lessons. Suzi told me earlier in the morning she’d been working on the pieces required for the audition to the Richmond Youth Orchestra and seemed eager to get my feedback. I was excited to be helping her, though part of me wanted to climb back into bed and mope.
When Serge had bailed me out of the Sunday get together with Bradley, I had been incredibly grateful at first. Then a strange sense of melancholy settled into my bones. I knew Serge had been making up our Sunday trip to D.C. to help me out, but part of me wished that we really were going up there together. I’d had a glimpse of what he was like outside of work. While he was still intimidating as fuck, he seemed more real somehow, not just a mad genius who ran around making everybody insane with his surly temper. Plus, I couldn’t get over the touch of his hand on my thigh when he got up to leave Barcode. I was used to his hands gripping me while we rehearsed together, but that wasn’t a work related squeeze.
“Get a grip, Josh.” I muttered as I gathered up the sheet music. “Remember who he is. Your boss. A man who could have anyone he wanted, and you are definitely not who he’s looking for.”
When I reached the bottom of the steps, Sneaky was walking in the front door. My grip on the music stand, cello and sheet music was tenuous at best, and she’d startled me. Sheet music threatened to fall from the folder while I strived to keep my balance.
“Hey, just the man I wanted to see. You got a minute?” Sneaky grabbed the folder of music from my hand. I balanced the cello and the stand and followed her to a booth.
“Suzi is next door waiting for her lesson, so I don’t have a lot of time.” I said as I sat across from her.
“Well, I got a phone call from Bradley last night.” Sneaky began, then shrugged her shoulders.”He’s a great guy, I swear. Maybe you should…”
“I’m sorry, it’s just, you know, I could tell it wasn’t going anywhere. I mean, I went out with him three times and I never felt any chemistry. So yesterday when he called to ask if I wanted to go see a movie with him later, I told him that perhaps we should just be friends.”
I didn’t tell her that he’d been more gaga about my boss than he’d been about me. That was more humiliation than I could handle.
Sneaky patted my hand. “Look, I know, it’s just I thought the two of you would be so good…” She stopped speaking and cocked her head. The sublime sounds of Haydn’s Cello Concerto No. 1 in C Major could be heard coming from next door. Suzi must have been possessed, because her technique was flawless, and I didn’t remember even discussing the piece with her. Hell, nobody her age should have been able to perform it.
“Damn boy, you’ve really made a huge improvement in her playing. She sounds awesome!” Sneaky’s mouth hung open and then she stood up from the booth. “I want to see her play. Like, wow.” We walked over to the side entrance. Sneaky cracked open the door, and my heart skipped a beat.
Serge was playing Suzi’s cello while she sat next to him with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her face. He had on a bright red blazer, a crisp white shirt, and tight black jeans. His eyes were closed, and his body swayed as he put all of his emotion into the music. This went on for a few more measures unti
l Serge’s eyes popped open and he saw us standing there watching him. He abruptly stopped.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Serge said to me.
“Well, yeah, it’s my day off so I…”
“We are going to D.C. today. Remember?”
Sneaky elbowed me in the ribs. I turned to see her biting back a smile.
“Well, um, we got busy in the coffee shop so I had to help Luke downstairs. I just need to give Susi her lesson then I can take a quick shower and I’ll be ready.”
“Susi is a very talented girl. I’ll take care of her lesson while you get dressed.” Serge beamed at the young woman, who beamed right back at him. They were hitting it off in a big way.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” I asked. Sneaky looked at me as if I had spoken in Mandarin. Apparently she was pleased to see me go out with any man, not necessarily her friend Bradley.
Serge bit back a laugh.
“Go on. Wear something nice. I wasn’t kidding about the opera.”
8
Serge- 18 Years Ago
“Then Mom fell to the floor. They’ve been running tests all week, and said they would call to let me know what the problem is. I’m sorry Mr. Cooper about not being…”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Family comes first.” My instructor sighed, then sat on the corner of his desk. “I do need to know if you will still be able to conduct for the alumni performance. If you can’t, I perfectly understand. But if there is any possible way for you to make it happen, you’ll be giving your career a major nudge in the right direction.”