“Wow. That’s….” Bernie didn’t finish.
“They need to get a room. Not in my house,” Del said.
Gerald lifted his head and released Bur from his kiss. “What’s with your brother?”
“He’s being ornery. Ignore him. What are you doing here?”
“You said you would be here. So I came for dinner.”
“Take him out to dinner. That’s a good idea. Are you leaving yet?” Del asked.
Gerald didn’t answer him. “Who’s going to be here soon?”
“My four bandmates. They’re moving into the houses.” Bur bounced.
Gerald blinked. He’d never seen him so excited.
“The rest of your group is moving here? Why? Wait. Four? I thought there was you and three others.”
“They’re my family. And four of them include our stage manager, who’s part of our group. Once they get things arranged in England, they’ll be moving here.”
“Don’t they need clearance or something to do that?” Gerald asked.
“One of my bandmates is a solicitor, and he’s figured it out how to make it possible.”
“As long as it’s legal. I don’t want to have to arrest any of them. Where are they going to live?” Gerald asked.
“In a house,” Bur said, deadpan.
“Ha-ha.”
“In Bur’s houses,” Bernie said.
Gerald glared at him. “You really need to stop giving in to Bur’s assumption that Harper’s house is his. We’ll find them a hotel. Then you all can get jobs to make it on your own.”
Bur blinked, looking at him strangely. Del laughed.
Bernie asked cautiously, “You want Bur to get a job?”
“See? Things like that are the problem. You’re enabling him. And you too.” Gerald glared at Del, who was leaning against the wall, laughing hysterically. “You bought him that SUV. That doesn’t help. Get him a job.”
“Gerald—”
He interrupted Bur. “No. I know you’re busy with the center and stuff, but you’re twenty-five and need to think what else you want to do with the rest of your life. Make some money. It can’t be fun being broke and living off others.”
“Oh my God. He thinks you’re broke,” Bernie whispered.
“There’s no shame in that. But working is good. He can find a job.” Gerald kissed Bur, who was glaring at him. He straightened, then said, “I’m hungry.” He wandered out.
“I have money and a house, Gerald!” Bur called.
“Taking money from your brothers isn’t the same as your money. Harper’s house is not yours!” He raised his voice.
“He really believes that.” Del started to laugh again.
Gerald shook his head at them. He’d help Bur find a job by the time his friends came, and they would be able to afford a moderate hotel. Gerald followed the scents, and eventually, he found the kitchen. He cleared his throat. The woman at the stove, who looked to be about the age of his mother, glanced up at him.
“Hello,” she said, looking at him curiously.
“I’m with Bur. But this wonderful smell lured me here.” Gerald smiled.
“Don’t try to bullshit me. Speak plain,” she said sharply.
Gerald’s smile widened. He loved her bluntness. He strolled over to her. He leaned against the counter by where she was cooking.
“Okay, then. Feed me.” Gerald blinked exaggeratedly.
The woman snorted. “You’re a rascal.”
“That’s nicer than most things I’m called. My mama called me irreverent,” Gerald said.
“Sit and I’ll feed you.” She gestured to the table.
Gerald ignored it and sat at the island, watching her. “What’s your name?”
“Clarita,” she replied, placing a bowl before him.
“Thanks, Clarita.” Gerald gazed at the heaping bowl of chili.
He spooned up a bite. The flavors burst across his tongue. He made a pleased noise. A plate plopped in front of him. He took a piece of bread off the plate. He bit into the soft, fresh bread, then dipped it in the chili.
“This is some good grub. Did you put onions in the chili? Bur doesn’t like onions.”
“I know, and I didn’t,” she replied.
She went to leave.
“Now, Clarita, you’re going to make me feel unwelcome, leaving me here by myself. Come and take a seat. Tell me about yourself,” Gerald said.
He kept eating, watching her to see what she would do.
“Rascal.” Clarita sat.
“You need some of this delicious food.” Gerald stood.
“Oh no—”
“Eating alone is not fun. Now hush.” Gerald served her, then sat.
He talked, drawing her into the conversation. Gerald heard the others entering the room. He glanced up. Del had a strange expression on his face. Clarita went to get up. Gerald put his hand over hers.
“Sit. I’ll feed them.” He continued to chat with her.
He gestured to the men to sit around the island. They did, silently. He served them as he continued their conversation. The twins came in. He got them settled with a bowl each at the table. He filled himself another. Gerald took his seat, then continued to talk with Clarita. He got the others into the conversation. Gerald enjoyed his chili and good conversation.
Later, he followed Bur back to Harper’s. Gerald rolled down his window. Bur came to it and gripped the sill of the window. Bur’s scrutiny made him uneasy.
“What?”
“Don’t think I didn’t see what you did. You loosened everyone up.”
“Del is standoffish. He needed loosening up.”
“He’ll only be so open around Clarita.”
“Why?”
“She’s a mother figure.” Bur shrugged.
“Why does that matter?” Gerald frowned.
“I’m looking forward to our date tomorrow night,” Bur said, and leaned in, kissing him.
Bur stepped back, turned, and walked toward Harper’s house. Gerald watched him until he entered the house. As he pulled out, he realized Bur hadn’t answered his question. He would ask him later what he meant.
GERALD PRESSED the doorbell. The door swung open.
“Tha—” He sputtered to a stop as he spotted Bur.
Gerald gulped. Bur wore a black vest, which went to mid-thigh. The shirt under it matched his eyes and hugged his chest. There were three clasp-like buttons at the neck, which were open. The shirt was tucked into the waist of his pants that hugged his thighs. Black dress shoes completed his outfit.
“Gerald,” Bur said.
From the tone, Bur had been calling him a few times.
“Yeah. Ummm… nice.”
“Only nice? I’m wearing my best jeans, shirt, and even my leather vest. And all I get is nice?”
“Ummm….”
“Relax. I’m teasing you,” Bur said.
Pull it together. It was hitting him that he and Bur were going on a date. Not in a bad way, but in a good one. He had to stop overthinking things and just go with it.
“I’m good now. What I meant to say is that you’re sexy.” Gerald reached for him and pulled Bur against him.
Bur came to him easily. Gerald kissed him, then he stepped back. They went to get their date started.
GERALD FOLLOWED Bur across the spacious dining area as they were escorted to their table. He noted the looks they garnered as they passed. Gerald knew it was because of Bur. He was someone people noticed. It didn’t bother him, since he was going home with him. Close to the raised stage, the hostess seated them and left. Bur glanced around, then back at him.
“I thought we were going to Bacchus Sloan,” he said.
Bacchus Sloan was their usual hangout spot. Gerald had thought of going there, but he wanted some place that was not where they normally went with the others they hung out with.
“I heard about this supper club from some guys at work. They said it had good food and music.”
“Finley’s. The
name of this place brings back memories of another place with a similar name. Although this place is much more upscale than the one it reminds me of back in England.” A bittersweet smile curled Bur’s lips.
Gerald leaned forward, focused on him across the booth. “Sound like there’s a story there.”
“It was this little hole in the wall place. My bandmates and I had been giving it a go at trying to be a band. Not having much luck with gigs. We were about to be evicted from our one-room flat we all shared. After another disappointing audition, we stumbled across this place called Finley’s Pub. We had no money, but were hungry. I told my friends, ‘Let’s go in anyway.’ We did, going to the bar, and I asked for the owner. The bartender happened to be the owner. I, bold as you please, told him if he’d feed us, we would sing for our supper. And if he was lucky, after that, he could pay us to spice up his place with good music. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I was sure we would be going hungry, but then he let out this booming laugh that made you feel welcome. That was the first thing I noticed about him. He told us his name was Shamus, and thought mine was probably Shameless, since I was such an arrogant snot. The rest of the guys with me laughed, all interjecting he already had me pegged. The ingrates.” Bur chuckled.
“They were telling the truth,” Gerald said.
“They were. And to hear them tell it, I only got more so with age.”
“How old were you when this happened?”
“I was seventeen. The youngest of our group.” Bur shrugged.
Gerald wondered why he was in England, alone and hungry at that age. He knew Bur had reunited with Bernie, but no one had shared the particulars on how they came to be estranged. From what he had observed of the three brothers, they were extremely close. Bur spoke again.
“Shamus told us to have a seat and he’d feed us, but we better be worth the food. We gladly did and picked up a menu, ready to order. I had visions of a big fat piece of steak in my mind. He took the menus from us and said he would pick our meal. I expected I wouldn’t be getting that steak. When he brought out the food, there were piles of everything we could want. He introduced us to this scrawny kid, saying it was his nephew from America, that he’d get us anything else we wanted and our drinks. We just nodded, too busy stuffing our faces. I asked Sampson, the kid, who I later found out was two years older than I was, for drinks. He fetched them for us. We all ate until we were stuffed. Then, when the meal was done, we did indeed sing, as promised, for our supper.” Bur smiled.
“What happened? Did Shamus enjoy it?” Gerald asked.
“As if there was any doubt. He had fine taste in music.” Bur smirked.
“Arrogant snot.”
“Such sweet compliments.” Bur chuckled, then continued his story. “Shamus didn’t actually sing our praises. He did say that he would give us a fair wage and let us work at his pub to hone our craft. That if we did, we’d get better. I was highly offended and told him so in… well… colorful words. Shamus said we’d work on my potty mouth.”
“He failed there.” Gerald snorted.
“He actually succeeded. I was worse.” Bur laughed, then sobered. “Then he told us we could live in the flat above the pub as part of our wages. It was two bedrooms, so bigger than the flat we were being evicted from. He said that no one working for him would be homeless. We were shocked he even knew. But then we figured out how he knew. Sampson had been around as we ate and talked about our predicament. He told his uncle. That was how we got our first paying gig and a place to live. Things were looking up.”
“They sure were.”
“That’s not even half of it. Shamus is actually the reason we became what we are today.”
“You sound fond of him. Where is he?”
“We lost track of him. We kept in touch, even after we made it and started getting recognized. Now, come to think of it, I think it was more like he pushed us away.”
Gerald watched the contemplative look on Bur’s face. “Why did he do that?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check and see if I can find him,” Bur said.
“That’s a good idea. That first gig at least made you famous for a little bit.”
“It wasn’t the first gig I was referring to. Shamus knew a lot of people. We were working at his pub for about six months when we got our big break. Although Shamus never would say or admit it, Sampson told us he invited a friend of his. He was a high up executive in a music company. He heard us and gave us our deal. We were with them until we decided to retire three years ago.” Bur frowned. “Wait, you said I used to be famous for a little bit. We are still recognized as—”
“I know. I’ve heard your music. It’s good. Simon talked about you all a lot. Lamented that your five years in the industry was too short.”
“We put out a lot of music in that time. It’s why we retired. All that touring and music. We’d achieved what we wanted. Gotten tired of being under that constant scrutiny. So we all agreed and retired,” Bur said.
“At twenty-two, you retired. What have you been doing for the last three years since this retirement? Watching TV all day?”
“Sure, and praying the batteries of the remote don’t die,” Bur said dryly.
“See, that’s the problem. No one retires at twenty-two. Maybe if you’d stayed longer at music, you’d have some money.”
“Del is retired.”
“So he says, but I bet he still keeps involved with the company he built.”
“And you don’t think I do that too? I still make music. I wouldn’t ever walk away from doing that,” Bur said.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t pay the bills. You’re living in Harper’s house and getting money to live from your brother.” Gerald leaned closer.
“If you think I’m such a lout, then why even go out with me?” Bur seemed more curious than offended.
“That’s not what I said. I think you just need to be more focused on what profession you want for the future. The center, I know, is taking up a lot of your time, but they’ll be finished building it soon. Where are you in having the staff? How much more do you all have to do?”
“We’ve already picked the people we want. It’s just finalizing it. The other things we’re doing, we share the responsibility of taking care of it. It’s a lot of work. But so worth it,” Bur said.
“It is. But so is your future. What do you want to do?”
“Music,” Bur replied.
Gerald sighed. “You’ve already done that. Retired, and now need money. You need to get a job that gets you a regular paycheck.”
“I don’t need a paycheck. Gerald—”
“You do. Maybe you can be a music teacher. We can check into that. Get info to find out what you need to do.” Gerald nodded excitedly.
“I plan to volunteer my time at the center,” Bur said.
“Which you can still do. But you also need to make money. Get a place of your own.” Gerald couldn’t understand why he wasn’t getting through to Bur.
“Gerald, I have money. I have a house.”
“Harper’s house is not yours,” Gerald repeated again, as he seemed to be doing to everyone.
“Gera—”
“Sing for your supper.” A deep, modulated voice interrupted them.
Gerald glanced to the man standing by Bur’s side of the booth. As a cop, Gerald categorized his looks. He was lean and tall as Bur. Loose curls of short auburn hair were causally styled, offsetting his green gaze and classically handsome face. The man was dressed with casual elegance in a dark gray button-down shirt and matching slacks.
“Sampson.” Bur stood, hugged the man, then stepped back.
“Bur. Imagine my surprise when my hostess came to find me, telling me she’d just seated the Bur of TrebleBur—the group I’m always talking about knowing when they were the worst set of waiters I’ve ever worked with. They wanted to play music more than work. What are you doing here?”
“I live in Mapson now,” Bur answered.
&nb
sp; “Really? And the other guys? How are they?” Sampson asked.
“Yes. They’re good. But who you really want to know about is Ramsey. He’s fine, and still single,” Bur said.
“Oh… that’s good to know.”
“He’s moving here too. Maybe you’ll go past the friends stage, get a chance to actually let him know you’re interested,” Bur said.
“It’s not meant to be. Thanks for never telling him.” Sampson squeezed his arm.
“No worries. This is your place? I was just telling Gerald,”—Bur shifted so he could see them both—“my friend, about your uncle and the pub. How is he doing? Does he still have his place back in England?” Bur asked.
“Nice to meet you, Gerald.” Sampson nodded at him.
“Sampson.” Gerald inclined his head, putting his hand in his lap, clenching his fist.
Sampson answered Bur. “He died a few years ago. He left me and my cousin Drake the place. We sold it.”
“He did? I’m sorry. I didn’t know. The guys didn’t know, either. Who is Drake? Oh. The cowboy. I remember him coming while we worked at the pub. Is he around here too?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Drake, live in California?” Sampson let out a booming laugh. “Nope, he doesn’t live here. He lives in Texas. We visit each other. Since Shamus died, it’s just us two left of our family.”
“No, mate. You’ve got me and the guys from the band. You and Shamus were our family, and we should not have lost touch with either of you. That won’t happen again.” Bur gripped his shoulder.
Sampson met Gerald’s gaze. “He’s cool people. An arrogant snot, but with a good soul.”
“Still have me pegged.” Bur laughed.
“Of course. Now, let me get you all something to eat. Then, you will sing for your supper.” Sampson took their menus and walked away.
Bur slid back into the booth. “Imagine, Sampson here and owning this place. It’s a small world.”
“What was that friend thing about?” Gerald tried to keep his voice level.
“He had this thing for Ramsey. Never would come out and tell him, and Ramsey was oblivious to it.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. You told him we’re friends.”
Something in Common (Dreamspinner Press Bundles) Page 36