by Jet Mykles
Hell, sitting beside Izzy, raised an eyebrow. “And I do not?”
Izzy grimaced at Hell. “Different! Besides, you’re taken.”
Brent caught Izzy’s eye as the younger man turned back toward Rabin. “And Rabin’s off-limits.”
Izzy sat back, spreading both palms on the table to either side of his empty plate. “I wasn’t suggesting anything.”
“You most definitely were, and I’m telling you to lay off. Rabin’s straight.”
Izzy made a moue at his cousin. “He said on the Wade Jenkins show in January that he was undecided.”
Rabin sat back, laughing aloud, delighted that anyone would remember that.
Brent answered for him. “That was just kidding around. He was playing a gig with us.”
As Rabin calmed, Izzy playfully pouted. “No fair.” He gave Rabin a coy glance. “Are you sure you’re not just a bit curious?”
Hell tweaked Izzy’s ear. “Behave.”
Izzy yipped and turned the pout on Hell, who blithely concentrated on dishing casserole onto his plate.
Amused, Rabin spread out a napkin on his lap. “I will admit to being a bit curious, sure.”
“Nyah.” Izzy stuck his tongue out at Brent, then Hell. “See?”
Brent shook his head, accepting the spoon from Hell and leaning toward the deep dish in the center of the table. “All right, dude. I tried to help you. You’re on your own.”
“Oh poo on you.” Izzy spooned corn colored with what looked like green and red peppers onto his plate. “I’m not that bad.”
Both Brent and Hell snorted, which made Rabin laugh and Izzy growl.
But Izzy wasn’t one to hold a grudge long. By the time their plates were filled and after a few compliments on the mouthwatering casserole, he was all smiles again.
“So, Rabin, since I never got my answer, are you English?”
“Half. My mother is from Brighton. My father is from Virginia.”
“How did they meet?”
Rabin glanced at Hell and Brent, but they both showed moderate interest, so he continued. “Dad’s an astronomer. He spent some time at Nottingham, teaching, and met my mother there.”
“Did you grow up here or there?”
“Both, but mainly there. They never married, just sort of shared me.”
Like most people, Izzy hooked on to the never-married bit. “They never married? Oh man, what was that like growing up?”
“Tedious. I spent a lot of time on airplanes. Mostly with Mum for the school year and Dad for the summer. To their credit, they both tried their best by me and each other. It was all very fair.”
“Where are they now?”
“Dad’s transferred to Montana and works for NASA now. Mum’s back to Brighton. She’s married with two other kids.”
“Oh, how…melancholy.”
Rabin chuckled, amused by Izzy’s word choice. “It could have been worse. I get to enjoy dual citizenship, which is fun sometimes.”
Izzy cocked his head to the side, toying with his food but most of his attention on Rabin. “Have you traveled much?”
“Not really, to be honest. I went back and forth from home to home, but we never traveled much else.” He shrugged. “I saw more of the States last year when the record label sent us on the tour of the west. Not that I got out much.”
Brent chewed thoughtfully. “That was a pretty big tour, wasn’t it?”
“Good-sized. We covered California, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado. And Vegas. Vegas was the only town I really got to see any of.”
Hell raised his glass. “One must see Vegas.”
Brent and Rabin toasted with him.
Izzy frowned. “I don’t get it. You went all those places and didn’t get to see anything?”
Brent pointed his fork at Izzy. “If you’re on tour, you have to make time to see anything.”
“And time is not always available,” Hell added.
Brent gave Rabin a sidelong glance. “You guys were on a pretty tight schedule, weren’t you?”
“Really tight. But that was the best month of my life.”
“Month?” Izzy’s jaw dropped. “How many concerts is that?”
“Twenty-four, I think.”
“In one month? That’s insane.”
“That’s rock ’n’ roll,” Brent drawled.
Izzy glanced between Brent and Rabin, then at Hell. “You’re all insane.”
“No doubt,” Hell agreed.
Izzy sat back. “All that to play music?”
Rabin grinned. “It’s the best high there is. When you’ve got a huge audience all dancing to your tunes and following your vibe, there’s nothing like it. Better than sex.”
Izzy’s grin twisted, his eyes narrowing. “Nothing’s better than sex.”
Brent bumped Rabin’s shoulder. “Watch it.”
Izzy sighed, sitting forward to commence his meal. “I just don’t think I could stand going to all those different places and not see anything.” He glanced at his cousin. “You got to see a lot the last time you were on tour, didn’t you? You told me all those stories about Japan.”
“My situation with Heaven Sent is different now. We schedule in some free time. But when we were struggling, it was pretty awful.”
“Please. You guys were never struggling.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure. I’ll just forget those first few years living in vans and playing nightclubs.”
“Okay, okay. But it’s hard to believe that when you’ve got what you have now.” Izzy waved his fork up to indicate the house.
“If you think we don’t work for what we have,” Hell told him mildly, “you’re sadly mistaken.”
“All right, I’m sorry. No offense.”
“None taken.”
There was a moment of awkward silence as they all continued to eat. Then Izzy’s attention snagged on Rabin again. “I know you probably hear this a lot, but I love ‘Simplicity.’”
Rabin smiled. “Thanks.” “Simplicity” was the Indigo Knights’ hit single. The one song that had hit any chart. The song that had landed them the opening spot on Jade Cruiz’s comeback tour. The song that had gotten them the record deal. But the record company had kept the option for a second album, and when the second and third singles from the first album tanked, they’d let the Knights go. One month, they’d been on their way, opening for a well-known band, and two months later, they were on their own, back to square one. Despite that, he was proud of “Simplicity,” a devilishly catchy tune.
“Is it the Knights you guys are going to work with?” Izzy asked, looking to Rabin and Brent.
“Yep,” Brent answered, setting his fork down on an empty plate. “Rabin and I have some ideas.”
Rabin grinned so big his jaw hurt. “Yep.”
This was it. With Brent’s help and some changes within the Knights, Rabin and his band were going places. He could feel it.
Chapter Three
“Oh man, this is great!”
Rabin turned a three-sixty in the middle of the largest of three studio spaces in the place Brent and Hell now owned. One wall was still unfinished, a mess of insulation, wires, and equipment, but Rabin could see how slick it’d be when it was done. Hardwood floors, recessed lighting, plenty of hookups for mics, amps, and instruments. If you didn’t mind the massive board mounted underneath the window, the console room felt like a living room, complete with dark blue carpet and wood paneling.
“Nice, huh?” Brent leaned in the doorway between the studio and the console room, a satisfied grin on his face as his dark gaze took everything in. “Ever since I saw my first real studio, I wanted one of these.”
Rabin grinned. “So is this one of those promises you made to yourself before you got famous?”
Brent nodded slowly, quiet pride showing. “Yeah. It is.”
Rabin took a few steps closer. “Well, I’m happy to help your dreams come true.”
That got Brent’s attention. When he saw Rabin was jo
king, he laughed. “Whatever you say, man.” He turned back inside. “C’mon, we should be getting back home. If we’re lucky, we’ll get some time to work before dinner.”
“Oh man.” Rabin followed Brent through the carpeted room and beyond to the hallway. “Between your personal studio and Izzy’s cooking, I’m kind of disappointed I found that flat.”
Brent laughed as they passed by the open doors that led to two more console rooms with smaller studios beyond. “Did you sign the lease?”
“Yeah, it’s a done deal. That Realtor you hooked me up with was great.”
Nodding, Brent held the door open at the end of the hall. “I’m glad she could help.”
“She did. And with all the help you’ve given me already, I’m quite spoilt.” He stopped to face Brent in the middle of the small, carpeted reception area. “How can I pay you back?”
Brent patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I owe you.”
“Fine. Pay me back by making the Indigo Knights’ next album a success.”
Rabin rolled his eyes as he followed Brent out the front door. “That’s not enough.”
“That’s plenty. Remember, I get a part of that success.”
They hurried down a flight of stairs. “There’s got to be something I can do.”
Brent stopped at street level to unhook black sunglasses from the neck of his T-shirt and put them on. “You haven’t been any trouble, really. We’ve enjoyed having you at the house, and you and I have gotten a shitload of work done.”
That was for sure. Rabin’s heart surged with pride to think of the five songs the two of them had written in just the two weeks Rabin had been staying at the house. A few of the songs were in better shape than others, but three of them were good enough that he’d sent the tracks to Zane for a listen, giving him a head start on coming up with lyrics before he got to Chicago. “Well, that’s just been fun.”
Depressing the handle of the outside door, Brent gave him a grin. “My point exactly.”
“Okay.” Rabin followed Brent down a short flight of cement steps, then headed for the passenger door of Brent’s Corvette. He opened the door and stopped, catching his friend’s gaze over the roof of the car. “But as soon as we make gold, I’m buying you that slide guitar.”
Laughing loudly, Brent descended into the driver’s seat. “Deal.”
Satisfied, Rabin settled himself into the passenger seat, and they were off. Brent made a call home to tell Izzy they were on their way and found out that Hell was back in town—having gone to Miami for a few days—and would be joining them for dinner as well.
“So, this weekend,” Brent started after shutting down the car’s Bluetooth receiver, “Hell and I were thinking of heading to New York. There’s a band there he wants to see.”
“Nice. Who?”
“I don’t remember their name. They’re new.” He glanced at Rabin, but his eyes were hidden by the sunglasses. “Will you be okay without us?”
“With moving? Sure. Zane’ll be here Monday. I just need to go out and find a bed.”
Eyes on the road, Brent shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Will you be okay in the house alone with Izzy this weekend?”
Startled, Rabin stared at Brent’s profile. Then he laughed. “I’m okay if he is.”
Brent sighed. “You know what I mean. You can’t have missed that he has a thing for you.”
Rabin smiled, facing forward. “You think?”
“Please. It’s not like he tries to hide it.”
No, he didn’t. It wasn’t that Izzy ever did anything to make Rabin uncomfortable, but he had made his admiration obvious. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. I should have known better. And you’ve been great about it.”
“No trouble at all. Doesn’t upset me.” He thought it was cute, actually.
“Good. But will you be okay with him? If not, I can send him out of town, or we can take him with us.”
“No way. That’s ridiculous. If anything, I should vacate if you think there’ll be a problem.”
Brent stopped at a light. “I’m not going to ask you to get a hotel the last weekend before you move into your new place.”
“Thanks for that. But no, I’m good if he’s good.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. You just watch yourself.”
Rabin chuckled. “You think he’ll jump me?”
“Seriously? I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”
“You worry too much.”
“If you say so.” Brent’s tone said he wasn’t convinced. But he dropped the subject and cranked up the satellite radio.
Amused, Rabin was quiet for a while, wondering why it didn’t bother him about Izzy. Aside from passing curiosity, he’d never been that attracted to men. Izzy was certainly cuter than most. If he was going to do a guy, it’d be a guy like Izzy or Hell. He had no desire to hook up with someone like Brent, for instance, or any of his other bandmates. But he wasn’t going to hook up with anyone. Izzy was Brent’s cousin and under his care. It wouldn’t be right. Besides, Rabin did just fine with women.
Thinking of… If he was contemplating doing it with a guy, he needed to hook up with a member of the opposite sex and get himself laid. It’d been three months since he’d had sex, and that was way too long. A night with a willing body would be just the thing to celebrate right before he went back into the studio.
Chapter Four
“Are you going out?”
Rabin glanced aside from his reflection in the dresser mirror to see Izzy leaning in the open doorway behind him. The waist of his snug jeans was covered by an untucked blue button-down, and his black hair was loose and curling around his shoulders.
Rabin looked back at himself, running fingers through the longer hair atop his head. “I thought I might check out a club, yeah.”
“Can I go?” Before Rabin could think up a response, Izzy was a few steps into the room. “Please? I don’t want to be in this big house all by myself.”
Rabin wouldn’t admit to himself that part of the reason for going out was to get away from Izzy. Wasn’t true. Why did he need distance when Izzy had been perfectly well behaved all day? Rabin wasn’t at all uneasy at the prospect of spending the night alone with him in the house. “I don’t know if it’d be your kind of club.”
“My kind?” The open cuffs of Izzy’s shirt fell back from his forearms just before he folded them across his chest. “What? You mean a gay club?”
“Yeah.” Done spiking his hair, Rabin turned around. He pretended to ignore Izzy’s dark gaze checking him out from head to foot and back again, but did wonder if Izzy liked the leather pants and red silk T-shirt. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Why would I think you were going to a gay club?”
Rabin shrugged.
“Oh, I get it. You’re looking to get laid.” It wasn’t a question.
No sense denying. “I am.”
To his surprise, Izzy smiled. “That’s okay. I know how to call a cab for a ride home.” He stepped closer, opening his eyes big like a puppy dog. He folded his hands under his chin. Scratch the puppy dog—make that a five-year-old determined to get what he wants. “Please? It doesn’t matter to me if it’s a gay club or not. I promise I won’t embarrass you. I just want to go dancing. It’s been a long time since I got to get out and let loose.” With an impish smile, he raised his arms in the air and did a little dance in a circle to demonstrate. Not bad, in Rabin’s opinion.
“Are you sure?”
Like a kid on Christmas who just got permission to open his first present, Izzy clapped his hands and jumped up and down. “You’ll take me with you?”
“Yes. But you make sure you’ve got cab fare. Just in case.”
Izzy was already rushing out the door. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to cock block you.”
Cock block? Strange to think of another guy as an impediment to getting a girl. Wouldn’t be an issu
e with any of his other friends. Isn’t an issue with this one. They were going to be fine. And hey, if he didn’t get laid tonight, that wasn’t a big deal. Zane was due in on Monday, and they were going into the studio middle of the week. That would be his prime focus for the foreseeable future. He’d gone long stretches without sex before.
He thought he was going to have to wait forever for Izzy to get ready, but the younger man was actually waiting for him when he gathered the rest of his things and stepped into the hall. The button-down was gone, replaced with a snug gray shirt that stretched very nicely across his chest and abs. The jeans were the same he’d been wearing, and he had low leather boots and socks in hand, ready to don.
Izzy beamed at him. “Ready to go!”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to take an hour to get ready?”
Izzy’s arms fell to his sides. “I thought you were ready to go?”
“I am.”
“Oh, I see.” Rolling his eyes, he turned toward the stairs. “Because I’m gay, I take a million years to get ready?”
“Well…” Rabin laughed. “Yeah.”
“Not all gay men are obsessed with their looks.”
“You are.”
Halfway down the stairs, Izzy stopped to round on Rabin. “I’m not!”
For safety’s sake, Rabin backed up two steps out of Izzy’s arm range. He grinned. “You are.”
“Hmmm. And which one of us is wearing eyeliner, hmmm?”
Rabin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, I’m a rock star. It’s part of my look.”
“A rock star.” Another eye roll. Then Izzy was headed down the stairs again. “A rock star without a band and one hit single.”
Bristling, Rabin followed. “All right. Almost a rock star.”
At the front door, Izzy opened it and motioned him through. “A rock-star-in-training?” The harsh porch light threw crazy shadows onto Izzy’s profile, and for a moment, the soft lines of his jaw and brow looked just like a girl’s. A really pretty girl.
Shaking the thought, Rabin puffed up his chest and thumped it as he passed by Izzy into the night air. “A rock-star-to-be.”