Indigo Knights: The Boxed Set

by Jet Mykles

  They both glanced at the ceiling, but nothing could be heard. Just the thought of Gordon smacking Yaz down was giving Lance a hard-on. Wasn’t that messed up?

  “You think he’s booting him?” Noble asked, still staring upward.

  “Gotta be.”

  “That’s a way to start a new job.”

  Lance shrugged and resumed his seat against the couch’s arm. “Gotta be done.” He pointed the remote at the television and tried to think bland thoughts that’d make his stiffy go down.

  Twenty minutes later, Gordon returned. If he was upset, he didn’t show it. He tucked his phone into his hip pocket as he approached the couch with a determined smile. “Yaz will be moving out tomorrow. He’s no longer part of the band.” So calm. Like James Bond ordering a drink right after beating some bad guy’s ass. Not a mark on him.

  Noble sat back. “Just like that?”

  “Shelby’s decision,” Gordon told him, showing more interest in the movie they were watching than what he was saying. He leaned against the back of the couch, and Lance tried his best to ignore how good Gordon’s cologne smelled. Two silver rings adorned the long, unblemished fingers that sank into the couch cushions maybe a foot from Lance’s shoulder. If he reached out, he could touch that skin.

  “He has until tomorrow night to pack his things. Just so you’re aware, security will be posted at the front and back doors tonight and tomorrow morning to make sure things go smoothly.”

  Lance heard the warning loud and clear. Security to make sure Yaz didn’t get out of hand and didn’t take anything but his own stuff. Impressive. “Good call.” Left on his own, Shelby would have just kicked him out. Lance knew this from watching it firsthand.

  “If either of you would rather stay somewhere else for the night, I can arrange for accommodations.”

  Lance had a feeling this last bit wasn’t Shelby’s idea. Wasn’t something that would occur to the boss man. After all, they could always go stay in the apartments above the club. But the offer did seem like something that would occur to Gordon. Thoughtful.

  “I’m good,” Lance assured him.

  “Me too.”

  Gordon looked from Lance to Noble, then back to Lance, maybe for just a touch longer. “All right. I’ll leave you to enjoy your night.”

  “Hey.” Lance grabbed for his hand, stopping him before he could turn away. “You want to stick around? We got all kinds of movies. Cable? Netflix?” He ignored Noble’s curious glance and squeezed Gordon’s hand. “Popcorn?”

  The smile had frozen on Gordon’s face. Hazel eyes flicked down to look at where Lance held him, then back up to Lance’s face. Lance might have imagined the flare of heat in those depths, but he didn’t think so. It made him smile.

  But that made Gordon away. Gently, he pulled his hand from Lance’s grasp, then used it to draw his phone back out of his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, looking at the phone rather than at them. At Lance. “But maybe another time. I’ve got to…go.” When he tucked his phone away again, his smile was back to being casual, and the heat was gone from his eyes. “I’ll see you guys soon,” he said mostly to Noble before he turned to grab his things and go.

  “Right.” Noble’s tone was wry as he glared at Lance after the door closed. “We’re gonna keep our hands off him.”

  Lance tried to act innocent. “What? I was inviting him to stay so we could get to know him better.”

  “Uh huh.” Before Lance could stop him, Noble lunged forward and grabbed at Lance’s crotch.

  “Hey!” Lance struggled, but wrestling with Noble was like trying to harness an angry ferret.

  “Yeah.” Noble squeezed the erection that Lance’s overlarge sweatshirt had hidden. “You’re so fucking hard for him.”

  Miffed, Lance shoved Noble off of him and bent his knees between them for protection. “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s absolutely like that.”

  Lance glared.

  Noble glared back.

  “Okay. Yeah. I want him.”

  “I knew it.”

  “But I’m not going to do anything about it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I’m not. I meant what I said before. I don’t want to mess this manager thing up.”

  Noble looked anything but convinced.

  Lance threw his hands up. “What?”

  His friend sat back on the other side of the couch, thinking about it. “If he’s gay, you’re so toast.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh yeah. You are.”

  “Then maybe I’ll be lucky and he’s not gay.”

  Noble’s grin was wicked and not the least bit comforting. “Right. Like you weren’t gay.”

  Chapter Five

  Present, October

  Lance met Rabin’s eyes across the room, both of their heads nodding in time to the music that filled the air. They grinned. The new song was coming together. It would work.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Noble stopped the beat, sticks clicking in his hand when he held it up to get everyone’s attention. “I got an idea. What if we…”

  Lance listened with most of his attention, but a part of his brain was admiring the room. This was it. Seriously. For a few weeks now, the four of them had been playing together, and it just felt right. The new songs were killer. Rabin and Danny had no problems digging into the demo tracks they’d sent to Lance and Noble, rewriting and revising the music to fit in Lance’s and Noble’s ideas. They’d even thrown out some of the tracks in favor of some new ideas the four of them had come up with together. As Noble spoke, Danny pushed himself off the couch and came to sit on a stool closer to Lance. He wasn’t just a lyrics man. He might not have the musical background of the rest of them, but he had a good ear, and they’d been teaching him to fill in the holes in his knowledge.

  Today it had just been the band. Brent had taken the last week off, giving them space to work together and play with new ideas. He was due back the day after next to hear what they’d come up with, and that served as a deadline to do all they could before then. It was way past midnight now, and they’d been working for hours nonstop, but Lance didn’t feel tired. He was amped on excitement, and it felt so good. He wasn’t alone either. The others felt it too. They fed off each other until all of them shared a manic sort of energy, the type he’d never experienced with any other band.

  That was how Gordon found them at two o’clock in the morning. “I thought I’d find you all here.”

  The smell of hamburgers and french fries filled the air, stopping the music.

  Smiling, Gordon held up four stuffed white paper bags. “Hungry?”

  Noble and Rabin were on their feet in a rush, nearly knocking over their stools. Lance was a little slower, carefully setting his bass on the stand next to his seat. Danny hesitated, his head bent over the notes he was furiously writing in his notebook, face obscured by the fall of silky strawberry-blond hair.

  “Hey.” Lance nudged Danny’s foot with his own. “Eat something.”

  Without lifting his head, Danny raised a finger. “Be there in a minute.”

  Lance followed the others out the door and down the hall to the kitchen. By the time he got there, the bags had been unpacked, and a half dozen burgers were laid out among just as many paper baskets of fries. “Jesus, you get enough food?”

  Gordon glanced at him, his smile not visibly strained. The two of them still didn’t speak much, but Lance had been trying to throw in casual remarks here and there. Gordon had begun to respond in kind. “Wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be,” Gordon said.

  “Ravenous,” Noble answered before digging into a thick, messy burger.

  “Yeah.” Across the table from him, Rabin did the same, adding a moan of delight. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. When did we eat last?”

  Noble shook his head. “Days ago,” he proclaimed, mouth full of food.

  Lance sat, forcing his attention away from Gordon and the ass he displayed by bending over the little r
efrigerator in the corner. Determinedly thinking of the music rather than the man, Lance unwrapped a burger for himself.

  “Thanks for the food, Gordon,” Danny said when he came to join them.

  “Not a problem.” Gordon placed a round of sodas on the table. Without asking, he’d learned what each band member liked. Smiling as they ate, he leaned on the backs of Noble’s and Rabin’s chairs. “I’ve got to take care of my boys.”

  Lance watched his face, but Gordon carefully didn’t look at him. The bags were from 24-hour burger place less than a mile away, so he hadn’t gone far for the food, but he must have come and seen their cars still out front before making the decision. He kept doing thoughtful stuff like that. Indeed, taking care of his boys.

  Noble snorted, pulling a long slice of onion out of his burger. “Yeah. Not like your last band let you do that.” He tipped back his head so he could lower the onion into his open mouth.

  Gordon watched him do it. “True. One of the reasons I left that shitty job.”

  Lance dropped his gaze to his food, willing to let that one go without comment.

  “But you guys are working late.” Gordon changed the subject smoothly. “I trust everything is going okay?”

  Rabin and Noble both started to talk at once, each telling him about the song they’d been working on today. Danny’s eyes went blank as he stared at the center of the table, but Lance now recognized that as a sign he was thinking. Of lyrics, probably. Gordon listened intently to what he was being told, finally dragging around another chair when the chatting kept going. They talked about the tracks and how they could relate together as an album. Gordon mentioned that he’d found a graphic designer he thought was perfect to do their album cover. Which sparked a heated debate about logo ideas. Heated enough that paper bags were flattened out to serve as paper for rough sketches of ideas. Nothing was settled, but talk took them back to the studio, where tracks were played for Gordon. He smiled as he listened, eyes shining with pride.

  It was five in the morning when it became clear that they were all too tired to do any more. Lance wasn’t the only one who kept yawning, and he was pretty sure Danny had fallen asleep on the couch.

  “All right, ladies.” Gordon stood up from the table, closing his laptop. “That’s enough. You all need some sleep.”

  No one protested. As Lance, Rabin, and Noble stored their gear, Gordon leaned over Danny to nudge him awake. Mumbling together, Rabin and Noble leaned heavily on each other as they left the studio, headed for the parking lot. Danny got up and yawned as he walked after them. Gordon, looking far more awake than any of the others, took a few moments to stash his computer.

  Lance lingered at the door, waiting for him. Gordon started when he saw him standing there. They shared a look.

  Lance thought of a dozen things he could say. A dozen things he could do. But he discarded them all. He just smiled, nodded, then turned and walked away.

  That was good enough for now.

  Chapter Six

  Past, a few days later

  Sonya came out of the bedroom with arms raised to pull her long black hair into a ponytail. She’d re-dressed in her long-sleeved black T-shirt and jeans, which were what passed for a uniform for the bartenders at Fletcher’s. Shame about the sleeves, though, because they covered some truly spectacular tats up and down her arms. Tats Lance had explored at length the previous night. “I better get going. Gotta take stock before tonight.”

  Lance offered a mug as she approached, and smiled back at her before they exchanged a quick kiss. “Coffee?”

  She made a face. “Never touch the stuff.” She splayed a palm over the middle of his chest. “I had a great time last night.”

  He placed the mug on the counter behind him, then set his hands on her hips. “Me too.”

  “You fuck pretty good for a gay guy.” They laughed together.

  “I try to please.”

  She pressed against him to give him another kiss, this one a little softer and a little longer. She was the same height as him, which, truth be told, was how he liked women. Noble said it only figured that he liked the girls who were like guys. He had to admit, although she was hot as hell, Sonya fit that description. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out she could bench press more than he could. Of course, he didn’t know how much he could bench press. “Maybe we can hook up again?”

  He gave a noncommittal shrug but rubbed his palms over her hips. “Maybe.”

  “No promises.” She chuckled as she stepped away. “Tina said you were hard to pin down.”

  “I dunno.” He followed her to the front door. “You seemed to do pretty good last night.”

  That produced a wicked smile on her face. “Yeah. You did pretty good yourself, bass man.” She opened the door and turned as she stepped into the hallway. “See ya later, Lance.”

  He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Later.”

  She spun toward the stairs, then startled as she almost ran into someone who’d just come up. Lance’s heart sank when he saw Gordon, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved gray T-shirt pushed up to the elbows, carrying a cardboard box.

  “Oh hey, Gordon,” Sonya greeted merrily.

  Gordon smiled at her, then raised his eyes to meet Lance’s over her shoulder. “Hey, Sonya. Lance.”

  Lance nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Damn. Talk about the last person he wanted to see him with a woman. Yes, he knew it didn’t matter, but he still didn’t like it.

  Sonya patted Gordon’s arm as they maneuvered past each other in the narrow hallway. “See ya later,” she called, waving to both of them as she descended the stairs.

  Gordon juggled the box into one arm so he could dig in his pocket for keys. Shelby kept two furnished apartments over Fletcher’s and had given the band keys. Lance and Noble used them more than anyone else. Looked like Gordon had received his own set.

  “Need some help with that?” Lance offered, trying not to ogle Gordon’s ass as he set the box inside the door.

  Standing, Gordon looked like he was going to say no, but he hesitated as the door eased shut. “Y’know what? Yeah. I’ve got some boxes waiting downstairs. Can you help me bring them up?”

  “Sure.” Lance pulled his door shut as Gordon stepped back into the hallway. “I see Shelby gave you keys to the apartments.”

  “Yeah.” Gordon tossed his set before tucking them back in his pocket. “In fact, I’m going to be staying in this one.” He glanced over his shoulder before taking the first step down the stairs. “I hope that won’t cramp your style.” It was said with a teasing grin, but it bit into Lance.

  “Nah.” He caught himself studying the breadth of Gordon’s shoulders as he followed the other man. Damn. “But you might want to change the locks. Unless you want Noble barging in on you at all hours of the night.”

  Gordon laughed, a nice, free sound. “I’ll get right on that.”

  There were about a dozen boxes lined up on one side of the bar downstairs in the empty club. One of the bouncers was just setting one down when they arrived.

  “Thanks, Eli.” Gordon clapped the big guy on the arm. “Lance and I can get those upstairs.”

  “You sure?” Eli asked, looking at Lance.

  But Gordon answered. “Yeah. You go help out back.”

  Lance nodded, and the huge man returned the gesture, then left. “I hope these aren’t heavy,” Lance grumbled good-naturedly as he bent to pick up one of the boxes.

  “Nope.” Gordon hefted another one himself. “No books or anything.”

  “You gonna move in some furniture?” Lance asked as he started after Gordon up the stairs. The idea of Gordon moving in to the apartment had a lot of appeal.

  “God, no. That’s far too permanent.” Gordon laughed. “When Shelby offered a furnished apartment, I jumped at it. Other than some keepsakes in storage and the luggage I’ve already got upstairs, this is all I own in the world.”

  Lance thought about that. It made sense. It sounded like Gor
don had been on the move for years. “Well, at least now you can stick around one place for a while.”

  Gordon gave him a weird look as they set the boxes down just inside the apartment door. “I don’t think so.” He snapped his fingers a couple of times, pumping his hand. “I need to be on the move. Need to get the word out about The Might.”

  “Is that what Shelby’s told you to do?”

  “It’s what I will do.”

  Huh. The way he said that… “What, exactly, has Shelby asked you to do for The Might?”

  They headed back down the stairs. “What any good manager would do. Get the word out. Arrange gigs. Make us famous.”

  Lance stopped Gordon with a hand on his arm before he bent over to pick up another box. Those changeable eyes—sometimes more brown, sometimes more green—met his, full of amusement. “Is that what he said?”

  Gordon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Not exactly.” He turned out of Lance’s grip and bent over to get a box.

  Lance picked up one of his own and followed. “What did he say?”

  “First, fire Yaz.” With a grin, Gordon used a finger to check that off in the air. “Done. Then I’m to handle the finances and the day-to-day management of the band so he can concentrate on creative activities.” His tone and manner told Lance that his words were pretty close to verbatim. “Oh yeah, and I’m supposed to find him a new guitarist.”

  “You do know that we never play anywhere but here. Right?”

  Gordon didn’t answer.

  Once they’d deposited their boxes upstairs, Lance blocked Gordon’s way out of the apartment. “Look, I don’t want you to get your hopes up here. We’re not a normal band.”

  Gordon stepped back, out of arm’s reach, and gave him a patient smile. “I know that.”

  Lance shook his head. “No. Really. In the four years I’ve been with him, Shelby’s never let us play anywhere but at Fletcher’s.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “That’s four years.”

  Nodding, Gordon maintained that tiny smile of amusement. “That’s how it has been.”