Indigo Knights: The Boxed Set

by Jet Mykles

  Lance searched Gordon’s face, and behind that smile he glimpsed what he suspected was a huge stubborn streak. “You think you can change that?”

  Gordon cocked his head, curious. “Don’t you want to change that?”

  “What I want doesn’t matter. Shelby’s the man in charge.”

  The full grin that curled Gordon’s lips did wicked things to some lower regions of Lance’s body. “And now”—he patted Lance’s arms as he circled around toward the apartment door—“I’m in charge.”

  He was out the door, but Lance had to stand there for a few seconds and breathe. All he wanted to do was run after Gordon, tackle him, and fuck him. That strength, that confidence, that cocky assurance—it had never particularly turned him on before, but Gordon carried it too well. Lance closed his eyes and tamped down the hope that mingled with a burning surge of desire. When Gordon talked like that, Lance believed he could change things—and he hadn’t believed in change for The Might in a very long time.

  When he had himself back under control, he hurried downstairs to help Gordon with the last of the boxes. He searched his mind, and composed and discarded words, now desperate to determine Gordon’s sexuality once and for all.

  “That’s it,” Gordon said. He waved at the boxes sitting in the corner around and on top of a reading chair. “I’ll unpack those later.” He pulled out his smartphone and thumb-punched the screen.

  Lance hadn’t figured out how to do it right yet, so he finally decided to just do it. “Gordon?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stepped close, just two arm lengths away. “Are you gay?”

  Gordon’s thumb stopped. His head was cocked enough to the side that Lance saw him blink slowly and smile. Then he looked up. “Why do you ask?”

  In for a penny… Lance edged closer. “Because I think you’re fucking hot.”

  Gordon’s phone hand dropped to his side. If that contemplative look he gave Lance could have been any more sexy, Lance wasn’t sure how. “Do you.”

  Compelled, Lance took a step closer. Then the phone hand shot back up, and one corner of the plastic square hit him in his sternum.

  “Stop.”

  Heart missing a beat, Lance did.

  Gordon paused, searching his face, before he let the hand drop again. But Lance still felt the poke in his chest and knew he was to remain where he was. “I am gay,” Gordon said.

  Lance smiled.

  “But you and me? Not happening.”

  The thrill of pleasure that had been heating Lance’s veins chilled. “Why not?” But he knew why. Hadn’t he told Noble why it was a bad idea?

  “We have to work together.” Gordon’s thoughts confirmed his. But then Gordon tilted his head and narrowed his gaze in a way that let Lance know he’d thought about it anyway. “Besides, in the very short time I’ve known you, I’ve already seen you with an adorable boy and a very striking woman. I’m not so sure I’m your type.”

  Lance’s smile was automatic. “I like variety.”

  Gordon’s expression cooled. “I’m not on the menu.” Whatever he saw in Lance’s face must have warranted further explanation. “I’ve done the messing-around thing. It’s always bad with someone I work with.”

  Lance found himself nodding, looking away, even though it felt like the blood was draining from his heart. “Yeah. Sure. You’re right.”

  A hand on his upper arm made him face Gordon again. The flare of heat he saw in those eyes made his pulse thump. “Not that I don’t find you wildly attractive.” The admission came with a slightly self-mocking grin that managed to make Lance feel better.

  Better enough to grin back. “Well. That’s good to know.”

  Satisfied, Gordon stepped back. “So let’s just keep it at friends. Okay?” Lance nodded, but Gordon was already looking at his phone again. He frowned slightly at something he saw, muttered a little, then closed the phone. “I’ve got to run a few errands before the show tonight.” He held out his hand as though none of the fire between them had happened. “Thanks for the help.”

  Feeling wooden, Lance shook Gordon’s hand, then drifted back across the hall while Gordon descended the stairs again. “Well. Shit.” He stared around the empty apartment, wondering what to do with himself. He hated putting himself out like that. Nine out of ten times, he looked like an idiot.

  He knew what Gordon said was right. He’d said it himself. So why in holy fuck did he still want the man? Gordon was right—he wasn’t really Lance’s type. In men, Lance preferred small and pretty and—let’s be honest—flighty. In men, he gravitated toward those who were quite obviously gay. He’d never really had a thing for the type where you couldn’t tell. But Gordon was just…different.

  Growling, confused, Lance stomped toward the bathroom, ripping his shirt off as he went. He needed a cold shower to cool his head and his blood.

  * * * *

  Noble arrived later that night. “So Gordon’s living across the hall?” His voice was cheery as he closed the front door of the apartment. “That’s convenient.”

  Lance stared at the television, barely aware of what was on. He’d been sitting there for a few hours, trying not to think. The last bottle from an imported six-pack dangled from his fingers. “You saw him?”

  “Briefly.” Noble’s duffel landed on the floor with a soft thud.

  “He’s gay.”

  There was a pause in the rustle of clothing. “Who?”

  “Gordon.”

  Noble came into his line of vision as he rounded the end of the couch. He still had on his coat, and his cheeks shone red while he tugged his scarf from his neck. “How’d you find out?”

  Lance sipped his beer. “I asked.”

  Surprised, Noble dropped to sit. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  Noble chuckled. “Well, that’s one way to find out.” He bunched his scarf in his lap. “So he said he was.”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And?”

  Noble started to slip out of his coat. “There’s more to it.”

  Lance shrugged, eyes still trained on the travel show displaying the wonders of Milan for him. “That’s it.”

  “You didn’t say, ‘Let’s fuck’?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Lance took another drink. “He said it wasn’t happening.”

  “He did?”

  “Yep. Said it was a bad idea to mess around with someone you work with.”

  Hugging his coat, Noble slouched against the back of the couch and stared thoughtfully at the television screen. “Well.”

  Lance shrugged again.

  “That’s it, then?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Now Lance looked at him. “What?”

  Noble had the gall to laugh at him. “You’re just gonna let this one go?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right.”

  “What?”

  Noble shook his head. “You really want him.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You must. You’ve never just outright asked a guy if he was gay before.”

  “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  “Jesus.” Noble pushed off the couch. “Okay. Whatever. You don’t want him.”

  “I don’t.” Lance scowled at Noble’s back. “It’s a bad idea. I’ll fuck it up.”

  Noble waved a hand in the air as he walked away. “Sure.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Lance thought he should probably say something, but fuck him if he knew what it was. Didn’t matter anyway, because Noble disappeared into the bedroom.

  Fuck.

  Transferring his glare back to the television, he finished off his beer. Fuck if Noble was right. Okay, he didn’t tend to let things go when he wanted them. There was very little that he wanted that much. But there were plenty of other guys for Lance to have. He didn’t need Gordo
n.

  Chapter Seven

  Present, early November

  “All right, guys, gather round.”

  Lance glanced up from where he sat with Rabin at the table in the studio. Between them were a half dozen mini ribbon synthesizers, little three-by-four-inch boxes that produced different sounds based on how the knobs were set and how a sensor strip was touched. He and Rabin were looking for some appropriate sound for one of the new tracks, and Brent had too many toys just sitting around not to experiment.

  Gordon dumped his laptop case on a mostly cleared spot on the edge of the table and draped his coat over a nearby chair. “Where are Danny and Noble?”

  “Down the hall,” Rabin answered, sitting back.

  “Could you get them?” Gordon’s hazel eyes positively shone with excitement. “I have big news.”

  “I’ll get them,” Lance offered, standing. It was a good excuse to take a moment and compose himself. Seeing Gordon excited did disturbing things to his heart, but seeing Gordon excited and looking hot in a black sweater and slacks was something he needed to process.

  He was fine a few minutes later, after he’d retrieved his other bandmates from the toy room. By then Gordon was seated at the table with Rabin. His thick black hair was a little longer than usual, the shortness on the sides almost enough to cover Lance’s fingers if he speared them through it, the top long enough that it stood up in wild disarray, testament that Gordon had run his own fingers through it.

  “There you are,” he greeted as Lance, Noble, and Danny came into the room. “Have I got some news.”

  “What’s up?” Danny asked as Lance resumed his seat. Danny and Noble remained standing.

  “I just got a call from Brent.” Who was out of town for the week in New York with Hell, visiting his best friend, Luc Sloane. Luc was getting married, and Brent was the best man, so there was a lot of wedding planning involved in Brent’s trip. Gordon’s grin was infectious as he continued. “He’s talked to Luc and Reese, and he’s got us invites to the wedding.”

  For a moment, they just stared.

  “Wait, what?” Danny asked.

  “Luc Sloane’s wedding?” Noble clarified.

  “Yes.”

  “The wedding that’s at some exclusive resort in upstate New York?” Danny was blinking hard.

  “Yes.”

  It was Rabin’s turn. “The wedding that’s sure to have tons of high-end industry people there?”

  “The same.”

  Lance put in his two cents, grinning like a loon. “Holy shit.”

  Gordon laughed, happy enough that he didn’t give Lance a glare for merely being in his presence. Although, to be fair, in the past few weeks Gordon’s reaction had calmed down. As long as others were in the room, and as long as they stayed on the topic of music or business, he and Lance had actually had some normal conversations.

  Danny caught the back of a chair, then slowly lowered himself, still reeling. “But how…?”

  “Brent’s already reserved rooms for us as special guests,” Gordon continued, watching Danny. “The rooms and most of the meals are already paid for.” He knew that was Danny’s primary concern. Of them all, Danny was the one most strapped for cash these days. “He’s writing it off as an investment in your future.”

  If Danny’s eyes had gotten any bigger, they’d have bugged out of his head. “I-investment?”

  Gordon’s teeth flashed brilliant white in a smile that nearly cracked his face wide open. “He said, and I quote, ‘You need to tell them to sell their asses off.’” Still laughing at Danny’s amazement, Gordon opened his laptop bag to ruffle through it. “And that’s what we’re going to do. Brent’s going to send me a guest list as soon as it’s available, and I’ll give you all some names you need to remember.” He brought out his tablet and fired it up to take notes. “I need to get you all business cards. Of course, you should always turn the business deals over to me.” His fingers flew over the on-screen keyboard.

  Danny recovered himself enough to reach out and squeeze Rabin’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you how glad I am you came on to me in that bar that night?”

  Rabin’s eyebrows soared as Lance and Noble laughed, having heard the story of how Rabin and Danny met. “I didn’t come on to you.”

  Clearly Danny was still reeling, but he was good enough to joke. “Whatever, man. Thank you so much for finding me.”

  Noble stroked Danny’s loose strawberry-blond hair. “There, there, poppet. It’s just a wedding.” He chuckled. “The fucking wedding of the decade.” Still stroking Danny’s hair, he gazed dreamily up at the ceiling. “And just think of all the gorgeous men that are sure to be there.”

  That gave Danny a wicked smile. He leaned his head back into Noble’s belly and gazed up at the ceiling with him. “Oh, man, hadn’t even thought of that.”

  Lance exchanged a fond glance with Rabin.

  “Oh.” Gordon kept his head tilted down as he typed. “And you can each bring a guest with you.”

  “Shit, no.” Danny’s head was back down, and the overwhelmed disbelief had resurfaced. “We’re not rooming together?”

  Gordon shook his head. “We’ve each got singles.”

  “Brent’s a fucking god,” Danny mumbled, as though finally seeing a fact that he’d yet to acknowledge. “That’s all there is to it.”

  “Don’t tell him that,” Rabin advised. “He’ll get a big head.”

  For which they all laughed.

  Lance sat back in his seat, toying with the synth in front of him while the rest of them continued to talk. A guest. Great. That probably meant that Gordon would bring Leon. Lance had yet to meet this boyfriend Gordon had spoken of and really didn’t want the occasion to come up. But it wasn’t going to be avoided. Gordon was part of Lance’s life, if not in the capacity he once was. Lance gave himself a quiet moment to think what it might have been like to go to this wedding as Gordon’s boyfriend. To watch two men pledge themselves in love, holding the hand of the man he loved. Hell, it was a New Year’s wedding. He’d love to kiss Gordon at the stroke of midnight and let the new year herald a new beginning for them.

  A vicious yank on his ponytail brought him back to reality with a yelp. He glared up into the vivid green contact lenses Noble was sporting these days.

  “Hello. You there?” The narrowing of Noble’s eyes said he knew what Lance was thinking. If not the specifics, at least the general topic.

  Lance swatted his hand. “I’m here. What?”

  “Gordon’s talking logistics. Pay attention.”

  With a blink to clear sentiment from his gaze, Lance turned to Gordon, who was also watching him. But Gordon’s regard was patient, waiting, no suspicion. No thought given to what Lance might have been musing. Of course not. What does he care? He’s got Leon.

  “Sorry.” Lance put on a pleasant mask to match Gordon’s. “What were you saying?”

  “He asked if you were going home for the holidays.”

  Lance shoved Noble away from him, more as an excuse not to look at Gordon than anything. “No.”

  “You’re not going to see your sister?” Gordon asked carefully.

  Lance looked at him again, keeping his face carefully blank. “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  Lance focused on the table, folding his hands around one of the mini synths. “No.”

  “They haven’t really talked since his mom died,” Noble answered for him.

  Gordon stared at him over Lance’s head. “Still?”

  Lance spoke to Rabin and Danny, his voice level and empty. “My mom died two years ago.” He switched his attention to Gordon, who showed echoes of the sorrow they’d shared back when they were together. “Morgan and I agreed that I didn’t need to come around for holidays.” Because, really, they had nothing to share. She had her life; he had his. Without their mom around and with their dad long gone, they didn’t have much between them. As long as he sent money she’d spend on presents for he
r kids, they were good. There, that covered all the family stuff. “Why did you need to know?”

  Gordon stared at him for just a moment longer. He’d always wanted Lance to be closer to his family. Then Gordon blinked and put on his business face. “We’ve also been invited to Thanksgiving at Brent’s. It’ll be a much smaller affair, but I’m told that Izzy’s cooking.” A smile at Rabin, who grinned back. “So that’s not to be missed. As for Christmas…that depends on how far you guys get with the album.”

  “It’ll be ready,” Rabin stated with full conviction.

  Lance, together with Danny and Noble, echoed the sentiment.

  “All right.” Gordon spread his hands on the table, seeming at a loss for a few seconds before he regained himself. “I think that’s it. I’ll let you guys get back to work.”

  He stood and gathered his bag onto his shoulder. For no particular reason, as he crossed the room to the door, he patted Lance’s shoulder. Startled, Lance looked up so they could share a brief glance. He wasn’t sure what was in Gordon’s eyes at that moment, but it wasn’t anything negative. Then Gordon walked away. Lance put his head down over the synth in his hands, intent on getting his mind back into the music. He felt Noble’s quick pat on the back but didn’t acknowledge it. Thankfully, Rabin and Danny sensed his desire to move on, and talk began again about the track they’d been working on.

  Chapter Eight

  Past, March

  Lance left the apartment, then took two steps to knock on Gordon’s door.

  “It’s open.”

  After a head roll to stretch and relax his neck, Lance opened the door. Gordon wasn’t in the main room, but sounds from the kitchen led Lance in that direction. On the way, he spied an open gym bag on the floor beside the bedroom. In the kitchen, Gordon was washing a few dishes. His hair shone damp in the overhead lighting.

  “You’ve been up?” It was nine o’clock, an early morning for Lance. He was impressed that he’d managed to shower and shave. Then again, he hadn’t had company last night, so it’d been an early evening.

  Gordon set a cup on a dish towel to dry. “I was at the gym.”

  Lance stared at him while he rinsed off a bowl. “No shit?”