Play it by Ear

by K. M. Neuhold

  Let’s go bungee jumping.

  “Dimples, it’s Christmas Eve, I don’t think we’re going to be able to go today,” he points out. “Besides, you don’t have anything to prove. We don’t have to go bungee jumping just because you think it’ll make me like you more or anything crazy like that.”

  What if it will make ME like me more?

  Lando gives me a sad smile and reaches out to take my hand. “If it’s what you really want to do, then we’ll do it. But it’ll have to wait until after the holidays.”

  I nod and bite my lip. Will I be able to keep up my courage to go in a week? I want to. I want to be that person I used to be— fearless, reckless…happy, alive.

  “In the meantime, why don’t I help you wrap the presents you got for your sister, and we can watch more Christmas movies?”

  You are obsessed with Christmas movies, I accuse with a smile.

  “No shame,” he smirks.

  Track 22: Side A

  Christmas Cheer

  Dawson

  I’ve lost track of how many days in a row I’ve woken up in Lando’s arms. Three? It feels like more. It feels like I’ve known him and been in love with him half my life. How can it feel like this with a man I still hardly know? And would it really be so crazy to entertain his request to move to New York?

  I can only imagine what Parker would say if she knew I was even considering moving with a guy I hardly know. Sure, she wanted me to get laid, but I don’t think she meant I should traipse off to another state with anyone.

  The gentle rhythm of Lando’s chest rising and falling with each breath against my back is soothing, his warmth wrapping around me like a blanket.

  My eyes travel to the window and all the green grass and sunshine beyond not far from my bed. It was nice to have snow on Christmas when I went to college in the Midwest. I could see enjoying living somewhere with seasons again. There’s a little niggle in the back of my mind that tells me maybe I’d even planned on moving somewhere farther north before my accident happened. Unless I was a completely different person during my last year of grad school, I can’t imagine my ultimate plan when I got on a plane back to Florida after graduation was to get a job as a bartender and waste away in backwater Florida.

  But moving to New York is wholly different than moving to New York with a guy I’m seeing. It’s too soon to take a step like moving in together. But for some reason, it doesn’t feel wrong to imagine it. Surely it would be a recipe for disaster to go along with this crazy idea. But I can’t make myself give him an outright no to the proposal.

  Lando’s warm lips move against the back of my shoulder like he’s saying something. I wonder if he’s singing again or if he forgot I wouldn’t be able to hear him saying good morning. My heart sinks a little for a second. I’m sure it would take some getting used to if you’ve never dated a deaf person before, but I so desperately want him to see me and not the person he thinks he remembers.

  I roll over and face him with a smile.

  “Did you say something?” I ask and wonder what my little used voice sounds like to his ears.

  Lando shakes his head and brushes my hair back off my forehead with a sweet smile. Then he pulls back a little and signs Merry Christmas just like I taught him the other night. A laugh bubbles from my chest and past my lips. I feel like a complete jackass for my thoughts a few seconds ago. Lando may still be a little in love with the version of me I may never be again. But I think he may also be falling in love with this version of me too.

  Merry Christmas, I sign.

  “My mom has a tradition of making French toast topped with powdered sugar for Christmas breakfast. Hungry?”

  I nod. French toast sounds good, but I’m not ready to let him out of bed yet. I nuzzle closer, pressing my nose against the base of his throat and breathing him in.

  “Few minutes,” I mutter and then press my lips to his sleep-warm skin. His arms are tight around me, and if I close my eyes, I can feel the right answer to the New York question, even if I’m not ready to answer it yet.

  I scurry around the kitchen, getting dinner ready and praying that Parker won’t be weird about Lando. She’s never been much of an audiophile and doesn’t follow celebrity gossip, so there’s a strong possibility she won’t recognize him right away. But the fact that I brought my supposed vacation fling back to my place is going to seem all kinds of strange to her. I don’t blame her; this whole situation is strange as hell.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Parker that just says I’m here.

  I smile and shove it back into my pocket before checking the roast in the oven one more time and then going to let my sister in.

  Lando’s sitting on the couch and he looks over at me as I pass him.

  My sister, I sign, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to remember what that sign is for. I have no doubt he’s going to pull out his phone and look it up as soon as I’m out of sight.

  I open the door, and my sister greets me with a smile.

  Merry Christmas, she signs right before I pull her into a hug.

  Don’t freak, but we have a guest for dinner, I tell her as I step aside to let her in.

  Parker’s eyes go wide as she steps inside my place and sees Lando sitting on the couch wearing a Santa hat and an ugly Christmas Sweater. I can’t keep a smile off my lips as he nibbles on a cookie and happily watches A Christmas Story.

  Who is that? Parker signs, eyeing Lando suspiciously.

  I roll my eyes. Totally called that Parker wouldn’t recognize the bass player of the greatest band of all time.

  Lando, I answer simply.

  Parker shakes her head as if to say that doesn’t answer the question.

  “Oh,” Lando notices Parker and stands up from the couch, brushing the cookie crumbs off his hands, onto his pants. “You must be Parker; it’s nice to meet you.”

  “I am. And who are you?” I can see the tension in her jaw as she asks.

  “I’m Lando, Dawson’s…uh…” He looks at me for help, and I stifle a laugh. I’m interested to see how he finishes this sentence on his own. “I’ve been seeing Dawson recently. I’m not native to Florida so he took pity on me and invited me to join you for Christmas.”

  “I see,” Parker says, then she turns to me with a smile. Can we talk alone?

  He doesn’t know much sign language. We’re pretty alone talking like this, I assure her.

  What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?

  It’s recent.

  It’s obviously serious enough for you to invite him for Christmas, she challenges.

  I sigh and glance at Lando, trying to decide how much I want to tell my sister.

  I met him before, I just don’t remember it.

  What? When?

  The weekend of my accident.

  Parker’s mouth gapes open, and I can only assume she’s gasping at this revelation. She turns an accusing glare at Lando.

  “You were with him that weekend? Did you know what happened?”

  “We’d just met, we spent the weekend together, and then I left for New York; I never knew why he didn’t call.”

  Parker softens a little and then turns back to me.

  How are you dealing with all of this? Are you okay?

  It freaked me out at first, but I’m okay now. I like him, please be nice.

  She eyes Lando one more time.

  I’ll try, she concedes.

  Thank you.

  “Oh hey, I know that one,” Lando says proudly, and I smile then do the universal sign for blowjob. Lando goes bright red, and Parker slaps me on the arm and I laugh, feeling lighter and more myself than I’ve felt in nine years.

  Lando

  Watching Dawson with his sister, it’s easy to see how close they are. I wonder how she’ll feel if he decides to move with me.

  She eyes me suspiciously from across the table as we eat, measuring my every movement with
her gaze.

  “You look really familiar,” she says, tilting her head and squinting her eyes.

  I nearly snort wine through my nose. I look at Dawson to figure out if she’s just busting my balls or if she really doesn’t know who I am, and he’s busy trying not to laugh.

  “You might’ve seen me before,” I offer vaguely, and her brows scrunch.

  “Where? You said you don’t live around here. You didn’t go to college with Dawson, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Dawson pulls out his phone and starts tapping on the screen. I assume he’s sending me a message, but instead, he holds it out to his sister. Her eyes flick over whatever he’s showing her and then go wide.

  “You’re in that band he likes? Downward Spiral?”

  “Yeah. I play bass and write most of the songs,” I admit, squirming in my seat as my face warms.

  “Oh my god, this makes so much sense now. I always wondered why Dawson would have a weird obsession with a band when he’s deaf. It made no sense at all before, but now…” She looks between the two of us. “You don’t remember meeting him?” she checks with Dawson, and he shakes his head.

  “It’s okay; he doesn’t have to remember me back then for this to mean something.”

  Parker’s hard expression turns kind of gooey, and she signs something to Dawson. He nods and mirrors her expression.

  “What are your intentions toward my brother? I assume you won’t be staying in Florida long? Where do you live? Los Angeles? You must tour a lot, right?” Parker fires questions at me rapidly until Dawson reaches over and puts a hand over her mouth.

  “I like your brother a lot, and we’re working out what all this means long term for us. I live in New York and do tour a lot. I’ve been honest with Dawson that things may be complicated between us, but I’m more than willing to put in the effort to make this work.”

  Parker looks impressed with my answer and turns again to her brother and signs something quickly. I don’t catch most of it, but I swear the word love is in there. A blush creeps into Dawson’s cheeks, and he smiles, his dimples out in full effect, and then he gives his sister a little shrug that seems more coy than truly unsure.

  “Don’t hurt him; he’s been through enough,” she says with one final hard glare.

  “I promise I won’t.”

  Track 23: Side A

  Let’s Dance

  Lando

  I wait through several rings, frowning. It’s not like Archer to let a call go so long before he answers. When someone finally picks up, it’s not who I expect.

  “Hello?” says a deep, sleep rough voice on the other end.

  “Jude? What are you doing answering Archer’s phone?”

  “Oh shit,” Jude says, and there’s a rather frantic rustling on the other end, and two different male voices ask who’s calling.

  “It’s for Archer. It’s Lando.” Jude’s whisper is muffled like he’s trying to cover the phone so I won’t hear.

  “Hello?” Archer answers after several seconds, his voice as gravelly as Jude’s had been. He clears his throat, and there’s more rustling. “Is everything okay, Lando?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I reply, trying to keep the shock out of my voice. “Were you…uh …were you asleep with Jude?”

  Archer clears his throat again but doesn’t answer the question. Interesting.

  “Are you enjoying your vacation?”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m calling. I wanted to see if you’d touched base with Lincoln and had any idea about a timeline or…” The words if the band is getting back together hang unsaid in the air.

  “Undetermined at this point. Why? Getting anxious to get back to New York?”

  I glance at Dawson, sprawled out on his couch, tapping away at his phone. After our conversation a few days ago, I’ve been thinking about how we would make it work if he came to New York. I’d love for him to go on tour with us, but I don’t want to make that his whole life. Hell, it shouldn’t be our whole lives. Maybe that’s where we’ve gone wrong with all of this. We ran ourselves into the ground.

  “Things might’ve changed for me, Arch.”

  “What things?”

  “My priorities.”

  “This is about your man,” he guesses.

  “Yeah.” Dawson tilts his head and smiles at me like he’s happy just to know I’m in the same room as him. The feeling is entirely mutual. “I can’t leave again like I did before. If the band stays together, things have to change.”

  “I think that’s a given, Lando,” he agrees.

  “Glad to hear it.” I let out a sigh of relief. “I won’t pry about what’s going on with you and Jude, but just tell me he’s doing better?”

  “Jude is in a much better place. Bennett’s helping him,” Archer confirms.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll talk to you later, Arch.”

  “You too, and I look forward to meeting your muse.”

  “We’ll see,” I chuckle and we both hang up.

  I sit down next to Dawson and he taps out a message to me.

  When do you have to be back in New York?

  “Nothing set in stone yet. Probably not until end of January at least.” Will that be enough time for Dawson to figure out if he wants to move with me? If it’s not, will I be able to walk away again, even with the promise of seeing each other soon? No. It’s an easy, emphatic no to that question.

  The question hangs between us for a few moments, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am. He has about a month to figure out if he’s willing to walk away from his life here to be with me. Is that fair of me to even ask him? Even if it’s not fair, I can’t make myself take it back.

  I have to get to work soon :(

  “Would it be weird if instead of just dropping you off at work, I stayed and hung out?”

  Dawson blinks in shock for several seconds before giving a little shake of his head. I furrow my brow, unsure if he meant no it’s not weird or no, don’t come.

  “Come,” he says in a raspy voice.

  “Cool. I won’t bug you. I just thought I’d take a notebook and see if I could find any words there.”

  Dawson nods in understanding and then slips his shoes on. I grab my notebook out of my bag, put on my shoes, and then follow him out the door.

  The bar is a little townie bar—not much to look at from the outside and inside, not any better. Dawson bites his lip and casts a quick sideways look at me. I put my hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. Then I point at a table off in the corner, and he nods. I’m not sure what kinds of words might be lurking here, but it doesn’t hurt to check.

  Dawson

  As I go through my nightly routine of stocking and cleaning, I’m acutely aware of Lando’s presence in the bar. Not that he’s doing anything to draw my attention, aside from existing. But existing is more than enough to drive me to distraction. I glance over and catch him rolling his pen between his lips. I have no way of knowing if the gasp this scene elicits is audible or not. But no one around reacts, so I assume I’m okay. He looks up and gives me a sweet smile that steals my breath.

  I force my gaze away from him and do my best to focus on serving drinks and generally doing my job. But every time I look over, he looks happy, and it makes me want to both kiss him and scream.

  This bar isn’t me. This job isn’t what I was supposed to be doing with my life. Lando says his words are lost, but at least he’s chasing them. All I’m doing is hiding out in a dingy bar and feeling sorry for myself.

  I feel the draft of the door opening and turn to give whoever it is a welcoming smile. I wince when I see it’s Greg, one of the regulars who can’t seem to take no for an answer.

  Greg swaggers over and drops down onto a stool at the bar top. “Hey gorgeous,” he says, and I can see the slur on his lips. He’s already been drinking tonight.

  I grab my notebook and write Can’t serve you if you’re already drunk, in a jerky scri
bble and slap it down on the bar in front of him

  “Aw, come on baby. I only had one beer at home,” he lies.

  I shake my head at him and make a shooing motion. His flirty smile morphs into a scowl. I stare him down, unwilling to back down and let him think his behavior is okay. Finally, the scowl drops, and he smirks again.

  “How about you agree to a date, then I’ll leave.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. Greg reaches for my hand, and I yank it back quickly, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Greg opens his mouth to protest again, but before he can say anything, Lando is standing behind him, his hand on Greg’s shoulder and a deep frown on his usually smiling face. My heart rate kicks into high gear as Lando spins Greg around.

  “He said no,” Lando says. I can’t see Greg’s response since his back is to me, but Lando’s next statement makes me shiver. “His boyfriend that’s who.”

  The shape of the word boyfriend on Lando’s lips is like an orgasm for my soul. I’m his boyfriend? Or is he just saying that to get rid of Greg the Asshole? It’s kind of pathetic how badly I want it to be true.

  Greg shakes his head and then shrugs off Lando’s hand. He glances back at me one more time before heading for the door.

  “Sorry about that,” Lando says, stroking his beard nervously. “I didn’t mean to go all caveman.”

  I set down my notepad and come around the bar, tilting my face up and offering my lips to Lando for a kiss.

  I’m not sure if Lando will remember everything I taught him earlier, but I slowly sign, Was it true?

  It takes a few seconds before he answers. “That you’re my boyfriend?” he asks. I nod, biting down on my bottom lip. “Is it what you want?” I nod again. “Then it’s true.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, and I think even a small laugh escapes my throat. I fling my arms over Lando’s shoulders and kiss him harder this time.

  The rest of the night passes quickly, and Lando even helps me sweep the floor and put the chairs up after closing.

  I yawn as I unlock the door to my apartment, Lando following close behind. We both kick off our shoes, and I consider heading straight for bed, but he tugs me toward the couch instead.