Shay removed his hat and sunglasses as he took a seat at a table pressed against the rear wall, and Martin joined him. Unlike before, Shay was ready for a drink and ordered bourbon. Martin joined him in that, too. With a wood paneled ceiling and low lighting, less than a dozen tables, and a stage wedged into the corner and framed by evocative stylized 1950s murals of a man and a woman, it was a comfortable atmosphere.
They watched the performance, sipping their drinks until they needed to order a refill. By this time he was halfway through the second drink, and Martin had lost the sense of doom he’d carried out of the gay bar and instead sat languidly in his chair, letting the swing and flow of the live band’s jazz improvisation wash over him. It was a different kind of escape than getting lost in a group of twenty-somethings in a hipster bar would have been, and likely more effective, because he was able to both relax and think things over. Shay’s silent companionship was welcome.
But even Shay’s legendary patience had its limits, coming to an end as he neared the bottom of his second glass of bourbon.
“Are you going to tell me what tonight was all about?” he asked.
“Fuck if I know, man,” Martin said wearily.
“Don’t give me that shite. You know.”
Martin smiled helplessly and watched the band for a moment. It was a trio of saxophone, drums, and upright bass. Together, they created a rich sound, layered with depth and heart.
“I guess the thing is that Ashley got in my head,” Martin said. “A lot of it was good. It sort of woke me up and gave me a renewed interest in the world around me. It led to exploring things I had thought before were out of bounds, like the piercings and tattoos. I found I quite liked the feeling getting those gave me. As did the fitness stuff, and just being more open in general. With her I was open to learning about new people, and food, and cultures. It was all stuff that Celia never prioritized or just demeaned. We led a pretty narrow life. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing bad about it. It just got to feel . . . limited.”
Martin thought about his fleeting attempt to bring Celia along with him as he expanded his interests. She had resisted, of course. But he hadn’t tried very hard to persuade her. He’d known deep down that this was a journey he had to venture on by himself.
Knowing Shay would wait patiently for him to continue speaking, Martin slowly sipped the last of his bourbon.
“Anyway, as far as tonight—Ashley suggested once, toward the end of the tour, that I was bi-curious.”
“What made her say that?”
“She saw the way I looked at Conor in the gym. You know how he always takes his shirt off about halfway into it? And then the sweat just drips down his chest? I was watching him and she said she’d seen me do that before.” The alcohol lessened any reservations he might have had about this subject.
“Fuck’s sake, Marty,” Shay said. “If I were attracted to any man, it’d be Conor, too. But that doesn’t mean I’m gay. He’s just a good-looking guy. That can be objectively appreciated, you know? Without it meaning you’re gay.”
Martin laughed. That was exactly right. “I know that’s the reasonable response. But you have to understand how Ashley got into my head. I got to trust her opinion, her advice. So, when she put this thing out there, that being curious was natural because all sexuality is natural, it made me think twice. It made me wonder, why not just see.”
“And so, what happened with that fella in the bar?”
“Nothing. And I mean, nothing. I was not the least bit turned on. And it was a laugh. Because I thought, there’s no clearer answer than that. But he didn’t appreciate that very much.”
Shay laughed. “Okay. But what’s with your non-stop bromance bullshit about Gavin and Conor all these years? At one point, you had me wondering if you weren’t harboring your own desires there.”
Martin shook his head. “Nah, it’s only messing. Seemed like the thing you all could laugh about, too. You know, just a way for me to get into the mix.”
“What’s that mean? You’re never not in the mix.”
“No offense to you, Shay, but Gav and Conor are this band. They dominate everything about it.”
That riled Shay—not an easy task. He leaned forward, his forearms on the table and he said insistently, “No, fuck that. That’s not true. You think they could just go out and find another drummer and bass player and be all well and fine? I don’t believe it for a second. There’s something with the four of us that is unique. You know that, don’t you? After all this time?”
“You’re right. They definitely couldn’t replace you. But fuck, I’ve had years of Celia reminding me I’m nothing special. That kind of thing settles in, you know?”
Of course Shay knew. Shay had grown up with parents that in every conceivable way made it clear that he was a nuisance rather than a blessing. But he had found ways to get past that.
“Well, it’s time to get over that and give yourself some credit,” Shay said. “You are a vital part of this band. Gav and Con would say the same.”
Martin mulled that over. “Gav didn’t care much for me stepping outside the box that time in South Korea when I did a real solo.”
“Only because he was surprised, Marty. We all were. Don’t go thinking that means we’re trying to keep you in your place. We’d—I’d—love to hear more of what you’ve hidden away. Fuck’s sake, didn’t we all give you the room to go off with Ashley? We could see the effect she was having, that you were enjoying yourself more than you ever had.”
“At the expense of my marriage, though. What kind of mates are you?” Martin said with a teasing tsk.
“You’re a grown man. You make your own choices and your own mistakes.”
“Absolutely true on both accounts.”
The jazz band was on a real tear now, going off on something up-tempo. Martin watched Shay seamlessly follow along with the beat as he tapped his fingers on his thigh. Watching the upright bass player fingering the chords in time with the drummer, Martin felt a kinship with him, because despite his earlier doubts, he knew music was where he belonged. It was time to stop second-guessing the fact that he had earned his place in Rogue, and he was excited to start pushing the boundaries on his role in the band.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Rumors of Martin’s escapade at a gay bar swirled around social media but went unsubstantiated. When Martin’s attempt to hide away at Shay’s didn’t work to lessen the scrutiny on him the way it had the last time, Gavin took matters into his own hands.
The first part of his plan was to get everyone together. Los Angeles was a likely spot, both for the reunion he wanted and for the media response he worked out. He, Sophie, and Daisy flew to California with the intention of making the stay an extended holiday. They rented a child-friendly house in the Hollywood Hills. It was a bright and airy Cape Cod style with a gated drive, sparkling pool, green lawn, and views of downtown Los Angeles. It was also large enough that a few days later they invited Conor and Felicity to stay with them. Shay and Martin drove down from San Francisco at Gavin’s insistence.
On their first night together, they barbequed chicken, shrimp, and beef along with fresh veggies on the built-in backyard grill. The summer air was warm and the beer was free-flowing as a relaxed calm descended upon them. They hadn’t all shared a living space in this way in a very long time, and Gavin was counting on it as a way for them to reset as a group and extended family. Martin sure as hell needed something to ground him. The irony of this sentiment was not lost on Gavin. He had had his own period of acting out just a few years ago. And if any of his bandmates had tried the sort of soft intervention he was aiming for, he would have done everything he could to destroy it. But that anger and rebellion was depression and drug-fueled. Gavin knew Martin’s angst wasn’t coming from the same sort of place. Still, that didn’t make his issues any less devastating. He had lost his marriage somewhere along the way and clearly it was affecting him.
The sun was setting when they’d fin
ished dinner, and everyone gathered on the comfortable outdoor furniture. Gavin had wanted to wait until Sophie put Daisy down for the night before he shared his news with them, but the baby was wide awake and not likely to sleep for a while with all the new stimulation around her. He surveyed the group, taking in the easy flow of conversation between them. It felt like a good start to this holiday.
“Lads and ladies,” he said. As was usually the case, the chatter quickly died away when he spoke up. He had always had the ability to draw attention, though that magnetism wasn’t something he was conscious of. “So, I want to share a little video with you all. It’s something I did with my friend Jimmy when we got to L.A. a few days ago.”
“Not another political song, is it?” Martin asked with a wince.
Gavin laughed. “No, Marty. That’s off our chests for the time being.”
“Thank god.” Martin grinned and they laughed.
“It’s one of those chat show clips,” Gavin explained. “It’ll air tonight, so this is your sneak preview.”
“And why might we need to watch this?” Conor asked playfully. “I see enough of your face as it is.”
Gavin blew Conor a kiss. “I know, I don’t usually make a production out of this, but I thought it would be great to all watch together. If I can get this outdoor system to work anyway.”
In the end, Conor helped Gavin with the technology, including getting the giant outdoor screen to roll down from the side of the house. The projector then displayed the start of the clip. It was Gavin on the Late Late Show with James Corden. British transplant Corden was the comedic writer, actor, and singer making his mark on America’s late night television circuit. Gavin had asked James if he could make an appearance on his hit segment “Carpool Karaoke,” having, of course, his own motivation for doing so. And because Gavin was universally loved, James readily agreed to the plan.
The piece began with James pulling his black Range Rover up alongside Gavin. Gavin was walking along the street not far from where their rented house was.
James lowered the passenger window. “That you, Gavin? Gavin McManus of Rogue?”
Gavin matched James’ questionable acting skills in pretending to be surprised by the encounter. He raised his hand over his eyes and squinted back at him. “Hey there, Jimmy.”
“So, what are you doing in these parts?”
“Oh, on holiday with the family. Just taking a walk.”
“But it’s a bit too hot out for an Irishman like yourself, isn’t though?” James was the image of cherubic concern.
“Right, it is. Give me a lift?”
“In you go.”
Once in the car and moving, Gavin directed James where to drive before the two fell into silence.
“Gavin?” James asked, starting what would be a pattern to their conversation.
“Yes, James?” Gavin asked gamely.
“Why do you always wear those Rogue shirts?”
Gavin wore, as he often did, one of Rogue’s tour shirts. This one was white and featured the distorted image of the band. It matched the melancholy theme of the album it referenced, Dream State.
“Favorite band, isn’t it? Gotta show my support.”
James then reached for the radio. The song “You’re My One,” filled the car. The burning love song was off of Rogue’s second album and was responsible for having propelled the band to worldwide fame. Gavin and James sang every word with theatric passion before the bit cut away to more talk.
“Gavin?”
“Yes, James?”
“If I could only give you one—my thoughts or my prayers, which would you prefer?”
“Oh, definitely your thoughts. The dirtier, the better.”
Unsurprisingly, Rogue’s song “That Need” came on and the two belted out the sexually tinged lyrics together.
“Gavin?”
“Yes, James?”
“Is it better to be caught “red-headed” or ‘a Whe-lan’?”
“Excellent question. I’d say “red-headed,” purely for the fact that there was a spectacular photo to go along with that one.”
“You’ve Been Found Out,” Rogue’s song about hidden truths being revealed—about oneself and others—filled the car for another sing-along.
“Gavin?”
“Yes, James?”
“Any chance you and your lovely family will move to Los Angeles?”
“None.”
“No? They have excellent schools for your little one.”
“Nah. See, I’d never put my kids in a school where one of the very real risks is gun violence. Nope, I’ll take Ireland any day.”
“Reminds me of something,” James said, turning on the radio. “Thoughts and Prayers” blared through the speakers and both men started moving to the beat of the brooding drum and bass combo. Less than thirty seconds into it, James suddenly switched the radio off. “Hold up,” he said. “Kids? As in more than one?”
Gavin did a good job of looking “caught.”
“Are congratulations in order?”
“Well, it’s early yet, but we’d appreciate any good wishes.”
This was a not so subtle acknowledgement of what the audience already knew—that Sophie had had a miscarriage before. It was why her pregnancy with Daisy had caused an even bigger media sensation than what went with the normal fanfare of a celebrity pregnancy. There was very little privacy in their lives, and Gavin knew how to use that to his advantage on occasion. This was one of those times where he was trading on their popularity to gain something. In this case, he was soaking up goodwill from their fans for Sophie’s pregnancy in order to pull the attention off of Martin.
The clip ended shortly after this revelation with Corden finally finding Gavin’s rental home. Sophie was out front at the gate with Daisy, waiting for him. The two made a quick appearance on camera, which would further stoke the public’s insatiable appetite for news of them.
“First,” Felicity said when the screen went blank, “congratulations!” She gave Sophie a hug, careful to avoid getting Daisy caught between them. The rest of the group echoed her sentiments and there were a series of hugs and kisses among them. “And second, Gavin, that was a really generous thing to do.”
“Yeah, Gav, very kind,” Conor added.
“What was generous?” Martin asked.
“Marty, you idiot,” Shay said, exasperated. “The only point of him doing that video was to get to the part where he announces Sophie is pregnant. All so he could take the attention off of you.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Martin said. “He’s the king of having his personal shit out there, isn’t he?”
“I think you might have lately claimed the crown on that,” Gavin said gently. “But the bottom line, Marty, is that we have your back. Got it?”
“Em, yeah. Thanks, I suppose. Though I’m not sure I’m in need of anything special?”
Conor put his arm around Martin’s neck. “It’s okay, man. We’re here. To support you as you finally come out as a gay man.”
Martin turned his eyes upon Shay. “What did you—”
“I said nothing, I swear!” Shay said quickly.
“If you’re talking about those gay bar rumors, then you’ve got it wrong. I was only curious what it was all about, being in San Francisco and all.”
The whole group broke out into laughter. Even Daisy joined in, squealing.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Martin said.
“I think it might be your word choice,” Gavin said.
“What?”
“Curious. That’s the perfect word for someone who is wanting to, let’s say, explore the other side of things.”
“You bastards will be glad to know that going to that bar did nothing for me,” Martin insisted. “And get off of me, Conor!” Conor had kept one arm around him and had placed his other hand on Martin’s upper thigh.
“It’s okay, Marty,” Conor said, releasing him. “I’ve been known to turn a straig
ht fella or two in my time.” He did his best smoldering rock star pose. “I mean, I’m just hard to resist.”
“Fuck off.” Martin stood and moved away from the group, toward the pool
“Leave him alone, guys,” Sophie said, her voice low and insistent.
Gavin was confused by Martin’s reaction. They had all been having a laugh, but something had hit a nerve. He knew well enough to let it go and quickly changed the subject. The plan was that the whole group would stay at the house for about a week. There was time to sort things out.
But apparently Martin felt a different sense of urgency because he stormed back to them. “Have you brought us here for the purpose of hassling me and making me your joke?” he asked.
Gavin watched Martin for a moment before looking at Shay. Shay had spent more time with Martin than any of them over the years as the natural pairing off of the band meant the drummer and bassist stuck together while the singer and guitarist bonded. But at this moment, Shay couldn’t offer any insight, looking just as perplexed as the rest of them.
“No, not at all,” Gavin said carefully. “It was just a silly joke, man.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Martin muttered. “Just another joke at my expense. I’ve had a lifetime of it with yous and I’m sick of it.”
“Mind yourself,” Conor said sharply. “And remember what Gav just did with that video. That was for you.”
“I didn’t ask for any of that. Am I now to feel beholden to you?” he asked Gavin.
“Marty, let’s step away,” Shay said, clapping him on the back. The peacemaker of the group, he gestured for Martin to follow him inside the house as a way to diffuse the situation.
But Martin was reluctant to move, his mind clearly working on overdrive. He shrugged off Shay’s touch. “I do not need to be handled. I’m a grown fucking man. I don’t need all of your interference.”
Sophie approached them. “Marty, do me a favor?” she asked.
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