by Z. Allora
Jordon didn’t need to see Angel to know he was distracted, most likely by his boyfriend. If there was a singer Jordon should be intimidated by, it was Angel Luv, but he wasn’t. If anything, Jordon found perverse pleasure in not falling prey to Angel’s sexual ooze.
“But, like, now you’re dating a man exclusively. What do you think about bi-erasure?”
“Um, I don’t know… Angela,” Angel answered.
“What’s bi-erasure?” a kid, whose voice cracked on the prefix “bi,” asked.
“That’s when a bisexual person opts for a same-sex partner and society believes the gay community swallows you.” This Angela person giggled and continued her educational lecture. “Literally. Or it’s when you’re dating someone of the opposite sex, and people assume that you’re now straight based on who you’re with and no longer consider you bi.”
“So?” asked the kid whose voice managed to wreak havoc on a single syllable yet again.
“Bisexuality is about who you’re attracted to, not who you’re sleeping with. Angel, wouldn’t you like to be with a woman again? You must miss women.” Her voice got flirty at the end.
“No, the only one I miss is Darius when I have to share him with others.”
After toeing off his Vans, Jordon slid his feet into the puffy red house shoes. Stylish they were not. However with a bit of detailing…. He scuffed through the door.
The apartment was a vast open space with cherrywood floors, fabulous masks on the white walls, tables piled with food, and black sofas and chairs with people sitting on them. The gathering was to be mostly the Dark Angels, Made in China, and a few others milling around. Most of the band members had their instruments nearby or in hand, and from the bits of conversation, music was the topic being discussed. But no Tian Di.
Angel jumped off the sofa and pulled Jordon into a hug. “Our wayward artist is finally here.”
“Tsk, I’ve never been led astray.” What the fuck is coming out of my mouth?
“I’ve been trying, but Dusty will kick my ass,” Angel teased.
From across the space, Dusty pointed his sticks at Angel. “I don’t even know why, but yes, I will. Jordon!”
Dusty rushed across the apartment and yanked Jordon into a tight embrace. “I was worried about you, kid.”
“I’m not a kid, and I’m fine.” Jordon wondered if he could hide out with his brother and avoid conversation with other people.
“Where’s your better half?” Odd to see his oldest brother without Justin.
“Jet lagged. He couldn’t sleep last night, so he’s lying down in Styx and Jin’s room.”
Angel pushed Dusty back toward the spot from where he came. “Dust, go back to Styx. I’ll intro the kid around.”
A bony artist elbow into a singer’s middle helped Angel see his error. “Ow! Jordon, I know you’re not a kid.”
Darius appeared by Angel’s side, rubbing the injury. “Jordon, I expect more from you than Dusty.”
Jordon snorted and put his hands out in front of him. “Got it. My apologizes.”
Grinning, Darius gave him a half-hug back slap. “You look tired. Long trip?”
Still no Tian Di.
Jordon kept his voice low. “Exhausted. I don’t want to be rude, but I think I’ll say hi and vanish.”
“Got it. Trying to work iTranslate while you’re sleepy can be dangerous.” Darius’s smirk added something more to the list of things Jordon didn’t want to know about. Darius pressed a kiss to his hand and touched Angel’s side with its healing power. “I’ll see you in a bit. I think you might need more first aid.”
Angel nodded way too eagerly. He threw an arm around Jordon and dragged him over to the sofa he’d abandoned. “Jordon, this is Sebe, Made in China’s manager and a force to be reckoned with, and his schoolmate, Angela. Sebe, Jordon’s one of the reasons we’re here. He’s one of those super fans we talked about. He’s who the band needs to satisfy.”
“Hi.” Jordon smiled at Angela—teenager or not, she totally got the double entendre Angel lobbed in his direction.
Luckily, the other kid missed Angel’s dirty attempt at humor. Sebe jumped to his feet and shook hands with Jordon like he wanted to realign a dislocated shoulder. “Mr. Davis.”
“Just Jordon’s fine.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Sebe said with an accent Jordon identified as German. “That’s an awesome shirt, Jordon. Where did you get it?”
Touching the screened art of the Made in China band shirt and trying not to feel like the stan his brother had labeled him, he admitted, “I designed the art, then sent it to a company that prints pictures on things like travel mugs, pens, tote bags, and T-shirts.”
Sebe might be only a teen, but Jordon saw a future shark. “Have you copyrighted the picture yet?”
“Um, no.”
Sebe was too serious for a teen. “Ah, okay. I’ll study up on US copyright laws. Would you mind sharing the link with me?”
“Of course not.” Jordon tried not to feel stupid he hadn’t copyrighted any of his pieces. Another thing he needed to get on, but one thing at a time.
“I love your manga and the art I’ve seen on your pages. Maybe since you’re a fan, you might be interested in—”
Angel waved off the teen. “Sebe, let the guy relax. My guess is he had a flight from hell sitting in the back of the bus.”
Where was Tian Di? Had he left his own party?
Even if Jordon hadn’t drawn Made in China a thousand times, he’d recognize Indigo anywhere. The Dark Angels had worked with his father, Song Young. Jordon shook his hand. “Indigo Young. Glad to finally meet you. Hope your dad is doing well.”
“He’s fine, and it’s great to meet you.” Indigo fell onto the sofa.
“I—” Angel dragged Jordon toward another group. “Rude. Why did you do that, Ang?”
“Because that one can’t help but cause trouble and add confusion.” Angel pointed to the man, who was talking on a cell phone. “That’s Li, his boyfriend, on the balcony. Trust me, steer clear of their chaos.”
Jordon exchanged waves with the nice-looking guy as he moved back toward his older brother.
“Let me introduce you….” Angel spoke louder. “This guy is Styx Wong, and he’ll replace your brother in a few years as the world’s best drummer.”
The man put his sticks in his back pocket, and he shook his head. “No. He is a joker. Do not listen.” He handed Jordon his name card with two hands.
Jordon took the card, which had two drumsticks on the upper right-hand corner, and Styx’s personal contact information. He studied the card for a moment before slipping it into a side pocket of his messenger bag. “Nice to meet you, Styx. I’m Jordon. I’m sorry, I forgot my name cards.”
“No trouble, Jordon.” Styx pronounced each word with care.
Jordon was grateful Styx didn’t appear offended. “The beats you lay down are incredible.”
Jin said something in Chinese to Styx. Maybe a translation.
“Thank you. You are too kind.” Styx nodded and shook hands with Jordon.
“Styx lit many joss sticks in the temple, praying to be half as good as Dusty Davis. I am Jin Lan, the guitar player for Made in China. Nice to meet you, Jordon Davis.”
Jordon accepted Jin’s name card and shook his hand. “I love your music. I’ve heard several of your incredible solos. You understand silence.”
“Silence?” Jin cocked his head to the left and then stared at the ceiling.
Damn, I’ll remember this pose to use on my next story board. Too cute. So good for—focus on the conversation, not the art in my mind. How to explain silence? “Um, your quiet. You make the guitar stop at the right places, and for the perfect amount of time.”
“Thank you. Solos are not only about fast playing. Our teacher taught us you must allow the audience to hear all of what the instrument can do. Um, Tian Di has shown us your work… the art and pictures. You are very good.” Jin smiled. Both his and Styx’s faces g
ot a bit red.
Tian Di had Jordon’s mangas? How was that even possible?
Not ready to go there, especially since Made in China’s singer appeared to be absent. “Um, thanks. Your English is great.”
“Eh, no. We take English lessons.” Jin shook his head. “And Indigo and Tian Di are helping us.”
Styx leaned in and confided, “Tian Di’s a better teacher.”
“I heard that,” Indigo called out from across the room.
The conversation and groups reformed.
Styx and Dusty fell into a deep conversation, aided by the iTranslate app, about where the best drumsticks were made. Jin and Darius were talking through their guitar riffs.
Robin came from around a corner, rushed over, and hugged him. “Jordon!”
“Where were you? I didn’t see you.” Whine much? I need to stop seeking people to hide behind.
“We were in the bathroom,” Josh answered with a smirk as he smacked Jordon on the back.
Images Jordon would need to brain bleach later danced through his head. Granted, he’d drawn them in various compromising positions at Robin’s request, and they were beautiful together, but… no.
Angel said, “I leave you in good hands. I’m going to sit on the balcony with Li for a bit and count traffic accidents.”
“What?”
Indigo waved them off. “Lots of minor accidents at this intersection because people don’t always stop for red lights.”
Angela supplied, “Unlike Western countries, the right-of-way goes trucks, MPV, cars, motorcycles, scooters, bikes, then people.”
“Wow, that sounds dangerous,” Jordon mused.
“It can be if you don’t respect the pecking order.” Angela pulled a tube from her handbag and applied some lip gloss. “Want some?”
“Sure, it smells good.” Indigo held out his hand.
Instead of handing him the tube, Angela slid into his lap and pressed her lips to his mouth. “There you go.”
Indigo leaned away but smiled and eased her off his lap. “Um, thanks.”
“Well, Sebe and I have to be going. We’ll see you at the show. Nice to meet you, Jordon.” Angela swept out of the apartment with far more grace than someone her age should have.
“Tell the guys to text me when they want to meet, and please give Jordon my information,” Sebe ordered Indigo.
Indigo remained quiet but eventually gave him a thumbs-up.
Sebe told Jordon, “Remind these guys if they forget to give you my information. I’d like to work with you on a T-shirt design or two.” He waved and disappeared out the front door.
Robin pulled Jordon down on the love seat with him.
Josh asked, “Do you want anything to drink, Jordon?”
“No.”
“The usual?” Josh asked Robin.
Jordon sighed and wished he had someone who knew what his usual was.
“Yes, please.” Robin stared at Josh until he disappeared into the kitchen. “So talk to me. What’s new and exciting? Isn’t China amazing?”
“I just—” Holy fuck!
Tian Di leaned against the corner of the room with a ghost of a smile, making him look incredibly sexy.
Jordon was pretty sure he was going to die.
The blue silk jacket Tian Di wore nipped in, showing off a small waist. Tight jeans displayed his long legs, and his hair flowed over his shoulders like a black river. Even his blue satin slippers were smoking hot and embossed with a navy blue dragon design fit for a prince.
Fuck! He looks exactly as he did in my dream. There were no two ways about it. Tian Di commanded all Jordon’s attention, and he hadn’t even moved or said a word.
“Jordie, why’s your face getting red?” Josh was too perceptive at times. Handing Robin his drink, he asked, “Have you met Made in China’s singer yet?”
Jordon stood and focused on not tripping as he stepped toward the living version of his fantasy.
Tian Di pushed off the wall. He was the same height as Jordon, but his essence was all fiery oranges and deep reds, making him appear taller. “We’ve yet to have the pleasure. It is an honor to meet you, Jordon Davis.”
Jordon forced himself to glance away from Tian Di’s eyes for a moment to pay respect by looking at the name card he’d just accepted.
He swallowed and held out his hand again. “Um, I forgot my name cards.”
“You can put your information directly into my cell.” Instead of a manshake and a finger-breaking squeeze, Tian Di gently grasped Jordon’s hand. Their palms glided across each other’s, making Jordon half-hard.
“Jordon, you should see Tian Di’s manga collection. It’s quite impressive.” Robin’s soft voice brought Jordon back to reality enough to realize he should let Tian Di’s hand go, but he really didn’t want to.
“Oh, I thought you couldn’t get that stuff here.” Jordon impressed himself with a coherent sentence. Tian Di was even more beautiful up close, he smelled of spearmint, and his hand was soft and warm.
“You can’t. My sister buys the books when she’s in Japan, and I get them when I visit her in Hong Kong.”
Jordon nodded, probably looking like a bobblehead doll. He opened his hand, but the man didn’t let go; instead he stroked his thumb against Jordon’s knuckles.
Tian Di leaned closer. His hair fell around his face, creating a feeling of privacy. “Would you care to see my collection?”
“Yes, of course.” If Jordon’s knees didn’t buckle and his head didn’t explode.
Tian Di led him to a room around the corner. “Come in. This is my bedroom.”
Chapter 6
BEDROOM? JORDON stepped into Tian Di’s room. God, if this is a dream, let me finish before I wake up.
Tian Di let go of Jordon’s hand to shut the door.
Click.
Pollock splatters and dabs of color in Jordon’s mind swirled into a vortex of the greatest bad ideas he’d ever had.
Holy fuck! They were alone. Jordon restrained his weird neediness to reclasp Tian Di’s hand.
His heart rate tripled. No one would know if they—
I can’t do anything. Dusty and Zack would kill me. It would be crazy. And Tian Di probably doesn’t want me anyway—
Tian Di took a small step closer and stared into Jordon’s eyes. And then he smiled, silencing all the warning bells in the world.
The crazy desire to get to know the real Tian Di played fast and loose with Jordon’s risk-taking equation.
How could he pass this moment by? Jordon longed to know the man who sang lyrics with such emotion. Tian Di’s voice had become embedded in Jordon’s heart and soul. All the pain and heartbreaking loneliness laced together with the slightest bit of hope. That small glimpse allowed Jordon to believe love could be real. Perhaps he could find his soul mate, and maybe, just maybe, there was a happily ever after for him.
The promise of a fairy-tale ending made Jordon crave… all of it.
A piece of him knew trying to take this further was insanity, but his senses hit overdrive. Perhaps his subconscious had gotten used to the many jackoff sessions starring Tian Di, and now with Tian Di up close and personal, everything in Jordon demanded the reality.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced around the sparse room. It contained a black lacquered armoire with Chinese-style brass door handles, a shiny red desk with a black leather Z-chair pushed underneath, black drapes with a red design slashed across them, and a crimson futon with black pillows. The walls were white and— “Those are Sakura Rose prints.”
“Yes.” Tian Di nodded.
Jordon stepped over to get a closer look at the black-framed prints. The Japanese publishing company had run a limited number of prints of the cover art of his first book, and two scenes as giveaway prints. One look showed these pictures were no knockoff copies. Jordon’s “SR” in gold pen burnished the corner, along with a 28/88. The other print was marked 8/88. Jordon had done a special design under any number with a lucky eight,
which meant prosperity and double happiness throughout Asia. His publishing company insisted he skip the unlucky number four, which sounded too close to the word for death. “Wow. You got good numbers.”
“Yes. I lucked out on the eights, though there were three released, unfortunately I could only get two.” Tian Di sighed, making Jordon want him to make that noise for a different reason.
“Impressive you got two. The publisher didn’t want to sell them outright. They had contests, and I heard the after-sales were steep.”
“Still are.” Tian Di stood so close his body heat raised Jordon’s temperature. “But look at the work.”
Jordon turned and stared at Tian Di’s soft dreamy-eyed expression of admiration. It made Jordon extremely happy, and he was honored he could put that look on someone’s face with his work. He’d gotten emails from fans but had never met any.
Tian Di smiled at Jordon. “I’ve noticed your Dark Angels are drawn in a similar style. Maybe you could sign them for me.”
Shit! “Oh? Yeah.”
Stepping over to his armoire, Tian Di pulled out a standing file, unlocked the box, and pulled out one of the Dark Angels manga. After he slipped the thin book out of the protective cover, he flipped to a scene similar to the one displayed. “See. Your sketch lines are the same. There’s clean strong lines. You and Sakura Rose even use width of the lines to show which character in the scene is more vulnerable, as well as how you show movement.”
Jordon shut his mouth. No one had ever picked up on those things. Hell, not even his editors noticed the subtlety until he explained his methods. “Hmmm, really?”
Tian Di continued to study him. “Not that it’s bad. I just find it interesting. Even the pace of the stories feels similar, and the… how do you say it? The message is quite Western.”
“No kidding?” What the fuck should he say?
Tian Di set the manga on his desk. “I mean no disrespect, and you don’t have to answer this—”
“Yes, I’m Sakura Rose.” Whew. Amazing how good the admission felt. Jordon exhaled, and a weight lifted with claiming SR’s identity.
Tian Di’s mouth dropped open. “Um, I was going to ask you if you had studied under Sakura Rose somehow. But I guess….”