Syncopation

by Jodi Payne

  “Good. They’re fierce. They know what they want.” His eyelids fell closed at the massage.

  “Is that easier or harder for you? Or… maybe that’s not the right question. You like to collaborate more, don’t you? Do you feel less creative when a group knows what they want?” Kyle let that hand relax and switched to the other one.

  “You don’t have to think on it. You just give up the notes. You know, like a dance you’ve done for a lifetime.”

  Kyle nodded. “Like the show I’m in now. I still love it, but I don’t think that hard about the choreography. I just get out there and dance. I really enjoy what we’re doing, though, the way we work together—oh! I got them to let us into the theater tomorrow morning. I thought it would be good for you to be in the space for a little while, feel it out for sound. I’ve danced there lots of times.”

  “Sounds perfect.” This was why he’d come out, not because he was jealous of that picture. “You know how I love to see you dance.”

  Lord, he needed a cup of coffee.

  “We’ll just do a couple of hours. I know you have a gig after lunch.” His lover slithered off the stool suddenly. “Oh God. I have to pee. Watch my martini.” Kyle leaned in for another quick kiss. “Back in a sec.”

  He watched Kyle go, his lover’s walk seeming pretty steady despite the drink on the bar.

  Rob looked at him sideways, the uneven bar light casting shadows on the angular lines of the dancer’s face. “He is totally into you, man.”

  “Good.” Because he was in love—balls to bones. “I like to hear that.”

  “He says you’re working with him on his next show? He’s tough to keep up with. Works all the time. Heard you talking. You want a couple Adderall? You look like you need it.”

  “What are them?” He didn’t want to lose his mind or wake up in three days mostly dead.

  “ADHD meds. Stimulants. You know, uppers.” Rob pulled a little vial out of his coat pocket. “There’s a couple days’ worth in here if you want ’em.”

  “Thanks. Been… been a long week, ain’t it?” Gigs and practice and writing and loving and touristing and—he was on his last drop of gasoline.

  Rob nodded. “Yeah, man. It’s hard to keep up sometimes, right? My number is in there if you want more. Just give me a shout.”

  It was good to know a dealer. Always. It was also good to know who they were. He had to wonder what Kyle got from Rob. Eh, it was none of his. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “I’m looking forward to hearing you play. He has a lot to say about your talent.”

  “I do my best.” God gave him the talent; he was born to use it, he figured.

  Kyle came back to the bar, this time with an arm around Jake. “Jake thinks I should go home.”

  Jake kind of rolled his eyes. “Not that you ever listen to me.”

  “You want to take me home, lover?”

  “I can do that.” He smiled at Kyle, admiring him, top to bottom. Jesus, so fine. He was a little stupid with loving his man. “Come on, cher. Let me help you find the bed.”

  “Oh, I’m not that drunk. Not like I was the other night. Whoa.”

  “You’re not that sober either.”

  “Shut up, Robbie.” But Kyle was playing, stuck out his tongue.

  “You’re fine and I ain’t even had one, so you’re in good hands.” He wrapped one arm around his own dancer. “C’mon.”

  Kyle pressed close and let him lead the way out of the bar. His lover might be a flirt, but they were leaving no doubt for anyone looking on who Kyle was going home with.

  “Glad you texted me. I was headed to the apartment, but I hadn’t made it.”

  “It’s been a long day. I know you’re crazy busy right now, but I needed to see you. I’m really… I don’t know. I’m not looking for an all-nighter, I just wanted you with me.”

  “I’m here, cher. All yours.” He had this, no worries.

  Kyle got them a cab and was pretty quiet until they got home. “The show was rough tonight. We had some tech problems, and the energy was off. I’m not sure what was up.”

  “That sucks. What do you do? Jus’ let it work itself out?” They started with their shoes, leaving them at the door, and then he put his cap on the hook. The hat tree by the door was new since Norv and Ryder visited.

  “At first. I’ll start Tuesday’s show with a pep talk, and if we’re still off that night, then we’ll do some pickup rehearsals and figure out what we’re running up against.” Kyle threaded their fingers together and left the house dark, leading him up the staircase by the light from the street. “Most of the numbers are fine. It was more the energy thing. I reminded everyone tonight to get a good night’s sleep. Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

  “Sometimes.” He burned for one of those, a long night of dreams. “I’m sorry, cher.”

  He imagined Norv’s pep talk and coughed out a laugh. Yeah, no.

  Kyle stopped at the top of the stairs and kissed him. “Thank you. I don’t know how to explain to you how it makes me feel that you care about this. It’s not even whether or not you get it, just that you understand what it means to me.”

  He wasn’t even sure what that meant, but he was pleased that he was helping and not hurting. Sometimes that was all a man could do.

  He let Kyle pull him into the bedroom, the neatly made bed and fluffy pillows calling to him like a siren. Like a muse. Come to me. Kyle gave him another quick smooch, then started puttering around the room undressing and turning down the sheets.

  “We’ll get a little rest, and then tomorrow we’ll work for a while at the theater. Tomorrow will be a better day. Do your hands hurt, baby? Do you want me to rub them some more?”

  He didn’t even have the words to answer. His fingertips had blisters so deep under his calluses that he didn’t think they could be fixed. It was okay. He got it. He stripped himself down and went to the bathroom to wash up real quick.

  Kyle was sitting on the bed when he got back from the bathroom, and he felt his lover’s eyes on him. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  “Just tired, you know?” He’d been working on no sleep. He just needed to lay his burdens down for a second.

  “Come on, baby.” Kyle’s arms opened, calling to him. “Come rest.”

  For a weird, awful second he thought he was going to cry, but he didn’t, and that was okay.

  Kyle hunkered down with him in soft pillows and under that fat, fluffy comforter and pulled him close. “Oh, you are just what I needed tonight. Thank you.”

  “Merci, cher.” He knew all about need. All about. He laid his head down, the blackness sucking him in.

  Chapter Fourteen

  FRIDAY. HOW did it get to be Friday already?

  Taking last Sunday off hadn’t been the end of the world. Colt had been so damned tired, Kyle hadn’t had the heart to wake his lover to rehearse and had let Colt sleep in instead. It hadn’t set them back much. He had plenty of rehearsing of his own to do, so he’d just canceled the theater space and spent the morning in his studio, working on the numbers that Colt wasn’t playing for.

  But Colt had promised him two original recorded tracks that he didn’t have in hand yet, and that definitely was holding him back. Despite having some great ideas, he couldn’t choreograph to music he didn’t have.

  The last they’d talked, which had been Tuesday night while Colt was on a break, they’d agreed to meet at the theater this morning. They hadn’t spoken much since then because their schedules just weren’t matching up at all. Colt had even been sleeping at his own apartment because his hours were so scattered around. Mostly they’d been sending text messages back and forth full of hearts and apologies.

  Truthfully, he wondered whether Colt would even remember they’d planned to meet this morning. His lover was already twenty minutes late.

  It wasn’t wasted time. It was never wasted time if Kyle had somewhere to dance, so he marked out a couple of pieces while he was waiting. He texted, waited, check
ed his phone, and texted again, but if Colt was in the studio, he wouldn’t get the texts until he was out. If Colt was writing with Norv and Ryder, he might not get them at all. Norv and Ryder brought out amazing creativity in Colt, but they were as much of a problem for Colt as anything else.

  He looked at his phone and wondered if he should worry. Maybe he should call again. Maybe he should call Timmy. Or maybe he shouldn’t treat Colt like he was twelve, let him be an adult and take responsibility for not showing up.

  He didn’t call.

  Colt came squealing in finally, pale as a ghost, eyes like holes burned in the snow. “Lawd, I’m late. I know. I been late all day.”

  Kyle stared at Colt from where he’d been working out some choreography and didn’t move a step closer. “Hello to you too.”

  “I’m sorry. I misjudged traffic stuff. I ain’t used to thinking about cities being busy in the morning. I worked to six, and I wanted a nap, so I slept in the studio. I got your tracks laid down for you.”

  He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be indignant and raise his voice and say something like “What were you thinking?” or “How could you keep me waiting?” But looking into Colt’s eyes, all he could think was What are you doing to yourself?

  He relented and went over, took that pale face in his hands. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry, cher. I know your time is important.” Colt pushed into his hands, cheeks burning up.

  “It is. So are you.” Colt’s eyes were just big, dark pupils. “You shouldn’t be laying down tracks for me until six in the morning. You should be getting some sleep. You’re overcommitted.”

  It wasn’t rocket science. Colt was high. He’d seen it way too often as a dancer not to know. He let it go for now, though. If he could make Colt cope, maybe nothing would ever have to be said.

  “I keep waiting for Ryder to take Norv away or for there to be some time where someone don’t need my happy ass in the studio.”

  He kissed Colt lightly and smiled, then started asking leading questions. “You’re in demand, huh? People want to work with you? You need to start telling them no.”

  “Seems like everyone does, don’t it?” Colt stroked his fingers, the touch blisteringly hot.

  Kyle took one of Colt’s hands in his and kissed the palm, closing his eyes against that heat and steeling himself. He’d missed it; he wanted it. But he needed to do this, first. He’d given it a lot of thought, caught between his love for his man and his love for his work.

  It was breaking Kyle’s heart, but seeing Colt in the state he was in, looking like he did… it was one thing personally, but professionally….

  “Thank you so much for these tracks. I can’t wait to use them. But, baby, I… I’ve decided to cut our live improv piece from the show.”

  “Oh.” There was a pause, like Colt had stopped breathing for a second, and then he nodded, once, and eased his hand away. “Okay. I guess I better let you get back to work, then. You’ll call when you need me?”

  “Colt.” Fuck. Okay, he’d expected something like that, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t killing him. “I always need you. It’s not about us; it’s about the work.”

  “Sure. It ain’t no thing. I’m gon’ go get some writing done, then make my rent.” Colt leaned in, kissed his cheek. “Have a good day, cher.”

  Colt put up that wall so fast it left him breathless. “Yep.” He watched Colt turn and leave, taking the rest of the oxygen in the room with him.

  He couldn’t have Colt onstage looking like that. He couldn’t wonder every night if Colt was stuck in a session and might not show up on time. He couldn’t count on someone so overextended that setting their own priorities was out of their hands. He’d have done the same with any dancer with similar issues, and had.

  It wasn’t personal. It was business. Colt had to get that, if they were going to be a thing.

  There was a difference.

  Kyle sighed and hopped back up onstage. Time to get to work.

  “WHAT’S WRONG with you, son?” Norv asked him, eyebrows frowning like a hound dog’s. “Ain’t you got to work with your man?”

  “Lost the gig. Y’all want to write or not?” He didn’t want to talk on it, not really. He didn’t want to have to say that he wasn’t good enough for Kyle to dance for. Not out loud. That could just be his dirty little secret.

  “Why for?” Ryder stared at him, head tilting like a dog hearing a whistle.

  “I was late.”

  “Dude.”

  “Yeah. My bad. He’ll find someone else. Come on. Work, huh? I got to be in the studio at five. This gives us a whole day.” He’d be off at midnight, and then he could go home and… well, he’d probably have a beer or three, play some sad songs, and then sleep.

  “But….”

  Norv touched Ryder’s shoulder. “It ain’t no thing, right? Let’s write some amazing shit. How about a revenge song? Something with bullets and tears?”

  “Bullets are tricky, babe,” Ryder pointed out. “How about something where we drown someone in the bayou. I bet we could sell that.”

  “Hm. Not sure we’d find a lot of folks wanting to pick that one up.” Norv tapped his fingers on his guitar. “Jealousy. That green-eyed monster sells a lot of music.”

  “Ooh. Been there. I can get into that. What do you think, Colt?” Ryder leaned right over that little notebook and put pen to paper.

  He started doodling, eyes closed, letting himself pour all his hurting into his fingers. He was a blues man, wasn’t he? He was born to turn his own pain into song.

  “Maybe we need a beer to get us thinking right, Norv. I heard they got barbecue and cowboy bars in this city. How about that?”

  “Sure. I read that Chris Shivers and a bunch of bull riders came up here and got into a fight at a bar. Did ten thousand smackeroos of damage to a guy’s mouth.” Norv rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know you could do that much damage to a single mouth.”

  “I don’t want to go to that bar.” Truth be told, he didn’t need a beer, but he didn’t want to be a butthead, either.

  “We don’t gotta go, Colt. I was just thinking you…. We don’t gotta go. I’m good for a pizza too. You wanna play something for me and I’ll pick it up from you?”

  “We ain’t broke up yet, I don’t think. He’s high-dollar and I’m broke-dick. Y’all seen his house.” He wasn’t stupid. At some point they would separate out into oil and water. “I just want to enjoy knowing him while I can.”

  “You ain’t that broke. I see the writing part of your paycheck, at least, and you work your ass off. You’re worth something.” Norv swatted him. “If he makes you feel that way, it’s time to let it go. Hell, come to us. We’ll let you stay in the guest room for as long as you want. You want to come now? We’ll go. Right now.”

  Colt laughed. “Y’all are good to me.”

  “That’s it! Come stay with us. You seen Norv’s studio yet? And he’s got a sweet boat. We can go fishin’.” Ryder lit up like it was Christmas. Norv sure was good to him.

  “Maybe once I’ve done the gigs I have booked, huh? I don’t got to stick around for Kyle’s show no more.” He wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d be invited to see it.

  Now stop it, he told himself. Even though Kyle was mad you was late and don’t want to work with you no more, you’re still worth having sex with. Y’all haven’t broke up. He’ll prob’ly ask you to come see so you can admire.

  Still, he could tell Timmy not to book him no more new gigs, head out to Austin, spend some time writing and fishing and sleeping in the sunshine.

  “All right, y’all. Let’s focus.” That was Norv. He only had so much talking in him. They were here to work, and as soon as Norv said so, Ryder went right back to it.

  “Give me… one… okay. No wait.”

  They started laughing, all of them together, just as goofy as they could be.

  Time flew by, and they did write a song, and then they went back and polished another, and by the time
they were done, they had two songs ready to cut the next time they were at the studio.

  Ryder leaned on Norv, looking every bit like he’d just had good sex. Or wanted some. “That was good work, right?”

  “It was. Damn fine.” He clapped Ryder on the arm. “Y’all going home, yeah?”

  “Yeah. You’ll come?”

  “As soon as I finish these gigs, I will. I promised Kyle we’d Christmas together.”

  “You think he’ll still want to?” Ryder asked.

  He shrugged. “If he don’t, someone will.” Hell, he’d still have a room at Timmy’s bought.

  “If he don’t, we will, okay, son?”

  Ryder reached over and took Colt’s hand. “He will, though. I bet he will. I don’t get what happened, but he seems like a good guy, and I bet y’all figure it out. I hope you do. He makes you happy.”

  “He does.” Colt wasn’t going to worry on it. He couldn’t be more than God made him. He hugged them both, missing them already. “Love y’all. All the way.”

  “You too, Cajun.” Norv gave him a nod and saw him out.

  He took his guitar and headed to the studio. Everything seemed uglier today, but it didn’t matter. The music mattered. Even his music.

  Chapter Fifteen

  KYLE COULD have gone to the bar. He’d been invited half a dozen times by various people after the show. He just didn’t feel like being social.

  He felt like calling Colt and asking him to drop everything else and come over and talk. He’d done the best thing he knew to do, after all, for his show and for his lover. He needed consistent and reliable, and Colt needed variety and flexibility. Colt’s calling wasn’t theater. It wasn’t showing up seven or eight times a week to do the same thing over and over on cue. But dammit, the show wasn’t going to be the same without him.

  And Colt had looked just awful. Crazy-eyed and pale-skinned. The man that came wheeling into the theater that morning wasn’t anything like the easygoing, free-spirited musician Kyle had fallen for at all. If Colt couldn’t manage to get out from under his commitments on his own, the best thing Kyle could think to do to help him was lift a commitment for him.