Ryder's Boys

by Cody Ryder

  “Everyone, the bride and groom are going to cut their wedding cake!” the DJ said over the PA.

  My legs froze mid-stride. Shit. Everyone’s attention turned over the cake, which was on the other side of the room. April was staring at me with a look that said, “What are you doing, get the hell over here!” I spun around on the ball of my foot and hurried over. So much for that moment of braveness. Or stupidity.

  Matt and Sarah cut their cake, and April and I snapped away, my eye searching around between shots to try and glimpse Will in the crowd, but I couldn’t see him. My interest in him was just some kind of silly infatuation, a combination of his outrageous good looks, moment of attention to me, and my own pent up desires. After tonight, I’d probably go home, listen to a couple of his songs on YouTube, check out his Wikipedia, give in to a little before-bed fantasizing, and then move on with life.

  Oh, how wrong I was.

  After the cake cutting, the guests moved back onto the dance floor to finish out the night. April and I moved around the room, snapping photos of the bride and groom doing shots of Blue Label together as their friends whooped and cheered. Carol was drunk, and I overheard her talking to Matt’s mother about how she thought they should schedule and divide visiting for their future grandchildren in order to not “give the child any greater preference for one pair of grandparents over the other”. I didn’t see Will anywhere, and I guessed it was because I wasn’t the only one looking for him – now that people were taking to the dance floor I saw the teenaged cousins prowling around to try and get a certain pop star to dance with them.

  Before the very end of the reception, April ducked out for one more cigarette, and I took a quick break to eat cake. Once the last song had played, the newlyweds wanted a big group photo with all of their friends in it, and so I popped on my widest lens and stood up on a chair, ushering everyone to squeeze in closer. Will was still gone, and the cousins looked around, disappointed.

  With the snap of that last photo, the reception finished. I gave Matt and Sarah my congratulations again and started packing up my gear. April came back in from her cigarette and helped me pull down the strobe flashes we had rigged up on light stands. “I met your pop star crush outside,” she said, smirking at me. “Nice guy. You should’ve asked him out. He totally is into dudes.”

  “Where did he go?” I asked.

  “He said he wanted to bounce before he took away too much of the night from his friends. I could see what he meant, after that song half the ladies in the room wanted to mob him.” April gave me a little smile. “Also, he asked about you.”

  I nearly dropped the light stand I was taking down. “What? What did he ask?”

  “About your photography. He said he wanted to see the photos you took.”

  I felt strangely loopy with excitement. Maybe he was just trying to make polite conversation with April. He wasn’t interested in my photography, just showing polite interest in our work.

  “So I gave him your card,” she said.

  “My card? You mean our business card?”

  “No, your card. The one you gave me, for your house photography. He seemed pretty pleased.”

  I laughed. “Come on, April. You’re just screwing with me.”

  She shrugged. “I mean, he’s a celebrity. Maybe he was faking his interest. But it seemed real to me.”

  “It sounds like he was just being polite. He was a really friendly guy.”

  “Maybe. But he also didn’t ask a thing about me, Luke. All he wanted to know about was you, so I gave him your card. Take that however you will, but seemed to me like he was interested in you.”

  I packed away the last stand and slung my camera bag over my shoulder, slightly bewildered. I was certain that he was just being polite. Almost certain. “Well, that’s cool. But he didn’t leave his contact info behind, did he?”

  “Nope.”

  There we go. If he really had been interested in me, then wouldn’t he have left a way for me to contact him? Maybe not, maybe that wasn’t good practice when you were a celebrity. Either way, it didn’t really matter. Outside of what I would see of him when I looked him up on the Internet when I got home, Will Masterson was out of my life.

  “Want to get some drinks or something?” April asked as we walked out to our cars.

  “How are you not dead tired?” I asked. “I’m ready to just pass out.”

  “The night gives me life,” she said, pulling out another cigarette.

  “Okay, Dracula,” I said. “I’ll catch you later.”

  “Who knows,” April called over her shoulder, “maybe he’ll call you.”

  I definitely was going to pass out soon, but when I got home, showered and got into bed, I had one more thing I needed to do. I pulled out my cell phone and put Will’s name into Google, and my heart thumped faster as photos of him popped up. I tapped on the first music video link that showed up, and watched as the guy I had casually chatted with over drinks sang with his incredible voice and danced with a crew of muscled backup dancers as scantily clad women fawned over him. I smiled when I recognized the song as one that had been stuck in my head before, even though I had no idea who sung it.

  I opened his Wikipedia page and then quickly closed it. It was too tempting to be a creeper and read through his entire biography. Then I sighed and gave in, reopening the page. I was way too curious about him to not look. Besides, I’d never see him again.

  There wasn’t much about his early life except that he was born in Los Angeles to a singing coach mother and a father who apparently was a famous actor back in the seventies and eighties, but passed away shortly before he began his singing career, and that his first album was dedicated to him. It said that his mother was his inspiration to start his singing career, and that he dropped out of…

  “Whoah,” I said aloud. It said that he dropped out of architecture design school to pursue his true passion. Maybe that’s why he seemed so interested when I told him what I wanted to shoot.

  His father’s old industry connections, along with his singing abilities (which I experienced firsthand) made his singing career quickly take off. He'd been on the TV show “Glee”, which helped put him in front of a broader audience, and he’d released several albums and featured on tracks by a huge number of other famous pop artists. I scrolled down to the bottom of the page where the “Personal Life” section was, and I breathed out a sigh.

  At the bottom below a paragraph about his religious beliefs (agnostic), was a tiny line that said, “In August 2014 Masterson was reported to be dating actress Francesca White.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “April, your gaydar is off after all,” I said to myself, and then locked the phone, feeling just a little bit ridiculous. I set the phone down on the counter by my bed, snuggled in to the pillow, and was out like a light.

  Three

  I had thought that when I woke up the next day, Will Masterson would’ve faded to the back of my mind as an interesting story to tell friends over drinks, but I was wrong. I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy.

  After eating breakfast I sat down at the computer and started to go through the photos from yesterday’s wedding, sipping on a mug of black coffee while I listened to music online. I usually listened to my own playlist of music, but today I decided to use a pre-made morning playlist, and guess whose song happened to come on first?

  I laughed and listened to Will singing an upbeat song about having his heart broken but meeting someone new while I loaded up the photos and started to edit them. Every time a shot came up with him in it he stood out as if the rest of the image were in black and white and he was the only element in color, and when I got to the photos of his performance I found my heart thudding as I remembered the moment when he made eye contact with me and dedicated the song to love.

  I was feeling unusually energized. I skipped back to Will’s song and listened to it again, humming along to the catchy chorus.

  I’m standing on the edge

 
On the precipice of fate

  Love’s gone behind me

  It’s come to blind me

  And oh, I just can’t wait

  I chuckled at the cheesy lyrics and wondered if Will had written them himself or if he had someone composing his songs for him. Before I knew it, I had listened to his entire newest album, all music I normally wouldn’t care for at all, the lyrics all pop cheese but his voice still smooth and addicting. I was also more than halfway through editing my portion of the weddings photos.

  My cell phone rang, vibrating loudly on the desk by my keyboard, and I nearly jumped out of my chair in surprise. I looked at the number and saw that it was (UNKNOWN), and my heart started to race. “Maybe he’ll call you,” April’s voice said in my head.

  “Yeah right,” I muttered, but my inner voice was screaming, holy shit, it’s him! I picked up the cell phone and swiped my thumb across the screen to answer it. I stood up out of my chair and walked to the center of the room to pace around, a habit I had when I had to make or take an important phone call. I suddenly became certain that it would be Will’s voice on the other side of the line, and that he would tell me that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of me since the night before, and that we had to be together.

  “Hello?” I said, with some hesitation.

  But the voice on the other side was not Will’s. “Hello, this is Sadie Dunsmore calling from Homeowners Mag. I’m trying to reach Luke Golden?”

  I let out my breath like I was a balloon deflating. This was the real call I had been waiting for, and yet I actually felt a tinge of disappointment. Stupid of me, to actually think it was Will calling me. “Hi, Sadie, this is Luke.”

  Now that the fog had cleared a little my heart started to beat again, a lump rising in my throat. This could be either really good news or really bad news.

  “Hi, Luke,” she said pleasantly, but with a sharp professional tone. “I first wanted to thank you for taking the time to submit your portfolio and coming in for the interview.”

  I felt my heart sink.

  “You have excellent work and are a very skilled photographer, however…your lack of professional experience is a bit of an issue for us.”

  “I…I see,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I’m sorry, Luke. However we’d encourage you to apply back in the future when you have more experience. Like I said, we were very impressed with your work.”

  “Thank you for giving me the opportunity,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

  After hanging up, I stood there in the center of my apartment, slowly digesting the news. My vision spun and blurred, and I felt all the positive energy I’d had during the morning leaking away. For a moment, I saw a glimpse of my future career, my dream job, but now it was gone. I threw my hands up. “How the hell am I supposed to get work experience when no one will hire me because I don’t have any goddamn work experience?”

  I plunked back down into my chair, sinking down like I was made of melting butter. I knew that Sadie wasn’t just trying to make me feel better when she had said my portfolio was excellent. I knew it was. I sighed. What would I do? I would have to continue with the weddings, and try to save some time and energy for freelance gigs. It was the only way I could get the experience I needed.

  Turning back to my computer, I started going through the rest of the wedding photos in a kind of half there daze. The news had completely killed my spirits making it nearly impossible to do any good work, so I picked up my phone and called April.

  “’Sup,” she said. I could hear the rapid clicking of her mouse, which told me she was editing photos. When she edited, she got into a zone where she could knock out a whole batch in no time at all, whereas I usually meandered and took the whole day.

  “Guess what?” I asked.

  “You’re finally coming out of the closet to everyone?”

  “What? Damnit, April, no,” I said. “Homeowners Mag called me back. I didn’t get the job.”

  The clicking of her mouse stopped. “Aw, shit, Luke. What the hell? What did they say?”

  “Not enough experience,” I said. “But they liked my portfolio.”

  The mouse clicking continued, but much slower now, her attention diverted to me. “I’m sorry about that, Luke. They don’t know what they’re losing.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “So I gotta figure out how to get some actual work experience while doing the weddings. But hey, looks like you won’t have to find a new partner for a little while longer.”

  “And I was so excited to be rid of you,” she said, and I could just imagine her deadpan expression. “But seriously, that sucks, man. Alright. Just finished up my end of the photos.”

  “Jesus, already? I’m barely done with half of mine.”

  “Told you, the night gives me life. I smoked a bowl and stayed up till like three working last night. I got some sweet shots that I really liked. And a couple nice ones of your boyfriend too. I’ll send those right on over.”

  I laughed. “No, April, I’ve got plenty of my own shots. I don’t want to be more of a creeper than I already am.”

  “Too late, just e-mailed them. Check that shit, because I know you want them.”

  I got up and went to the kitchen and pulled a box of taquitos out from the freezer and put five onto a plate, and then transferred them into the toaster oven on the countertop.

  “Did you see them yet?” she pestered cheekily.

  “I’m making lunch.” I went back to my chair and plonked down, then opened up my e-mail account and saw April’s e-mail at the top. Attached were two portrait shots of Will. Damn he was handsome. “Thanks,” I said with a laugh. “I will not be saving these photos, because that would be weird.”

  “Come onnn,” she teased. “I’ll just take that as you saying you have some better shots of him.”

  I closed her e-mail and then scrolled down through all my unread mail. There were quite a few since I hadn’t had a chance to check my mail since yesterday morning before the wedding, and I absently scrolled back up through them, checking them off for deletion. There were a couple e-mails from clients that I recognized and left alone, and when I had reached the top I was about to click delete when one of the messages caught my eye. I had thought it was just junk mail, but the “from” name stood out to me now.

  W.M.

  The subject said, “Your stuff”.

  I clicked the e-mail, my heart suddenly pounding. My eyes flicked over the text, skimming it. My mouth dropped open. I barely heard the ding of the toaster oven.

  “April.”

  “What?”

  “Will e-mailed me.”

  “Whoah. Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He wants to meet.”

  “Holy shit. I told you, Luke! I told you he was into you!”

  The smell of burnt taquitos filled the room. “Shit, my lunch is burning. I gotta go.”

  “Fill me in!” she said quickly before I hung up.

  Holy shit. He actually e-mailed me.

  Four

  I read and re-read the e-mail a couple times, still amazed that Will had actually decided to contact me. In my head I ran over the reasons for why he would contact me, and had it not been for the information I had read on Wikipedia I might’ve given April’s insistence that he was into me some credit. I knew that wasn’t the case though, the guy had a girlfriend after all.

  His e-mail was short and didn’t give much away. It said:

  Luke

  Wish we had more time to speak yesterday. I got your card from your friend and checked out your work. Love it. Would love to talk more.

  Hit me up. Can’t give out my number here, but you can e-mail me back. Got a recording session coming up, could be a few days but I’m free on Friday.

  Peace

  Will

  What I figured was that being a former architecture student he must have an interest in, well, architecture, and wanted someone to talk to about it. For any normal person it would be u
nusual to contact someone you just met and basically demand to meet them again, but he was a world famous pop star. He probably was used to having demands met.

  Well, I had no gigs coming up, Friday was open for me, and I had just been told that I wasn’t to be hired for Homeowners Mag, so I really had no reason to not meet him. Plus, as sad as it was to admit, I had pretty much fantasized about it happening. If only the guy didn’t have a girlfriend. And wasn’t straight.

  I sighed and bit into an overly crispy taquito. And what was I? April teased me about it often, but it was true, I hadn’t come out and told anyone that I liked guys. The thought was intimidating and downright scary to me, but I would have to come out sometime… This little fast infatuation had reminded me that I was attracted to men. So attracted to men. And I did want a relationship, at least eventually.