Starting From Zero (Starting From Series Book 1)

by Lane Hayes

  We lay entwined for a while. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat until it returned to normal. Then we headed for the bathroom to clean up before falling into bed. I fell asleep with his arms around me, his chest against my back. I wasn’t a cuddler. I didn’t really like to be touched at all when I was sleeping. But I liked this. A lot. Maybe too much. Because when I awoke the next morning and glanced over at the gorgeous man beside me, I wanted to pinch myself.

  Had I really called Justin in the middle of the night to—what? Rescue me, comfort me, assure me I wouldn’t be alone for the rest of my life? That wasn’t like me at all. I was the comfort-giver and the one who kept their shit together when everything and everyone around me was falling apart.

  I propped myself on my elbow and watched him sleep. He was more handsome than pretty, but he had lovely features: long eyelashes, high cheekbones, and full lips. I liked the contrast of his olive skin against mine. And I loved his ink. It complemented mine. I could imagine the rose vine on his upper bicep twisting around my forearm, tying us together. I smiled at the whimsical notion as he stirred.

  “ ’Morning.”

  Justin stretched his arms above his head and gave me a sleepy smile. “Were you watching me sleep? You know that’s a little creepy, right?”

  I brushed his hair from his forehead and caressed his face. “Yeah. I couldn’t help myself. I had to be sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

  “You asked me to come. Once last night, but I’m hoping for round two this morning,” he said lasciviously.

  “I think I can help you out there,” I replied, snaking my hand under the sheets to palm his morning wood. I pressed kisses along his shoulder and up his neck, then whispered, “Thank you” in his ear.

  “For what?”

  “Being here.”

  “Mmm.” Justin rested his hand on my hip and kissed me sweetly before pulling back with a scrutinizing once-over. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just…”

  “What?” he prodded.

  “It gets lonely sometimes. That’s all.”

  He went perfectly still; then he reached for my hand and lifted it to his lips the way I sometimes did.

  “I know.”

  We showered together, exchanging blowjobs under the warm spray and then sucking cum from each other’s tongues before washing and rinsing a second time. I tossed a clean towel at him and dried off before stepping aside to make room for him in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror propped against the wall like a painting.

  Justin grinned at our reflection and squeezed my ass. “We gotta have sex in front of this mirror. What do ya say?”

  “I say yes, but I need food first. You’re killing me.” I swatted his ass with the end of my towel and furrowed my brow in mock warning. “No old-guy cracks. C’mon, let’s grab some coffee.”

  He widened his eyes comically and made a zipped-lip motion before following me into the bedroom to get dressed. Justin headed for the studio when I promised to bring coffee. I found him perched on a stool near the wall of guitars typing on his cell.

  “Do you have to go to work?” I asked as I handed over his mug.

  “Yeah. Johnny is covering for me for another hour.” He stood and set the coffee on the stool as he continued to scroll through messages. “But I have to swing by Tegan’s to pick up my—holy fuck.”

  “What is it?”

  He looked at me with a wild-eyed expression that was part joy and part terror. “I just got an email from the office of Sebastian Rourke. A letter of intent. He says they’ll use Zero on a track for the movie. I-I don’t know what to say. It’s not a contract, but he said the legal team is working on drawing one and blah, blah, blah. Fuck. I’ve gotta figure out a song. Wait. No, I think he’ll choose the song, right? We’ve got a lot of material. We can fine-tune something and make it fit whatever they’re looking for. And the love song is…I think we’re close on that too and—you did this, didn’t you? You and Charlie.”

  “I didn’t do anything but suggest that he listen to your band.” I motioned for him to show me the email. It was brief and noncommittal. Very Seb…very Hollywood. “It isn’t a contract, but it sounds like one might be ready to sign in the next day or two.”

  “Fuck, yes!” He whooped and punched the air before running a lap around the studio, plucking at guitar strings and piano keys and banging on drums in a mini celebration.

  I chuckled at his antics and set my coffee beside his on the stool. I moved to the guitar wall and pulled a gorgeous cherry-red Stratocaster down.

  “This one is a beauty. Plug in and give her a try,” I said, cradling the six-string like a newborn baby.

  He flashed a lopsided grin before slinging the strap over his shoulder and strumming a few chords. “I have music in my head already. Ideas for the song. I don’t play well enough to get them across but—”

  “Sure you do. Play what you’re feeling. Don’t be tentative. Do it like you mean it.” I sat behind the grand piano and splayed my fingers over the keys, prompting him with a jazzy tune, then backed off slightly to listen to his lyrics and try to catch the general idea of what I thought he might be looking for musically. After a few stops and starts, I embellished his elementary idea and crafted it into something a bit more sophisticated.

  “Not bad!” he beamed with a Cheshire cat grin before going rogue.

  I snickered appreciatively when he tilted the Strat vertically and hopped around the studio on one leg like he was doing a Chuck Berry impression. I joined in, swaying back and forth as my fingers flew across the keys, adding melodic filler to his mini rock concert. He ended with legs spread and one arm in the air in a time-honored rock god pose. I pivoted on the piano bench and clapped enthusiastically.

  “Bravo.”

  Justin bowed before returning the guitar to the wall.

  “Thanks. So…what did you say to him?” He straddled the piano bench and leaned in to lick my lips.

  His jeans were frayed at the knees and worn thin around his crotch, and his black T-shirt hugged his biceps like a glove. He looked like a bad boy. A Latino James Dean with just enough geek in him to make him seem accessible and real. Magic combo for a rock star in the making.

  “I told you.”

  “No, be specific. I mean, does he know about us?”

  I hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “Not for me. I haven’t said anything to anyone…Tegan or Johnny. I haven’t even told Rory. I want to. This is all good, right? Me, you, Zero, the song we’ve written.”

  “Well, we haven’t quite finished, but—”

  “I did. I mean, I’ve written something I think works, but…I get nervous when things feel like they’re coming together. It never works out well for me. I usually fuck it up somehow.”

  “We’re in this together, Jus. You won’t fuck anything up.”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. I memorized his scent as I breathed him in like a fine wine or a sweet perfume. Words like clean, new, coffee, manly, peppermint came to mind. I knew immediately that they were useless adjectives. They might remind me of this moment, but they lacked the poetry needed to describe him. Or to describe the way I felt about him. Or how nervous I felt that his beginning might be the end of us.

  Justin

  I WAS TOTALLY GOING to fuck it up.

  Of course, I wouldn’t mean to, but it was just my nature. I couldn’t have nice things. I tried to tell myself that was the old me, and the new me wasn’t gonna blow it. But I had my doubts. About a lot of things.

  This might be the chance of a lifetime for Zero. But Hollywood didn’t pursue no-name singer-songwriters or newly formed bands. So yeah, I knew any opportunity here was thanks to Gray and Charlie. Connections mattered. Everyone told me it was as much who you knew as how much you knew in this industry. But as I made my way to Vibes later that night, I couldn’t help thinking I was missing something. And my brother agreed with me.

&nbs
p; I adjusted my earbuds when Rory’s voice broke midsentence. “…be prepared to slay. That’s all you can do. If it’s a legit deal, you’ll soon find out. If not, you’ll find that out too. But either way, you can’t win or lose if you don’t take a chance. Listen to your younger, wiser brother. I’m always right.”

  “I know that, dummy,” I huffed.

  Rory guffawed. “Say it again. I gotta record this. Go on…Rory is always right.”

  “Rory is always a pain in the ass,” I said slowly. “Of course, I’m going for it. I’m just not sure what ‘it’ is. I trust Gray, but I don’t think he really knows the behind the scenes BS grunt artists like us deal with. We’re nobodies. The only reason the producer is interested in us is because of Xena. Gray says—”

  “Whoa. ‘Gray says this, Gray says that.’ What’s going on with you two?”

  I stopped on the middle of the sidewalk and leaned against the stucco façade of a bank building before glancing at my watch. I had fifteen minutes to get to Vibes for my shift. Plenty of time to spill my guts. I filled Rory in on the project I was working on with Gray. I tried to downplay the note of hero-worship I heard in my own voice, but nothing much got by my brother.

  “…a real contract for Zero and the other for me to cowrite the love song. It’s a great song. Even if Xena sings it. The song is almost finished and Gray’s a master at arranging music, so it shouldn’t take long to—”

  “Whoa! You’re writing a love song? For Xena? Are you fuckin’ with me?”

  “It’s not for Xena. Geez! It’s just a business opportunity.” When he didn’t respond, I glanced at my cell to make sure he hadn’t hung up on me. “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Since when do you care about business opportunities? You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

  I fixated on a rainbow flag taped to the inside window of a barbershop and rolled my eyes, though the gesture was lost through the phone connection. “Why is it that people in love always assume everyone else is looking for the same thing? How’s Christian doing, by the way?”

  “He’s great. But back to you. Are you fucking him?”

  “Okay, we’re done here. I gotta run. I’m going to be late for work and—”

  “That’s a yes.” Rory sighed theatrically. “Justin, what are you doing? If you’re romantically involved with the guy who’s tied to a project where you’re being asked to sell a piece of your soul, chances are he’s got something to do with it. I could be wrong. I obviously don’t know the guy. How are you gonna feel after you cash a check for a bogus love song? Sounds like dirty money and a big fuckin’ setup. Just like that night at Carmine’s. You walked out before she made a fool of you. You won’t be able to walk away from a song on a movie soundtrack. If it’s something you’re proud of, that’s great. But I know you. You get caught up in the moment, Jus. Make sure you know exactly what’s going on before you sign your name on something you’ll regret.”

  “You’re a fuckin’ downer.”

  “I’m a realist and usually you are too. What did Tegan say about it?”

  I winced as I straightened from the wall and started down the street toward Vibes. “He doesn’t know yet.”

  A cat meowed loudly from his side, no doubt saving me from a major lecture. “Even Buttons thinks you’re a dumb shit. Christ, Justin. Get your act together. Be honest. Brutally honest if you have to be. With Tegan, Johnny, Ky…but mostly with yourself. Figure it out before something goes sideways. Oh, and one more thing. Call Mom. I ran into Agnes, the checkout lady at the YMCA. She was dropping off her grandson for camp and asked if Mom was okay. She said she looks thinner than normal. Mom’s already too skinny. Will you check on her?”

  “Yeah. Of course,” I assured him.

  Rory changed the topic to a recipe he’d tried for Christian, who’d just come home from his evening class. I appreciated the lighthearted banter after his whammy of realness. But the second we hung up, anxiety ate a hole in my stomach. Gray, Tegan, a contract and a real shot for Zero…and my mother. Great. Just what I needed before working a five-hour shift where smiling was actually part of my job description.

  I cranked an old Led Zeppelin tune and hightailed it down San Vicente to the heart of West Hollywood, LA’s gay mecca. Everything in this section of town was fabulous. From the rainbow-painted crosswalk at San Vicente and Santa Monica Boulevard to the rainbow Route 66 sign. There were dozens of chic bistros, gay bars, and clubs within walking distance, and many of them had an upscale ambience that seemed to suggest that this was where the A-list queer crowd hung out.

  Vibes was nestled between a dry cleaner who charged an ungodly sum per shirt and a fancy ice cream shop where Instagrammers and Hollywood wannabees posed for selfies with bougie ice cream cones. That was SoCal for you. I supposed people who spent ten dollars on a double scoop wouldn’t blink at paying twice that to clean their designer duds. I never pictured myself living in WeHo. Yeah, I was bi, but I wasn’t fabulous. And some days, I didn’t think I was cool enough. But I loved the energy here. Under the glossy exterior was a sense of unapologetic pride that encouraged free speech and self-expression. It wasn’t gritty or raw, but living and working in WeHo was a good opportunity to explore and truly embrace the gay part of being bi. And it didn’t get much gayer than Vibes.

  I nodded in greeting at the security guard and gave him a fist bump as he opened the back door for me. I could never remember his name. Ronny or Ricky or something. He was a big guy with short dark hair, a potbelly, and a birthmark covering one side of his face. We’d bonded over our Latino heritage on a cigarette break once. It must have been enough to seal a friendship, because none of the other bartenders got the nod and the fist bump.

  I stopped by the employee break room to drape my jacket and T-shirt over a chair before heading into the club, bare-chested and ready to pour. A steady dance beat pumped through the speakers, getting louder as I moved along the darkened corridors to the main floor. A decent-sized crowd bopped to electronic music under a rainbow glitter disco ball, but I knew from experience that it would be a scene within a couple of hours. Thursday was an honorary weekend night around these parts.

  “Look who decided to show up.”

  Garrett softened his annoyed once-over with a flirty wink when I slid behind the bar. He was a beautiful African American model with short cropped hair, high cheekbones, and startling green eyes. He was six two, lean, and toned to perfection. Garrett was one of those weirdos addicted to spin classes and juice drinks. He claimed he only worked here to pay for his acting classes, but I had a feeling he was a victim of the LA lifestyle. Exclusive gym memberships, designer jeans, and BMW leases cost big bucks.

  I washed my hands at the sink and smiled at the cute couple signaling they were ready to order. “Sorry. I—”

  “Save it. Tegan covered for you.” Garrett snapped a bar towel on my ass and winked.

  “Where is he?” I asked, glancing around the dimly lit area.

  The bar was a masterpiece of backlit glass shelving, mirrored backsplashes, and a fountain wall. The liquor was stored on lower shelves to give an unimpeded view of the cascading waterfall effect. Large flat-screen televisions hung high above the fountain and along the perimeter. Music videos played until the club got bumping. Then a video cam flashed footage of the sexy go-go boys shaking their ass on the catwalks above the dance floor. The bar was busy, but not overly crowded. And for the moment, everyone seemed content. Except the couple staring at us meaningfully.

  Garrett flashed a friendly grin in their direction. “He’s at the front door as usual. He was looking for you too. He seemed frazzled.”

  Garrett kissed my cheek, then sashayed toward the waiting couple.

  It didn’t take long to find my groove. Pour, flirt, clean…repeat. I’d been bartending for years and had learned a few things along the way. The friendlier and more engaging I was on a slow to moderately busy night, the better the tips. But when the press of bodies around the bar was three peopl
e deep and everyone was waving to get my attention, no one wanted small talk. They wanted a quick shot of courage before heading to the dance floor.

  I pasted a smile on my face as I handed a cosmo to a cute twink wearing a cropped football jersey and pink lipstick. I took the twenty he gave me and was about to thank him for the generous tip when I spotted Tegan waving to get my attention a few feet away. I needed an excuse to leave the bar while it was this busy. I grabbed an almost-empty bottle of gin and tapped Garrett’s arm.

  “Hey, I’m gonna grab another bottle of Tanqueray from storage. You and Alex can handle it, right?”

  Garrett glanced at the heavily tatted bartender working the opposite end of the space and nodded. “Hurry back. We need you.”

  I headed after Tegan, slipping through the crowd, winding my way through sweaty, scantily clad hotties and couples tangled in passionate kisses. I caught up to him outside the bathroom.

  “Hey. What’s—”

  “She’s here,” he said in an ominous tone reserved for scary movies.

  “Who?”

  “Xena! Who do you think?”

  I craned my neck toward the dance floor in vain. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I don’t know. She came by around nine and asked if you were working tonight. Sean was standing outside too. He knows you were late again, and he’s pissed. But anyway, she said she’d come back, and she did. She paid the cover, and she’ll be at the bar any second. We can’t have drama here, Jus. Sean will fire your ass. Stay here and I’ll tell them you—”

  I held my hand up and craned my neck toward the bar. “No. I’m not gonna hide. That’s ridiculous. Just…cover for me and have her meet me in the alley.”

  Tegan frowned. “I can’t leave you alone with her. Especially not here. You’ll fight like you always do and you’ll get fired. You’re already on thin ice with Sean.”

  “I am?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Dude, you’ve been late for every shift for weeks. Sean’s asked me what’s going on with you.”

  “Five minutes is hardly late, and he’s just looking for an excuse to get rid of me ’cause he’s a jealous fuck who thinks we’re still—”