Starting From Zero (Starting From Series Book 1)

by Lane Hayes

  “Are you ready for me?”

  Gray straightened quickly and shoved his tongue in my mouth in response before turning around to present his ass to me. I stepped out of my jeans, rolled a condom on and added lube. Then I lined my cock up with his entrance and pushed into him from behind.

  “Oh, my God.” He groaned loudly as he stroked himself.

  “You okay? ’Cause I need to fuck you hard.”

  “Do it. Fuck me, Jus.”

  Gray was as strung-out, horny, and demanding as I was. He bucked backward and urged me on with nasty commands to go harder and deeper. He loved it when I pulled his hair and smacked his ass. And when I slipped a finger in his hole alongside my dick as I reached around to jack him, he tumbled into ecstasy, crying out my name as his orgasm pulled him under. He shuddered beneath me, but I didn’t stop moving. I couldn’t. I pistoned my hips wildly and then gripped his shoulders before coming a moment later.

  When I could breathe again, I cleaned up in the master bathroom and brought my lover a towel. Gray wiped the mess of sweat and cum from his junk and the sheets before flopping onto his back. I curled up beside him and propped myself on my elbow.

  “Can I tell you something disgusting?”

  Gray chuckled. “Sure. Why not?”

  “I was just thinking how hot it would be to come in your ass. I’d love to pull out of you and see my cum drip—”

  “That is hot. Graphic, but hot,” he agreed.

  “We should get tested. I mean…if you wanted to. I haven’t been with anyone but you in months. And that’s the way I want it to be.”

  Gray bit his bottom lip, then pulled me close and kissed me. “Me too.”

  “How old were you the first time you had sex with a guy?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Top or bottom?”

  “I don’t think we had anal sex the first time but—”

  “Blowjobs? Who did what first?”

  “I don’t remember,” he said with a half laugh. “Does it matter?”

  “No. I’m curious. I’m having a moment. Like there’s an invisible angel on my shoulder telling me to let go of my ideas about how things are ‘supposed to be.’ I don’t have to be the bi guy who goes out with as many girls as guys to prove he’s masculine. I can be with the person who makes me happy without worrying about the ways I don’t measure up.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. I’m kind of crazy about you. And I’ve been thinking about love songs a lot lately for obvious reasons, but not for me. I mean in a broader sense. For example, I love my mom, but I resent her guilty hold over me. I love my brother, but I’m jealous of him sometimes. I love my best friend, but I hurt him. I don’t know how to do that emotion correctly or purely, you know?”

  Gray caressed my jaw, then let his hands roam to my hip. “No one does. We all just wing it, baby.”

  “Measures of kindness slip into place and allow us moments of purity…real affection, admiration, friendship. But is that love?”

  Gray’s smile dazzled me. “Did you write that?”

  I squinted and replayed the question in my head. “Yeah.”

  “I like it.”

  “Thanks,” I said distractedly. “I read Shakespeare’s sonnets recently. For you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. Do you know the line, ‘It is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken…’?”

  “It’s Sonnet 116. The one everyone uses for weddings,” he replied quickly.

  “That’s the one. You really are a geek, aren’t you?”

  “Me? I’m a tough guy. Ask anyone,” Gray joked, flexing his biceps.

  I kissed his muscular arm as I rolled sideways, pushing my leg between his. “Hmm. The concept of loving someone unconditionally, without worrying if they’ll ever love you the same way stops me every time. I don’t understand it. I’ve never known anyone able to do it for a sustained amount of time. But every time we see a couple holding hands in the park or sharing an intimate look or a smile, I hope they make it. I hope they’re brave and honest and strong. ’Cause it takes more than hearts and flowers and endless sunshine. I think it’s work.”

  Gray lifted my hand and kissed it sweetly. “I think you’re right.”

  I noted the sheen of tears in his eyes, but I didn’t press. I didn’t want to make a heat-of-the-moment declaration, but I had one more thing to say.

  “I have no idea what love is, but you’re the person I want to be with all the fucking time.”

  He gave me one of his signature slow grins, the one that turned me inside out and upside down. Then he pushed the hair from my forehead and pulled me close. “I feel the same way, Jus.”

  I REPLAYED last night in my head over coffee the next morning at the kitchen island. Gray was working out in his gym. He’d invited me to join him and laughed at my deadpan expression before leaving me to consume a fuckton of caffeine and munch on the contraband donuts Charlie left in the pantry. I had a sappy smile on my face as I wrote the final lines to the love song in my notebook. I stared out at the pool, admiring the sun’s glitter-like reflection on the water when a new message from Charlie lit my screen.

  The contract is ready for Zero to sign this afternoon at Rourke Studio at four p.m. Everyone needs to be there. Don’t be late.

  Holy shit. This was really happening.

  A wave of doubt followed my initial burst of excitement. I cautioned myself not to plan Zero’s concert tour yet. We had our first real gig at The Fix, a small indie club downtown next week. The idea of going from zero to one hundred was thrilling, but we had a ways to go. The movie soundtrack credit was a nice promotional tool, not a boost in the limelight. We had to prove ourselves and pay our dues just like everyone else. But I couldn’t help feeling a little optimistic as I texted my bandmates. Maybe this really was our beginning.

  WHEN THINGS SEEM TOO good to be true, they usually are. The second we were ushered from the sleek, modern reception area at Rourke Studios into Seb Rourke’s private office, I sensed something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. Sure, I was nervous. I’d never been this close to Hollywood deal-making headquarters. At least I wasn’t alone. Johnny and Ky sat on the edges of their leather chairs in the sitting area while Tegan paced the floor, pausing at the end of each lap to peruse the photos and movie memorabilia lining the walls. We’d all dressed in nice jeans with no holes, per Charlie’s instruction, along with button-down oxford shirts. We looked like clean-cut kids rather than a kickass rock band, but I figured Charlie knew what he was doing. After all, he’d grown up in this world, and we were meeting his dad.

  “What do you think is taking so long?” I whispered, plucking at my collar uncomfortably.

  “Deep breaths, Jus. It’s only been five minutes. Do you think Xena’s with them in the conference room?” Tegan asked.

  “No idea. It doesn’t really matter as long we get what we’re here for.”

  “Hmm. Check out some of these photos. Isn’t this your boyfriend?” He pointed at a series of photos of Gray with a tall, handsome man I knew from my early Google research was Seb. In a few pics, they stood with their arms around each other with a small blond-haired boy. “Ha. I think that’s Charlie. He was a cute kid.”

  I cocked my head curiously and studied the photos a little closer. Yeah. That was Gray. But a much younger version. Not that he looked old now, but he’d filled out, matured, and was more muscular now. This Gray was thinner and didn’t have any ink. However, the photos spanned over a number of years beginning when Charlie was a toddler to recent pics that included another towheaded kid I assumed was Seb’s younger son, Oliver. There were quite a few of Oliver on his own or with Charlie, but I was more interested in the fact that almost all of the rest featured Gray. That was weird. Best friends definitely deserved a place of honor on a photo collage wall, but every picture?

  “Dad’s finishing up a call in the conference room. He’ll join us in a minute,” Charlie
announced. “Does anyone have any questions?”

  “Yeah. Is this you?” I asked, gesturing at a picture of the two men and a little boy at Disneyland.

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Yes. We should have waited in the reception area. There’s nothing like a few embarrassing childhood photos to keep it real. I think I was five there, and I actually remember that day. I insisted I was ready for the Haunted Mansion. I said it was a baby ride and they didn’t have to worry about me getting scared. Famous last words. I climbed into Gray’s lap and held on to him in a chokehold throughout the whole thing. Poor guy.”

  “You spent a lot of time with him when you were a kid, huh?”

  Charlie typed something into his phone before looking up at me distractedly. “Yeah. He was like a second dad to me.”

  “Right. He’s your godfather.”

  “Mmhm. Dad and Gray were together for most of my childhood years, so in a way he’s more than a godfather.”

  My stomach dropped, though I couldn’t say what exactly bothered me. So Seb and Gray had been in a relationship. Okay. It had to be over years ago. They’d both been married to women and…I scanned the wall again. There were group pics that included women, some who looked vaguely familiar, like celebrities I should have recognized. But no single woman stood out. The only obvious couple was Seb and Gray. Fuck, I was jealous and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure my way around this emotion.

  They weren’t together. Gray was with me. I’d slept in his bed, woken up next to him, drank coffee with him, and even showered and sucked his dick before this meeting. So why did this bother me?

  “I don’t get it. Were they married?”

  Charlie shot a curious look at me and shook his head. “No. But gay marriage wasn’t legal then. If it had been, they would’ve gotten married for sure.”

  “For sure?” I repeated.

  “Yeah. We were a family. Two dads and a kid. My mom was a Hollywood hopeful who was a little too fond of disco snow. She dropped me off on Dad’s doorstep when I was two months old. Literally. Not the drop part, but the story is, she left me in a basket with a note that said, ‘This little guy is yours. Good luck!’ like modern-day Moses. Dad had a paternity test done and sure enough, we were a match. Anyhoo, he met Gray when I was two and they were together until I was eight or nine. Let’s just say, Dad has commitment issues. He hasn’t been with anyone seriously in a while, but I think that’s because he’s still in love with Gray.”

  “Love.” I pursed my lips and stepped aside to get away from Charlie and give myself some breathing room. I was feeling more nauseous by the second.

  “Yeah. I don’t think they’ll ever get back together again, but I’m not above using a twinge of jealousy to get Dad to cooperate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dad knows about you and Gray. He’s a firm believer in keeping his enemies close.” Charlie snickered. “Silly, I know. But you’re hot and talented and he must feel a little threatened, because I doubt he’d give Zero the time of day otherwise. In fact, having me as your manager is a negative for him. He’s still hoping I go into advertising when I finish my master’s.”

  I nodded numbly and glanced at the photos one last time. A small one in the corner of the wall collage caught my eye. It was of Charlie with an older couple. “Who are they?”

  “Gray’s folks. That’s from my high school graduation. I think it was the last time they flew to California.”

  “You knew them?” I choked, studying the burly-looking older man and his white-haired petite wife with their arms around Charlie.

  “Of course! I think it was one of those funny situations where they probably knew Dad and Gray were more than friends, but no one said a word. So weird. People make things needlessly complicated,” he scoffed.

  “Charlie, your father will see you in the main conference room now,” a young woman with long blonde hair announced with a sunny smile.

  “Thank you, Trish. This way, boys!”

  I couldn’t move. My feet were stuck to the carpet and my mouth was bone-dry. I couldn’t make sense of my emotions, and I couldn’t exactly turn around and leave.

  “You okay?” Tegan asked, glancing toward the door when Johnny and Ky followed Charlie into the glass-enclosed conference room across the hall.

  “Yeah. Fine,” I lied over the grapefruit lodged in my throat. “Let’s go.”

  I tried to focus on the view like Gray would. But the Santa Monica office was closer to the 405 than the ocean, and the energetic man who greeted us with a winning smile and a round of firm handshakes was hard to ignore. Seb Rourke was a good-looking man. Moreover, he was charismatic, friendly, and brimming with Hollywood-style enthusiasm. In other words, I couldn’t tell if he was full of shit or if he really was excited at the prospect of signing an unknown entity. He shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and seemed perfectly sincere when he claimed he was happy to finally meet me.

  “Take a seat. I’ll get you in and out quickly. I know everyone’s busy. I have to tell you, I loved the sample Charlie sent over. I’m sure you know I don’t really have anything to do with the soundtrack as a whole. I’m just an idea guy. But I like your vibe, and I think your sound complements the film well. Once you sign the contract, you’ll be working with our reps at the label to record. The sooner we get that ball rolling, the better. Go ahead and check out the contract. There should be one here for each of you and…two for you, Justin.” Seb flattened his large hand over the paperwork and slid it across the glass table toward me.

  Again, he held eye contact, but I didn’t detect any animosity or negativity toward me at all. I did my best to push aside my angst and concentrate on business. This wasn’t personal. This was for Zero. I flipped the paperwork over and skimmed the legal BS. It covered copyright clauses and some info about distribution and commissions. We’d agreed on a flat fee. It was more than generous, and it would go a long way toward setting Zero up professionally. I listened with half an ear as Seb presented the official document and set a few pens on the table. Tegan signed and Johnny followed. He handed his pen to Ky and—

  “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

  “What’s wrong?” Charlie asked.

  “This says we’re supposed to play and sing backup on ‘Karma.’ That’s a Gypsy Coma song. It’s not one of ours,” I said, pushing the contract away.

  “Really? I thought it was yours. It’s the perfect song for Baxter. It’s got the perfect amount of tension and angst. I love it. I heard you sing it at Carmine’s a few months ago. Just wonderful,” Seb gushed.

  I gave him my best “Are you for real?” look. “Yeah, it’s a good song. But Zero has better songs. We sent you a few—”

  “Yeah, but that’s just not quite what we’re looking for,” Seb said cheerfully. “ ‘Karma’ is the winner.”

  “I see. The verbiage here says ‘backup vocals.’ Who’s singing lead?” I asked, flashing an obnoxious fake smile at him.

  “Xena. Maybe you can work it into a duet or—”

  “I don’t think so.” I stood abruptly, then reached for the paper in front of me and ripped it in half. “I’m not signing anything. I’m done here.”

  I heard my name in stereo as I flung the door open and headed for the elevator. I stabbed the button just as Seb rounded the corner.

  “Justin. What are you doing?” he asked in a patient voice one might use on a wayward child or a mentally unstable person flitting too close to the ledge.

  “I’m leaving. You don’t get your way on this one. I’m not helping Xena unless Zero benefits too. I was pretty clear about it. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about exposure. For all I know, it’ll be rigged to make me look like the asshole who fucked up a great relationship because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants. That’s not how it happened. But something tells me you can relate to that story, can’t you, Seb?” I goaded.

  All traces of warmth and friendliness drained from his face so fast, I felt it like a p
hysical thing. A blast of frigid air on an already cold day.

  “You know nothing about me,” he hissed.

  “Sure, I do. It’s pretty obvious. You don’t like that I’m with Gray. You’re trying to buy me off and send me away. I’m not falling for it.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Justin. It’s business. Period. Gray has nothing to do with this.”

  “Bullshit. I’m not playing your game,” I said before stepping into the elevator.

  We stared at each other in an intense standoff I couldn’t quite explain as the doors slid shut. I just knew I had to get away from him and out of this office building. I felt dirty here. This was a place for buying and selling a piece of your soul. This wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t need or want the “get rich quick” scheme. I wanted an honest chance. I was pretty sure my bandmates would agree once they got over the strange turn in our meeting. But I wasn’t waiting to find out.

  THE DRIVER DROPPED me off at the bottom of the driveway. I hurried to the front door, past the succulents and perfectly groomed rock garden and entered the security code to let myself in. The soft strains of a piano floated in the air. Something melodic and soulful coming from the formal living area. Gray normally played in his studio. He claimed to like the controlled acoustics, but I suspected he liked having multiple instruments within reach just steps away from the pool house and his video game console. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him play this particular piano. I was used to seeing him bent over the keys with his eyes closed, pausing frequently to make notes and correction on sheet music. Today, his regal posture and high chin gave him the aura of a concert pianist.

  I paused a few feet away and wondered how I got here. With him. God, he was beautiful. The perfect combination of rugged and wild with a touch of geek. He looked hot in his holey Levis, an old NYU T-shirt, and bare feet. He lifted his hands above the keys and stared at them, no doubt twisting the note in his head before attempting it.