The Satyr's Song

by A. J. Marcus

  The

  Satyr’s

  Song

  Renefaire Romance Book 2

  by

  A.J. Marcus

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Except where actual places are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious; any resemblance to living persons or places is purely coincidental.

  See what A.J. Marcus is up to.

  Visit his website www.ajmarcus.com

  Copyright 2020 © MysticHawker Press

  http://www.mystichawker.com/

  Second Edition

  ISBN: 13-978-1-945632-83-9

  First Edition by Dreamspinner Press 2013

  Cover by Brooke Albrecht

  Chapter 1

  Adrian Mylonas danced his long, delicate fingers over the keys of his flute. The rest of the orchestra waited, silent, while the flutist preformed the cadenza that was the highlight of the piece. For several minutes, no sound but the haunting notes dared to interrupt the still auditorium. Adrian had played the piece many times—he knew the notes by heart—but this time, opening night for the performance, something that had nagged at him for the months he’d practiced came flooding out. The music lacked energy. It needed to be more uplifting.

  With a quick intake of breath, he answered the call of his muse, and his fingers took off on their own. Something wild and untamed flowed through him. The music broke the slow, eerie work into pieces and replaced it with a breath of fresh spring air. With his eyes closed, Adrian could only feel the music flowing out of him, like nothing he’d ever played before. The quiet atmosphere of the auditorium quickened to his playing. The notes sang in the air. He played until his mouth was dry; then he dropped back to the slow, ethereal melody. After missing their first cue to rejoin him, the orchestra struggled to accompany the flute. Despite the hiccup, they finished the piece to a standing ovation from the audience.

  The conductor’s harsh gaze never left Adrian while the flutist took his bow. Several of the other orchestra members looked on, their faces set in masks of shock.

  Sweat covered Adrian. His tuxedo jacket clung to his broad shoulders as he walked off the stage. A thick hand grabbed his arm and yanked him aside just as he cleared the door that led backstage.

  “What in the hell was that?” demanded John Blankenship, the conductor and composer. “Do you have any idea how many years I worked on that piece? How many hours of my life I poured into it? Particularly the flute solo! And you ruined it!” Heavy veins bulged in the bald man’s sweat-covered forehead.

  “Sorry, John.” Adrian shrugged. “The muse took me. Besides, the audience loved it. We should do it that way every time. I hope you had someone recording it so I can hear how it sounded.”

  The conductor’s eyes bulged to match the throbbing vein in his forehead. “We are not performing this piece ever again! The second chair flute just got a promotion. You will be lucky to work in this town… this state, ever again. If I so much as see you pass through the doors of the symphony hall, I will have you arrested for… for… defacing art!”

  “If you didn’t want a solo like that, then you shouldn’t have written a cadenza,” Adrian argued. “I was caught up by my muse, and I think my cadenza was better than what you wrote.” He couldn’t really explain to the man that the piece had been boring before, that something had moved within him to make it better. Over the years, he’d lost count of the number of times his muse had taken hold of him and just moved him to make music. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But this was the first time he enraged the chief conductor of the Dallas Symphony, one of the most formidable men in the Texas music world.

  “You do not just take someone’s music and do with it as you please!” Blankenship screamed. The door behind them slammed without the person who’d been about to exit coming through. “You’re finished. I’d heard you liked to be your own person, but this is going too far. Get your things and get out of this building!” He turned and stomped off down the hallway toward the executive offices.

  Adrian stood there for a moment, his mind reeling. Have I really just screwed things up with Blankenship that badly? Anyone can see that I made the piece stronger. The audience loved it.

  “Boy, Adrian, that took a lot of balls,” Sylvia, the principal hornist, said as she peered around the edge of the door.

  He shrugged and shifted his flute to his other hand. “The audience loved it, and my changes made the piece better.”

  She tucked her arm in his and led him toward the dressing room. “It doesn’t matter if it made the piece better. You made Blankenship look like a moron.” She paused and giggled softly. “And yes, it did make the piece better, but you know he wrote the whole thing as a tribute to his mother after she died. He meant for it to be slow and somber.”

  Adrian’s heart skipped a beat. “Shit, I didn’t know that. How was I supposed to know that? Nobody ever told me. No wonder he’s so mad.” He’d have been mad too if someone had taken a funeral dirge he’d written for his disliked mother and made it uplifting.

  “You would’ve known if you’d not missed the rehearsal two weeks ago where he spent two hours going on about his inspiration for the work. Or if you even glanced at the program notes.” They turned the corner and caught up to the tail end of the other members who’d gone around the long way to avoid the confrontation between Adrian and Blankenship.

  “Wow, two hours? Really? My root canal didn’t take that long, and was probably less painful.”

  Sylvia sighed. “See, Adrian, that’s part of your problem. It’s too much about you. You need to get more in touch with other people. Then maybe you’ll stop doing your own thing and pissing so many people off. Even if it sounds better your way, you need to see things from others’ points of view.”

  Adrian stopped just outside the dressing room doors. “So you’re saying I’m selfish?”

  She shook her head. “Not selfish exactly, more… self-focused. When was the last time you had a boyfriend for more than a week?”

  Adrian thought. He’d been so wrapped up in his music he’d not really been dating much, except when his best friend, Sebastian, dragged him out on blind dates.

  “You took too long with that one.” Sylvia interrupted his thoughts and pushed past him into the green room. “You shouldn’t have to think that hard to find someone you went out with for more than a week.”

  “So, Sebastian, do you think I’m self-centered?” Adrian asked as they settled into a booth at Panda’s, the best oriental restaurant in Dallas.

  Sebastian stared at him for a moment. “No more than any of the other queens around town. Why?”

  “I lost my job with the symphony this evening, and Sylvia said that I’m a little too self-focused.” He slid the menu aside. They ate there often enough that he knew what he wanted. “And you didn’t help by comparing me to the queens in town.”

  His friend gestured for the waiter. “I didn’t say queens, I said other queens. There is a difference.”

  Adrian glared at Sebastian. “I’m not a queen.”

  “Honey, you’re a gay man who plays the flute in the symphony.” Sebastian shook his overly gelled head. “You don’t get much gayer than that unless you’re a go-go boy. Speaking of which, are we hitting the bar after this? I haven’t been dancing in a week.”

  “You were out Tuesday,” Adrian corrected him. “And I’m not sure I’m in the mood for the bar.
I think I’ll just go home and figure out what I’m going to do. I wonder if I go groveling back if I can get at least second chair.”

  Their waiter appeared and took their order.

  “Why did you get fired?” Sebastian sounded more serious.

  “I changed up my solo this evening.”

  “A little?”

  “A lot,” Adrian admitted. “It was a boring piece, and I spiced it up. Then Sylvia explained later that Blankenship had written it for his dead mother.” He paused and took a sip of the beer the waiter placed on the table. “I feel bad about it now, but I still made the piece better.”

  Sebastian shook his head again. “Adrian, honey, you don’t mess with a piece that someone wrote for their dead mother. Really, you’d best just leave town now. You know, talk nice, and I’ll go with you. What do you say? San Fran? Broadway? Or, heaven forbid”—he grabbed his narrow chest for emphasis—“Oklahoma City?”

  Adrian took another swig of his beer and sighed. “I don’t know. I love Texas. I hate the idea of leaving it. But I love playing the flute too much to think of giving it up. Plus I’m damn good at it.”

  “Nah, Dio, you’re not self-centered. Maybe a bit of an egotist, but not self-centered.” Sebastian laughed.

  The use of his nickname softened the comment, but Adrian still frowned. “Hey, really here. I’ve got to figure out what I’m doing with my life.”

  Sebastian nodded. “I just realized, you need a job.”

  “No shit.”

  “No, a real job, something where you’re connecting with people.”

  Adrian moved his hands so their waiter could place his dinner down. “I’m done waiting tables and doing small shit. Besides, I’ve got bills to pay.”

  “You need a change. I know you. You’ve got your bills set up for a few months at least. Why not do something fun?”

  His fork paused halfway to his mouth as Adrian looked at his friend. “Like what?” Sebastian wasn’t known for holding down long-term jobs. He always complained that they interfered with his search for his next sugar daddy. He did seasonal work at best.

  Sebastian dipped his sweet and sour chicken into sauce. “I start working at the ceramics shop at the Ren faire next weekend. I think Paul’s still looking for someone to play the ocarinas and flutes out front. You’d be perfect.”

  “The Ren faire? Really?” Adrian frowned again. “Dress in silly costumes and stand around outside all day, playing poorly made toy instruments?”

  “Like a tuxedo isn’t a silly costume? It’s a lot of fun. There’s a ton of hot guys that hang out there. Remember me telling you about the jouster a couple years ago? Now he was to die for. Maybe we can find you a man to take your mind off your problems for a while.”

  Adrian reached for his beer again. A man would help, at least short term. But is there really anything for me at Scarborough Renaissance Festival? The atmosphere might inspire some new music. “What’s it pay?”

  Chapter 2

  “Eddy, run get me my leading cane,” Ed Costa yelled at his son from across the barnyard. The trailer was clean, and it was time to start loading the critters.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to start loading?” Ed’s brother, Bryan, asked. The chubby man leaned against the handle of the broom with which he’d just swept out the elephant trailer. “If we wait until morning, we can get a good night’s rest and start out refreshed.”

  Ed shook his head. Reflexively, he reached up to brush away the lock of brown hair that wasn’t there anymore. He’d just gotten his hair cut short for the start of the faire. “You know Cara travels better at night, and with her baby going along, I want her as calm as possible.”

  Cara, their twenty-five-year-old Indian elephant had Ciro, her six-month-old calf, alongside. Ed wasn’t sure about working the first-time mother, but he needed two elephants, and their third, Elena, was too old to give rides to people at the renaissance faire this year.

  “Yeah, I was just hoping that we might be able to put it off,” Bryan complained.

  “Hoping for a hot date?” Ed asked.

  “No… well, maybe.” Bryan stepped out of the huge trailer. “Stephanie said if I was still around when she got off work she might stop by.”

  With a sigh, Ed went to inspect the other trailers they’d be hauling. “So why didn’t you tell her you’d be back day after tomorrow? We’re close enough, and I can handle the rest of setup with the Dallas gang.”

  “You and Eddy going to do all that with the three guys you’ve hired? Do you know all of them this year?” Bryan followed along behind Ed.

  “Two of the guys are from last year. You remember Sonny and Clive?” Ed reached for the broom Bryan still carried and went to sweep out a little bit of hay they’d missed earlier.

  “Those two cowboys?”

  “Sonny works part time at the Dallas Zoo. He knows animals. He did a good job last year. Clive might be a cowboy, but again he’s comfortable with animals. Clive said he might know someone who can help out.”

  “Here’s your leading cane, Dad.” Eddy, Ed’s five-year-old son, appeared at the back of the trailer. “Are we going to load Cara and Ciro now?”

  Ed smiled down at the dark-haired boy. “We need to get Gwen in first, but after Grandma gets over here with Tahir and Jala.”

  “Then don’t wait on my account,” Ed’s mother, Carina, said. She stopped at the back of the trailer with the lead ropes for the two dromedary camels in her grasp. “These two are in a good mood today.” She reached up and stroked the brown muzzle of the nearest beast. “I think they know it’s time for them to get back to work, and they’re looking forward to it.”

  “Good.” Ed nodded. “Let’s get them settled in their trailer, then load the elephants so we can get on the road.” In the distance, the south Texas sun slowly began its dip below the horizon. “If we can load the baby before full dark, it’ll be easier.” The baby had never been in the trailer before, but Cara was an old hand at it and should help her child through it and the next two months. Overall, walking alongside his mother while she had people riding on her back would be good socialization for the young pachyderm.

  “Daddy, why is Uncle Bryan mad at you?” Eddy asked from the truck’s passenger seat.

  Ed sighed as a small sports car shot past them on Interstate 20, heading east. “He wanted to go spend time with Stephanie tonight rather than driving into faire.”

  “That shouldn’t be a reason to get mad at you.”

  “I agree, but Uncle Bryan gets lonely, and Stephanie makes him feel less alone.”

  “But you don’t have anyone like Stephanie,” Eddy continued. “You don’t get lonely, do you?”

  A strange pang shot through Ed as he ruffled his son’s black hair. “I’ve got you, Grandma, Uncle Bryan, and all the critters. How could I get lonely?” Sure, their very close family and all the animals helped keep the loneliness at bay. But sometimes, late at night, when everyone else was sleeping, he’d lie awake wondering what it would feel like to have someone in his life. Someone who would hold him, help him, and be strong for him when he needed it. With Eddy around, it was hard for him even to find tricks like he had in college, but he loved his son so much it didn’t matter. Most of the time.

  Eddy took his father’s hand. “I just don’t want you getting mad at me because you’re lonely. It seems silly to get mad at the people you love because you want someone else too.”

  “Don’t worry, kiddo, I don’t need anyone else but you guys.” Although a good blow job and a tight ass might not be bad from time to time.

  “Good, Daddy, ’cause you, Grandma, and Uncle Bryan are all I need too.” Eddy let go of his hand, snuggled down into the car seat, and drifted off to sleep.

  Ed Costa kept his mind on his driving, but his son’s questions kept coming back to him. Am I lonelier than I realize? It had been over five years since he touched another man in passion. All the animals took up a lot of time and money. They didn’t leave much opportunity to go
out and meet people, even if he didn’t have Eddy to occupy the rest of his time. Eddy’s getting old enough to understand that I’m gay. But will that be too big of a shadow over him when he’s in school? Rural Texas still had issues with nontraditional families. Although his folks had owned the farm they all still lived on for nearly fifty years, there was the concern that the community would turn on them if too much came out. He could still remember the looks when he showed up in town carrying Eddy in the car seat the first time. Single mothers they understood, but a single father was something else entirely.

  His line of thinking made him glad they were heading to the renaissance festival for the next couple of months. He always relaxed at the faire. The people there were so different from anyone he’d grown up with in South Texas. There were times he wished they could afford to do the fairs full time like so many of the vendors did. But the expense, not just in permits to move the animals around, made it impractical to do much outside Texas. So, he kept his business to just the few fairs within his home state.

  Ed glanced over at the sleeping child. He didn’t want to do anything that would upset Eddy, but maybe… just maybe, if the opportunity arose this year, he might see about at least finding a trick during faire. He was a good-looking guy. Unlike his brother, he hadn’t allowed himself to go flabby. He kept a healthy ratio of fat to lean on his muscular frame. He reached up and ran his fingers through the brown hair he’d just had cut. The idea had hit him that he needed to look a little nicer for the faire this year. Maybe his subconscious had been trying to tell him that something, or someone, was on the horizon. Eddy and the elephants would always come first, but he’d keep his eyes open for an opportunity for a little sexual relief.

  Chapter 3

  The last melodic notes died away in the still, humid afternoon. Adrian lowered his flute and looked at Paul Olsen, owner of Canterbury Ceramics, looking for some sign that the man enjoyed the complex piece he’d just played.