by Lane Hayes
I leaned my head on his hand and kissed his palm. And when my eyes welled and a tear escaped, Ky brushed it with his thumb and pulled me into his arms. I think that was when I knew I loved him. He wasn’t a poet and grandiose romantic gestures weren’t his thing. But he excelled at the stuff that mattered. He offered me a place to rest my head, he dried my tears when I was sad, held me close when I was overwhelmed. He calmed me and reminded me to stop every once in a while and just listen. I wanted to give him something in return.
A real fresh start. A new beginning with no ghosts and no regrets.
Here’s the thing—I had to confront Ky’s dad. It wasn’t in my nature to let the mystery be. It wasn’t just a matter of righteous indignation. If he was writing poor reviews under an alias to get back at his son for some warped reason, he was guilty of slander. The way I saw it, it was my responsibility as Zero’s manager to investigate. And as Ky’s boyfriend, I wanted to know what the hell he was thinking, trying to sabotage his son.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to contact Ed without asking Ky, so I put a few pieces together and started making some calls. The first was to Sound Cloud, the blog that published Nelson Cormer’s reviews. They confirmed he was a freelance writer who occasionally submitted pitches to cover for concerts and new releases. Interestingly enough, he’d contacted them three times, and each proposed pitch was for a Zero show. I didn’t think they’d give me his phone number, but I would have taken an email address.
I moved on to Sandstone, but they were less helpful. I left three messages over four days. Daria finally called back the following Monday.
“Hello, Charlie. I’ve been meaning to call you, but it’s just been so busy here. I’m working on a new contract for your boys. We’re still interested in Zero, but you know how it is. Let’s meet in January and go over the terms.”
Her cavalier tone immediately set me on edge. Two months ago these assholes couldn’t wait to sign Zero and now they were “prioritizing”? Nope. Maybe they gave up on Zero, but that didn’t make sense. Their sold-out shows and growing media presence had been noted. I had other record companies clamoring to sign them. I was working hard on a business plan to present to the guys, but if I couldn’t convince them to start our own label, I had two or three solid candidates who were ready to go. Screw Sandstone. They weren’t going to make a dime off Zero if I had a say.
“Wonderful,” I enthused in the Hollywood BS voice I’d heard my dad use to skewer people he’d lost interest in. “Busy is good. I haven’t heard anything about Declan in months. He must be ready to release some material soon.”
“Hmm. It’s a bit complicated. Work in progress, if you know what I mean.”
No, I didn’t know. “Right. Well, I thought I’d touch base with you and—oh. I have a funny question while I have you on the line. Do you happen to know anyone named Nelson Cormer?”
“No, I don’t think so. Sorry, I have another call on the—”
“Oops. I meant Ed Baldwin. Pardon me. I got distracted by something on my computer screen,” I lied, shifting on the sofa as I petted Caprice.
“Yeah, Ed is a friend of Neil and Ray’s. Why do you ask?”
I made up an elaborate tale about him being an old friend of the family and a mutual acquaintance who’d mentioned Neil and Ray, etcetera. Pure fiction, but I was damn good at telling a story. And by the time we hung up, I had Ed’s number and the niggling feeling that I should call Declan to find out what was really happening over at Sandstone.
I glanced at my watch. I had just enough time to pick up Oliver and head to the beach to meet Ky before crosstown traffic became a nightmare.
Declan first…he was easy.
We’d exchanged a couple of text messages since I’d bumped into him at Sandstone’s office. They were polite, “It was nice to meet you. Hope we can work together sometime.” exchanges. No big deal. I didn’t have the time or energy to take on a new client at the moment. And I didn’t think it was wise to attempt it until Zero nailed down a recording contract. For now, I just needed information.
“Hello?”
“Hello. This is Charlie Rourke. Do you have a minute?”
“Hey there! Yeah, I was going to call you. I figured I’d wait till the new year, but since we’re talking now…I want you to manage me.”
Shit. “Um. That’s great. We can certainly talk, but uh…I can’t really help you if you’re with Sandstone.”
“I shredded the contract from Sandstone. It was weak anyway.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” he huffed derisively. “I was there for three weeks and never saw the inside of a studio. Not a good start, ya know?”
“Oh.”
“They make promises, but their follow-through sucks. I just picked up a new bassist and drummer and…”
I listened to his game plan with a frown. Zero was a new entity for sure, but Declan’s band was in its infancy. They weren’t ready for show time. They needed time to practice, get a few gigs under their belts, and establish a social media presence. All things I’d helped Zero do. I could help them, but…
“To be perfectly honest, Declan. I need a couple of things to fall in place first. I’m thinking of starting my own label and—” I stopped abruptly and slapped my hand over my mouth. Fuck.
“You are? That’s awesome!”
“Ha. Well, we’ll see what happens,” I said with a half laugh.
“You could sign us on. We’d be a good contrast to Zero. Our sound is different and it’s just the three of us. I don’t know anything about marketing, but we both know Sandstone wanted me around because of Zero. If you took on both of us, you have the advantage.”
“That’s what my dad thinks,” I replied unthinking. I cleared my throat before adding, “Zero is my priority and honestly, the animosity between you guys might be tough to overcome.”
“It’s not a problem on my side. The past is the past. I’ve apologized a hundred times. I’m not sure what else I can do. Justin is a stubborn fuck and Tegan is—whatever. This doesn’t have to go on forever. We can end the grudge BS and start over. I think we could actually help each other, ya know?”
I did too. In fact, my brain went into overdrive. I could build an empire based on their combined raw talent. Healthy competition might work in their favor if we controlled the message.
“Maybe so,” I replied thoughtfully. “I’ll be in touch.”
I hung up with Declan, flipped open my laptop, and outlined a few ideas to implement in my business plan for Zero and the prospective label. I squeaked when I noticed the time and scared my poor cat. I quickly fed Caprice, then scrolled for the contact info I’d input earlier and pushed Send before hurrying to my car.
“ ’Lo,” a gruff voice answered.
“Hello, Ed. This is Charlie Rourke. You might not remember my name, but we’ve met at a couple of Zero shows. I’m the short blond with—”
“With the big mouth,” he finished. “Yeah, I know you. How’d you get my number?”
“From your friends at Sandstone. I did a little detective work when I figured out you’re Nelson Cormer and…” I paused for a dramatic effect. “You’re Ky’s father.”
“Congratulations. Well done, Inspector Gadget,” he snarked. “You want a medal or something?”
“No, I want to know what you’re doing. Why are trying to sabotage him?”
“I’m not sabotaging anything. I’m teaching him an invaluable life lesson. Not everyone’s gonna like what you do. Get tough. Stay tough.”
I slowed behind a Suburban and furrowed my brow. “What kind of crap is that? You’re his dad. You’re supposed to support him. That’s what parents do.”
“No, they teach.”
“Not by being an asshole,” I retorted. “That’s a pretty elaborate scheme too. Pulling in favors from friends, talking up the competition in a music blog…why did you keep coming to Zero’s shows if you thought they sucked? Why not write about Declan and piss everyone of
f that way?”
“I did, but he doesn’t have much material. The kid’s not ready for prime time.”
“He will be when I’m done with him.”
“Are you representing him too or just fucking him on the side? Does Ky know about it? I’ve heard you two are sweethearts…or whatever queers call it.”
“Who told you that?”
“I’ve seen you moonin’ at him onstage, but if I had any doubts, my ex-wife confirmed it,” he huffed sarcastically.
“Mona? Oh. Right. We met at dinner and—she told us you were terminally ill. I’m so sorry. I really am. But I guess that makes it harder for me to understand why you’re trying to hurt Ky.” I pulled to the curb a block away from my dad’s house and glared at the screen on my console.
“Christ, I’m not terminally ill. Where’d you get that?”
My forehead creased so hard that my head ached. “Mona said you had cancer. She also said there was a chance you were lying, but why would you lie about—”
“I’m fine. I’m gonna live another twenty-five years. But in case it’s less, I’m not leaving a legacy of bullshit behind me,” he replied gruffly.
“So you just wanted his attention? That’s…despicable.”
“Hey. Don’t get high and mighty with me. I’m trying to help here.”
“By lying?”
“Ky has no shot in the music business. He picked up the bass to be a rebellious shit. I get it. I was a dick. But I’ve learned my lessons. The thing you love the most will tear you to pieces if you’re not careful. Music is a fickle lady. You love her, she tells you she loves you too, then she stabs you in the fuckin’ back. By all means, fuck her. But don’t let her fuck you. It’s not a one-night stand, it’s a life sentence of getting led around by the short hairs and having your dreams crushed. Night after night. Year after year. Ky’s in the wrong business. He needs somethin’ safe and reliable. And he needs a girlfriend…not a boy toy. He won’t talk to me. He doesn’t listen anyway. So I’m showin’ him. He’ll get the picture eventually.”
Wow. That was…awful. I didn’t think I’d ever spoken to a more odious person in my life.
“You’re jealous,” I said. “You’re not trying to save him from anything. You don’t want him to be better than you. You hate the idea that he might be successful doing something he loves. And that he has people in his life who genuinely love him. You’re a real asshole, Ed.”
He chuckled. “Why, thank you. And you’re a spoiled little shit. I know who you are, Charlie. I know who your dad is. You don’t love Ky. You love the idea of what he can do for you. Grow up, kid. I know your type. Something tells me you’re as big of a shark as your dear ol’ dad.”
“You know nothing about my father. Or me. And you know even less about your son,” I spat. “Stay away from him. And stay away from Zero. If I see you at a show, I’ll have you arrested. I mean it. Don’t mess with me.”
I hung up with Ed’s maniacal laughter ringing in my ears. My hands shook and my heart pounded like I’d just been in a serious car wreck. Geez, Ky was right. His dad was a real piece of work. Sure, I got the information I was after, but it was a bit more than I’d bargained for.
10
Ky
Organized sports might not be for everyone, but John Wooden was on to something when he said, “Sports don’t build character, they reveal it.” I’d tried a few team sports when I was a kid. I’d played soccer and basketball on a rec league, but I did better at individual sports where my learning curve didn’t depend on how well other players did on the field. Skateboarding started out as a means of simple transportation-slash-hobby, then progressed to a passion. I’d suffered my share of setbacks. There was always someone better, more agile, and a little cooler, but the benefits far outweighed scraped knees and a bruised ego. Balance, core strength, stress reducer, and yeah…the cool factor helped make friends. In the couple of months since Oliver and I began our casual lessons, he’d become a decent skater. He wasn’t going to be the next Tony Hawk, but something better happened. Every time he mastered a new skill, his confidence grew. Little by little, Charlie and I noticed some nice changes.
Oliver actually liked third grade now. He’d joined the chess club, quit soccer, made new friends, and he never complained about wearing glasses. He wasn’t quick to let his peers’ opinions stop him from doing what he enjoyed. Charlie gave me credit for that, but when I glanced over at my boyfriend rocking a red cashmere coat and a fancy pair of Italian loafers, I knew it was really a joint effort. Anyone who could hang with a gaggle of hardcore skaters and surfers looking like he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine was a shining example of how to be comfortable in your own skin.
I suggested bringing Ollie to Venice Skatepark a couple of times so he could see what “real” skateboarding looked like, and he loved it. He watched the avid skaters with obvious wonder, commenting in an awed tone about how much air they got and how fast they could go. But I was his favorite and yes…there was a part of me that loved showing off for the nine-year-old and even more so, for my sexy boyfriend, who always brought his iPad with him yet spent the entire time watching me do my thing.
I waved at Ollie and Charlie and sniggered when Charlie mouthed, Be careful. Probably good advice, though. I stood at the top of what looked like the deep end of a huge empty pool. I winked at him as I held the nose of my board with my right hand, set one foot on the back, and toppled into the abyss. My breath caught in my chest. The instant high of flying, then twisting and turning to regain balance in seconds flat was exhilarating as fuck. I popped up on the opposite side and rotated in a full circle before disappearing again. I heard cheers along the perimeter and a few gasps of dismay, so I figured I’d better make my dismount memorable. I rode the rails along the side of the concave area, flew across the top of the pool, and skidded to a stop before hopping off and catching my board in the air.
My small audience clapped and wolf-whistled in approval. I slapped high fives and fist-bumped as I made my way to Charlie and Oliver.
“Dude! That monster flip was gnarly!” Ollie enthused.
“No, it was terrifying,” Charlie groused.
Ollie rolled his eyes, then slipped into skater jargon. Every other word was “epic,” “awesome,” and “rad.” I nodded absently and grinned at Charlie’s faux-irritated grin, knowing he didn’t mind being here one bit.
“Hey, what’s that frown for?” I unsnapped my helmet and dropped it on the ground, flashing a megawatt grin his way. He didn’t thaw, so I tweaked his cheek and chuckled when he smacked my hand. “Were you worried about me?”
“Yes. Whatever that was should be illegal,” he huffed. “I’m so…tense. I’m getting a stress headache.”
“I know a good way to take care of that.”
“Keep it G-rated.”
“I always do,” I singsonged. “The best medicine for a headache is a joke. So…did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?”
“No.”
“Great food, no atmosphere.”
Charlie groaned. “That was terrible.”
“C’mon, that was hilarious. I got more. What do you call a fake noodle?” I asked. “Give up? An impasta.”
When Charlie rolled his eyes, I tugged his hair playfully and pulled him against my chest in a fierce embrace. I kissed the top of his head before releasing him.
Oliver cast a curious gaze between us. “I knew it.”
I smiled and shrugged. We hadn’t gone out of our way to keep “us” on the DL, but I was usually reserved when it came to public displays. However, I was pretty sure the band knew there was something between Charlie and me. We didn’t grope each other or make out in front of them, but we didn’t keep our distance either. I firmly believed in doing what felt natural, and being with Charlie felt right and good and easy. But if Oliver knew, the cat was officially out of the proverbial bag ’cause there was no way we’d ask a nine-year-old to keep a secret.
“Is that cool by you?” I aske
d Oliver, lowering my hand to rest on Charlie’s hip.
“Yeah. As long as you guys don’t get weird. Don’t kiss too much, but don’t stop talking to each other either. That’s what grownups always do. They do too much or they don’t do anything at all.” He snapped his helmet on, then rode his skateboard a few feet away from us.
“Words of wisdom,” Charlie whispered. “FYI. Everyone will know now.”
“Fine by me.” I nodded as I bent to collect my stuff. “Come on. Let’s drop him at your dad’s and go to your place and do it. I’ll look up some dad jokes to entertain you on the way back.”
“Thank God we drove separately,” he snickered before leaning in to kiss me.
Fifteen minutes later, I parked my truck on the street in front of Charlie’s townhouse and met him inside his garage. He waited for me next to his BMW with a shy smile.
I pushed my hair behind my ear and stopped a foot away from him. “What are you thinking about?”
“You. Thank you,” Charlie said.
“For what?”
“For being kind to Ollie. For being patient. I’m sorry I doubted you when you suggested skateboard lessons. You were right.”
I cocked my head in surprise and pulled out my cell. “Hang on.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, setting his hands on his hips.
“Start over. I need to record this.”
Charlie swatted my hand away, then snaked his arms around my waist and looked up at me in pure adoration. “I take it back. I must be hungry. I think I should feed you to take away any weirdness. ’Cause if I attempt to seduce you with a grilled cheese sandwich and I misread the room, I can always say it was just a fuckin’ grilled cheese, you know?”
I nodded as I stepped into his space. “Yeah, but I don’t want a fuckin’ grilled cheese. I just want you.”
I slid my fingers through his hair, smiling when he leaned into my touch like a greedy cat. I massaged his scalp tenderly before sealing my lips over his. Charlie wrapped one arm around my neck to pull me to his height. I braced my hand on his car, caging him against the vehicle as I plunged my tongue into his mouth. I wasn’t sure how long we made out in the garage. We took our time with soft, probing kisses and roving hands. I ran my fingers along his throat and down his chest once or twice before I unbuttoned his shirt. That must have been the signal he was waiting for, because he broke the kiss with a gasp, then grabbed my dick through my jeans and squeezed me.
