by Hank Edwards
Will let himself into his room. His thoughts fought in his head as he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his coat. He paced the length of the room, quietly arguing with himself. This was ridiculous. He’d written some poems in high school and college, but he had never written a goddamn song. What made him think he could send lyrics to Rex Garland, an established singer/songwriter? Holy hell, what kind of gall did he have to leave lyrics for him like some kind of lovestruck thirteen-year-old girl passing secret admirer notes to a schoolyard crush?
Humiliation crushed the air from his lungs and wrung any lingering joy from his heart. What the hell had he been thinking? He needed to fix this before it was too late. He could go back to the courtyard and demolish that ridiculous snowman and retrieve the note.
Will stepped to the window and looked out to make sure there was no one around. His heart gave a sudden lurch, and his stomach twisted into a tight knot of dread.
Rex stood on the patio, Will’s note in hand. The patio door stood open behind him, casting light across his features as he read what Will had written.
“Oh shit,” Will said, maybe a bit too loudly.
Rex’s head snapped up, and Will jerked back out of sight. His breath came in short pants, and his heart banged against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. He sat on the end of the bed, hands flat against the bedspread as he took deep, slow breaths to try and calm himself. There was no going back now. Rex had found the note, like it or not. All Will could do now was keep from interfering with Rex’s creative process going forward. He had to stop these childish games.
“Is it still snowing?”
That sounded like Earl, Rex’s manager.
“Yeah, no sign of letting up,” Rex called back.
“What’s that?” Earl must have stepped up to the sliding patio door.
“More lyrics from my secret songwriter,” Rex said.
The tone of Rex’s voice pulled Will up from the bed and closer to the window, standing behind the blackout drapes to stay out of sight. Rex sounded happy, like he was touched by the note.
“Is that a snowman?” Earl asked.
“Yeah, it’s cute, isn’t it?” Rex said, the smile evident in his voice.
Will had to see him, had to see Rex’s expression. He moved to the end of the blackout curtain and leaned to the side. The sheer curtains masked too much of the details for him to see Rex’s face, so he moved closer to the open window. When he was able to see around the sheers, Will saw Rex sitting in one of the chairs with his phone out and pointed at the table. Rex had placed the note, unfolded, on the table in front of the snowman, and the flash on his phone strobed as he took a photo. Earl leaned in the door, watching him.
“What do you think of the lyrics?” Earl asked.
Rex nodded as he looked at the photo on his phone. “They’re good, actually.” He looked up, and even from that height and distance, Will plainly saw his smile. “Really good. My secret Santa songwriter gave me a chorus.”
“A chorus?” Earl held out his hand. “Let me see.”
“In a minute. I want to hang out here a little longer, okay?”
“Not too long,” Earl said. “Full lineup of appearances this weekend.”
“A strip mall is not an appearance.”
“It is to the guys who come out to see you.” Earl stepped back into room. “Five minutes. I’m serious.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You should have been so lucky,” Earl said and slid the door shut.
Rex took a few more photos of the note and snowman arrangement before putting his phone in his jacket pocket. He stood and slowly looked around the courtyard, seeming to assess each window. Will jerked back behind the blackout curtain and held his breath as he curled his hands into fists. Had Rex seen him? What would he do if he had?
To Will’s amazement, Rex started singing. He wasn’t using the full power of his voice, but the cold, still air brought it up to Will’s window like some kind of divine message meant just for him. And, in a way, that was exactly what it was.
One stocking hangs by the fireplace
But I’m lonelier by far this Christmas Eve
You’re so far away, so far from reach
My heart aches for you, but my mind still believes
You’ll come back to me
You’ll come stay with me
Weatherman says we’re bound to get snow
But my heart’s not feeling that holiday glow
Without you by my side
This Christmastime
Rex stopped, and Will heard the rustle of paper before he continued to sing.
Can I pretend you’re mine for Christmas?
Can I wish for you this Christmas Eve?
All I want from Santa is your kisses
Can I pretend you’re mine for Christmas?
As he listened to Rex sing their words, Will gathered the heavy blackout curtains in his fists. Not Rex’s words, not Will’s words, their words they’d come up with together. Because it hadn’t been just one of them writing those lyrics; it had been both of them.
“Thanks, my secret Santa songwriter,” Rex said. “Whoever you are.”
The patio door slid open, allowing the sound of a TV to sully the quiet of the courtyard before it shut again.
“Holy shit,” Will whispered. He stepped away from the window and fell back across the bed. “Holy shit. He liked them. Rex really liked the lyrics.”
Will pushed any questions or concerns about how everything in this crazy scenario was going to play out and let himself revel in the moment.
Rex Garland had sung his lyrics.
7
The snow stopped just before the Friday morning rush hour, leaving the area buried under nearly two feet of fresh accumulation. Meteorologists assured everyone the worst was over for the time being as long lists of school closings crawled along the bottom of the TV screen. Will called the phone number Bridget had provided the day before and pumped his fist when he heard the recorded announcement stating the office would be closed. He couldn’t remember ever before receiving a surprise three-day weekend from work due to the weather.
He propped himself up in bed, half-watching the local news coverage of the efforts to clear the roads as he relived hearing Rex singing their lyrics the night before. Would Rex ever sing that song live? Could he sing it during his extended appearances at the Side-Eye? Will grabbed his phone and navigated to Rex’s Facebook page. He scrolled through the posts, smiling at the photos of Rex in concert as he searched for the schedule Rex or his social media manager had posted listing his appearances at the Side-Eye. There it was, and Rex was playing that night and the rest of next week.
With a start, Will realized the following week would be the last full week until Christmas. His time there in Williamsville was winding down fast. And even if his assignment was extended beyond Christmas Eve, Rex’s appearances at the Side-Eye would be over. The snowstorm had dropped the perfect opportunity right in Will’s lap. The road crews were out in force making sure the highways were clear. Will didn’t have to worry about driving to the hotel from the office, finding food, and changing clothes, then driving to the bar. All he had to do was pick his outfit and drive right to the Side-Eye.
This was it. Tonight, he would go see Rex sing live for the first time. Tonight, he would discover what it felt like to receive the full Rex Garland experience.
But he had no idea what to wear. He would be in a bar filled with men who worked out steadily. Will needed to feel good about himself if he were to be in their midst. For a decision that important, he was going to need some guidance.
“Tell it to me again.”
On the FaceTime app, Carter’s eyes gleamed with gleeful curiosity. Or maybe it was fever. Will couldn’t be certain.
“I don’t know if you’re really up to this,” Will said. “You look even more flushed now, and maybe a little manic. When did you last take your temperature?”
“2015. Come on, tell i
t again. But slower this time, and with more emotion.”
Will shook his head. “Not until I watch you take your temperature and you show me the readout.”
Carter rolled his eyes. “Okay. But it’s a rectal thermometer, you perv.”
Will laughed but cut it short and gave him a stern look. “Stop stalling and get to it.”
“You are the biggest killjoy.”
“I love you, too,” Will said patiently. “Now go.”
Carter made a big production of rolling off the couch. He stomped through his apartment to the bathroom, holding up his phone so Will could see his face. By Carter’s expression, it looked like every step was an effort. Will could see the bathroom counter was clean and organized as Carter picked up the thermometer, and the sight reassured him. Organization was one of Carter’s predominant traits, and if the bathroom looked that good, Carter still cared enough to keep it that way.
The thermometer was the type that measured temperature within the ear canal. Carter held the phone out, allowing Will to watch him press the tip into his ear and giving him a deadpan stare as they waited. Will smirked and shook his head. Even sick as a dog, Carter was still bringing the sass. When the thermometer beeped to signal it was finished, Carter removed it and looked at the readout.
“Well?” Will said.
Carter sighed and held the thermometer up so Will could see the display: 102.4.
“Uh-huh,” Will said, trying not to sound like a parent but knowing he had failed.
“So I have a fever. So what?” Carter said. “It’s not a surprise.”
“Take something to bring that fever down,” Will said. “Right now.”
“Oh my God, you don’t understand me at all!” Carter whined like a petulant child.
But he propped the phone on the bathroom counter so Will could watch as he swallowed a couple of ibuprofen. Carter turned to the phone, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue to prove he’d swallowed the pills.
“Very good,” Will said in his best patronizing tone. “Now get into bed and under the covers. Are you drinking fluids?”
“I went to the water sports room in the local bathhouse last night—does that count?”
Will made a face. “Not sure that’s the same thing.”
Carter shrugged as he shuffled to his bedroom. “It’s fluids, right?”
“Not the same.”
“Tomato, toe-mah-to,” Carter grumbled as he crawled into bed. “Tap water, urine. Same diff.” He made a show of organizing himself under the covers, then looked expectantly at Will. “I showed you mine. Now it’s your turn.”
“Fair enough,” Will said and repeated his story of what happened the night before.
“So romantic,” Carter said with a sigh. “What happens now? Are you going to be a snow day whore and go knock on his patio door like a stray dog?”
“What? No! I couldn’t look him in the eye after all this.”
“Really? But he likes what you’ve written, or so it seems.”
Will nodded. “Yeah. But it would be just too… I don’t know, vulnerable?”
“Yeah, I get that. So what are you going to do?”
“I was thinking about going to the bar tonight and seeing him in concert.”
Carter widened his eyes. “Yes! Do that. Oh my God, if you don’t do that, I will drag myself out to North Dakota and do it myself.”
“I’m in upstate New York,” Will said with a laugh. “And you stay in bed and rest. I’ll go. But…”
“But what? Don’t make me fly out there to Boise.”
“I’m not in… Never mind.” Will took a breath and let it out. “I was hoping you’d help me pick out something to wear? You’re really good at putting outfits together.”
“Absolutely.” Carter gave a firm nod. “Let’s do this right now, before I pass out.”
“Sure you’re up to it?”
“Clock’s ticking, William.”
“Okay, okay,” Will said and crossed the room to the double doors of the closet. “Be kind.”
“I’ll be as gentle as possible, but no guarantees. Put on your big boy panties and let’s do this.”
8
The heavy thump of the music seemed to highjack Will’s heartbeat as he stood against the wall and looked around the Side-Eye. It was set inside a converted warehouse with a massive, crowded-as-fuck dance floor set between a stage at one end and a bar made of corrugated steel at the other. A deejay stood on the stage, wearing headphones and dancing in place behind a bunch of sound equipment. A majority of the men thrusting and gyrating on the dance floor had peeled off their shirts and tucked them into their pants, showing off sculpted torsos both smooth and hairy, all gleaming with sweat beneath the flashing lights. The whole place was soaked in pheromones and body sprays, and Will couldn’t look away from the writing mass of bodies.
He had never been comfortable in dance bars. His weight and overall size along with his natural inability to move to any kind of rhythm made him feel like a plodding elephant moving through a herd of graceful gazelles. When he and Carter had been dating, Carter had often dragged Will to dance bars, a different one for each night of the week. After several failed attempts to get Will to relax on the dance floor and just move to the music, Carter had finally stopped cajoling him to dance. When Carter heard a song he liked, he simply shimmied his way out on the dance floor alone. That happened often because Carter pretty much ran on caffeine and dance music.
A sudden, almost painful longing to have Carter there flared hot inside him. Will adjusted the sleeves of the button-down shirt Carter had suggested he wear. Okay, suggested was much too tame. More like demanded. Will had only worn the shirt once before, and now he remembered why. It was an athletic-cut style, and he didn’t quite have an athletic-cut-style body shape, and that made the sleeves pull up. He had really liked the vertical striped pattern and the soft, cotton material, but he wasn’t sure it had been the best choice to wear that night. His arms felt a little trapped, and his armpits were already damp.
This had been a bad idea. What had he been thinking coming out to see Rex perform? He was too nervous and self-conscious; he should just leave. But when would he get another chance to see Rex perform live?
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his back pocket. It was a text from Carter, and it made Will grin in spite of his nerves.
Don’t you dare leave that place without listening to at least one complete set. I don’t care how uncomfortable you are. You stay where you are, leaning up against the wall and feeling sweaty and like you could never compare to all the other men there. You are an awesome man who is kind and funny (well, sometimes), and handsome, with a glorious cock and the moves of a sex god to go along with it. Not to mention you are helping Rex Garland write a Christmas song! So you stay put, bitch, and don’t even think about ducking out of there like some kind of baby pants coward. But definitely check your fly. You don’t want to look like too much of a slut. I love you. Don’t you dare leave!
Will read the message over several times, his smile widening. Carter knew him well. Maybe a little too well. He surveyed the dancers again, letting his gaze linger on the glistening, muscular bodies. It couldn’t hurt for him to stay and listen to Rex sing. All he had to do was stand right where he was and maybe have a beer or two. The roads had been clear for his drive to the bar, so he shouldn’t have a problem getting back to the hotel.
He shook his head and wrote Carter back: You busted me. I was about to zip out the door like a cartoon character. Lots of hot, sweaty dancing men here, so you’d fit right in. I think I’ve already pitted out my shirt. But I’ll stay. This is what I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. Thanks for the support. I love you right back. And your cock is nice too.
Carter’s response was almost immediate: Nice?!?!
Will laughed and sent back a heart emoji. He didn’t feel like he belonged there, but he felt a little better about it, and that’s what mattered. Abandoning his spot agains
t the wall, Will waited in line behind a group of handsome twenty-something men, all with their shirts off to display beautifully toned torsos. They all flirted with the bartender as they ordered mixed drinks, laughing and reaching across the bar to touch his bare chest and belly. Once they’d been served, they strutted off into the crowd, all without sparing Will a single glance. He stepped up to the bar and flashed the bartender a nervous smile before he ordered a light beer. He hated the taste of light beer, but he was too self-conscious about his weight to be seen there among the beautiful people drinking something with any more calories.
Once he’d paid and tipped the bartender, Will discovered his spot against the wall had been taken. He wasn’t really surprised. Lots of men liked to hang back and watch the sexy parade of flesh pass by. The bar area was pretty well lit, however, and it made him feel conspicuous and vulnerable. He merged into the flow of foot traffic heading back to the dance floor area and the safety of the shadows. A waist-high railing marked the borders of the dance floor, and Will lucked into an open spot close to the stage. He drank his beer and watched the dancers, marveling at their sinuous movements.
The music volume slowly dimmed until it had faded out completely. Will turned toward the stage, watching as the deejay pushed his equipment off to one side. The deejay picked up a microphone and slid his headphones off his ears and down around his neck as he walked to center stage.
“Hello Side-Eyers! How are you all feeling tonight?”
The crowd screamed in response, and Will laughed.
“Sounds like you feel good, but do you want to feel even better?”
More screaming, much louder this time, and the men pressed closer to the stage.
The deejay laughed this time, and a quiver of excitement ran through Will. Without even thinking about it, he had placed himself in the perfect position to be able to see Rex.
