by Hank Edwards
“All right, then, I guess I’ll let you bitches get what’s coming to you,” the deejay said, and more screams erupted. “Give a big, boisterous, bitch-tastic welcome to our hot resident singer this month, Rex Garland!”
Will had no idea how the crowd managed to out-scream themselves, but they did. Rex strode out on the stage, looking good in a pair of tight black chinos and a white shirt with the top three buttons open to display his furry chest. As Rex waved to the cheering crowd, a black curtain parted behind him, revealing a woman sitting behind a drum set, a bass player, a guitarist, and a keyboard on wheels that a stagehand pushed forward. Rex moved behind the keyboard and played a few notes, the familiar opening of his first big hit, “Clean Slate.”
The crowd shrieked with glee, Will included, but Rex stopped playing and leaned in close to the microphone and said, “What? Did you guys recognize those notes or something?”
Wild cheers and applause as Rex grinned.
“Well, maybe I’ll play something like that later, but for now, how about something a little more upbeat for my Rexaroos?”
The drummer counted the band in by hitting her sticks together. Then they launched into the fun, bass-heavy song “That’s Gonna Leave a Mark.” Will sang along, lost in his study of Rex’s expressions. Only about thirty feet separated them, so much closer than how he usually saw Rex back at the hotel. The times they’d talked in the hotel breakfast nook and at the rib joint, Will had been too overwhelmed by Rex’s singular focus to process anything beyond simple facial recognition. Now, safely removed by being part of a crowd, Will couldn’t stop staring. At least not until Rex looked right at him, locking his gaze with Will’s as they both sang the lyrics. Heat rushed to Will’s face, and he forced himself to turn away from that intense gaze. He looked instead to the dance floor where some guys were moving to the music, but most were singing along with Rex, just like he’d been doing.
None of them, he would bet, were helping Rex write a Christmas song.
Will worked up enough courage to turn his attention back to the stage and was both relieved and disappointed when he discovered Rex had looked away from him. Rex finished the song, and the crowd went wild. Will whistled, shouted, and applauded along with them, his smile widening further as Rex launched right into “Your Wicked Kiss,” one of Will’s favorites.
A whistle sounded from the dance floor, especially high-pitched and piercing. Will cringed and looked over his shoulder. A shiver of dread went through him at the sight of Andrew, his prima donna coworker. Oh shit, what was Andrew doing there? And with his shirt off, of course, because he had maybe three percent body fat and apparently all the motivation in the world to work out on a regular basis.
The urge to flee swelled inside Will. He wanted to snake his way through the crowd to the door at the other end of the bar, get in his car, and drive back to the hotel. Not because he was afraid of being outed—he didn’t care about that. It was more trying to save himself from embarrassment due to his size. Andrew and the men gathered around him looked like perfect specimen of the male form, while Will… well, he did not. He assessed the crowd, gauging his chances of being able to make it through, and decided to just wait it out. If he tried to make it to the door now, he’d probably just end up drawing Andrew’s attention.
Rex was deep into his set list now—something Will knew because he’d searched for it online—and Will was determined to enjoy the last few songs. He was impressed how good Rex sounded in person. It wasn’t a surprise since he’d been listening to Rex sing in the courtyard, but he was still impressed. Some singers needed a lot of studio help to sound good.
Once Rex finished, he bowed to massive applause, waved to include his band members, bowed once more, and then dashed off backstage. The deejay reappeared almost immediately and kicked off more loud dance music. Will didn’t want whatever the deejay was playing to minimize Rex’s live performance, so he threaded a path through the crowd and away from the dance floor.
There was no sign of Andrew around the bar, so Will stood in line for another beer. He was at the end of the bar farthest from the entrance. Men talked excitedly about Rex and his songs or about the guy they met on the dance floor or the jackass who hadn’t called back. Will tuned it all out and thought about Rex, wondering whether the men around him would believe him if he told them he had been helping Rex co-write a song.
A shout went up from the crowd as Will moved up in line. He turned away from the bar to see what all the commotion was and stopped dead, his heart pounding and his breath stuck in his throat. Rex had come out a door near the bar and was talking and laughing as men gathered around him. Will was trapped by the crowd with no place to go. Rex slowly worked his way through the men, shaking hands, posing for selfies, thanking everyone for coming out to support him.
Will realized that Rex was on a line that would bring him right to his spot. He looked side to side for a way to escape, but men were packed in tight around him; there was no place for him to go. When Rex was a few feet away, someone shoved past Will and the men around him, pushing his way forward in order to stand front and center before Rex. Will realized the rude, pushy man was Andrew and scowled at the back of his head. What a shithead.
“Hey guys!” Rex shouted over the music. “Thanks for coming out and braving the snow on such a cold-as-fuck night.”
The men, Will included, laughed, but Andrew threw back his head and released a high-pitched chattering laugh that made everyone flinch. Including, Will was pleased to see, Rex.
Andrew put a hand on Rex’s shoulder and said, “Oh, Rex! You’re not only talented, but you’re funny!”
Rex managed to keep his smile in place as he casually slid out from under Andrew’s hand. “Oh, thanks. I really appreciate you coming out.”
“Can I get a selfie?” Andrew held his phone up and smiled brightly. “Please?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Rex stepped close, and Andrew put an arm around him as he brought his phone up. The crowd shifted a bit, and Will saw through a gap between some of the men that Andrew had his hand planted firmly on Rex’s ass. And he also saw Rex reach back and move Andrew’s hand off his ass and move it up to his lower back.
Will smiled, but it was short-lived when Andrew turned his head quick to kiss Rex’s cheek right as he snapped the picture. What the fuck?
To his credit, Rex reacted better than Will would have. He stepped away from Andrew and planted a hand in the center of Andrew’s chest to keep him at a distance.
“Not cool, man,” Rex said. “Selfies are one thing, but that could be considered assault.”
Andrew pouted. “It was just a sweet little kiss.”
“Read up on consent, dude,” Rex said. “Not cool. Don’t do it again.”
Several men immediately surrounding them murmured agreement. Andrew spun on his heel and forced his way out of the crowd in a huff.
Will’s attention was on Andrew pushing his way through the men so he didn’t realize Rex was right in front of him until the singer spoke.
“Hey! You’re staying at my hotel, right?” Rex said.
A blank screen of static replaced Will’s brain, and he just stood and stared into Rex’s face with a stupid smile.
“And I saw you at the rib place, right?”
Words returned, but apparently only the words he had just heard spoken because Will said, “Rib place. Right.”
“Yeah!” Rex grabbed his hand and shook it. “And you’ve got a spy name, right? Sorry, I can’t remember it right now.”
“Will.” His name felt like a foreign word he didn’t know the meaning of.
“That’s it. Will. Will Johnson, right?”
Will nodded, trying to find a balance between the fact that Rex was still holding onto his hand, had recognized him, and remembered his last name. What the hell was going on? Had he slipped on ice leaving the bar and hit his head? Was he really back at the hotel, sound asleep and dreaming all of this?
“Thanks for coming
all the way up here, man,” Rex said. “I really appreciate it.”
“I’m a huge fan,” Will said.
Rex’s smile softened but didn’t completely vanish, and his eyes widened. Will felt Rex’s fingers tighten a bit more as he continued to hold his hand.
“Oh yeah?” Rex said. “Are you a longtime fan?”
Will nodded. “Absolutely! Ever since your first song.”
Rex leaned in and, still holding Will’s hand, gently pulled him forward. Panic burst into supernova life in the center of his chest as Rex moved closer, crossing the personal space line and then continuing to close the distance between them. It felt as if sweat practically gushed from every pore as Will leaned back, trying to compensate for Rex’s nearness. What the hell was happening? Was Rex going to kiss him? What the fuck would happen after that? And how bad was his breath after the beers he’d downed?
But Rex had no interest in kissing him. He was just leaning in close enough to whisper, “I caught you, my songwriting elf.”
Oh shit! Oh hell-shit-fuck, Will had given himself away. And right there in the middle of the Side-Eye bar and surrounded by a pack of gorgeous men.
Will smiled and tried to look confused, but his expression felt more like terror than puzzlement.
“What?” A nervous laugh bubbled out, high-pitched enough to summon any nearby hyenas. “I don’t know what… What?”
Will tried to tug his hand free of Rex’s grip, but to no avail. Rex stood close to him, so close Will thought his face probably looked like a magnified pale round mask of surprise and dread. He pulled a little harder in an effort to break free but suddenly stopped. All sound and activity around them faded away until all Will could see and hear was Rex looking him dead in the eye and softly singing the lyrics to the song they’d written together.
One stocking hangs by the fireplace
But I’m lonelier by far on 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
All the spit in Will’s mouth evaporated, leaving him unable to speak. The only thing he could manage to do was stand there and stare. His head felt light and wobbly, as if he might just float up to the ceiling of the bar if he wasn’t tethered in place by Rex’s hand.
Rex’s hand! He was still holding tight to Will, keeping him in place. The skin of Rex’s palm was soft and warm, and Will hated that he was mucking it up with his big sweaty mitt.
“Rex!”
The shouted name broke whatever bubble had formed around them. Rex blinked and leaned back, but not before Will caught a flash of his happily surprised expression. What the hell was all that about?
Earl appeared at Rex’s side. “Rex, come on. You need to get ready for your second set.”
“Huh?”
Rex turned toward his manager, and once his gaze shifted, Will was able to slip his hand free and take a step back. A layer of sweat from head to toe left him feeling greasy. He used the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead and took another step back.
Earl looked at Will, then back at Rex. “Everything okay? You look out of it.”
Will decided it was probably a good time for him to slip away. He took a step to the side, his gaze locked on Rex as he and Earl continued to talk. A second step allowed another hot, muscular guy to move in front of him and block his view of Rex. Without Rex in his sight, Will was able to focus on retreating across the bar toward the exit. He’d left his coat in the car, and when he pushed out the door, the frigid night air immediately chilled his damp skin. Clutching his arms tight over his chest, Will threaded his way through the parking lot to his rental car, where he unlocked the door and quickly got inside.
He grabbed his coat off the passenger seat and pulled it on, gasping and shivering as the cold lining touched his already chilled skin. The engine turned over right away, and he cranked up the heat before driving out of the parking lot and heading back to the hotel.
What the fuck had just happened?
9
When he got back to his room, Will found a note stuck to the door.
Will—I got one of the techs to fix your heater. Should be good to go now. Doreen.
He took the note down and let himself into the room. The temperature was at a pleasant level, but what immediately caught his attention was the closed window with the drapes drawn tight. That was some powerful symbolism from the universe about how the evening had gone. No more secret serenades from Rex. No more helping with song lyrics. Time to put all of that childish daydreaming away.
He sighed and stripped out of his coat, tossing it onto the bed as he crossed to the window and pulled the drape aside. In the glow of the courtyard lamps, he could see the tiny snowman right where he’d left it on Rex’s café table. Will turned away, letting the drapes fall back into place. It hurt too much to see the snowman and remember how excited he’d been when he’d first started dropping off song lyric notes. Carter had tried to ask him where his plan was going, but Will hadn’t taken the warnings to heart.
And now look where he was.
He considered getting Carter on FaceTime, but his heart wasn’t in it. He needed some time to himself, to wallow in his funk for a bit. He was still a little angry as well, at himself most of all, but also a little bit at Rex, even though he had no reason for it. Most of the anger was directed inward, mad at himself for not listening to Carter and not having enough foresight to realize what he was getting himself into. Did he really think Rex would want to date him? How would that even work? Will was a chubby office worker who lived in Boston, and Rex… well, Rex was pretty much the opposite of all that.
Opposites attract, a gentle, hopeful voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Will shook his head in a firm no. Not that opposite. There had to be some commonalities on which to build a foundation.
The song lyrics are your foundation.
The song lyrics were a joke, a passing fancy. They weren’t enough to support anything but fantasies.
He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, wincing as he caught a whiff of himself. Nervous flop sweat brushed with the bitter tang of adrenaline and terror. Maybe a shower would help wash not only the stink away, but his mood as well.
After a hot shower, he smelled better, but his mood hadn’t improved. A sneeze snuck up on him as he crawled under the sheets, followed by three more in quick succession. He returned to the bathroom and blew his nose, surprised to find he was a little congested. Catching a cold would put the cherry on this shitty weekend, surprise day off from work or not. He carried the box of tissues with him as he returned to the bed and plunked it down on the nightstand.
Once he was settled under the covers, he reached for the TV remote but stopped when his phone buzzed with a text message alert. It was Carter.
How are things going? Tell me you didn’t try to dance.
Despite his mood, Will managed a small smile. Deciding he might as well get it over with, he opened the FaceTime app and made the call. Carter picked up right away, his smile wide even though his eyes were watery and his nose red.
“So? Are you pregnant yet? Can I be the godfather?”
Will laughed and sneezed twice.
“Uh-oh,” Carter said. “Did you have sex outside the bar and catch a cold?”
“No,” Will said before blowing his nose. “I mean, I may have caught a cold, but it is definitely not from having sex outside.”
“I’m sensing tension.”
Will frowned. “You are?”
“I am.” Carter nodded. “Even though I’m overcome by influenza and here in Boston and you’re there in Nova Scotia—”
“Williamsville, New York.”
“—I can tell you’re not in a good place. What happened?”
Will hesitated but finally told Carter the story. He tried to repeat word for word the conversatio
n he’d had with Rex, and at the end felt he’d done a fairly good job of it, even though his blood pressure had been through the roof and he’d been sweating buckets at the time.
“You outed yourself as the secret lyricist?” Carter said with a gasp.
“I outed myself,” Will said. “And now I feel like an idiot.”
“Why? He obviously liked your lyrics because he’s been using them.”
“Yeah, but look at the two of us.”
Carter’s eyes grew huge. “He’s there with you now?”
“What? No! Why would you ask that?”
“Well, you said ‘look at the two of us’ like you wanted me to look at you as a couple.”
Will frowned. “How much cough medicine have you taken?”
Carter grabbed the bottle from the nightstand beside him and squinted at the label. “The recommended amount, two tablespoons every… Oh.” He set the bottle aside and smiled at Will. “Maybe a few tablespoons too much. But that’s not important.”
“Do not overdose on cough medicine, please,” Will said. “I would never get over losing you.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet.” Carter made a kissing face and smooching noises. “What would you miss most about me?”
“The way you always turn the conversation back to yourself,” Will grumbled.
Carter frowned. Then understanding lit his face, and he nodded. “I see what you did there. Well done, Mr. Johnson, well done. So, back to you. What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know,” Will said. “Wear a disguise whenever I’m in the lobby the next six days?”
“Six days? Is that when you’re coming home?” Carter beamed. “I get my Big Willie back?”
Will couldn’t help chuckling. “Yes, your Big Willie will be home on Friday.”
“That makes me very happy, though I know I just turned things back to me again. Sorry,” Carter said. “You don’t think you could talk to Rex? Explain about the broken heater in your room and the open window and all of it?”
“I don’t think I’d be able to speak to him at all. I mean, it’s Rex Garland, for God’s sake.”
