by Peter Styles
“You’re done,” David exclaims, appearing as suddenly as the moment disappears. Damian almost doesn’t want to answer but Jordan is blushing, gaze hazy, and it’s enough to make him feel triumphant. To make him feel like it wasn’t a mistake.
“Jace is pretty handy,” Damian grins.
“Well, it’s time to head out,” David says, sighing. “And it’s your turn.”
David climbs into the bus and Damian is left alone again with Jordan, the warmth of their kiss already fading. He wonders whether he should chance another—if he should try it, just to make sure it wasn’t a mistake. Just to have one moment more.
“We should go,” he says instead, the words slipping out. He wants nothing more than to just stay here, taking his time, venturing into the territory he’d avoided their night together at the hotel. It had been difficult to even sleep that night; he’d wanted to stay up talking, asking questions, figuring out if Jordan remembered anything. If he still felt a connection.
Damian had held back, though, convinced that rushing in was not what Jordan needed. Especially not now, while on tour and trying to manage a band he’d poured his blood, sweat, and tears into. I can wait for a good thing. Especially considering he’s waited this long.
“Yeah. Um—wake me up if you get tired,” Jordan manages, still distracted and sleepy. They board the bus again, the others inside still peacefully asleep. Damian takes the driver’s seat, settling in as Jordan starts moving towards his bed.
“Good night,” Damian says, unable to keep himself from speaking. Jordan pauses, looking back over his shoulder. There’s something soft in his eyes. It gives Damian some hope—a hope that Jordan cares, despite their strange beginning and the way they’re dancing around each other.
“Night,” Jordan says.
8
Damian
Steel City is tiny. When Damian pulls up an online map, he can only see two gas stations and one chain restaurant. It wouldn’t even be on the list, he thinks, but Steel City is within thirty minutes of Tucson and it has a historic downtown area—which means local, unique bars and restaurants.
“Jess called me a few hours ago,” Jace says when he emerges from the bedroom. It’s early morning and they’re a few minutes from town, the desolate landscape around them broken by the occasional ranch house.
“She’s the owner?” Damian asks.
“Yup. She’s pretty excited about the show. Anyway, she mentioned one of her employees—Sarah, I think—is supposed to be working with us. Apparently, Jess is dealing with traffic coming back from Tucson.”
“We probably won’t need to ask much,” Sam muses. “It’s a small place. We’re using our equipment.”
“A full setup,” Jace agrees. “Now, we get to show Damian the full deal.”
I hope I can keep up, Damian thinks. John, one of the road crew, is driving. He had explained to Damian that he was a writer and helping out the band was an easy way to spend his time between bouts of midnight typing. He’d promised to show Damian some of his writing in the future; Damian suspects he’ll have to get closer to John before that happens. For now, Damian is just trying to learn as much as he can about everyone, hoping he can fit in easily with the crew. He knows it’s important not just to do his job well, but to actually have some sort of friendship with everyone. Jordan thrives on his friendships, Damian thinks, so there’s no better way to build a relationship than show he’s interested in them.
“Huh. Kind of reminds me of Tower Valley,” John says suddenly. Jace takes the passenger seat, peering out the windshield, and Sam turns to look out a window.
It does look really similar, Damian thinks. The houses starting to appear even follow the usual pattern, older ones at the edges and more uniform ones starting to crowd in as they approach the center. The stores lining the edges of the streets are unique, most with someone’s name in the title and striped awnings over the doorway. There are murals painted on the edges of the blocks, some with scenes of deserts and others with images of school mascots and uniform numbers. It looks like a small town, close enough to a bigger place but far away enough to be safe and insulated.
“I wonder if they have an ice cream shop.” Jordan’s voice is suddenly right by Damian’s ear, issuing with the rough sound of fading sleep.
“Maybe they have a hospital—I think you just gave me a heart attack,” Damian laughs, breathless.
“Sorry.” Jordan looks guilty for a moment before he moves back, hands in his jean pockets. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I’ll live,” Damian says. “Why ice cream?”
“I’m in the mood. Cheesecake would be the best.”
“Why don’t you just have cheesecake, then?”
“Not the same,” Jordan says. He’s smiling. They’re both grinning, in fact. Damian thinks they probably look crazy. He can practically hear Jace roll his eyes before he walks over, twirling a pen in his hand.
“We’ll have time for dinner after,” Jace says, “but I’m not sure there’s anywhere that will be open. Do you want to hit the road right after? We could stop in Tucson or just keep going.”
“Let’s stop outside of Tucson,” Jordan says. “That way, we can get through traffic today and not during the morning rush. We have time to sleep for the night, right?”
“Yes,” Sam calls from the bedroom. His tone seems to say please let us stop.
“We don’t have to hit the road again until tomorrow at nine,” Jace says, smirking. “We could even splurge on a cheap motel for the night. Sleep in real beds.”
Sam pokes his head around the corner and Damian bites back a laugh. He wonders if this is what it’s like to listen to two parents discussing plans. Sam is like a kid, waiting to hear what’s going to happen and hoping it’ll be what he wants. Why don’t I help?
“You’ll probably need the energy for your next show. It’s in Elizabeth, right? The music festival? You don’t want to perform outdoors in front of already distracted people if you’re not energetic.”
“Sure,” Jordan finally says, bemused. Sam silently cheers in the doorway, pointing at Damian with both hands before backing away to finish changing. Damian snorts before squashing the noise with a fake cough.
“Are we going right to the venue?” Damian asks, curious. I’d like some alone time with Jordan. We haven’t had free time before a performance yet, though. Their entire trip has been mostly driving and laughing around the table in the bus, playing card games and eating gas station chips and bean dip. It hasn’t been terrible; in fact, it’s been fun, even if Damian hasn’t been getting anywhere with Jordan. He thinks even if things go wrong, he’ll never regret taking a chance on the band.
“We are. We have two hours before anything starts, though,” Jordan says. “We’ll probably set up and then maybe look for a snack somewhere. Or just take naps.”
“Naps sound good,” Jace says, leaning back in his seat. “But sleeping in a bed is going to be great.”
They reach the venue, which is apparently called The Blue Lizard, and Damian stretches his arms over his head as soon as he exits the bus. The evening sun feels fantastic; it’s not burning hot and the desert breeze makes the air crisp and fresh. If there were trees, Damian thinks they would be whispering softly, leaves shaking in the wind. There’s nothing, though, the landscape barren except for the planters at the corners of the buildings.
A woman greets them when they enter the bar and grill. She practically runs from behind the bar, bouncing on her feet as if she can’t contain her excitement. Her hair is blonde, pulled up into a messy bun and held in place with a pen. She’s wearing a full face of makeup, which is somehow incongruent with her uniform of black pants and a t-shirt with The Blue Lizard printed below her name and above a tiny logo.
“Hi! I’m Sarah. Jess told me you were coming,” Sarah says, walking right up to Jordan, smiling at him as she tucks an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear.
Jace turns away. Damian blinks, turning to look at him
questioningly, and once their eyes meet Jace makes an exaggeratedly happy face. Damian squashes a laugh, muffling the noise that escapes his lips with his hand. He’s so rude, Damian thinks, although he can’t really argue against the impression. Sarah does seem a little…exaggerated.
“Hi,” Jordan says shortly, clearly out of his element. Jace is usually the one doing the talking; Damian can tell immediately that Jordan is not excited about being thrust into the spotlight. “Where are we setting up?”
“Oh—just back here,” Sarah says, reaching up to guide him with a hand on his arm. Jordan looks down at it as if he’s never seen a hand before and Damian has to cough to cover his laughter. He turns away for a moment, trying to hide his mirth. He feels a little bad for Jordan, but he knows there’s no need to save him from his misery. Not yet, at least.
Sarah talks to Jordan, going on about something or the other, and Damian decides to get to work instead of following the unfolding train wreck. He tells Jace he’ll be right back, earning only a cursory response, and then he leaves to go back to the bus. The road crew are already assembled at the trailer, laughing and unstrapping some of the equipment.
“I’m new with the bigger stuff,” Damian says, climbing up into the trailer, “but I know how to move things. Why don’t you start setting up inside and I’ll unload for now?”
“I’ll go in,” John agrees. “David and Kieran can move things inside once you get them out of the trailer.”
They move quickly once everything is decided. Damian has always felt comfortable in routines, no matter how small. He’s moved so many times and lived in so many cities that routines are the only things that he can truly count on. Brushing his teeth, making tacos, finding the local library—there are so many small routines that never change, no matter where he goes. It’s always been comforting to go through the steps, knowing nothing about toothpaste or cutting tomatoes will change.
The routine to setting up is just as comforting as anything else. It is the sole guarantee of this wild choice, and it grounds him in reality. He’s always liked having a job to do, manual labor or otherwise. It keeps him sane and self-sufficient. Having something to do keeps him confident.
“I can’t be in there anymore,” Jace says loudly. Damian fumbles the speaker he’s carrying out from the trailer, blinking as he watches Jace walk up to the door, arms outstretched.
“Why?” Damian passes the speaker to him, moving to unstrap the other one.
“She’s getting on my nerves.”
“She’s just excited.”
“No, she’s hanging off Jordan like a cat off a tree. I bought her act for about two minutes and then she started making jokes and hitting his arm like they’d known each other since childhood.”
Damian pauses. He probably shouldn’t feel as threatened as he does by the apparent flirting Sarah is doing, but Jace’s description gets under his skin.
Childhood friends? He knows he shouldn’t be so jealous or angry about it. Jordan probably has plenty of childhood friends. It’s not like Damian was special. Still, the idea of some stranger trying to flirt with Jordan makes him uneasy, especially since he hasn’t really had a chance to do so himself.
“Why does it matter? She can flirt at him all she wants,” Damian says evenly. He sounds too calm, even to his ears. Jace shoots him a look.
“My cousin is an idiot,” Jace says drily. “He’s not going to stop her, even though he should.”
“He doesn’t have to,” Damian continues, even though he knows he wants to say something else. It’s like he’s vomiting lies. “I mean, he’s not seeing anyone, right? He can do whatever he wants.”
Jace sighs heavily through his nose and Damian tries not to look at him, staring at the buckle of a harness he’s trying to remove from the drum set. Jace moves as Damian wheels the set out, closing the trailer door behind him.
“I forgot,” Jace says suddenly, standing straighter as if pulled by a string. “I never gave your gross denim jacket back. I washed it last night when I realized—”
“Gross?” Damian echoes, both amused and unimpressed. “You’re the one that’s been wearing it for weeks, now.”
“I was cold,” Jace says.
“I’m pretty sure you have jackets, too. It’s okay,” he adds, grinning, “you can keep it. Your denim-loving secret is safe with me.”
They both laugh. Something about Jace’s laugh—like everything else, Damian thinks—is infectious. He seems to be made for the stage; he exudes some sort of charisma that works to make him seem better by making everyone else feel better, too. Easy, Damian thinks. It’s the only word that really describes Jace’s personality. He makes life seem easier, if only for a little while.
“Sorry. I guess you’re done?” Jordan interrupts as if he’s having teeth pulled. He looks uneasy and something else Damian can’t quite define.
“Yeah. Just finished,” Damian says, trying not to focus on Sarah, who he can see hovering by the front door. “Did you have a good conversation?”
He means it as a joke and he says it the same way he’s said everything else he’s joked about. Jordan doesn’t react the way Damian expects, however; his eyes narrow and he glances down the street, avoiding eye contact. He seems somehow insulted or disappointed; Damian can’t quite tell. What the hell?
“Kieran wants you to shadow him while he sets up the speakers and microphones,” Jordan says shortly. “The sooner we finish, the faster we can get everyone something to eat.”
Jordan walks away and Damian stands there, slack—mouthed, one hand resting on the handle of the pallet jack the drum set is resting on. He can see Sarah immediately latch onto Jordan as the door closes behind him. Part of him wants to follow Jordan in and ask what the hell he’s so angry about; the other part wants nothing to do with the man and his sudden mood swing.
“Did he just—” Jace starts, clearly irritated. He moves as if he’s about to walk inside and Damian starts, uneasy. The last thing he wants is a scene in the venue they’re about to play in.
“Can you take this in?” Damian asks quickly. “I should probably find Kieran.”
“Sure,” Jace says grudgingly. Damian leaves him then, walking into the bar, hoping he won’t run into Jordan again. He doesn’t feel like getting into whatever mess he’s stepped in; not now. If he knows anything, he knows Jordan probably needs time to himself before they discuss what the hell is going on.
Damian finds Kieran quickly and tunes everything else out, focusing on memorizing what the other man tells him. It’s fairly simple work and everything is labeled in colors, making it easier to follow. Luckily, the road crew is meticulous about keeping their cables folded and tied; they unfurl perfectly and Damian has no issues setting things up. He feels like he’s getting the hang of it quickly. He’s so distracted, in fact, that he almost doesn’t notice Jordan and Sarah at the bar.
“He must by dying inside,” John says, breaking Damian out of his self-imposed trance, “I’ve never seen him talk so long with a stranger.”
“Doesn’t seem like he’s dying,” Kieran snorts, adjusting the sliders on his soundboard. “It would be nice if he helped. You know, so we can have a break before the show.”
“I’m sure he’s talking about something important,” Damian says, as dispassionate as possible. He knows it’s not true when he says it. They’re flirting back and forth, he thinks. Or at least, she’s flirting with him and he’s not doing anything to discourage her. He knows he has no say in what they’re doing—it’s not like he and Jordan are in a relationship. Jordan can do whatever he pleases. It doesn’t make it any easier to see, though, especially since Damian has been considering making his move and asking directly about whether Jordan remembers him.
With each passing moment, he’s feeling less compelled to do so. What’s the use? He’s feeling more discouraged. Maybe the kiss was a mistake, he thinks—maybe it was just a fleeting exchange and Jordan was just going with it, testing out the chance they missed at the bar. M
aybe, Damian thinks with horror, it proved to Jordan that he actually wasn’t interested at all. I don’t even know if he’s dated men before, Damian thinks, feeling his blood run cold. What if I’m the exception, not the rule? What if he was just trying something new at the bar and he actually didn’t want a relationship? His mind is coming up with a thousand different scenarios, each of them worse than the previous.
“Hey. You okay?” Jace’s voice breaks through Damian’s horror montage, forcing him to focus on the moment.
“Fine. Just trying to remember everything,” Damian says, forcing a laugh. It hurts his throat and heart in equal measure. Jace doesn’t look convinced. He sends a glare Jordan’s way, arms crossed over his chest.
“Where’s Sam?”
“I think he’s talking to one of the security guys. He wants to warm up before anyone gets here, so I don’t think he’ll be leaving.”
“You’re all done, right? Why don’t we go find something to eat?” Jace asks.
“You go ahead,” Kieran interrupts, leaning over the soundboard. “I’m not really hungry yet and David wants to check out the antique shop across the street.”
“Such an old lady,” John snorts. “Yeah, you two go. Text me if you find anything.”
Jace shrugs and leads the way out the door. Damian wants to glance over his shoulder and see if Jordan notices but he forces himself to face forward, ignoring the pit growing in his stomach. He hates feeling so insecure. Jace is quiet as they take the sidewalk, glancing at the shops while he walks.
“Do you hide your tattoos?” Jace’s question seems to come out of the blue and Damian blinks, confused. What?
“I…what?”
“I’ve had your jacket for a while, now. When we met you at the bar, you were wearing short sleeves, but since then, you’ve always had long sleeves. Do you hide them?”
“Huh. I guess I do,” Damian says, wondering. “Habit, I think. Any time I move to a new place, I try to keep them covered until I find a job. People tend to judge.”
