by J. P. James
I puff my chest, seeing my plan unfold in my mind. “There’s a show tomorrow night. You’re welcome to come, if you want too.” They say they still care about me, but I need to see them by my side. I need to see that this is real.
“We accept,” they say in unison.
18
Jordan
“This is the place?” I ask Jameson. We’re in Brooklyn, closing in on what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Abandoned, except for the line of people outside. I never said Fyre didn’t keep things interesting.
“What do you think the security is like for this event?” Jameson asks me.
I shrug, but same thought isn’t far from my mind. Luckily, there are two bouncers at the front door, looking as intimidating and unapproachable as we ever did. I give one of the guy’s a nod and he looks like he wants to spit in my face.
“I think security will be alright tonight.”
We stand patiently in line. “This seems like a strange place for one his concerts, don’t you think?”
Jameson tilts his head, as if weighing the options. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe he’s going for a new look? Or maybe his team ran out of money?”
I consider it, but shake my head. “Whatever it is, I think we don’t have the full picture yet.”
Boy was I right. We definitely didn’t have the full picture.
The moment we step into the venue, my mind spins. It’s a small space, not much bigger than an apartment, but Fyre transformed the space into a summertime oasis. Lights dangle from the ceiling, twinkling from time to time. They almost look like they’re dancing.
“Fireflies,” comes a sweet voice from behind us.
We turn to see Fyre staring at us, watching us take in the beauty and wonder of the venue.
“I-it’s … I’m–,” I try to form a sentence, a word, anything, but I choke on air.
“It’s magical in here,” Jameson finally says.
“Thank you,” Fyre says thoughtfully. “But you should really thank Rusty. He put this together in such short notice.”
“I will. Where is he?” I ask,.
“He’s around here somewhere, probably on his sixth beer by now. Please, enjoy yourselves. I have some last minute things to attend to.”
Like that, Fyre dashes off like a bolt of lightning.
Jameson clasps my shoulder. “Have any idea what this is yet?”
“No way.”
“Me neither,” he admits, with a wink.
“If it isn’t my favorite firefighters!” A voice shouts from across the room.
We turn to see Damon walking towards us. I know I haven’t seen him in a while, but he looks like a completely different guy. He looks, well, happy. Maybe Fyre’s rubbing off on him.
“It’s good to see you again,” he tells us, pulling us in for hugs.
“It’s good to see you too,” I tell him. “We saw Fyre, but he said he has work to do.”
Damon smiles knowingly. He wants to say something, but bites his lip before changing course. “He has a running list in his head, and he’s checking it twice like Santa Claus.”
Jameson laughs. He wants to know more, but we’ll know soon enough what tonight is about.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” Fyre says on stage, to the cheers and applause of a small group of fans.
I take another look around the room, and I notice these fans look different. It’s a mix of people--teens, polished adults, a few businessmen hanging back by the entrance. What could all these people be doing here?
“I bet you all have a lot of questions for me, so I’ll cut to the chase,” Fyre says, flashing his signature smile. “I won’t be performing tonight.”
The room goes quiet. There’s a collective feeling of confusion. If Fyre isn’t performing, than who is?
On cue, a group of teens emerge. It’s a ragtag group of kids, but they’re all smiling and watching Fyre’s every move.
“This is a talent showcase, and these kids behind me,” says Fyre, gesturing to the teens, “they are the talent. Some are actors, some are musicians, and some are poets and comedians and so much more.”
The crowd claps, and there are a few scattered hoots and hollers around the room. Damon puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles so loud I think my ears might fall off.
“Alright, I’ll talk more about this later,” he says, turning once again to face his lineup. “For now, it’s show time.”
The night goes as smoothly as possible. The kids are nervous, that’s for sure, but each them takes the stage like it’s theirs to command. Fyre wasn’t kidding when he said they were a versatile group of teens. There are a few singers, but also a comedian. He’s a small kid, but he’s so funny he has us splitting our sides with laughter. There are a couple spoken word poems that cut at our hearts. I look over at Damon at some point and can see him tearing up. He must be so proud of Fyre for doing this.
I am, and I know Jameson is as well. Fyre could have done another performance, but he used his name to lend a voice to teens that don’t have his level of fame. He gave these kids the opportunity to perform, something they might not have otherwise.
There’s a standing ovation for the final act. The girl does a stunning performance as Forrest Gump. I love this movie, and she chose the scene where Forrest talks to his deceased wife. She has everyone in tears before she leaves the stage, and once she’s done, the crowd roars with approval.
It isn’t until Fyre comes back on stage that he wrangles the crowd back into silence.
“I’m glad you all could make it. Thank you for all your support tonight. It means so much to these kids and to me.”
He looks full to bursting with happiness. To think, how far he’s come since we met him. He looks content, like he’s knows and loves exactly where he’s going in life.
“I have a special announcement to make,” he says calmly.
The crowd whispers, waiting to hear him continue. I steal a glance at Damon. He eyes me, a smirk on his face, but I can’t read the expression behind his eyes. Fyre clears his throat, and it pulls my gaze back to the stage.
“It may come as a shock to some of you, but I’ve decided to put my music career on hold. Maybe indefinitely.”
There’s a collective gasp that echoes through the room, followed by bouts of moaning. Fyre quiets them down quickly and presses forward.
“I’ve decided, instead, that I want to start my own talent agency,” Fyre says, drawing another gasp from the crowd. “I want to represent LGBT youth and give them the opportunities I’ve had in the industry to make a difference.”
What? I mouth to Damon. He laughs and shrugs at me, but nods just as quickly.
I turn to Jameson, who is speechless. He’s just admiring Fyre, his eyes glistening with pride.
“I was inspired to do this after talking with my agent. He’s helping me create this branch for his company, and I couldn’t be more excited for the next stage of my career.”
The crowd applauds, and Damon whistles louder than the last time. My hands are sore, but I can’t stop clapping.
“To get this ball rolling,” he says, “I’m offering all the acts tonight contracts. If they want representation, they’ll have it.”
My heart swells as the group of teens rushes from backstage. They bury Fyre in a group hug, jumping and crying. It’s funny, but they look like family. The LGBT community has always been Fyre’s family. They’ve supported his career, listened to his music, and lauded him as an entertainer. Fyre always bemoaned his lack of family life, but he’s had it all along. He just needed the confidence to see it for what it is.
As the show winds down, Jameson and I stick close to Damon, who introduces us to a couple of casting directors. He sure is insistent on our acting careers, I’ll give him that, and it’s fun having him introduce us as the “sexy, twin bodyguards” all night.
A gentle hand finds my shoulder. Jameson and I turn to see Fyre standing before us. He’s shorter than we are, but he looks like a gian
t with the way he’s carrying himself. He looks like he’s on top of the world.
“Congratulations,” Jameson says, grinning so wide I wonder if he’ll break his face.
“You continue to amaze us, Fyre,” I say next, beaming just as brightly at him.
Fyre looks at both of us, bliss swimming behind his eyes.
“Thank you. I have so many ideas for this venture. Plus, I’m thinking about painting again. I don’t know. I have so much creativity in me, more than just music.”
I squeeze his arm, hoping he can feel the strength I’m sending him through my touch. “You’re overflowing with creativity, and kindness. It’s inspiring.”
“We can’t wait to see what you’ll do next,” Jameson says, although there’s a bit of uncertainty in his tone.
Jameson looks away, but Fyre takes his chin between his fingers and pulls his gaze back up. “I hope you’ll be around to see it,” he says, before his eyes move to mine. “Both of you.”
“I’d love that.”
“Me too,” says Jameson, his voice cracking. “But what about your career? We don’t want to hurt it again.”
Fyre chuckles, not taking his hand off Jameson.
“If my career means giving up on you guys, than I don’t want it. I have so many ideas, but as long as I have you guys by my side, I know I’ll be happy.”
He leans forward, bringing his lips to Jameson’s. Jameson inhales sharply, but relaxes quickly into the kiss. Fyre brings his hands to Jameson’s arms, and Jameson pulls Fyre into him before they break apart.
Fyre admires me for a moment. His gaze is so powerful, and so reverent, it makes me feel raw and vulnerable. I can’t stand it much longer, and eventually his gaze has me lunging towards him, capturing his lips in a toe-curling kiss.
I’m not sure I have any answers. But I have Fyre back in my arms, and that’s more than I could have ever asked for. It’s all I really need.
19
Fyre
“People are staring at us,” Jordan says breathlessly once we pull apart from our kiss.
I feel lost in a dream, but I know I should take stock of the room. He’s right. Not everyone is watching, but most of the crowd has their eyes on us. A few people can’t seem to hold their jaws in place either, gaping at us like fish.
“Let them stare then,” I tell him, putting my hand to his chest to steady myself. “There’s nothing to see here. Just a bunch of guys kissing.”
Jordan rolls his eyes, but he smiles. He leans into the touch, his eyes falling away from the crowd and locking on mine. Jameson comes close too, putting his hand on the small of my back. It sends an electric shock down my spine.
“Are you sure, Fyre?” He asks thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure you’d want us, after all the trouble we’ve caused.”
I move my other hand behind my back, resting it on top of Jameson’s. “I love music, but my career has been nothing but trouble. As long as I have you both, I know I’ll be alright. What about you guys?” I ask nervously. “Are you sure you want to be with me?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Well, what happened with your jobs? Did you get in trouble with the fire department?”
Jordan brushes off the concern. “It’s nothing we can’t bounce back from. The captain gave us a stern talk. He was mostly upset that we were unprofessional with you. You were our client, after all.”
“Ah,” I say, thinking about all the ways we were unprofessional together.
Jordan smiles at me. “But it’s alright now. Besides, I’m not sure I want to be in the field forever.”
“Me too,” Jameson agrees, squeezing me tight. “I’m not saying I know what’s next, but I agree.”
“As long as we’re with you,” Jordan continues. “We’ll be happy.”
I reach out to caress Jordan’s cheek, feeling the warmth from his face. His smile is wonderful. I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing it.
“Mr. Connell?” A small voice calls behind us.
I turn around. It’s Cody, along with some of the other performers, waiting sheepishly.
“Hey, guys!” I say, reaching for Cody with both arms.
I pull him into a hug, and he accepts it without hesitation. It feels like I’m hugging a brother I’ve never met before.
“I’m so proud of you, Cody,” I tell him once I pull back.
He has a shy smile, but it speaks volumes.
“Jordan, Jameson, this is Cody,” I say behind me, showing off the young guy. “He’s a singer too. Cody, these are my boyfriends.”
Jordan and Jameson look shocked, although it shouldn’t come as a surprise. I played with the label in my head for a while, and it feels right. They aren’t just a fling. I’m in it with these guys, for as long as they want me.
Cody doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He smiles and shakes their hands. Maybe younger generations are more accepting of polyamory, or maybe Cody is special. Either way, I’m lucky.
“Nice to meet you guys,” Cody tells them.
“Likewise, buddy,” Jameson says. “I remember you. Your voice is incredible.”
“I can’t wait for your first album,” adds Jordan .
Cody turns bright red and practically runs away from embarrassment.
“I want to introduce you to the rest of the kids,” I tell them, seeing the other eager faces waiting behind us.
I’ve grown close to these kids over the last month. Damon scouted some of them personally, but the executives thought they were too fruity for a commercial agency. It sounds like crap to me, but I’m glad that I’m able to help now.
There’s Candice, she performed one of her spoken word poems. She’s from the Bronx and isn’t out to her family yet, but she’s hoping in time she can build the courage to talk to them. Then there’s Xian, who recently came out as transgender to his friends. He acted out a scene from Pineapple Express that had everyone laughing along with him. There’s at least a dozen others that flock towards us, not only wanting to thank me but also to meet the guys that helped spawn this. Then there are the twins, Viv and Yves, who are both queer. They sang a duet of Troye Sivan’s “My My My” that had the entire crowd dancing on their feet. There are so many talented kids here. I just hope Jordan and Jameson aren’t overwhelmed.
“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Xian tells Jameson and dives in for a bear hug.
Jameson is confused, but waits until he leaves to pull me aside.
“Why does everyone keep thanking us? We had nothing to do with it?”
I bat my eyelashes and shift a little on my feet.
“The thing is, you did help. You told me I could do anything, and that you’d be by my side. Even when I was mad at you, I believed it. I knew that, no matter what happened between us, that you wanted me to succeed.”
Jordan turns, having heard the whole thing while he talked to one of the younger kids. His eyes are sparkling, but he hasn’t cried yet.
“Fyre,” Jameson says, beside himself.
“No, thank you,” I tell them before Candice crushes me in another hug.
Damon comes up to us, drink in hand as usual, and introduces himself to the kids. He’s genuinely excited to help. I don’t know when Damon will come out, but I hope he knows that he has family too. He has me, and hopefully, a group of teenagers that won’t judge him either.
“Excuse me, Mr. Connell?” A rich voice calls from behind Jordan.
A man steps forward, decked out in a royal blue suit and powder blue dress shirt. He’s handsome and looks like a gentlemen even though he can’t be much older than I am.
“Yes?”
He flashes a smile and extends his hand to me.
“My name is Dash Neuhausen. I own and operate the Neuhausen Gallery in Chelsea.”
“Oh,” I blurt out, wondering if I should know the name.
“I thought I’d come by and introduce myself, but I just finished looking over your submissions.”
“Submissions?” I parrot back.
“I liked what I saw,” Dash continues. “Do you have time next week to come in with your other pieces?”
I feel my mouth open to speak, but no words come out.
Instead, Jordan and Jameson rush to my side. “He definitely has time next week,” says Jordan.
“He’ll need to confirm his schedule, but why don’t we take your card, and we’ll contact you?” asks Jameson, extending his hand and a warm smile to Dash.
Dash rummages through his jacket and places his business card in Jameson’s hand. “Sounds like a plan,” Dash says. His gaze shifts to my right, past the kids. “Sorry, do I know you?”
Damon looks like he’s seen a ghost. His jaw is tight, and he adjusts his tie before he speaks. “I don’t think so. I’d remember you. My name is Damon McAllister,” he says firmly, offering his hand to Dash.
Dash’s smile morphs slightly. There’s a playfulness that wasn’t there before as he takes Damon’s hand in his.
“Dash Neuhausen. The pleasure is all mine,” he says with a wink.
Oh!
I swear I saw sparks between them. Then again, I always want hot guys to end up together. Sue me. I want to world to be one big, gay, happy place. Still, there’s something tense between them that I can’t place.
Do you see this? I mouth to Jordan.
He nods empathetically, and I know Jameson’s wondering the same thing too.
“Can I buy you a drink? We can talk about Fyre’s creative ambitions,” Dash offers.
Damon gives him a wry smile, and they walk off together without a second glance.
“Wow,” Jordan whispers. “Dash doesn’t beat around the bush.”
Jameson hands me the business card, and leaves a gentle kiss on my cheek. “For you.”
The business card isn’t any more special than the next, but it feels like I’m on the verge of something great.
“What submissions was he talking about?” I ask, my eyebrows cocked at Jordan and Jameson.
They shrug together and flash me their bright smiles.
