Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up as she glanced across the table, pushing the blond bangs from her eyes. “Is that so? Because I may know someone. A very hot someone –”
“It isn’t so.” Grayson held his hand up before she could go any further. “Before you play Matchmaker, think about how much I’m dealing with at the moment. There’s my Dad, the nonsense I’ve been dealing with at work, and all the binge-watching I’ve been doing of Supernatural to catch up with the current season. A guy has no place in my life right now.”
“But it’s safe to say if you were to get some ass, you probably wouldn’t be as stressed out as you’ve been lately.” Oscar said it just loud enough for the surrounding tables and their approaching waitress to hear.
Grayson was pretty sure that someone behind them started choking on their drink. The waitress’s eyes went wide beneath the thick frames of her glasses, but she pretended that she didn’t hear anything. Grayson was grateful for that.
“Here’s your bill and the to-go container like you asked,” she said, placing both items down. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Eleanor smiled at her graciously.
The diner they were in was as packed as it usually was on a weekday night. It was smack in the middle of everything on the East Side, minutes away from Hunter College and New York Presbyterian Medical center. This Wednesday wasn’t any different – staff from the hospital as well as students from the college were grabbing a bite to eat before going on with the rest of their nights.
Oscar reached for his wallet as he watched his best friend. He knew that Grayson had a lot to deal with. Hell, what person didn’t have a lot on their plate? It was life. But with Grayson, he knew that he’d always put everything else before a potential love life, just because he’d been hurt before.
Maybe Oscar couldn’t judge him. He hadn’t ever been lied to, or cheated on. At least not to his knowledge. But if he had been, he hoped that he wouldn’t let that affect his chance for happiness in the future like his best friend was doing.
And Grayson was a fox.
Oscar wasn’t too proud to admit that. He had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going on, dirty blond hair, green eyes, a jaw line to die for, and an adorable dimple on the right side of his face when he smiled. He couldn’t quite grow a beard for the life of him, well, besides a few whiskers here and there, and Oscar gave him shit for it. The baby-faced look worked for him, anyway. And screw the guy’s metabolism. He never needed to do so much as a single jumping jack to stay in shape, and he ate nothing but crap. It wasn’t fair at all. But despite that, and despite him getting hit on nearly every time they stepped out of their apartment, Grayson always found a way to stay single.
Grayson always told him it wasn’t the right time for a relationship, no matter when he brought it up. Oscar wanted to respect that. But Grayson didn’t need to be in a relationship to get his freak on …
He left cash inside the check folder and wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, but Oscar never let his eyes leave Grayson’s. He could tell that Grayson knew as much by the way he avoided looking up at all costs.
When Grayson finished scraping the last of his spaghetti and meatballs off the plate and into his carry-out tray, he turned his head to look out the window. He knew nothing good ever came out of Oscar staring at him this way. It meant that he was thinking, and the heavens knew nothing good ever happened when Oscar had a thought.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Eleanor said.
He glanced at her curiously, still feeling Oscar’s eyes on him. It probably spoke volumes that Grayson trusted a woman he’d known all of seven months more than he did his best friend of four years, but that’s just how it was.
“Go on,” Grayson replied.
“Well, I promise not to make out with Oscar around you for an entire week IF you do me this one favor …”
Oscar turned away from his friend and looked at Eleanor instead. His bushy eyebrows scrunched together. “I’m sorry – what? Can we at least talk about this first?”
“Hear me out.” Eleanor tipped Oscar’s mouth shut and smiled at Grayson across the table.
Grayson had serious doubts these two could go an entire week without being lovey-dovey in his presence, but he gave her his complete attention.
“I’ll call my single, hot, doctor friend and tell him that I know someone who is smart and handsome and looking to go out on a fun, casual outing. It doesn’t have to be a date.”
Grayson smiled at how ridiculous this was. He never had a blind date before, but he’d heard enough horror stories to know that there was a 10% chance that anything good came of them.
“I’m going to take the fact that you’re smiling as a good thing …”
“Not that I don’t trust your judgment, Eleanor, but a blind date?”
“Nope.” She leant away from Oscar as he tried to kiss her cheek. At least she seemed intent on holding up her end of the deal. “It doesn’t have to be a date. Just go hang out with a guy that I think is good fun and see where it goes from there.”
“That sounds good to me,” Oscar chimed in. He ruffled his bushy curls as he looked up in thought. “It couldn’t hurt to do something besides stress about how much working for your psycho father sucks.”
Grayson reached for his jacket. “To be honest, the part about you two not making me sick is what’s really the appealing part of this deal.”
Oscar smirked. “And just think, even if it turns out you hate this guy; hate-sex doesn’t have to be ruled out. That way, everyone is a winner!”
Eleanor rolled her eyes and ignored her boyfriend. “I’ll honor my word, Sonny. So can I shoot Bryce a text and let him know that you’re interested?”
“Can I have a kiss just in case he says yes?” Oscar asked; that pout the girls always fell for fixated on his face.
“I’ll allow one last kiss,” Grayson told them. “But also, I need it to be said that you two have to go the whole week without upsetting my stomach before I agree to hang out with any guy.”
Eleanor looked like she wanted to argue, but the woman only took a deep breath and nodded.
Grayson smiled. Now, he’d have an entire week of peace in his apartment and by the time next week rolled around, he could fake the flu.
“Deal,” she said.
“I had no say in this,” Oscar said, more to himself than anyone else.
Grayson stood up and looked away as the couple shared their last kiss in front of him for what would hopefully be a wonderfully long seven days. He wasn’t going to freak out about going on a ‘friendly outing’ with someone he didn’t know. Eleanor said that this guy was a hot, rich doctor. That would be a change considering all the social-climbing sleazebags that tried to get with him in the past. Besides, Eleanor seemed like a good judge of character. Hopefully this Bryce guy wouldn’t change Grayson’s opinion of her, because if he turned out to be a foot-fetishizing serial killer, there was going to be hell to pay.
Oscar snuck two kisses before his girlfriend was able to pull away. The deal was stupid and he didn’t even have a say in it, but if this resulted in Grayson replacing the stick up his ass with something else, he was all for it.
∞
If there was one thing that Grayson really relied on, it was the MTA.
If there was one thing that Grayson really hated, it was the MTA.
The New York City transit system was not to be trusted. It seemed like they hiked the fare every year and what was it all for? To ensure that passengers got where they were going as late as possible?
Grayson popped open another button on his coat as the 4 train stopped in the middle of a tunnel, delayed yet again. It was hot as hell, packed with angry passengers, and smelled like something was dying.
There was also a woman staring at him and smiling every time he happened to look over. This time, she made sure she had eye contact and blew him a kiss. It was way too early to deal with straight women, and he hadn’t even had his coffee yet.
He looked at his Rolex and shook his head, gripping the pole he held onto a little tighter. It seemed like his father was looking for reasons not to give Grayson the job they both knew he could do, and with another lateness, he’d have the excuse he needed. Grayson could hear him now.
“How can I trust you to work with our million-dollar clients when I can’t trust you to show up at 9 in the morning? How hard is that?”
But it wasn’t like this was entirely his fault. Sure, he could’ve gotten out of bed without hitting the snooze button, but Oscar also could’ve waited to take a half-hour long shit until after Grayson had at least brushed his teeth.
The endless joys of having a roommate.
Oh, and the fucking MTA.
A baby began to wail at the top of her lungs once the train began to move again. Grayson took a deep breath. There were three more stops until the 33rd Street station where he’d get off. With any luck, he’d get to work 15 minutes late, grab his father some coffee before his meeting, and the man wouldn’t even notice his tardiness.
Highly unlikely, but you can’t kill a guy for dreaming.
Despite being late, things were looking up. It had been five days since Grayson made the deal with Oscar and Eleanor in the Park Avenue Diner. It had been five days of sheer, unadulterated bliss. He hadn’t walked in on any cute cuddling, any make out sessions, or worse. He didn’t have to worry about turning the volume up because they were whispering sweet nothings to one another. None of it. He loved life.
Even though things were great at home, Grayson’s father was driving him nuts in the office. He figured that was the way it was supposed to be. He made the decision to work for him, and even if he hadn’t, his family and most everyone in the music business expected him to take over the company one day. It was inevitable, but Grayson wanted his father’s respect in the meantime.
He wasn’t getting much of that nowadays.
His father, Harvey Paul, was an executive, musician, and a producer at the recording label he built from the ground up five years before Grayson was born. He ran the biggest New York based label that was responsible for several platinum artists, many gold artists, a couple forgotten one-hit wonders, and a very promising girl group. One would think that Mr. Harvey Paul would give his son a position of esteem in the company, but that wasn’t the case at all.
Grayson was two years out of NYU’s Steinhardt, and the position he was greeted with fresh out of college was ‘assistant’. He got up every day and went to work to be an assistant at his father’s record label.
Grayson did realize that he was one of the few lucky people to literally have a job handed to him after college, and he told himself to not only be grateful, but to be patient as well. His father promised that his day would come, but after being a glorified secretary for two years, it was hard to stay positive.
The thing that killed him the most was knowing what he was capable of accomplishing. Grayson had the skills to do A&R – Artist and Repertoire were primarily responsible for talent scouting and developing their clients. He had the skills to do that and create music. He’d gone to school for music and studied it for years. He even produced songs for a local rock band in his freshman year and they went viral. That wasn’t good enough for Harvey, though. Nothing was good enough for Harvey.
Grayson told himself to continue being patient. He’d continue to make sure that there was food for the conference meetings, and continue taking messages for the execs. It sucked, but he knew things could be a lot worse.
One day, he’d prove everyone wrong. Grayson knew he’d be responsible for the next big thing once given the chance – and not the Pop/Party Music nonsense Harvey was promoting. Once given the opportunity, Grayson knew he’d find someone with talent and meaningful lyrics, and he would make that person’s dreams come true. There was talent out there and they needed to be heard. Grayson wanted to make sure they were heard.
The train started to move again, and thankfully, it was only a minute before they pulled into the 51st Street and Lexington Avenue stop. There were tons of people trying to board the already crowded train, and even worse, the conductor announced that they were being held momentarily for train traffic.
Again.
Grayson couldn’t take it anymore. Another glance at his watch told him that he had two minutes to be at work and 19 blocks to walk. That obviously wasn’t going to happen. Fighting for a taxi would probably be a lot easier than staying on the 4 Train to nowhere.
He said “excuse me” to the people trying to push him farther into the subway car and then said it again louder when it seemed like no one was going to move. It was tough, but he eventually shoved past a couple people and made his way through the crowd.
He tried running across the platform, but it ended up being more of an intense jog. Once at the staircase, he ran up two-by-two, really wishing he made that coffee before leaving the apartment. It would’ve helped with this morning so much.
The sun was high in the sky, but the temperature was near freezing. Grayson fantasized about a life where he wasn’t too afraid to move to sunny California and start an Indie record label there.
“Oomph – I’m sorry!”
“Be careful.” The man’s voice was deep – his arms stretching out to make sure Grayson didn’t fall.
He was attractive if Grayson could say so himself. Maybe 10 years older. Not bad.
The man smiled at him once he made sure he was okay. “I hope you get where you’re going in one piece.”
“I’m running late to work and I … I should watch where I’m going.”
The man nodded at the obvious statement. “You New Yorkers are always running somewhere.”
Grayson smiled at him before shyly nodding. “Well, I’m sorry again.”
He brushed it off. “It’s more than fine. Have a good day.”
“You do the same,” Grayson replied, watching as the man smiled back at him. One would think he would turn and walk away, being late and all, but it was actually the other guy who walked off first. Grayson was happy about it. It meant he got to take a peek at his ass in those suit pants.
Once the man was out of view, Grayson remembered that he had somewhere to be, and a Dad-Rant to sit through. Taxis were zooming down Lexington Avenue, and he was grateful he didn’t have to stand on the corner of 50th for too long before one pulled over for him.
His driver winced a bit when he slammed the door, but Grayson sat forward and gave the address.
“Is there any way you can make it down to 32nd in five minutes flat?”
He laughed.
“…What about six minutes?”
He started the meter and asked Grayson to sit back. “I’ll get you down there as quickly as I can, but the traffic going south at this time of the morning is as bad as it always is.”
Grayson tried to relax as he sat back. “Alright. You can just let me off at the corner of Lex and 32nd and I’ll walk the rest of the way down.”
His driver pulled off once the light turned green. The traffic was moving at fifteen miles an hour at best. With a sigh, Grayson reached into the pocket of his peacoat for his cell phone to let someone know he’d be a little later than normal.
Nothing.
He then reached into his other pocket.
Nothing. He’d always kept it in his coat pockets.
Grayson patted over his pants pockets. Nothing.
He opened the flap of his Vuitton messenger bag in vain, knowing he’d never drop his phone in there. He actually remembered putting the phone into his coat pocket on the train. Of course it wasn’t in his bag, and after another four searches, despite it not being in there the prior four times, it still wasn’t in his coat.
“Fuck.”
Chapter 2
Elijah had nothing but respect for people who performed on the streets of New York and in subway cars as a means of making a living. What they were doing was brave. Whether dancing,
or singing, or playing instruments, it had to be scary to perform in front of an audience so vastly different every single time.
He dropped a few bucks into the violin case of an older woman playing a classical piece on the corner of a large bank. She gave him a grateful smile as she continued. Most people walked past without even a glance, but the small audience she had seemed enthralled.
Mondays were hard for Elijah. He spent the weekend trying to completely forget that he worked in the mailroom of a law firm. Mail and law were two things he gave zero fucks about. But, the 25-story building in Midtown, Manhattan was the perfect place to waste one’s potential. Elijah was great at wasting his potential.
The good thing was that he wasn’t completely wasting his life away. A few nights out the week, he was the entertainment at this fancy restaurant in Chelsea. The pay wasn’t all that great, but the tips were decent, and it was a platform where the 23-year-old could try out his new music to audience reaction. Much like the violinist’s audience, the patrons were both young and old, New Yorkers and tourists, but the difference was they had no choice but to sit and listen to him. People were more likely to tip after they had a good meal, too, and playing there helped Elijah see whether or not his music would be adored by the masses.
Did he actually want to be successful with the masses? He didn’t care much. But it was cool knowing that everyone thought he was fantastic. It was nice for others to realize what he’d always known.
People had always recommended he audition for a big label after seeing him perform. But, while Elijah loved playing music and the good time that resulted because of it, he wasn’t interested in becoming a famous performer. The gig was really because he needed it, and because it was fun getting paid to do something he actually enjoyed.
His style was described as soulful and vibrant, and he was often complimented on the power of his voice. Most people said they didn’t expect that voice to come from the tall, tattooed suburban kid.
When he was about to turn onto 50th, Elijah felt something hard underneath his foot. He looked down and –
Something Real Page 2
