String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  The bartender laughed. As he held his hand out for Ari, he asked Naomi, “Am I the immovable object or the unstoppable force?”

  After the barest of hesitations, Ari took the offered hand and refrained from commenting on the stupidity of such a question. Only five seconds into their conversation and Ari could already tell—no one who knew this man would characterize him as an immovable anything. “Ari Darvish,” he said instead.

  “I guessed. Jax Hall.” Jax’s blue eyes flicked down and up, and his lips parted to reveal a tantalizing view of pink tongue.

  “Down, boy!” Naomi groaned and hit the back of Jax’s head.

  Jax released Ari’s hand and rubbed ruefully at his hair. “Geez, Naomi, I was only saying hi.”

  “You can leave the horndog at home tonight. We want you to make a good impression.”

  “I object to being characterized as a dog.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I thought the implication that you’d hump anyone’s leg very apt.”

  “Naomi!” He sniffed. “I would never hump anyone’s leg—uninvited.” He winked at Ari.

  At fifty seconds into the conversation, Ari learned Jax was positively shameless. “I will be sure to refrain from giving anything approaching an invitation, then,” he said dryly.

  Jax fluttered his lashes. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  Ari ignored the twinge in his stomach. “I’m told you can play piano.”

  “I do a mean rendition of ‘Toxic,’ it’s true.”

  Ari did not have time to contemplate that. Instead, he asked if Jax could help them out.

  Jax took the offered sheet music and then pulled out his phone. “You’re on Spotify, right?” He strode across the room to the keyboard, spread the papers out, and after some searching, pulled the corresponding song up on his phone.

  “Let’s leave him to it.” Naomi hooked her arm through Ari’s. “Come to the bar. Say hi to Murph.”

  Ari didn’t usually warm up for shows while standing at bars, but given the circumstances, he followed Naomi out of the room without a backward glance at the strange bartender hunched over his sheet music.

  ARI DREW his bow over the strings, and the music vibrated through his body. He’d played this chord countless times; it began the refrain of one of his oldest pieces. But playing it had never felt like this before.

  Jax sat behind the piano, head tilted at an alluring angle, a smile on his lips as his fingers flew across the keys in an approximation of Ari’s music. It couldn’t be expected that anyone other than a seasoned professional could learn so many songs so quickly, and the occasional errors and fudging of complex chords and progressions were to be anticipated. Still, Ari hadn’t expected the flourishes.

  Jax added in an extra note here, a chord hop there. It should have set Ari’s teeth on edge, but instead he wanted to know more. The changes made the music more dynamic. What other ideas did Jax have?

  He pulled his bow from his violin as the last notes died out and the audience cheered. Ari set down his violin and grabbed his water—adrenaline was drying his mouth. When he’d swallowed, he said, “Once again I’d like to thank Jax Hall for assisting us tonight while we wait for our regular pianist.”

  “I’m not exactly on Ari’s level.” Jax flashed the audience a self-effacing smile. “As some of you may have guessed, I’ve never played any of this music before. So I hope you’re not too disappointed.” He winked.

  Naomi, finishing off her own drink break, laughed into the microphone. “You’re doing just fine, Jax. Just try to keep it up on this next song.”

  “Oh, darling, I’ll always try to keep it up with you.”

  Ari reset his violin and passed the bow over the strings—a quick hello to the instrument, a habit of long standing.

  “I wrote this song when my sister got married.” The crowd awwed, as they always did.

  Ari looked to Naomi and Jax to make sure they were ready, and so it began.

  He had played this song countless times, yet he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Jax. His whole body seemed to vibrate with the music, as if he could feel Ari’s bars with his body.

  When they arrived at the octave jump, Ari expected him to fumble it, but he managed it ably. Jax the bartender did not play the piano “passingly,” as he’d told Ari before they took the stage. He didn’t have the polished accuracy of a professional performer, but he seemed to have a natural feel for the music and the instrument. He played with his whole body, not just his fingers.

  As the song came to a close, Jax gave a little flourish that sent blood rushing through Ari’s fingers and ears, and before he could second-guess himself, he mimicked the flourish and added his own.

  Jax’s head snapped up. Their eyes met. And after the barest hint of a pause, a smirk played across Jax’s mouth. Then he bent over the piano once again and responded to Ari’s sally. And then Ari answered, and—

  And before he knew it they were playing something new, something just for them, leaving Naomi behind, making it up as they went, using the original progressions and chords from the song to build something unique, responding to each other’s interpretation. At times they played together; others they waited for a response. It was electric, thrilling. The music poured through Ari’s fingers like water over Niagara—too fast, too intense, but perfect, perfect—

  It barely lasted two minutes, and it left Ari panting and exhilarated, staring at Jax, who stared back over the top of the piano, apparently—at last—unable to counter Ari’s musical argument, the audience going wild around the bar.

  “And that, comrades,” said Murph into the house microphone with an only slightly admonishing glare in Jax’s direction, “was the Rock’s own Jax Hall filling in for Rosa Doyle on piano. Rosa’s made her way here now, so the musicians are going to take a short break to reset.”

  Ari set down his violin and executed a bow to the audience, his mind spinning.

  He had played with orchestras and professional musicians all over the world prior to the pandemic. He had performed for crowds of thousands. But he had never felt so electrified as he had improvising an ending to one of his songs with a man who’d never played it before today.

  As he made his way back to the break room, he tried to untangle his emotions. Under the sheer exhilaration, something felt raw, as though a part of him had been peeled back and exposed to view. How could a casual musician with no formal training read him like that, twist Ari’s own music that way? It made him feel unworthy of his education. He should do better.

  It made him want to do it again.

  “So was it just me,” Jax said, and Ari froze as he realized that Jax had followed him, because of course he had. He was one of the musicians, for the moment. “Or was that completely awesome?”

  Ari wanted to thank him and tell him he had been acceptable. But given the circumstances, that faint praise seemed beyond rude.

  Naomi saved him from his dilemma. “Eh, you were all right,” she said, nudging Jax with a shoulder.

  Good. Let her be the one to damn him.

  Jax didn’t seem perturbed. No doubt the two of them were used to teasing each other—a dynamic that seemed to grow organically between Murph’s employees. “I was at least a little bit awesome. You two are incredible, though. That was so cool.”

  He really couldn’t stand still—he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, and his fingers were twitching like they wanted to get back to the keys. His cocksure attitude from the stage had dissipated, leaving behind only sweetly enthusiastic charm.

  “Thank you for accompanying us,” Ari said. “Your performance was admirable.”

  Jax opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Naomi stepped on his foot. It didn’t look accidental. “It was fun,” he said, leaving Ari wondering what he might have said. “I hope I didn’t screw up too bad.”

  Ari, who hated when people didn’t respect his work, found he could not say so in the face of such earnestness. Especially not since they had led to t
hat invigorating finale. “No,” he said. “Not at all.”

  Naomi was giving him one of her looks—one that she had once translated for him as “Dial down the intensity; you’re scaring the civilians.” He recognized that he was staring rather intently and forced himself to blink and take a step backward.

  “Please excuse me. I need to go over the revised set list with Rosa.” They had switched up the songs in order to put the less complicated piano parts earlier in the show. “Would you prefer the check for your services to be sent here or to another address?”

  Now Jax blinked, taking a step backward of his own. Ari must have surprised him. “Ah, you don’t have to—”

  Ari could not allow any misunderstandings on this point. Especially these days. “Jax. Musicians in my employ are paid. I insist.”

  Jax quirked a small smile. “Well. All right, then. I guess I’ll head back to the bar. You want anything?”

  Your phone number, Ari thought, and then was horrified at himself for it. Such an overture would be inappropriate. “No, thank you.”

  “Naomi?”

  “Martini, dirty. Hold the innuendo.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “That’s a nasty rumor.”

  “Prove it!” was Jax’s parting remark as he about-faced and swanned out the door.

  Naomi shook her head and grabbed a bottle of water from the counter. “He does like to make a dramatic exit.”

  Ari was forced to agree.

  JAX MADE 147 percent of his usual tips, despite the low-key nature of the evening, the limited audience, and the fact that he spent the first part of the night on the stage. When Ari’s set ended, people seemed disinclined to leave, so Rosa and Naomi took a few requests and the tables were pushed back to make room for a dance floor. Jax kept slinging drinks, looking up every few minutes, hoping to see Ari on the stage.

  Jax had hardly had a chance to appreciate the man’s incredible talent. He only accompanied him on a few songs, and he’d needed all his concentration to focus on his own part, embellishing here and there to cover the fact that he didn’t know the music. Jax had only taken a few piano lessons as a kid. He couldn’t sight read fast enough to keep up and had just penciled in the chords at the top of the sheet and hoped for the best.

  That last song, though, had his blood pumping. The call-and-answer with Ari happened almost by accident.

  Jax loved numbers. He was a math guy. To him, music was applied math.

  What had happened with Ari on the stage was the closest thing to magic he’d ever experienced. It was… heady was a good word. If Naomi hadn’t been there, Jax would’ve offered Ari a blow job right there in the break room.

  But when he got offstage, he was only able to half watch the rest of the concert as he filled drink orders and suffered through a semi for the rest of the evening until Naomi and Rosa took their last bows. Jax didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to Ari.

  Jax helped Murph close up the bar and rode his bike home in the wee hours. Thankfully London wasn’t big enough to make it a long trip, and soon, Jax unlocked the front door. He was greeted by the sound of the TV and the sight of Hobbes sacked out on the living-room couch.

  Jax smiled as he toed off his shoes and crept up to his roommate. The deep circles under Hobbes’s eyes, which had moved in before Jax met him, had finally dissipated in recent weeks, but even in the low light of the TV, the newly acquired gray was visible in his beard and at his temples. Jax bit his lip and didn’t reach out to smooth the hair away from his face. Instead, he grabbed the throw off the back of the couch and gently draped it over him. It wasn’t the first time Jax had tucked his friend into bed.

  After one last look at that too-handsome face, Jax turned away and switched off the TV. Then he tiptoed out of the room.

  “Meow!” Captain Tribby sat in the kitchen doorway, eyeing Jax with an air of impatience and displeasure.

  “Hey, Captain Tubs,” Jax whispered.

  Tribby lurched forward to rub against Jax’s shins, then looked up to loudly demand, Where the fuck you been?

  “Yeah, yeah, meow, meow. Feed me, bitch. I hear you.” Jax checked the feed schedule to make sure he wasn’t double-feeding, then filled the kibble bowl with a fresh scoop and the water dish, and left the cat to it.

  Teeth cleaned and clothes tossed… elsewhere, Jax climbed into bed clad only in his boxers and settled onto his pillow with a sigh. He could still hear the music he and Ari had played, still feel the buzz in his fingers. Jax wondered if Ari would be that precise and commanding in every situation. The implications sent a shiver down his spine.

  Though maybe he brought instead the slight stiffness he had offstage, the faint air of condescension. Jax snickered into his pillow, imagining Ari thanking him for a roll in the hay and offering to cover the taxi fare because he would never let a one-night stand pay for their own way home. The image did little to wilt his semi. He considered rolling over to take care of it, but his limbs felt too heavy to move.

  As he dropped into unconsciousness, he felt the bed dip under Tribby’s not inconsiderable weight and then the warm body curl up against his hip, vibrating with purrs.

  Chapter Two

  JAX WOKE to bright sunshine and an empty bed—a stark contrast to his dreams of starlight and a heavy body pressing him into the mattress.

  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, then blinked at the ceiling as he realized his dreams had starred Ari instead of—well. In any case, it was a welcome change, but now he needed a nice hot shower. It seemed his dick felt owed after yesterday’s long work shift.

  Afterward, Jax strolled loosely into the kitchen to find Hobbes at the table, drinking one of his health smoothies and looking at his phone. Tribby sat on top of the fridge and eyed Jax as he moved about the feeding room without approaching the cat dishes.

  “Morning.”

  Hobbes grunted. “Barely.”

  “I work at a bar,” Jax reminded him for the umpteenth time. Jax wasn’t going to get up for one of Hobbes’s 6:00 a.m. jogs after rolling into bed at two.

  “Most overqualified bartender in the country.”

  Jax pretended the sound of the frying pan hitting the stovetop had drowned him out. It was a tossup, really, who was more upset by Jax’s current lack of PhD—his mom or Hobbes.

  Jax made eggs and toast with tomatoes, slid into the seat opposite Hobbes, and ignored him as he made his way through a much-deserved breakfast. So he was surprised when Hobbes said, “Jesus, kid, I think you’re actually drooling.”

  Startled, Jax looked up. “What?” He shoved another bite into his mouth.

  “Video from last night.”

  “Video?” Jax said dumbly. Why would anyone take video of him tending bar?

  Hobbes shook his head. “Murph sent it.” He tipped his head toward Jax’s phone, which sat quietly on the counter where Jax had left it last night.

  Phone retrieved, Jax found several missed messages in the group chat.

  Murph: Hobbes! You missed your boy’s debut as musical accompaniment.

  He’d linked to a YouTube video. The thumbnail preview titled it Ari Darvish and Pianist Battle Onstage. Apprehensive, Jax clicked the link.

  The video quality was shit, but damn, their performance was not. The recorder caught them both in the shot, and for the two minutes of the video, it was pretty damn obvious that Jax and Ari were in their own little world. Well, Jax was, at least. His eyes only left the piano keys to glance at Ari.

  Hobbes wasn’t wrong about Jax’s obvious interest.

  When the video ended, Hobbes said, “See? Drooling.”

  “I was not drooling,” Jax snipped as he scrolled through the chat comments.

  Naomi: It was certainly something. Too bad you couldn’t join us, Calvin.

  Hobbes: I think I’m glad I didn’t if Jax was like this all night.

  Hobbes: Only Jax could eye-fuck a stranger on stage and feel no shame.

  Murph: Shame! The views are racking up.

>   Murph: Think of the business!! $$$

  Murph: Jax, how much more beer do we need??

  Jax snorted and, ignoring that his roommate was right across from him, typed into the chat.

  Jax: Easily answered as soon as I figure out how to predict the likely number of new customers per 1000 views.

  Jax: Also, there was no eye-fucking! Well… not on stage.

  Naomi: Jacob Stirling Hall.

  Hobbes: Gross.

  Murph: you can do all the eye fucking you want, b’y, so long as it brings me customers.

  Naomi: Way to make him sound like a sex worker.

  Hobbes: Don’t give him ideas.

  Jax: Snort. I’d be way out of Murph’s price range. Have you seen my ass????

  “Unfortunately,” Hobbes said aloud.

  “It’s not my fault you’re terminally heterosexual.” He swiped the last of his toast crust through the egg yolk and popped it in his mouth. “Late shift today?”

  After one last text—which must not have been to the group chat, since Jax’s phone didn’t ping with a notification—Hobbes looked up. “I’m off, actually. Apparently miracles are real.”

  Jax’s eyebrows shook hands with his hairline. “Wow. Lucky guy. Big plans?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  Jax would like to know, which was why he asked, but he accepted the boundary. It was probably healthy; they didn’t have a lot of them left. That was what happened when you moved into someone’s house to feed their cat when they were in the hospital on a ventilator.

  “Well, have fun,” he said absently as an email notification popped up on his phone. The sender came up truncated—OFFICE OF REGISTR—

  Wincing, Jax cleared the notification. He looked up to see if Hobbes had caught him, but no, he was in the clear. “Think I’m going to call Sam,” he offered. “She and George are thinking about visiting sometime. Might be nice to actually meet my nibling.”

  Sam had given birth at the beginning of the pandemic. After that, she and George moved out of Toronto to his family’s Muskoka cabin to wait things out.