String Theory

by Ashlyn Kane

  “Ooh.”

  “Think you can manage something that sultry?” Kayla asked as she put the finishing touches on Jax’s neck.

  Jax shot her a sassy look. “Please, this is me.” He dropped his lashes. “I can do sultry.”

  “Now you’re just trying to tease. Put that face away when you’re not going to follow through.” She flicked his nose with her brush.

  Jax grinned. He loved how well he and Kayla understood each other. “If you insist.” He watched her put her makeup away, then clapped. “You gonna help me play ‘Rocket’?”

  “Hell yes!” She tossed her hair and grinned. “Don’t suppose Ari’s coming around tonight?”

  Jax laughed. “One can only hope.”

  ARI WROTE late into the night after Jax left. Then he slept in and wrote again the next morning. He hadn’t felt this possessed since the early days, when he was attempting to get all the songs that had ever lived in his head out at once.

  At least this time he remembered to check his phone during water breaks and had promptly responded to a query about what Ari had been up to that evening, complete with a lascivious smiling face.

  Ari was tempted to put on shoes and head to the bar, but he knew better than to ignore his muse at times like these.

  He was elbow deep in sheet music after lunchtime the next day when a knock came at the door.

  A quick check through the peephole revealed Theo. What was his sister’s intern doing there?

  “Hello. Did Afra send you?”

  Theo stuck his hands in his pockets and gave a rueful smile. The kid was entirely too adorable for someone halfway through university. “Yeah. She had an important meeting but felt that someone should come check on you.”

  Ari rolled his eyes but let the kid come in.

  “Drink?”

  Theo took one of the Cokes hidden in the fridge for guests. He popped the tab and took a long slurp. “Thanks. The walk here was longer than I expected.” His cheeks were chapped from the October wind, and Ari almost wanted to scold him for not having worn a hat. But that was probably crossing some sort of employer-pseudo-employee boundary, so he cast about for something else to say. His piano sat open, the top propped up on the support bar. Right—he’d been about to take care of that.

  “Want to help me tune the piano?”

  Theo paused with the Coke can halfway to his mouth. “Really? Okay. What do I do?”

  “Just sit on the bench and play the keys one at a time, please.”

  Theo hit the lowest A note, and Ari checked the note and tightened the string until it registered the proper vibration. Satisfied, he asked Theo to climb to A-sharp and repeated the process. They had climbed all the way to the first F-sharp before Theo spoke. “You like doing this.”

  “Hm?” Ari gave the bolt another twist. “Try that.” Perfect. “I guess? I like knowing I can fix the problem. And there is something therapeutic about the process. Normally I do this alone, so it takes longer, but I can zone out when I do it.”

  “Oh. Sounds peaceful.”

  “It is. G, please.”

  They came around to A again. “I wish I could play music like you do.”

  “Have you ever tried to learn? Play again.”

  Theo hit the key, and Ari motioned for him to move on. His brow furrowed as he played the next one. “Not really. I mean, I had to play the drums for a while in school, but I couldn’t quite manage the dual rhythm thing.”

  “Ah, not an easy feat. Kayla, who plays at the Rock, can manage three rhythms, hands and feet, in a manner that I find pretty enviable.”

  Theo gave him a little smile and replayed the note when requested. “I guess it’s something of a unique talent. Though wouldn’t playing the piano….”

  “It’s not dissimilar. Though there is a reason I prefer the violin.”

  “My parents were super worried about falling into parenting traps and clichés,” Theo admitted. “I’m not sure if it’s because they didn’t want to be the rich white parents who forced their kid to take piano or if they didn’t want to make their brown kid into a stereotype, but they were against making me take any music lessons.” His lips quirked. “I could have asked. They’d have given me whatever I wanted.”

  Ari finished tightening the current string. “It sounds like they were doing their best to love you.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Theo agreed. “They definitely did. I know they love me. They, uh, couldn’t have kids but kept hoping and got started on the whole adoption thing pretty late.” He played the next note, looking distracted. Ari glanced at his tuner and tightened the bolt. “They were almost fifty, so I was their miracle baby, you know?” He cast a look Ari’s way. “If I told them I wanted to tattoo myself purple and dress only in tutus they would have taken me to a tailor to get a custom tulle wardrobe.”

  Ari chuckled. “I guess you should be grateful you didn’t want to, then.”

  “Yeah.” Theo played the note once more and moved on to the next one.

  “Was it difficult, growing up with white parents?” Ari asked tentatively. He didn’t want to pry if it was an uncomfortable subject, but Theo had brought them up—maybe he needed to talk about it.

  Theo smiled wistfully. “Sometimes. Especially when they forget that I look like a ‘terrorist.’” He barked a humorless laugh. “Though I guess I mostly miss the worst of it since I dress like a white guy.”

  Ari nodded. He got the same kind of Islamophobic BS even though his family wasn’t Muslim, so he had the same mix of prejudice and privilege to deal with. “I get it.”

  Theo gave a wan smile, then turned back to the keys. The moment was apparently over. “So. Which note is next?”

  JAX WAS still in bed when the phone rang, which was probably the only reason he answered it. If he’d seen the Caller ID—

  But he didn’t.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, so you’re taking my calls now.”

  Shit.

  Jax swallowed, suddenly wide-awake. He scrambled upright, the sheets pooling around his waist. “Mom. Hi.”

  “Hi, he says. Like it’s good to talk to me. As though he hasn’t been dodging my calls since June.”

  “I haven’t been dodging your calls.” He’d been dodging her calls since January.

  His mother did not dignify that with a response, and guilt sneaked in to fill the silence until Jax couldn’t take it anymore. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “I get it, kiddo,” she said gently. “The past eighteen months haven’t been easy on any of us, you know? I just want you to talk to me.”

  Ah yes. More guilt. “And say what?” Honestly, where could he even begin?

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

  He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his hair. He needed a haircut again. That seemed so strange, since just last year he’d gone three or four months without one. “Okay, let’s start over, I guess. We can pretend. Hi, Mom. Long time no speak. How are you?”

  Whatever shortcomings his mother might have, she loved her children. Jax counted himself lucky that right now she seemed to love him enough to humor him. “Well, you know. School’s back in session, so I’m living the dream.”

  This was an old, well-worn conversation between them, so he let himself relax into it. “Let me guess—the freshmen get younger every year.”

  “They are like little babies,” she confirmed. “Most of them not as little as you were, though.”

  Jax had been only sixteen when he started university and hadn’t hit his growth spurt until he was twenty-one, so that didn’t surprise him. “Lucky for them,” he said. “You teaching undergrads this semester?”

  “Just the one session, thank God. Linear algebra.”

  “At least it’s a fun one.”

  “You’d be surprised how many of my students don’t think so.”

  He snorted. “And you wrote the textbook for them and everything. Ungrateful.”

  “They have the nerve to bitch
about paying fifty bucks for the copying fees.”

  Jax shook his head. They’d bitched about that when he was in undergrad too. “Some things never change, I guess.”

  “I guess,” she agreed. But apparently he ought to have offered more, because she took advantage of the natural pause in conversation to say, “What about you, Jax? How’re things with you?”

  And this was where things got sticky. “Oh, you know me. I’m always fine.”

  “Hmm,” she said noncommittally. “That does seem to be the consensus of the comments on this video.”

  Fuck. “You saw that?”

  “Half the Northern Hemisphere’s seen it, kid. You really didn’t want to tell your mom you finally got internet famous?”

  “It wasn’t on purpose,” he protested. “It was a last-minute thing. I was just having fun.”

  “Sure,” she said too easily. Jax sensed a trap. “So listen. I’ve been asking around.”

  Jax was immediately on high alert. He rolled out of bed and paced barefoot beneath the window. “Mom—”

  “Hear me out. I know you know Western has a math PhD program. I spoke with Dr. Singh—”

  “Mom!”

  “Jax!” she echoed. “I’m sorry, but what do you want me to say? That it’s okay with me if you waste your talent playing second piano in a bar three nights a week?”

  Jax bit down on his tongue in order to avoid telling her it was every night now. “A little empathy might be nice. It’s not like I didn’t finish on purpose. Sorry there was a global pandemic and I had to leave the university and while I was gone my thesis advisor fucking died!”

  “I know,” she said, and already the anger had leached out of her voice. It always did, not that it made it better. “Shit, I know that. I’m sorry. I know Grayling meant a lot to you.”

  Grayling had been like the father he’d never had, though Jax had never felt the loss of one when he was growing up. His mother was aromantic and had always been single, but she made sure he and Sam had plenty of role models of all genders. That didn’t mean he didn’t fall in love with Grayling’s family, his wife and two teenage daughters, who invited Grayling’s grad students to family barbecues and gave him a home away from home.

  And then the pandemic hit, and everything shut down. Grayling got conscripted to work on some software for the Massachusetts Department of Health, and Jax was his right-hand man. Then he crossed the border into Canada, called home by a prime minister who’d seen the writing on the wall. Two months later Grayling was dead.

  “How can I face them?” Jax whispered. “I abandoned them.”

  “Jax… honey. You don’t have to go back. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. I’m happy doing what I’m doing.” He was good at bartending. He was mediocre at playing piano. But he was excellent at making sure people had a good time.

  “I mean in order to get your doctorate.”

  Jax stopped, bowled over. “So, what? You think I should abandon my years of research and start over because it’s more important for me to have a PhD than….” Than what? Whatever the fuck he was doing now? Than dealing with grief and PTSD and a brand-new ADHD diagnosis in the best way he knew how? Finally forming friendships that felt like they’d last, with people who cared about more than Jax’s enormous, beautiful brain?

  “If you had chosen a Canadian university in the first place—”

  The surge of rage that washed through him then made him wind his arm back to throw his cell phone at the wall. But he couldn’t afford to replace it, and that was a childish impulse anyway.

  “If I had chosen a Canadian university, there still would’ve been a pandemic. But I wouldn’t have worked on a computer model that predicted viral spread in human populations. That was actually useful.”

  His mother was silent for several long moments. “You know I’m proud of that work.”

  Jax took a shaky breath.

  “I just want you to be happy, Jax. To live up to your potential.” And there was the kicker. Jax’s mouth twisted.

  “I’ll think about it, okay?” he lied. He was already thinking about it, just not the way she wanted. “But I’m done talking about it now. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”

  “All right,” she said softly. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Jax, if you ever need money….”

  Oh Jesus, what now? Was she going to try to bribe him into going back by offering to pay for it? “I’m fine,” he said firmly.

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Look, I should, uh, get going. I’m working tonight and I’ve got things to do.”

  “All right,” she said after a long silence. “I love you. And answer your phone now and again.”

  “I will, Mom.” He might.

  He hung up and flung himself back on his mattress. A glance at his phone said he would have to get moving soon if he had any errands today, but he pressed an arm over his eyes and wondered if a nap would be a bad idea. Or maybe he could see what Ari was up to?

  Jax retrieved his phone from the mountain of blankets and texted, You busy today?

  The Captain jumped up onto the bed and stomped toward him. Jax reached out and tickled the cat’s chin and stroked his ears.

  Pressing into Jax’s hand, he chirruped and purred, and eventually settled his heavy body across Jax’s chest. It looked like someone was voting for more sleep.

  “You win, Captain Tubby-pants. We’ll stay in bed just a little while longer.” Ari hadn’t texted back yet, and a bit more sleep would be helpful to get through anything strenuous.

  Chapter Ten

  ARI HUMMED as he selected an outfit for the evening. He’d been somewhat shocked by Jax’s texts just before noon asking if Ari was free that day and would he mind if Jax came over? Jax was rather eager to try that other thing Ari had suggested.

  That I suggested?

  Something about my knees and ears.

  Well. If you insist.

  Jax had been ravenous when Ari opened the door, and Ari indeed learned what Jax looked like bent in half and begging for it. He looked especially appealing draped over Ari’s expensive couch, his pale skin contrasting with the slate gray fabric.

  And it was as brutal and frenzied as the first time.

  Later, when Jax had to leave for work, he kissed Ari goodbye, hard and grateful. “Thank you. I really needed that.” He ran his hands over Ari’s chest and then pressed another hard kiss to his mouth. “If you come to the bar tonight, I’ll sing something just for you.” He winked and hurried out the door.

  As always after seeing Jax, Ari was desperate to write. Especially with that parting blow. Jax obviously meant something salacious. It was all too easy, though, for Ari to misremember it, to believe he intended to make a romantic gesture. It hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that led to productive time with his instruments.

  Still, he set an alarm on his phone. He didn’t want to miss a personal performance.

  At the Rock, Jax was already on stage. Ari greeted Murph at the bar, ordered a ginger ale, and settled in to wait.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  “I promised a friend,” Jax said, leaning into the mic like he was trying to seduce it, “that I would sing this next song. I hope you like it.” Their gazes caught, and Ari’s breath hitched.

  Behind him, Murph muttered, “I’m gonna have to put a leash on that b’y.”

  Kayla took the lead, bashing out an ’80s beat on her drums, and soon Jax and Naomi joined in with their instruments and ahhs. Thanks to his older sister, Ari recognized the refrain. “Holding Out for a Hero”?

  Ari didn’t understand this man, but Jax clearly enjoyed playing it. All three of them went hard on the instruments, and Jax brought the same intensity to the vocals as he begged the universe for a man to come save him. The song suited his brand of ham, certainly.

  As always, the crowd loved it, and Jax glowed under the attenti
on. Ari wanted to bend him over the piano.

  He wondered how much damage that might do to his own instrument.

  Naomi called for a break after Bonnie Tyler, and they left the stage in different directions. Jax bounced up to him and asked, “So, what did you think?”

  “As enjoyable a performance as always,” Ari teased.

  “I knew you’d like some ’80s synth rock.” He pressed two fingers to Ari’s knee and fluttered his lashes, a positively tame flirtation.

  “Yes, you have spotted my musical weakness.”

  “Well, then, you better stick around for the next number.”

  Ari hummed his agreement. “I have nowhere else to be.”

  “Good! Now I have to run to the bathroom because I’ve been stuck on stage forever. Rosa has the night off.” He grinned and hustled away. Ari watched him go.

  “It really is a stunning view,” a familiar voice said next to him. Ari looked over and saw Kayla behind the bar, a sweating beer in her hand.

  Jax had suggested once that he and Kayla had some sort of past entanglement, but since Ari didn’t know the details, he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  She turned to Ari. “You know, you two really are disgustingly cute together. Like I totally wanna barf about it, but it also makes me super happy for him.”

  “Should I apologize or thank you?” Ari asked dryly.

  Kayla grinned. “He told you we slept together, right?” Ari inclined his head. Not in so many words, but…. “Anyway, it was damn good, and Jax is sweet. It almost made me wish I could give him what he wants.” Ari clenched his fists in his lap. “But well, relationships aren’t my thing, and Jax is the marrying kind.” She shrugged.

  Ari’s mouth dropped open.

  If it weren’t for the whole aromantic thing, Jax had said.

  Kayla. He’d meant Kayla was aromantic.

  So did that mean…. Was Jax looking for Ari to be his hero in a romantic sense? Was that what the song was about?

  Well, at least he’d figured it out before he managed to let on to Jax that, as far as he was concerned, they were casual sex partners. He’d only known Jax a little while, but he could guess how well that would go down.