by Neil Plakcy
Gavin shook his head. “I’m kind of on the down low about you with my family. I don’t want them to think you’re just helping us so you can have sex with me.”
“I can dig that.”
“But we can still have sex,” Gavin said hurriedly. “We just can’t be, you know, in their face about it.”
“We’re grown-ups, Gavin. We can go without sex for a few weeks if we have to.”
“Maybe you can,” Gavin said, grinning. “But I think it would have a really bad effect on my singing.”
Miles laughed. “We’ll play it by ear, then.” He handed a jump drive to Gavin. “I put together a playlist of songs for you to listen to, from contemporaries of the Sweethearts to current artists. I want you to listen to how they deliver the songs. It’s about telling a story, remember. Not just getting the words and the notes right.”
It sounded a lot like school homework, but Gavin was willing to give it a try if Miles thought it would help.
“Now scoot,” Miles said. “I have three tracks to mix before I can call it quits for the night. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
Gavin stood up, then leaned over Miles for a long kiss. “Later for you, dude,” he said, then walked out. As he walked home, he wondered about how he could keep his relationship with Miles hidden at Starlit Lake. Would Archie and Erica be jealous, think that Miles was favoring Gavin because they were fucking? And would his father have a shit fit that Gavin had disobeyed him?
He pushed all those doubts aside. He was definitely crushing on Miles Goodwin, and that’s all that mattered. He was going to stay in the moment whenever he could, enjoy his happiness, and not worry about the rest.
Miles called him at eight, and they met for dinner at a fast-casual Mexican restaurant a few blocks from Miles’s apartment. They talked endlessly, about everything from past boyfriends to favorite TV shows. Miles was cagey, though, about one guy.
“He’s a singer, and you’d know his name if I told you,” Miles said. “We met at this Latin jam session on the Beach when he was struggling to put together his first solo album. We started talking about music, and by the time we stopped to take a breath, the sun was rising and we were… It’s hard to describe it. Like falling into a big pit, screaming and scared, but holding hands, like we were soul mates or something.”
He looked down at his half-eaten burrito. “It sounds silly now. I mean, we were both adults, not horny teenagers. But we left that club, went back to his place, and stayed in bed for two days. The only reason we left it at all was because we came up with a song together and we had to get up and write it down.”
“It doesn’t sound silly,” Gavin said. “It sounds amazing.”
Miles looked up. “And it was, for a while. He’s awesomely talented, one of the best. But every time I made a suggestion about the music, he’d scream and stomp his feet and then finally calm down and listen. After a while, I couldn’t handle the drama.”
“So you broke up with him?”
Miles shook his head. “His first single hit the Latin charts and started to zoom, and he went off on the road to perform. He didn’t ask me to come with him.”
“Oh, Miles,” Gavin said.
“He was very closeted when we hooked up, and that made everything crazy. The whole Latin machismo thing, for starters. He had these hordes of screaming girls at his concerts, and he was afraid they’d run away if he came out. I couldn’t live like that, and I was probably too pushy to him, trying to get him to open up.”
“He’s still in the closet?” Gavin asked.
Miles shook his head. “Nope, he came out a couple of years ago. Married another guy, had kids, got divorced.” He smiled. “So I guess he had bigger problems than just being in the closet.”
“You’re still in touch with him?”
“Don’t get jealous,” Miles said, reaching out to squeeze Gavin’s hand. “I see his face on tabloids at the grocery. And I say, man, I dodged a bullet when we broke up.”
They went back to Miles’s apartment and cuddled up in bed together. “What about you?” Miles asked as they lay there naked, their hips touching. “You have a broken heart hidden in there somewhere?”
“I came out to my parents after my first year at FU,” Gavin said. “They told me they already knew, which shocked the shit out of me because I thought I had been so good at hiding. I played sports; I dated girls.”
Miles shifted on his side to look at Gavin. “What changed? You met a boy?”
“You’re going to think this is so corny,” Gavin said, “but it was a song. ‘Standing Outside the Fire,’ by Garth Brooks.” He sang a couple of lines from the song. “I heard it, and I thought, this is my life. I’m too scared to go after what I really want.”
“It’s not corny at all,” Miles said. “Music has that power. It lets you express things you’ve kept bottled up inside.”
“That’s what it was like for me. I must have been like twelve or thirteen when I saw my first porn magazine—one of those real sleazy ones I found sticking up out of the trash can at the community center in Eau Claire. I brought it home with me and went right to my room. I flipped through it, and I just kind of looked at the naked women and thought, eh.”
Miles laughed.
“Then I got to a photo shoot of a guy and a girl, and immediately my dick pronged up. I was like, so I’m not into naked girls, but into the sex act. Okay. I got my dad’s magnifying glass and zoomed in on the pictures. I didn’t get it then, but now I realize I was only looking at the men close up, not the women.”
Gavin sat up. “I kept that magazine till the binding came loose and the pages fell out. And then in tenth grade, we took a class trip to Minneapolis. We had like an hour of free time, and I spotted this X-rated bookstore. I ditched my friends and went inside, looking for another issue of that same magazine. I saw that there were whole magazines of men only, men by themselves, men with other men. Everything kind of clicked then.”
Gavin laughed. “I pulled out all the cash in my wallet. I had enough to buy just one magazine, so I looked through each one before I made my decision. Suddenly I look up, and there’s this big, bearded guy looming over me. ‘This isn’t a library, kid. Buy something or get out.’”
Miles laughed. “I can just see it.”
“The guy was really sweet, though,” Gavin said. “He must have figured I didn’t have much money, because he handed me this shrink-wrapped package of four magazines with the covers ripped off. I was so excited my hands were shaking as I handed him the money, and then I ran out of there like some scared little mouse.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine anything scaring you,” Miles said. “You always look so confident.”
“I had a lot handed to me,” Gavin admitted. “Being good-looking. Having a rich family. I had this sense of entitlement for a long time, until I started modeling.”
“Really? I’d think that would just be more of the same.”
Gavin shook his head. “Back home, I was the best-looking guy in my class. Even at FU, I was kind of known for being handsome. But modeling? Every guy is better looking than the next. And you get rejected all the time. They might say you’re not the right type, but you can tell they’re critiquing your body, an extra pound or two, a zit on your neck, the way you stand or the way you walk.”
He leaned over and kissed Miles. “I hope the experience made me a better human being.”
“I can’t imagine you being any better,” Miles said. “Now come here, you.”
Where Stars Are Born
Gavin told his modeling agent that he was going to be away for the last part of August and that he could only go on auditions for shoots after that. He worked at Java Joe’s, went to the gym, listened to the songs on Miles’s playlist, and practiced singing during the day. And each evening he met Miles for dinner and then went back to Miles’s apartment. Sometimes they had sex; sometimes they just sat up and talked until both were too tired to continue.
The last night before
Miles left for Nashville, they had a special dinner celebration, back at the Italian restaurant where they’d had their first date. Once again, they shared a bottle of prosecco, and Miles lifted his glass in a toast. “To Starlit Lake,” he said.
Gavin clinked his glass to Miles’s and said, “This is really happening.”
“You bet. And we’re going to make some great music. I can feel it already. Just the name alone—Starlit Lake. Sounds like the kind of place where stars are born.”
“It’s very quiet and peaceful,” Gavin said. “My grandma and her sisters bought this big piece of property with some of their music royalties. A couple of acres at one end of the lake, with some woods out by the street for privacy. They had a big house built with room enough for the whole family to be there at once. My family spent every summer out there when I was a kid. Our dads used to work during the week and then come out to the lake.” Gavin laughed. “I think it was probably a vacation for them too, not to have kids and chores.”
“Sounds like everybody got a good deal.”
“I hated it when I was a teenager, though. I wanted to be back in town with my friends, and you can only take so many canoe trips and go swimming so many days in a row before it gets old.”
“At least you were only a few miles from civilization,” Miles said. “A couple of times my mom and I went to visit her parents in Guatemala. They weren’t poor or anything, but it was very third world. No air conditioning, not enough electricity to power computers or games. And I couldn’t drag all my instruments there so I had to make my own. I got really good at percussion—banging sticks and coconuts together.”
Gavin laughed. “At least we had electricity and cable TV. And I had Archie and Erica to hang out with too. There were a couple of older ones, my sister’s age, and then a bunch of little kids after us. But the three of us used to conspire against the rest of the family.”
“I can see you as a troublemaker,” Miles said, smiling. “Tell me about Erica. She’s the opera singer, right?”
“Yeah. She can be kind of a prima donna. It’s all that opera training. But really she’s a sweetheart. And she knows her music. She was always the one who found artists first—she’d have a CD in her player and always be handing you her headphones, saying, you gotta listen to this.”
“And Archie?” Miles asked.
“He can have a stick up his butt sometimes, but he’s all right. When we were kids, we always made Archie do the explaining because he looks so innocent, with the red hair and freckles. Nobody could believe he’d get into trouble.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting them.”
They talked about logistics for a while, how Erica was picking Gavin up at the airport, which roads Miles should take to get out to the lake. Then they walked back to Miles’s apartment.
Gavin had the sense that everything was about to change. The next time he saw Miles, they’d both be in Wisconsin, and they’d have to focus on music. How would they manage to keep their relationship on the down low, sharing so much space together? And what about after the concert, when they came back to South Beach? Would their relationship still have the same intensity?
He pushed those doubts aside once he and Miles were in the apartment together. They both leaned forward at the same time for a kiss, their lips meeting at first tentatively. Then instinct kicked in and Gavin was kissing Miles with a deep hunger.
Miles kissed Gavin’s jaw, his cheek, and the place where his neck met his ear, and Gavin felt himself melting. Gavin quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it away.
Miles wore a blue-green polo shirt, one of Gavin’s favorites because of the way it reflected the aquamarine of Miles’s eyes. He tugged the tails out of Miles’s pants and then pulled it up over his head. He pressed his hands against Miles’s pecs, his fingers exploring the silky hair, and smiled.
“What?” Miles asked.
“I’m happy. So I’m smiling.”
Miles grinned in return. “So am I.”
They leaned in for another kiss, one that lasted for a while, as Miles moved his lips from Gavin’s to his chin, his throat, and his neck. Both of them still wearing their slacks, they pressed their bodies together and swayed to an unheard rhythm.
Gavin reached down and placed his hand over Miles’s bulging crotch, then rubbed it up and down. Miles groaned. He unbuttoned the pants quickly, and Gavin peeled them away. Miles’s dick jumped out through the slit in his boxers. “Somebody’s pretty eager,” Gavin said.
Miles reached over and undid Gavin’s pants so that they fell to the floor. He roughly pushed down Gavin’s boxer briefs so that his stiff dick sprang out. Then Miles put both his palms on Gavin’s chest and pushed lightly, and Gavin fell back onto the bed.
“Stay right there,” Miles said. He disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a condom and a bottle of lube.
Gavin started to roll over onto his stomach, but Miles stopped him. “Don’t. I want to see your face when I fuck you.”
Gavin liked this new, take-charge Miles. Gavin fingered his hole, getting it ready for being entered. But he didn’t have to worry; Miles was all gentleness and easy rhythm, coating his index finger with lube and then tickling around Gavin’s hole until he was panting with desire.
Slowly, the finger made its assault, lubing up the channel. Gavin saw Miles’s dick hanging in front of him, long and slender and pointing up at the tip, with precum dribbling down it. He was enjoying watching it so much he was almost disappointed when Miles pulled back and suited up. Only the anticipation of feeling Miles inside him quelled that emotion.
Sweat was dripping down Miles’s forehead as he leaned in toward Gavin, positioning his dick at Gavin’s open hole. Gavin was expecting more of that slow, sensuous rhythm, so his body was shocked when Miles drove right in, bursting past his anal ring and slamming ahead to his prostate. He yelped and his butt rose off the bed.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Miles asked.
“Only in the best way,” Gavin gasped. “Keep going. Fuck me, Miles.”
“Happy…to…oblige,” Miles said, pausing between each thrust. His eyes were wide open, the aquamarine pupils dilated a bit, as he raised his ass and then came back down. Quickly Gavin and Miles found a rhythm, Gavin going up, Miles pushing down, then slamming together so that starbursts formed behind Gavin’s eyes and his whole body was focused around that connection between them.
“Oh God, Gavin, your ass is so tight. I can’t…hold back…”
Miles reached forward and wrapped his fist around Gavin’s dick, slippery with lube and precum, and began jerking him. They were both whimpering and yipping, and Gavin couldn’t tell who was saying what, but it didn’t matter because they were both coming, Gavin’s body shaking with the power of his orgasm, one that he felt all the way to the bottoms of his feet.
Miles slumped beside him, his head level with Gavin’s armpits. Gavin rolled off the side of the bed and carried the used condom to the bathroom. He returned with a warm, wet washcloth, which he used to clean up Miles’s chest and groin.
“I could get used to this kind of service,” Miles said, smiling lazily.
Gavin tossed the cloth toward the bathroom floor and jumped back on the bed. He and Miles rolled around, ending up cuddled together.
“We should get to sleep,” Miles said. “I have to make an early start tomorrow morning.”
Gavin leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “I know you have a lot of packing still to do. You want me to help you?”
Miles yawned. “I can manage. Just gonna close my eyes for a minute.”
“You do that,” Gavin said. He watched as Miles’s eyelids fluttered, and then his breathing became regular as he slid into sleep.
Looking at Miles, Gavin couldn’t imagine that anything could go wrong. They would work their asses off at Starlit Lake and be a big success at the Dells concert. Gavin was going to hit all the right notes—with the group and with Miles. He knew it in his heart,
and his heart had never lied to him before.
The Adventure Begins
Gavin crept around Miles’s bedroom, picking up his stuff, and then stopped in the living room to scrawl a brief note. Then he let himself out of the apartment. It was after midnight, and yet the streets still pulsed with energy. Cars with neon undercarriages cruised slowly down Collins Avenue, past the bodegas where you could send money overseas, buy unlocked cell phones, and Latin delicacies made by somebody’s abuela in a back room.
He turned west on a side street of Art Deco apartment buildings. Heavyset women in tank tops sat in folding chairs on the lawns, and rap music competed with reggaeton. In front of one building, an elderly man held a little girl up by her hands and taught her the intricate steps of a dance.
There was construction at Alton Road, even that late at night, harsh spotlights focused on men digging up the pavement, and Gavin had to detour around the orange cones. By the time he got home, he felt that he’d walked through several foreign countries.
Manny and Larry were sprawled in the living room, watching some reality show.
“Sup,” Gavin said.
“Hey, I know you,” Larry said. “You’re Gavin. You used to live here.”
“Very funny, dude,” Gavin said. He shoved Larry’s shoulder. “Push over. You’re hogging the whole sofa.”
“Where’s your magical mystery boyfriend?” Manny asked. “You didn’t break up with him, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t. He has to get an early start tomorrow for Nashville. I’m going to meet him in Wisconsin on Wednesday.”
“Is this a record for you?” Larry asked. “How long have you been dating this guy?”
Gavin crossed his arms over his chest.
“There was that senior,” Manny said. “Our sophomore year, remember? It was our first year living at Three Lambs, and Gavin was hot and heavy with him for, like, weeks.”
“You guys are real comedians, you know that?” Gavin said. “You could go on one of those shows, do stand-up together.”
