by Sam Burns
Straight from the Heart
Sam Burns
Copyright © 2017 by Sam Burns.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Content Warning: this book is intended for adult audiences only, and contains violence, swearing, and graphic sex scenes.
Cover art © 2017 by Natasha Snow at natashasnow.com
Editing by Madeline Farlow at clause-effect.com
Contents
Also by Sam Burns
1. Alex's Coming Out
2. Liam's Life in Color
3. Alex's Morning After
4. Liam Isn't a Stalker. Much
5. Alex Tries New Things
6. Liam's Feeling Lucky
7. Alex Isn't That Patient
8. Liam's Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
9. Alex Figures Things Out
10. Liam's Day Looks Up
11. Alex Uses His Degree
12. Liam Makes Arrangements
13. Alex Becomes a Cliché
14. Liam Is Out of Fucks
15. Alex Is Not a Princess
16. Liam and Alex Ever After
Excerpt from Sins of the Father
About the Author
Also by Sam Burns
Sins of the Father
Strike Up the Band (September 2017)
For more information, click or visit:
Burnswrites.com
For my fellow campers, who helped me every step of the way.
And for Mr. Burns, without whom I never would have accomplished anything.
1
Alex's Coming Out
At eight in the morning, Alex had a furnished apartment, a car, fully paid college tuition, his father’s multimillion-dollar business waiting for him to graduate and get to work, and a giant crushing boulder on his chest.
By five that evening, he had a box of philosophy books, a duffel bag of clothes, and exactly three hundred and forty-seven dollars and sixty-eight cents.
That was the amount of money that had come from closing out his bank account, selling his law textbooks, and even tossing his couch cushions to search under them for loose change before vacating his apartment. His mother’s apartment, really.
He wasn’t a big Skynyrd fan, but his mind kept playing “Free Bird.” For the first time since he’d started law school, he felt like he could breathe.
Alex had been surprised when people hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash at him or his cargo on the train. He supposed he didn’t look homeless, and since he had the best friends possible, he wasn’t going to be homeless in the literal without-a-roof-over-his-head way. He probably also looked much happier than most men who had just lost all their material wealth.
His mother hadn’t understood when he’d visited that morning to tell her about dropping out. He had mostly expected the reaction she’d given him, but that hadn’t stopped him from hoping for better.
Instead, she’d gone off on a tirade, pacing the immaculate sitting room and lecturing him about his responsibilities and how he hadn’t thought things through. When he’d calmly explained that the responsibilities were half the problem, and that he most definitely had thought things through, she had dropped the bomb. If he didn’t get himself back to law school immediately, she was going to disown him.
“Your father is rolling in his grave right now, Alexander,” she’d said. Her voice broke, and Alex’s lungs constricted. She’d never shown this much concern for his behavior before, and he wished she could show it now for any reason but the disappointment she felt that he couldn’t follow his father’s footsteps.
That was the root of her problem—she missed his father, and wanted Alex to be just like him. Alex, for his part, had finally realized that he couldn’t do it.
“Mom, I understand that the firm is important to you.”
“I don’t think you do,” she sniffed, turning to face the big bay windows that looked out onto the front lawn. “If you did, you wouldn’t be running off to join the circus.”
He sighed, leaning forward on the couch and resting his chin on his hands. “A band, Mom. I’m in a band. And I do understand. I can’t just change who I am, though. I’m not made to be a lawyer. I can’t do it.”
When her grief didn’t sway him, his mother’s voice went from teary to serious in the blink of an eye. She folded her arms across her chest, but didn’t turn back to look at him. “You’re not trying hard enough, Alexander. Your test scores are always good. You’re as smart as your father was. What will people think if it gets around that you’re some kind of beatnik?”
That was more like the mother Alex knew and loved. Really, he loved her. And he knew that she loved him too. She wasn’t good at showing it, but over the years he had learned how to read between the lines.
“I’m not a beatnik either, Mom. I play bass. And I’m good at it.” He was oversimplifying, but in his mother’s universe the electric guitar was a fad. Explaining the whole truth would be time-consuming and frustrating for all parties.
“I knew I should have insisted you go pre-law instead of that Philosophy nonsense,” she said, turning to face him again. She pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “They said it would work just as well, but it didn’t. It put ideas in your head.”
It took some work not to laugh at that. Putting ideas in his head had been the point, after all. Then he’d found passion in philosophy that he hadn’t known possible. He’d been so sheltered as a child that he hadn’t time to think about things like, well, thinking.
He’d been too busy following his parents’ predetermined plan for his life—boarding school, undergrad at the University of Chicago, and then on to UC’s law school so that he could join his father’s firm—to bother with anything as self-indulgent as free will.
His father had died in a car accident just after his high school graduation, but he’d kept marching right along the path laid before him, never thinking that it might be okay to let his mother down.
Then he’d met Jake McKenna, and Jake had taught him how to play bass. Jake had also been the one to point out that Alex approached classes like they were work, instead of the exciting opportunities to expand his mind that they were supposed to be. His world had shifted on its axis, and when it had righted, his parents’ path had been going in the wrong direction. He’d tried to keep following it, even going so far as to start law school.
He had gone through the motions. Get up, go to class, do homework. All the work he’d done had been half-hearted and mediocre, but he’d been more focused on those shining moments of free time when he got to play with the band. Halfway through the first term, it had been one of his law professors who had changed everything.
“You just don’t seem to have a passion for this, Mr. Austin,” she’d told him. “Maybe it’s just this class, but trial law is usually interesting to students whether they want to follow that track or not. I’m concerned that you don’t know what you’re getting into. Law school is a lot of time, money, and work, all for nothing if it’s not something you really want to do.”
Like the revelation from Jake, it was a defining moment for Alex. It hadn’t occurred to him that he had a choice. He could just say, “You’re right. I hate law, and I don’t belong here.”
So that’s what he’d done.
After going to the registrar and dropping out of all his classes, he hadn’t questioned his decision for a second.
Even when his mother told him that unless he went back, she was taking back the apartment, the car, and his monthly allowance, Alex hadn’t wavered. The apartment and car had been useful, but the money had mostly gone for things like buying his bass. Well, okay, and food. He wasn’t worried, though. He could stay with his band-mates, get a job, and finally, finally be free of other people’s expectations. Public transportation couldn’t be that bad.
His bandmates had expected him to leave them for law school. They hadn’t wanted him to go, but they hadn’t tried to pressure him. Jake had told him that they would always save a place for him, and that it didn’t depend on his position in the band.
That conversation should have made his decision right then. No point in looking back, though. For the first time, he had a reason to look forward. There were choices to be made in his future.
Right now, Alex had to decide what to do with his last three hundred and forty-seven dollars. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, so he figured he was on a roll.
Arriving at the door of Richter’s bar, he stopped. Richter’s was where the band usually met up—a nice, quiet neighborhood bar that didn’t attract a college, tourist, or sports crowd, and a place where you could actually hear it when someone at your table talked to you. He didn’t know how they were still in business, but it had always been a good place for the band to hang out.
It occurred to him, standing just outside the heavy wooden door, decision irrevocably made and final, that not telling the band what he was planning beforehand might have been a mistake. He wasn’t worried about their reactions, but he hoped it didn’t cause them any trouble. Jake had once offered him a place to stay, and he was sure the offer was still there, but he didn’t want to be a bother to his best friends.
He shook his head. That wasn’t going to happen. He’d find a job, and a way to help pay his part. A degree in philosophy wasn’t going to help him with that, but maybe he could work retail. He didn’t need a job he loved, just one that paid bills. He already had a job he loved.
There was no sense in putting this off. Face the music, his mind suggested, and his lips twitched despite himself. That was corny as hell. It was time to tell his band that he had just walked away from his family’s money so that he could stay with them. His biggest concern was that they would feel guilty, and that was the last thing he wanted. It had been his future to walk away from, and he’d been happy to do it.
Shrugging the duffel’s strap more securely onto his shoulder and leaning his box mostly on his left arm, he managed to pull the door open and slip inside. The guys waved when he came in, then Jenna cocked her head, Elsi furrowed her brow, and Jake, well, Jake was inscrutable, as usual. It was one of the things Alex loved about him.
Standing and making his way over to where Alex was struggling with his burden, Jake took the box and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. He lowered his head and his voice so no one else could hear. “You left.”
It was a statement rather than a question, but Alex confirmed it with a small nod. “She said that if I wasn’t in law school, I wasn’t the man she raised me to be.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Good thing you left your bass at Elsi’s. I’d like to see you carrying all this and that too.” He eyed the box of books. “Think I’ve got enough shelf space for most of this, as long as you’re not gonna try to make me read Heidegger again.”
Again, that was why Alex loved his best friend. No pity, no dramatic declarations of undying support, just a pithy comment and a quiet implication of forward motion.
They made their way back over to the table, where Jenna waited with a million questions in her eyes. It never failed to amaze Alex that she was Jake’s twin. Appearance-wise, they might have been identical but for gender—both tall and dark-haired, with their mother’s high cheekbones. Mentally and emotionally, they were oceans apart. She was the one who would go overboard with the drama.
She opened her mouth to start, and Jake cut her off with one sharp shake of his head. “Alex is gonna crash on the couch for a while. Until we move to an apartment with another bedroom.” Jake looked at the books he was carrying, then quirked an eyebrow. “And when we do that, he’s carrying his own stupid books.” Then he dropped the box on the floor in front of the rounded corner booth and slid back in, making Jenna and Elsi move over to make room for Alex. He looked up expectantly, waiting for Alex to put down his bag and join them.
Elsi groaned and flopped her head against the back of the booth. “Could it be an apartment with two extra bedrooms? You guys know I love my parents, but it would be nice to not have my mom trying to tuck me in every night.”
A laugh went around the table, and Alex almost didn’t notice when the waitress came to take their drink orders. She glanced at the box and duffel on the ground with concern, and he worried that she was going to start with the dramatic declarations.
He gave her a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on moving in.”
She shrugged. “Kiddo, you four practically live here already. Wouldn’t change much.”
Elsi nudged the box with her feet and asked, “So is this going to be an Alex-is-moving party?”
“Not exactly,” he said, pulling the money out of his wallet. “More of an Alex-has-been-disowned party.”
“A freedom party!” Jenna interjected as Alex began to fan himself with the bills.
“This is the last of the money my mother gave me to become a lawyer,” he said, holding it up.
Jenna stared longingly at the cash and sighed. “I suppose you’re going to give it back to her?”
“She told me not to talk to her until I ‘understand the value of legacy’ again,” he told her in his mother’s annoyed tone. He held it out to Jake. “I could give it to you guys, pay some rent?”
Jake pushed it away. “Told you already, you’re not paying rent for living on the couch. Anyway, I wouldn’t take your mother’s money for my rent if the other option was living in a cardboard box.”
It was fair. Moira Austin had met Jake once. Alex had wanted to avoid it completely, but Jake was his best friend and his mother was, well, his mother. The first thing she had done was ask about Jake’s family. She had looked increasingly perturbed at the answers, and asked him if he knew that there was a page on Wikipedia detailing every member of Alex’s family for the last hundred years.
The next day, Jake had suggested that Alexander Jonas Austin IV should find himself a stage name, because his real one sounded ridiculous. That was how Alex Sage had been born.
“You could get a new case for Cheesecake?” Elsi offered, referring to his bass. “The one you have now is kind of crappy.”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t want my mother to own any part of us. Even if she doesn’t know it, I will. I love my mom, but I want to succeed at this without her help.”
One corner of Jake’s lips turned up into a smirk. “Well then, let’s do it. You know you want to.”
Elsi looked at him with confusion, but Alex smiled and nodded in decision. He handed the wad of money to the waitress. “Open us a tab. My mother will be funding my freedom party.”
Jenna’s shoulders trembled with stifled laughter as the waitress shook her head with a chuckle and went to get their first pitcher. Before long, they were all laughing. This was too ridiculous not to laugh.
After a moment, Jenna stopped and looked at Alex as though something important had occurred to her. “We should eat cake. There should totally be a cake.”
“Thank you, Marie Antoinette,” Jake said, rolling his eyes.
Alex leaned into Jake’s personal space, giving his friend a giant goofy grin. “Weren’t we in the same history classes? You know she didn’t really say that.”
“Man, you’re not in college anymore,” Jake pointed out, playfully pushing Alex’s arm with his elbow. “You’re gonna have to get used to the real world now.”
Jenna sniffed as though offended. “I was just saying, it seems like a cake kind of occasio
n.”
“A sorry-for-your-loss cake, or a congratulations one?” Elsi asked, pulling out her phone. “‘Cause Nana would be all over that.”
Jake almost snorted his first sip of beer through his nose. “Oh jeez. I hope you always wanted an extra grandmother, Alex. ‘Cause the second Elsi’s Nana hears ‘disowned’, you’re gonna have one.”
Elsi gave Alex a sympathetic look, but then shrugged at Jake. “He likes her matzo soup.”
Jenna shuddered. “Don’t tell her that. We’ll have soup in the fridge every day for the rest of our lives.”
Putting his arms across the back of the booth, Jake pretended to think for a long moment. “Go for it, Els. That soup is freaking delicious.” He looked over at Alex. “And you thought you weren’t going to be able to contribute.”
Two pitchers and three oddly named shots later, everyone was offering toasts to Alex’s mother and her generosity. Even the bar’s other patrons seemed amused by their antics. A blonde girl who’d had one too many was cheering right along with them. A big guy in a leather jacket raised his glass to each toast, looking like he was trying not to laugh.
“To Moira!” Jenna proclaimed. “Who gave us the only thing of value she ever had—the best fucking bassist in Chicago!”
“Hear, hear!” Elsi agreed, clinking her glass against Jenna’s and causing a minor spill between the two. “It’s not like we’d want anything else she had.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Jake said, chuckling. “Though I’m thinking maybe we should cut you two off.”
