by Shawn Bailey
“I know what you mean,” Randall said.
“I was thinking more on the line of writing an unforgettable album that fans will still be listening to long after we’re gone,” Brenton said. “Something they will recognize from the first few chords.”
“You mean like a Beatles or an Isley Brothers song?” Carson asked.
“Exactly,” Brenton said.
“That means we have to find a cause to write about, be it love or war.”
“We have to change our style of music,” Brenton said. “Heavy metal is nice, but R&B is what’s popular now. I don’t mean give up our sound completely. Just reinvent it. You know, mellow it down and introduce some ballads.”
The other three group members looked at each other and then at him.
“You mean like we used to?” Randall asked. He got up and moved over to the piano and began playing the Isley Brothers, “Highways of My Life.”
Brenton smiled. It was one of his favorites from the past, and they used to play it at high school dances. He joined Randall for the next verse. Carson and Preston eventually added the voices to the mix.
“Damn, man, we haven’t done that in a long time,” Preston said.
“Why don’t we see if we can get the rights to add that to our new album?” Carson said.
“Then we’ll have to share the money with the writers,” Brenton said. “We’re smart enough to write something just a memorable.”
“You write it, and we’ll sing it,” Preston said. “Hey, wait. Isn’t that Jonas dude a songwriting genius?”
Brenton shrugged. “You know I’m the worst person to ask since I’d never heard of him until recently. Is he?”
Preston nodded. “I think he is.”
“Where did you disappear to last night?” Carson asked Brenton.
“I went to bed early,” Brenton answered. “I was tired, so I went up to my room.”
It was partially the truth. He’d gone back up to his room after talking to Frankie Kerry and crashed in bed next to Jonas. The gorgeous young man never moved in his sleep. Brenton had checked on him a couple of times during the night to make sure he was breathing. He was…peacefully.
“Did I miss anything?”
“We got to meet Giovanni Bassett,” Randall said happily.
“The fashion designer?” Brenton asked.
“Yes,” Randall said. “Apparently he’s Gerard Tyler’s business partner.”
“The drummer?”
“Yes,” Randall answered. “He’s a fashion designer, too. They opened up shop here in New Orleans.”
“Man, we sure missed out on a lot of things being out of the country,” Carson said. “But I’ve always admired Giovanni’s clothing line. I need to find out where the store is and check it out.”
“Has Giovanni moved to New Orleans?” Brenton asked. He liked the man’s fashions, too.
Randall shrugged. “I don’t know. He probably has a home here and just flies back and forth,” Randall said. “He and Gerard were pretty popular with the photographers last night.”
“Frankie, too,” Carson added. “Did you know that one of his songs is nominated for a couple of Grammys?”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Brenton said. They hadn’t won anything in years, and he couldn’t remember the last time he attended an award show.
“One of their CDs, too,” Carson said. “And get this, Frankie has been nominated for an album in the classical music category.”
“He is a violinist,” Brenton said.
“He plays piano, too,” Carson said.
“You sound like a fanboy,” Brenton teased.
“I am.”
“No, you are just horny behind him,” Preston said. “I caught you watching him a time or two last night.”
Carson pouted. “I wanted to talk with him some more, but he was always with Adam Montgomery. I don’t care what you fellows say. I think they’re lovers.”
Randall fiddled around with his table. “Jonas is nominated in the songwriters category, along with Frankie. I bet, if you play your cards right, you can get him to write a song for us since you’re his idol.”
“No,” Brenton said. “He’s still recovering.”
“Must be, because I didn’t see much of him either last night,” Carson said. “How about you guys?”
“I saw him at the bar talking to Brenton earlier,” Preston said.
“He left early,” Brenton said. “I don’t think he likes the party scene.”
“You talked to him again?” Carson asked.
Brenton nodded. “Yes. He’s a very nice young man. He and I are supposed to get together for a jam session one of these days when he’s feeling better.”
“Just the two of you?” Carson asked.
Brenton shrugged. “It depends on where we meet. I heard The Kerrys have a music room to rehearse in bigger than the one I have here.”
“Look at you knowing all things Kerrys,” Preston teased.
“Not really,” Brenton said. “Jonas plays pretty good from what I could tell from his performance last night, but I don’t think he can play guitar better than me or Carson.”
“I don’t know,” Randall said. “He just has a different style than you guys. I bet he can rock the heavy metal. He has the hair.”
Brenton agreed. “Yes, he does.”
It had been all over the place last night. Brenton loved the way it looked spread out next to him on a pillow. He’d gotten an even bigger kick out of Jonas trying to beat it into submission this morning after Brenton had loaned him a brush.
His bandmates finally got off of their asses and started coming up with ideas for their new image. The idea of writing a song with Jonas might not be a bad idea.
* * * *
Jonas felt almost like himself again by lunchtime. The pains in his butt had quieted to a dull ache. Brenton had truly put the whammy on him. If they were ever together again like that, he was going to need some lube.
“What are you working on?” Gerard asked Jonas as they sat in the music room in the backyard waiting for Frankie to come and join them.
“I’m trying to write a new song for our next CD,” Jonas answered.
“Then that means you’re in a good mood and feeling inspired. Must be B-Dog.”
“What do you mean by that?” Jonas asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Gerard said. “He seems like a pretty nice fellow.”
Jonas frowned. Gerard might know several different languages and his way around clothing, but lying or beating around the bush wasn’t his forte.
“Yes he is, but why are you bringing him up now? Did Frankie say something to you?”
Gerard shook his head. His jet-black curls bounced. “No. I just happened to see a certain someone talking to him last night at the bar. Then, poof, both of you disappeared.”
“Means nothing,” Jonas said.
Gerard chuckled. “I am not a fool, Jonas. I know you’re interested in him. The two of you were inseparable at the barbeque at that mansion in Palm Springs.”
Jonas moved around nervously. The last thing he needed was for this to get around. “The man is my idol. I’ve been listening to his music for years.”
“But you are attracted to him,” Gerard insisted.
Jonas nodded. “You better not tell anyone.”
“Now who would I tell?” Gerard asked. “No one told me anything, yet still I knew. There’s nothing wrong with falling for someone you admire. Remember, I’ve been in your shoes.”
“But it’s so soon,” Jonas said. “I haven’t had a proper mourning period.”
“Sean isn’t dead,” Gerard reminded him.
“He is to me.”
Gerard sighed. “Jonas, the heart wants with the heart wants.”
Frankie came through the door with snacks. They had just polished off big roast beef po’boys for lunch. Who did his brother think he was feeding?
Frankie placed the vegetables with humus dip on the table. “What are you two
doing?”
“I’m listening to Jonas’s new song,” Gerard answered.
“What new song?” Frankie asked.
“It’s a love song,” Jonas answered. “It just came to me this morning.”
“I wonder why?” Frankie asked sarcastically.
“Can the sarcasm,” Jonas said. “Gerard already knows about Brenton and me.”
“You mean you told him about the man banging your brains out all night?”
Gerard grimaced and then chuckled. “No. He didn’t tell me all that.” He looked at Jonas. “All night?”
“No, but it sure felt like it,” Jonas said. “And you guys better not tease me.”
“At least you got laid,” Frankie said. “I had to pour Adam’s drunken ass into his bed, and then I came home alone.”
“Giovanni was pretty drunk, too,” Gerard said. “No sex for me either.”
“Let me hear some of the songs,” Frankie said as he sat down.
Jonas played and sang the piece he’d composed.
“Who is going to sing it?” Frankie asked when he finished.
“Me,” Jonas answered. “Or at least I will when my voice heals.”
“You’re still hurting?” Gerard asked.
Jonas nodded. “But not too much. My ass hurts worse.”
Gerard and Frankie chuckled at him.
“Hopefully it will be better before next month,” Gerard said. “Do you think it will be better by Vegas?”
“I hope so,” Jonas answered. “Did my voice sound different on stage last night?”
“I did notice a difference,” Gerard said. “You sounded higher, not in a bad way. You know, more at ease.”
“I noticed it, too,” Frankie said. “I kind of liked it.”
“Do you think the members of Vizio would model in a fashion show?” Gerard asked.
“What fashion show?” Frankie asked.
“Giovanni sprang it on me yesterday. He wants to host a fashion show right here in New Orleans instead of New York. He wants to fly in some of his models and introduce some new fashion for guys our age.”
“Does the man every rest?” Frankie asked.
Gerard shook his head. “Even when he’s undressing me he’s thinking about what he can design that would look good on me.”
“It could be worse,” Frankie said. “He could not be thinking about you at all.”
“True,” Gerard said. “He told me to volunteer you guys, too.”
“Thanks,” Frankie said sarcastically.
“At least the two of you are going to spend some time together on the tour,” Jonas said.
“Yes, I like that part,” Gerard said. “Maybe we should invite B-Dog to join us on tour.”
Jonas frowned at him. “We had one magical night. Please don’t turn it into a relationship.”
Gerard gave up. “We better start rehearsing our new songs. Tory will want to know if we’re making any progress.”
“Do you think Cinnamon is rehearsing, too?” Frankie asked.
“More than likely,” Jonas answered. “They’re back in town, and they are now a part of the Albertson Entertainment family. “But I can’t wait until we go to Europe and Asia.” He’d heard that tickets for their concert were already sold out in Tokyo. And that Luke and Tory were already in negotiations with some guys there about adding a second show. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”
They stopped talking and began their rehearsal. The time flew by, and before Jonas knew it, Kalen had returned from his sleepover, and Frankie needed to get dinner started. Gerard left to meet up with Giovanni for a date.
Later, Jonas’s phone beeped with a message. He picked it up and looked down at the screen. It was from Brenton—”Thanks for a beautiful night. Can’t wait to see you again.”
Jonas texted back, “You’re welcome. See you tomorrow at the meeting.”
“Join me for lunch. I’ll take you somewhere discreet.”
“Okay,” Jonas sent back.
“Was that from Brenton?” Frankie asked as he sat down at the table with the bag of candy Kalen had brought back with him.
Frankie was limiting the amount of sweets Kalen could consume. So far, Kalen had beautiful, healthy teeth, and Frankie planned to keep them that way.
“Yes,” Jonas answered. “He invited me to lunch tomorrow.”
“And you’re going?”
Jonas nodded. “It’s just lunch. Please don’t make a big thing out of it.”
“I won’t. You’ll have to wear a disguise.”
“I know that. He will, too.” Jonas tried to not let his happiness show. “But even I know that this is not going to lead anywhere.”
“Don’t look for excuses, Jonas. You guys will figure something out.”
“There’s hardly any sugar-free candy,” Jonas said, changing the subject.
“No, but there’s loads of milk chocolate,” Frankie said. He moved them to a separate spot on the table. “Kalen won’t miss these.”
“Eating those is going to make your butt and thighs bigger,” Jonas said.
Frankie opened one of the chocolate bars and ate a piece of it. “I can live with that.”
“Can Adam?” Jonas asked. “Would he still love you if you got fat?”
Frankie swallowed and then pushed the rest of the candy bar aside. “Spoilsport.”
Jonas chuckled. Frankie loved chocolate, but he loved Adam more.
“Tops are so superficial. They want us pretty, slim, and non-argumentative while they call all of the shots. The old Jonas Kerry had no problem with this, but I’m looking for more in a man this time.”
“Like what?” Frankie asked.
“Respect,” Jonas answered. “That was the problem with me and Sean. He liked my body, but he didn’t respect my mind. To him I was just some pretty, little toy that he could fuck when he wanted, but he couldn’t care less about my music or anything else I wanted. Next time, I’m going to be very selective with my peanut butter.”
Frankie chuckled at his choice of words.
Jonas continued. “Normally I prefer smooth, but I’ve been denying myself. I want a man with nuts and substance.”
Frankie didn’t laugh this time. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel the same way about Adam. The man loves me, but he still treats me like a kid. He won’t let me make a decision when it comes to my life or Kalen’s, and he thinks he has to watch me twenty-four-seven. It’s nice to be loved, but sometimes I feel like I’m being smothered.”
“I’ve noticed,” Jonas said. “I was just waiting for you to explode. You have to put your foot down with Adam. If he wants to fuck a man, he has to treat you like one.”
“Damn right,” Frankie said. “No respect, no booty.”
“Yeah,” Jonas said. “I wonder if I can get that on a T-shirt.”
Even if Frankie told it to Adam, he doubted that it would put a dent in Adam’s arrogant personality. The man was a hard-core top, and he wanted his Frankie to be submissive and depend on him for everything. It was cute when Frankie was eighteen. Two years later, the routine was getting old.
“So are you going to try to get along with B-Dog tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Jonas answered. “But I intend to call the shots.”
“The man’s taller and bigger than you,” Frankie said.
“Do not underestimate the power of the booty,” Jonas said.
Frankie chuckled. “Yeah, I know. Use it to take the advantage.”
Kalen came bounding into the kitchen, ending their conversation.
“Are you ready for dinner?” Frankie asked him.
“Yes. Can I have hot dogs?” Kalen asked.
“No,” Frankie answered. “We’re having greens and baked chicken.”
“Please,” Kalen said, begging ever so sweetly. The kid even batted his eyelashes at Frankie, just like Jonas had taught him.
“Well, maybe,” Frankie said. “But only two.”
Jonas smirked. Kalen had Frankie wrapped around his
finger.
Chapter Twelve
Once again, Tory had his acts seated in the small auditorium at Anderson Entertainment. Brenton and his group had miraculously arrived ahead of everyone else and had a chance to talk to their boss about Vegas. Brenton had a feeling that Tory had left out something important and would spring it on them at the last minute.
The Kerrys were the last to arrive this time. They marched in like little soldiers, pretty as princes and dressed to impress in trendy clothing that he supposed matched their personality. Following them in was their manager Adam. Their PR guy, Luke, was already there seated next to Noel Charles. From what he could piece together, either all six of these guys were very good friends and stayed within this tight, little group, or he was just imagining that every time he saw one, the others were near. The only person who knew the truth was Tory Albertson, who probably spent most of his time protecting them from their fans. If there was something going on here, Tory had control over it.
Tory walked up to the podium dressed to the nines in a burgundy suit that looked like it cost him a fortune. Brenton liked the cut. It moved with the man like it was a second skin. He looked around the room. Others were checking him out, too.
“Good morning, everyone, and thank you for coming. I’m going to get straight to the point. Next month, all of you will be beginning the first leg of what could be one of the biggest musical endeavors in a long time, and I’ve decided to ask the members of Vizio to join you.”
I knew it. How come I didn’t see this coming? Brenton couldn’t see how The Kerrys were taking the news since they were the main attraction.
Tory continued. “I got Luke getting busy changing all of the promotional material to include them. We’re going to start advertising on the television tomorrow. Sorry for not getting to you on this earlier, but Vizio did so well at Coachella I thought it would be foolish not to include them.”
Hands flew up in the air. Tory spent the next hour listening to gripes, complaints, and fielding questions.
Preston raised his hand.
“Yes, Preston,” Tory said.
“Who is going to be the headliners?”
“The Kerrys,” Tory said. “It’s their tour.”
Tierney Avery, from the pop group Cinnamon, raised her hand.
