by K. L. Noone
Justin kept up effortlessly. “Dad took me to the final reunion show. It was a father-son bonding experience. Magical. Look, my point is, maybe you should reconsider the holiday album. I know they’re pressuring you to do it, nostalgia and themed sales and all, but I can tell you hate it.”
“Shouldn’t you be trying to promote my career choices?” He waved a hand. Watched lights, just coming on, flicker over the gesture: not a concert’s megawatt light show, not dazzling superstar lasers and spotlights. Only everyday holidays. Feet squarely on winter pavement. On the ground. “To support anything that’ll make a profit? For you, the record company, whatever.”
Any reasonable target of his tone would’ve been offended. Justin scrunched up that nose at him, not taking it personally. “You’re my client. I’m here to help. I’m trying.”
This was unfair. Kris wanted to stomp his feet and shout at something or somebody, or throw a proper rock-star tantrum, petty and elaborate and gratifying. Justin was being patient and compassionate and tolerant and lovely, matching annoyed strides down city pavement, and—
Lovely?
He’d known Justin for four years. He’d never thought, not seriously—he’d thought, yeah, fine, he’d admit that, he’d wondered sometimes, but he’d never really—never wanted—
Last-gasp winter sunlight sliced through brittle air. Caught the edge of a cheekbone, a flutter of blue-black hair. Decorated smooth skin and long eyelashes with pale gold.
Justin’s phone made a sound. A snippet of some pop-punk tune Kris didn’t know. Justin also made a pleased little sound, and answered the text. “Sorry, I’m just confirming some contract details for the Enchantresses. You know the Enchantresses, right? If not you should, I’ll send you something, they’re right on the verge of breaking out, totally awesome, all five of them are related and they’re all witches and—”
“Why are you here, anyway?” Justin didn’t have to come in for recording sessions. Had a job. Other musicians. Who sent him texts. While he was walking next to Kris.
Where he didn’t need to be. He had a small tidy office in a tall modernist chunk of building surrounded by other corporate towers. Kris had been in it exactly once, the day they’d been introduced. Had hated the building and demanded, like a petulant child, that they meet elsewhere for lunches and discussions from then on.
“Because I’m helping you?” Big autumn-spiced eyes got very bewildered. A confused puppy being nudged away by a boot. A too-kind, too-attractive puppy. Oh, hell. “Because we’re friends?”
ABOUT K.L. NOONE
K.L. Noone loves fantasy, romance, cats, far too sweet coffee, and happy endings! She is also the author of Port in a Storm and its upcoming sequel, available from Less Than Three Press, and numerous short romances with Ellora’s Cave and Circlet Press. Her fantasy fiction has appeared in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress anthologies.
With her Professor Hat on, she teaches college students about Shakespeare and superhero comics, and has published academic articles and essays on Neil Gaiman’s adaptations of Beowulf, Welsh mythology in modern fantasy, and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels.
For more information, visit twitter.com/KristinNoone.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
