“Sorry,” he said.
Jonah shrugged and stared out the window as they headed for US 41. “It is what it is.”
The men apparently sensed he needed some quiet time and didn’t bother him for the rest of the ride to their house. As scenery both new and familiar passed outside the window, Jonah struggled with the urge to start searching for Gordon. Mixed with that, fear that he’d find out Gordon had, in fact, moved on, or worse.
That maybe Gordon hadn’t made it at all.
I’m a chickenshit.
It’d be better to exist, for now, in a world where he could pretend that Gordon had moved on, found a great guy who knew how great Gordon was, and was living happily ever after.
It’d be wrong and cruel to just drop in on him, wouldn’t it?
Or was he worried more about his own pain?
He’d own that, too, because he absolutely was.
When did it walk the right side of seeking Gordon out to make amends and make things right because it was the right thing to do, or to make himself feel better?
They paused at a gate, and Doyle held up a small clicker, hitting the button. The gate slid open. “We’ll get you a gate code,” Doyle told him. “And if you want to borrow a car, that’s not a problem, either.”
“Thanks, but I probably won’t have anywhere to go,” Jonah quietly said.
“You know, if you want to go visit anyone, or hit the store, or just need some private time.”
Once they were inside the house and the driver had departed, Mal showed Jonah to his room. It was on the other end of the house from their bedroom, which was good, as far as Jonah was concerned. He had his own bathroom and a large-screen TV.
Hell, it’s nicer than my last apartment, that’s for damn sure.
He had a real fucking bed.
Doyle knocked on the doorway. “By the way, we need to have a quick chat.”
This didn’t sound good. “Chat?”
“Yeah.” He stepped inside and motioned for Mal to leave, but Doyle didn’t close the door, either. “You signed an NDA.”
“Yeah.”
“So, here’s the thing. Mal and I are more than husbands. We have a…different relationship. Non-traditional.”
Jonah suspected exactly where this was going even before Doyle got there, because it totally fit and made a lot of little things he’d noticed click perfectly into place. “He’s your submissive?”
Doyle arched an eyebrow at him. “What do you know about that?”
“NDA works both ways, right?”
Now Doyle closed the door. “Anything you tell me, I’ll keep in complete confidence.”
Jonah slowly nodded and sank onto the end of the bed. “I had…” He sighed. “I didn’t realize what a good thing I had, man.” He shook his head. “I fucked up. Three years ago, when I moved to LA, I left a great guy behind here in Florida who was my Master, and I said a bunch of mean shit to him when I did that I shouldn’t have. I loved him, and I thought he was trying to keep me from making it big.”
Jonah sadly laughed. “I was a fucking idiot. He was trying to warn me to take things slow, to go out for a visit first. To not blindly trust the guy I thought was my friend. But I accused him of being jealous and trying to control me in bad ways. I hurt him. He released and uncollared me and let me go. And it turns out, in the end, he was completely right, and I was the one who was wrong.”
Doyle leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Is he local?”
“I don’t know. He was in Sarasota when I left. I never contacted him again. I don’t even have his phone number. I lost my phone and had to get a new one, but I didn’t have my contacts backed up. And at the time, I blocked him on Facebook and Twitter and everywhere. I know I should look him up now, but before this big break hit, it was taking everything I had just to make it through the day. I didn’t want to add more pain to my plate, you know?” He sighed. “I guess now that financially I’m in a better place, it’s time I give serious thought to making amends to him.”
“How does the sobriety fit in there?”
“He was an alcoholic. We knew each other since middle school, fell in love before we knew what the hell it was between us. He had shitty parents and he drank to escape. Finally, when he turned twenty-two, I told him that morning, after he’d puked all over himself, that he needed to make a choice. Me, or drinking. Either/or. I helped him get to meetings. I never really liked to drink anyway, but I went to meetings with him, and while we were together, he never had a drink from that day on.”
Now the tears came. “He chose me. And then I fucked it all up by leaving him. Even though I wasn’t a drinker, I tried to work the steps, you know? I knew I was a codependent to him. Then I turned my back on him and I’ve never made it right.”
Doyle looked grimly sympathetic. “I can find a meeting for you tonight. We’ll go with you.”
“Not tonight. Besides, isn’t everyone coming over for dinner and to work?”
“They’d understand.”
“No, I’d rather not.” He forced a smile. “But thanks.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe tomorrow night. I’ll let you know.”
Doyle nodded. “I’ll look one up, just in case.”
“Thanks.”
“So…we’re good?” Doyle asked.
“With what?”
Doyle smiled. “If you see me and Mal doing something a little…personal.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. No worries. I’ll look the other way.”
“Thanks.” He opened the door. “The others will be here in about two hours, if you want to take a shower or grab a swim or something.”
“Thanks.”
The box truck with their gear showed up shortly thereafter, and Jonah walked out to help the techs unload everything into the storage bay next to the studio.
Which was fucking amazing. Three studios, actually, and even a green room and break area.
He retrieved his own suitcases and gear from the pile being unloaded, left his instruments in the studio where Mal told him to store them, and headed for his room.
He did want a swim. He even had a swimsuit, fortunately, and quickly headed out the sliders leading onto the lanai, where he dove into the deep end of the enormous pool.
It was the perfect temp, too. The pool was half-covered by the lanai roof, like a secluded courtyard, and surrounded on three sides by the house. The fourth side, open to the south to catch the sun, was screened from outside view by tall hedges for privacy.
The techs headed out and would return later, leaving just the three of them at the house. Jonah swam a few laps and then flipped over to float, repeating that a few times and trying to clear his mind.
When he came up to take a breath after one lap, he heard Mal’s voice. “Nice, isn’t it?”
He turned and found him standing by the sliders to what he assumed was their bedroom. “It’s amazing. Thank you for inviting me to stay with you.”
“It makes sense. We can work more this way. Saves you some money.”
“You coming in?” He noticed Mal now wore a leather collar around his throat.
Mal shook his head, a playful smirk quirking his lips. “No. Sir and I need to…talk.”
“Ah. Enjoy.”
“Thanks. We’ll be out in a while.”
Jonah lifted a hand in a wave and Mevi disappeared back into their room.
He decided to get a shower and after climbing out of the pool, he snagged a towel from a rack of them and returned to his room.
I need to talk to Rich tonight.
Maybe he’d know something about Gordon. Based on that, Jonah could decide how to proceed.
Or if he should even disturb the man.
Once the others started showing up later, Rich arrived with a woman Jonah presumed was Chelbie—who was pregnant—and another man he remembered was Rich’s fraternal twin, Nick.
He hugged both of them, and was introduced to Chelbie. “So, congratulations,” he said to Rich.
“Yeah, we’re all excited.” He smiled down at Chelbie. “Our first time being dads.”
Jonah blinked. “Um…dads?”
Chelbie giggled. “You didn’t tell him yet?”
“Haven’t seen the guy in person in years, hon. Not something you drop on a guy out of the blue like that.”
“Um…”
Chelbie took over. “We’re poly.” She pulled the brothers in close. “The three of us. I mean, both of them with me, not them with each other, ew.”
“And, yes, everyone in our group knows,” Rich said. “Doyle texted me he told you about him and Mal.”
Jonah nodded, shocked into silence.
“Well, we kind of have the same dynamic. Chelbie’s ours.”
“Oh, okay.” Jonah took a deep breath. “Did he say anything about me?”
“Just that you were cool with it.”
Jonah nodded. “Let’s just say I used to have that kind of relationship with someone in the past. I mean, like Mal and Doyle have.”
Although when Rich last knew Jonah years ago, the man wouldn’t have known he and Gordon were kinky. That was something they’d done in private and hadn’t advertised. Although the fact that Rich wasn’t blasting him for leaving Gordon the way he had likely meant either he didn’t know the circumstances surrounding that, or wasn’t friends with Gordon.
Or that Gordon…
Maybe Jonah just had a brain full of snakes he needed to dump in a meeting, like Doyle suggested.
Rich nodded. “Ah. Okay. Sooo…we’re cool?”
“Yeah,” Jonah said. “Is anyone else kinky?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but everyone knows and keeps this quiet.”
“Cool.”
He spotted Bonnie, their keyboard player and lead female vocalist, stand and look around. “Are we missing anyone?” Bonnie called out. “I’m ordering the pizza.”
“Just one,” Mal called back, “but he’s on his way. Go ahead and order it.”
“Will do.”
They were gathered in the green room area, where they’d eat dinner while discussing plans for the next several days before they had a practice session.
Mal caught Jonah’s attention. “Hey, where’s your mandolin? I want to play that song for Rich real fast, now that we’re together.”
“It’s in my room.”
“Would you mind grabbing it?”
“Sure.” The studio area was connected to the rest of the house by a hallway that led from the door to the outside by the studio wing, past the storage room and studios, and into the main house, near the kitchen.
Jonah retrieved his mandolin from his room and had made his way back down the hall, almost to the studio, when the door to the outside opened. He couldn’t make out the man’s features because he was backlit by the setting sun to the south.
“Studio’s here,” he called out, opening the door. He walked in. “I think our last person is here,” he said to Mal.
“Oh, good. We’ll play for Rich in studio one, if you want to go set up in there.”
“Sure.” Jonah headed that way, leaving the door standing open behind him. Mal hurried out to go greet the man.
In the studio, Jonah tuned his mandolin and took a moment to center himself.
It still didn’t feel…real. Any of this.
In good ways for once, though.
He’d just set the mandolin into a stand when he heard Mal return to the green room.
“Hey, everyone. This is our other new guy who’s going to help us out with the studio sessions here before we leave on tour. I’d like you all to meet Gordon Pope.”
Jonah was glad he’d already set the mandolin down, because he likely would have dropped it from the shock.
Oh, no.
He wasn’t ready for this at all, no matter what he’d thought.
What if he won’t forgive me? What if he hates me?
Or, worst of all…
What if Gordon wasn’t single?
Chapter Seven
All the way to the address Tuesday afternoon, Gordon tried to keep his nerves in check. This would be a great side-gig for him, and who knew? Maybe it’d lead to bigger and better things, eventually.
Although he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could quit his day job. Working at the school was a guaranteed paycheck, especially if they bumped him up to full-time next year.
Working with the students was gratifying, too. He loved teaching the kids.
He still couldn’t believe Mevi-fucking-Maynard called him! It was a small freaking world, for sure.
He hadn’t realized Laurel’s “guitar teacher” was one of the most famous musicians in current rock history.
Mind.
Blown.
And that Darryl was friends with Mevi, and had recommended him to Mevi in the first place.
Proves it’s who you know, not what you know.
He also made another note to himself to update his YouTube channel with more videos. Heck, that Mevi had actually gone to his website and looked him up also still blew him away.
And now I’m going to get to sit in a studio and record with him!
He’d filled out the paperwork at the film production office yesterday after work. Yet another brush with fame, that a famous movie star lived in Venice and was close friends with the rocker.
I wish I could tell Jonah about this.
Besides the NDA he’d signed, he had no idea where Jonah was, or how he was doing. Despite cruising Facebook for hints of Jonah, that was the only stalking he allowed himself to do. He couldn’t risk his already fragile sobriety seeing pictures of Jonah with someone else.
Wishing his old love happiness and success was far easier to do without having proof of it smashed into his face.
One day at a time.
Maybe one day he could do that, look for him, see how he was doing.
Today, however, was not that day.
Still, in his heart, he hoped Jonah was doing great things and living the life he’d dreamed of. Despite the pain of losing him, he wanted Jonah to be happy.
Even if it was without him.
When he drove up to the gate, he punched in the four-digit code Mevi had given him and waited, his pulse racing, as the gate swung open for him.
Holy crap!
There were several other cars already there, so he parked next to one of them and found the side door he’d been told about.
It opened into a dim corridor, made even darker by how bright it was outside and his eyes taking a moment to adjust, but a guy was standing at another door several yards down the hallway.
“Studio’s here,” the man called out before walking in.
Gordon pulled up short.
That…
No.
That couldn’t be…
That had to just be wishful thinking on his part. He didn’t get a good look at the guy before he walked through the door.
Gordon pulled the outer door shut behind him, walked down the hallway, and was about to reach for the door when it opened again, and there stood Mevi Maynard.
He smiled. “Gordon?”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
“Good to finally meet you in person. Darryl said great things about you.” He extended his hand and Gordon forced himself to shake with him.
“Um…I have my gear in my car.”
“Great! We’ve got pizza on the way. Come on in and we’ll introduce you around first.”
Gordon didn’t see anyone in the room he recognized except Rich Hurst, holy shit. There was someone he hadn’t seen in a while.
“Hey, everyone,” Mevi said, calling for their attention. “This is our other new guy who’s going to help us out with the studio sessions here before we leave on tour. I’d like you all to meet Gordon Pope.”
Rich stood to hug him, and they introduced Gordon around.
Then Mevi scowled. “Where’s Jonah?”
Gordon froze. Oh, shit.
“Studio one, I think,” Ri
ch said.
Mevi walked over to an open doorway. “Jonah?”
The man stepped into the doorway, and it was like three years hadn’t passed.
His boy.
His green eyes, his ginger hair—still even had the short beard and mustache.
The tats Gordon had spent hours tracing with his fingers and tongue, tats he’d sat with him for every one.
Or maybe he has new ones now.
One on the inside of his right arm, just above his elbow, that were Gordon’s initials.
Just like on the inside of his own left wrist, the only tat he had, were Jonah’s initials in the same stylized, swirling font.
A tat he couldn’t bear to get rid of, or have covered, because it was his boy, and part of who he was and had been.
It was a reminder to him of what he should not repeat in the future, to be a better person.
To stay sober.
Jonah spoke first. “Hey.”
I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you so fucking much. Tell me how to fix this, please.
All that ran through Gordon’s mind, but what came out was, “Hey.”
* * * *
Out of the corner of Jonah’s eye, he spotted it the second Doyle looked from him to Gordon and back again, and then put two and two together and realized exactly who the fuck Gordon was to him.
“Hey, Jonah,” Doyle said. “Can you do me a favor and show Gordon around the house for us? Pizza will be here soon.”
He numbly found himself nodding. “Yeah, sure.”
Jonah stepped around everyone, his gaze locked on those damned gorgeous fucking blue eyes, naturally blue like a beautiful blue sky, eyes he’d dreamed about and had missed for what felt like forever, that soft blond hair he’d loved running his fingers through.
He stepped past Gordon and opened the door, not bothering to see if he followed. Jonah didn’t know what to say, what to do, his brain temporarily on auto-pilot.
All he knew was that he absolutely could not fuck up this gig.
Would not.
It felt like he was close to hyperventilating by the time he reached the door to the house and opened it. He heard footsteps behind him and waited, not wanting to slam the door in his face.
Gordon caught up and his hand brushed against Jonah’s as he caught the door before Jonah stepped through.
Word of Mouth Page 4
