Fact. I’m a good friend.
I was the kind of guy who’d drop whatever I was doing if one of my buddies needed something. I used to cover Justin’s shifts when we worked together at Aromatique without asking questions. I lent Ky my SUV for a week last year when his piece-of-crap truck was in the shop because he lived farther from the studio than me. When Tegan and Dec moved into their new house, I rearranged my schedule to help them move. And when Bobby J wanted to riff on guitar or wanted to grab a beer at The Zebra Den after practice, I made it happen.
A guy with no family placed extra value on friendships. If you made it on the inside with me, you had a friend for life. Justin, Gray, Charlie, Ky, Dec, Tegan, Bobby J, Cody were my core peeps. But somehow, over the past couple of months, Sean had weaseled his way inside too.
Sure, it had started with sex and a side excuse of teaching a guitar lesson or two, but something had changed. The sex was hotter than ever, guitar lessons had become a biweekly thing, and Sean Gruen had become my friend. We hung out together by ourselves when the kids were with their mom. We definitely had sex…and a lot of it. But sometimes we just made dinner and watched movies. And we talked.
I’d tell him about my day in the studio. The songs we’d worked on, the pranks we played on each other, our new prerecording practice schedule, and whatever I could remember about Charlie’s social media campaign…which wasn’t much. Concentrating on music and letting Charlie deal with publicity was the only way to stay sane and focused. So I focused on music…and my lover.
Sean’s life was so different from mine. He was grounded in a world I’d never been part of. I didn’t know anything about family dynamics, car pools, after-school activities, mergers and acquisitions, or handling employee turnover. His effortless take-charge manner fascinated me. How could anyone balance all those varied facets of life without going crazy?
“I am crazy,” Sean assured me with a sardonic grin.
I ran my fingers through the condensation on my glass, scanning the Wednesday after-work crowd at The Zebra Den and tapping my fingers to the beat of an ancient Stevie Wonder song. I could hardly see two feet in front of me from our corner of the bar. Poor lighting and bad acoustics were part of this dive’s charm. Dark shadowy areas made it possible for Zero and Jealousy to hang out after practice without drawing unwanted attention. My friends had gone home a while ago, so tonight it was a great place to meet my secret booty call before he picked up his kids for the weekend.
The last part of that sentence freaked me out a little. I was seeing an older man with kids. Weird. I brushed the thought aside and studied his handsome profile in the dim light. The creases at the corner of his eyes added an element of sophistication and wisdom I found unexpectedly sexy. I couldn’t figure out why someone like him would be interested in a punk like me.
“You must be,” I agreed, shifting on my barstool to face him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m curious about a couple of things.”
“Like?” he prodded.
“When I first met you…when you were going out with Tegan, you were bald. Why?”
Sean squinted at me in the darkness. “That’s what you wonder about?”
I shrugged with faux nonchalance. “It doesn’t keep me up at night, but yeah…I’m curious.”
“My sister lost her hair when she had cancer. I shaved my head as a show of solidarity,” he explained, rubbing his hand over his short-cropped hair.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she okay?”
“Yes, she kicked butt and she’s stronger than ever.”
“You must be close,” I commented, taking a sip of beer.
“We are. She was a staunch advocate for me while I was going through my divorce and when I came out. Shaving my head was the very least I could do.”
“Mmm. Do you see her often?”
“No, she moved to Northern California with her husband three years ago. I’m trying to convince them to meet me in Palm Springs next month for a little R and R.” Sean fixated on my mouth for a beat before continuing, “When was the last time you went to the desert?”
“Me? Um…I can’t remember. It was pre-Zero, though. I was in a band called The Crackens. The lead singer’s grandparents lived in Palm Springs. They were friendly with one of the hotel owners and got us a gig playing in the bar once a month. Not one of my more prestigious jobs, but it was a good experience.”
“The Crackens? Was that someone’s last name?”
I snort-laughed. “No, it’s slang. The lead singer—I think his name was Chad—made a comment about the bassist’s ass crack showing when he bent over. He said something like, ‘Your ass is crackin’, and our twenty-year-old selves thought that was pretty fuckin’ hysterical. We may have been drunk.”
“Sounds like it,” Sean chuckled. “You should come with me. I have a nice place there on the golf course. Very private and the weather is perfect this time of year. What do you say?”
I sobered immediately. My smile dipped, then disappeared altogether. “Uh, why?”
Sean cocked his head. “I like you. That’s why.”
“But…why do you like me? You and I don’t make any sense,” I argued, swigging my drink and setting the glass down with more force than necessary.
“Maybe I just like your crackin’ ass.”
I almost sprayed the bar with beer. I coughed, shaking my head in mock censure. “Oh, wow. That was bad. Crackin’ ass is not a thing. At the very least, it doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
He shrugged good-naturedly, moving his hand from my knee to the inside of my thigh. “What do I know? I’m old. And…I gotta run.”
I squeezed his hand under the bar as he stood, waving him off when he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “I’ve got this. Tell Penny I said hi and tell Parker I’ll see him tomorrow at the studio.”
“You got it.” Sean surprised me when he bent to kiss my cheek. And again when he added, “You want to know why I like you?”
“Um, okay…”
“You’re real and you’re honest. You have no idea how refreshing that is.” He slipped his arms into his suit jacket, flashing one last grin my way, then headed for the exit.
I stared after him, but before I could process our exchange, someone nudged my elbow off the bar and whistled in my ear.
“You sly dog, you. How long have you and Sean been doing the nasty?” Bobby J drawled, raising his hand to get the bartender’s attention.
I did a double take and pasted a phony smile on my face. So much for being honest and real.
“What are you doing here?”
Bobby J narrowed his gaze. “I’m waiting for my man. We meet here once a month on our anniversary.”
“At The Zebra Den?” I scoffed. “You can do better than this dump.”
“Cody and I met at this dump. No offense, honey,” he assured the bartender who’d sidled forward to take his order. When we were alone again, he shot an amused glance my way. “In fact, these are our seats. Thank you for warming them up for us.”
I motioned for the bartender to bring my tab. “Any time. I’m on my way out now and—”
“Not so fast.” He yanked my T-shirt meaningfully. “What’s up with you and Sean? Don’t bother telling me it’s no big deal. I saw him kiss your cheek. And that, my friend, was a lover’s kiss.”
“Bobby…”
He furrowed his brows and rubbed his thick beard, fixing me with a fierce stare. “Spill it, Johnny boy. And while you’re at it…does Tegan know?”
“No, but—”
“For fuck’s sake, man. What the hell is the matter with you?” He smacked me gently upside the head, nodding his thanks when his drinks were delivered. He set the cranberry vodka aside and sipped his beer. “I’m waiting. You better hurry. Cody’ll be here in five minutes exactly. Then again, he might be interested in why you’re screwing around with one of your best friend’s exes too. I know I am.”
I sighed heavily, setting my credit card on the receipt, and sliding it toward the till. “Don’t make this into some big drama. Tegan is married. He won’t care—”
“Of course he won’t care, but you should still tell him,” he admonished. “How long has this been going on?”
“A couple of months.”
“Months?”
I gave Bobby J a brief rundown without giving anything important away…like the fact that I was beginning to worry I was in too deep. “It’s not serious. Sean and I are friends and a little more. But we’re never going to be some big love story, so don’t get your boxers in a twist.”
“I’m not wearing boxers,” he countered.
“Yeah, well…”
“Hey, you don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t even owe Tegan one. But it’s common courtesy. Don’t be an a-hole. Ahh…” Bobby J’s no-nonsense, flinty gaze melted a moment later. He stood abruptly and opened his arms wide in greeting when Cody hustled to the bar to join us.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was terrible on the 10.” Cody snaked his arms around Bobby J’s waist, gazing up at his boyfriend with a wide adoring expression before smiling at me. “Hi, Johnny. Don’t get up. I’ll grab a barstool.”
“No, you don’t. Johnny was just leaving,” Bobby J informed him, raising his hand for a high five.
He chortled merrily when I flipped him off instead. I hugged Cody good-bye, then signed the receipt and slipped my credit card into my wallet as I made my way to the exit.
Bobby J was right. I hadn’t thought this thing with Sean would last. And I certainly didn’t think I’d be here a few months later wondering how I could stretch this into something more. But here I was. A happy-ever-after fairy tale wasn’t in the cards. I didn’t want that anyway. I was on my way to being a rock star. My real life would never mesh with Sean’s. A guy who traveled the country in a tour bus and rocked out on electric guitar in front of thousands didn’t play board games with his boyfriend’s kids in his free time or—
Boyfriend.
Sean wasn’t my boyfriend. He was my fuck-buddy and a friend. If I really were an honest man, I’d admit I wished things were different. I wished I could have more. But I couldn’t have what I wanted, and lies of omission would only jeopardize my friendship with Tegan.
It was time to come clean and tell T about Sean and me.
“I know.”
“You know?”
I blinked in confusion at Tegan and paced to the opposite side of the studio, grateful I’d finally managed to catch him alone after a full day of practice. My window was small, though. Justin had gone to the restroom, Ky went to the kitchen to grab a few water bottles, and I expected Parker to arrive any minute for a lesson. We were officially done for the day, but Charlie had asked Zero to stick around for a bit to approve a photo montage Clay had put together for us. Supposedly this would give us an idea of how the spread would look stylistically.
Like I gave a fuck. I figured I’d nod a few times, then use my lesson with Parker to get out of a long-ass meeting to look at pictures of myself. I had just enough time to apologize to T for keeping secrets and brush it off with a joke as though one of the most incredible things in my life was of no importance.
But he already knew? How?
Tegan must have sensed my inner turmoil. He patted my shoulder and aimed a lopsided smirk at me. “For starters, Sean talks about you all the time.”
“He does?”
“Yep. He comes by the house to work out in our home gym a couple of times a week.”
“And he told you that we…”
Tegan made a lewd finger-in-hole gesture and snickered like a teenager. “No, he didn’t tell me in so many words, but every conversation comes back to you. ‘Johnny taught Parker a new song. I think it’s a Beatles song, but I can’t be sure. Johnny’s incredibly talented. Did you know he’s basically self-taught?’ And on and on…”
“Oh. Well, that’s not much,” I replied with a shrug.
“It’s not what he says. It’s the way he looks when he talks about you. Dec caught on before I did. He thinks it’s sweet too,” he teased.
I huffed. “It’s not sweet, and it’s not a big deal.”
“Good attitude. Sean’s a good man, but he’s not really available. Not for the long haul.”
“Neither am I,” I declared fervently.
“Then have fun.” Tegan held his hand up for a high five.
I smacked his palm and pasted a phony smile on my face before reaching for my electric guitar, hooking the strap over my neck.
Yep, I was irked. Made no sense. Tegan wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. Sean was temporary.
It took me a moment to realize that I didn’t resent the gentle reminder not to get overly invested. I resented knowing that I didn’t stand a chance anyway. It was the same crappy feeling I remembered well as a kid. It didn’t matter how hard I tried; certain things could never be mine. Back then, it was a stable family and a sober parent who actually gave a fuck. Now it was…well, the grown-up variation along the same theme.
I leaned into my instrument as my fingers tripped over the strings. I blended notes and teased a few chords, pulling a new melody out of thin air like a sorcerer conjuring a spell to scare away old ghosts. I turned away to avoid Tegan’s curious sideways glance just as the door swung open and a whole lot of crazy stormed in at once.
Justin and Ky shuffled ahead of the crowd, wearing matching “oh, wow” expressions. They were followed closely by an animated Charlie steering Clay into the studio. The noise level instantly went through the roof. Everyone was talking at once. Charlie couldn’t wait to see the spread, Clay couldn’t wait to show us a few pics, and Justin couldn’t wait to go home. He razzed them to get the ball rolling, then let out a theatrical groan when Clay informed him there were only three hundred shots to go through.
“How is that possible? Your photographer has only been here a couple of times. Did he really take that many pictures?” Justin groused.
“No, some of these are from concert footage and the odd press conference or…party,” Clay replied, aiming a wink in my direction before waving us to gather at the long table on the side of the room.
“Why are we doing this here?” Tegan complained.
“It will only take a minute or two. I need to whisk Clay to my office to work on some scheduling logistics. This is a preliminary peek. I just wanted to give you a feel for how the final product will look,” Charlie cajoled as Clay opened his laptop. “Come see.”
I moved forward but stopped in my tracks when I spotted Bianca in the doorway with Parker and an elegant woman dressed in business attire.
I pushed my guitar behind my back and stepped forward. “Hey, Parker.”
He beamed, shifting his guitar case from his right hand to his left to give me a fist bump. “Hi.”
“Well, I must say, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time,” the woman gushed, extending a manicured hand like royalty. “I’m Fiona. Ann’s business partner. We’ve talked a few times on the phone about your remodel. I was the one who sent you to my ex’s house for the color wheel a couple of months ago. I never imagined that little request would have turned into guitar lessons with a famous rock band for Parker.”
“Famous might be a stretch, but yeah…it’s worked out so far. Parker is coming along nicely.”
I shook her hand politely and stepped backward to give her space to give me a more thorough once-over. That was okay. I did the same.
The former Mrs. Gruen was tall, slender, and statuesque in an elegant pantsuit with high heels. Her long, light-colored hair twirled in perfect waves over her shoulders, framing her striking face. She had full pouty lips, wickedly high cheekbones, and a thin nose. Exaggerated, surgically enhanced features were all the rage in LA. And though it worked for Fiona, I couldn’t help wondering what she’d actually looked like when Sean married her. Either way, she was beautiful. I wanted to hate her, but her unchecked pride in her son made that impossible.
“He played for me earlier, and I was pretty darn impressed,” she enthused.
“What’d you play?” I asked with a wry grin.
Parker pursed his lips. “ ‘Love Me Do.’ ”
I gave him a high five and chuckled. That old song was kind of an inside running joke between us. I’d told him early on that mastering one easy song gave a musician a boost of confidence and at least one thing to show off for friends and family. He’d definitely taken my advice to heart.
“Excellent. Get your guitar out and tune her up,” I instructed, pointing toward the sofa on the opposite end of the studio before addressing his mother. “Did you want to wait in the lobby or…”
“Oh, no. I’m needed at the office. The kids’ nanny will come by to pick him up and—”
“I can take him home,” I offered.
Fiona considered me for a moment, no doubt weighing the wisdom of entrusting her spawn to a tattooed punk wearing guyliner.
“That’s so nice of you. I live in Hancock Park. Not too far from here.” She rattled off her address and repeated it along with her number when I took my cell from my pocket. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“Love you, Parker. See you tonight.” She squeezed him in a short embrace and waited until he was out of earshot to speak again. “I want to thank you, Johnny. You’ve brightened his world more than you realize.”
“Um, thanks. It’s mutual. He’s a cool kid. So is Penny.”
“I’m biased, but I agree.” Fiona grinned, darting her gaze toward my bandmates huddled around a computer nearby before meeting my eyes. “I have to admit, I didn’t love the idea at first, but Parker has really been struggling at school with friendships. Along the lines of old friends who used to be close and no longer give him the time of day. As shallow as this may sound, hanging out with a cool rock star is good for his self-confidence. I hope you don’t mind if I ask a couple of mom questions I’m sure his dad neglected.”
I bristled on Sean’s behalf but inclined my head. “Go for it.”
“Everyone hears crazy stories about partying like a rock star…sex, drugs, and more sex and more drugs. Since this has turned into more than one or two lessons, I need to know that Parker isn’t exposed to anything unseemly.”
Cue the massive laugh attack from the peanut gallery at the computer. Ky hooted and locked his arms around Charlie, kissing him soundly.
Unseemly? Nah.
I shook my head. “We’re relatively well behaved here. Those two are a couple and—”
“And you and Clay,” Justin intercepted, pointing at the screen with a shit-eating grin.
The crowd gathered around the table parted like the Red Sea to give me a better view of the photo montage. The one front and center was of two men entwined. There were no faces visible—just arms. And the tattoos on each identified me and…oh, geez—Clay. Charlie furrowed his brow in confusion as he pointed at the lion’s crest on Clay’s bicep, then at the skull-and-bone and angel wings on mine as if putting together a puzzle.
Clay had the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to change the photo quickly.
He fixed me with a lazy lopsided smile and blew me a kiss. “It’s art, babe.”
My bandmates guffawed and razzed us good-naturedly. They knew it wasn’t real without knowing the story because no…I still hadn’t told anyone. When Clay had forwarded it to me a few weeks ago, I’d rolled my eyes and deleted it right away. I’d been expecting a dick pic and got an artistic photo of two inked arms. Pretty innocent…and boring. But I supposed, like anything, it could be taken out of context.
Like now.
“Oh!” Fiona flashed a brilliant grin, showing off a perfect set of white teeth. “Gosh, that’s great.”
“Huh?”
“Boyfriends. It makes my heart happy,” she sighed, twirling toward the door with a cheery wave to the guys.
Boyfriend?
Tegan and Ky smiled politely, Charlie complimented her bag and her shoes as he waved good-bye, and Justin took a moment to tell her Parker was awesome before getting distracted by whatever nonsense was on the laptop. I should have left well enough alone. I thought I was being courteous, but truthfully, I was curious.
I hooked my thumb toward the shenanigans in the studio, then crossed my arms. “He’s not my—”
“No need for that. I’m very open-minded.” Fiona swept her hair over her shoulders and pulled out her phone. “I’m really glad I stopped by. Like I said, I’ve been worried about Parker, but this is working. And it’s so good for him to be around artists and diversity. The kids have been talking about you quite a bit, and I told Sean I needed to meet you for myself. Thank you for being so kind, Johnny. I’m truly grateful.”
Kind? Grateful?
She squeezed my hand, pivoted on her high heels, and sashayed down the hall. Fuck.
I turned toward the door, immediately bumping into Charlie and Clay, who were deep in conversation. I grabbed Clay’s elbow before he passed me.
“Hang on. What’s with the photo? I thought we agreed that wouldn’t see the light of day,” I hissed.
Clay raised his arms in surrender. “Chill. It won’t. I wanted to give an example of some of the more artistic ways we can represent the band.”
Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “I was thinking it would be cool to do an album cover of tattoos from each band member. Clay told me he had a great example and I love it! It would be a beautiful book cover too and the merch would be incredible. T-shirts, hoodies, tote bags. I need to look into trademarking your—”
“Yeah, yeah…I don’t care about that stuff. Clay and I aren’t boyfriends. Do not build one of your mysteries around that pic. I mean it,” I scowled.
Charlie lifted a brow. “I would never.”
“You definitely would. Please don’t.” I rounded on Clay. “That goes for you too.”
“You have my word, Johnny. And Clay’s too, I’m sure.” Charlie shot a fierce glance at Clay, who nodded obediently.
“No worries, man. You’re obviously seeing someone. I don’t interfere in relationships. Not worth the hassle.” Clay tucked his laptop under his arm and inclined his head. “Shall we, Char?”
Charlie gave me a shrewd once-over, then glanced toward the studio. And I could practically see the lightbulb go on. Great. Now Charlie knew too. Which meant Ky would know and Justin and…whatever. I trusted my bandmates and I trusted Charlie. They’d keep quiet. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t wonder if I’d lost my marbles.
I let out a deep sigh as I pushed the door open—and froze at the sight of Parker in the midst of a jam session with Zero.
Tegan on drums, Ky on bass, and Justin playing one of Zero’s easier tunes on rhythm guitar next to a very happy Parker on the sofa. My heart swelled with pride and gratitude. Damn, these were cool people.
I grabbed my electric guitar and joined in with a flourish, pacing the floor like it was a stage and striking rock god poses to make everyone laugh. Justin jumped up to get in on the action. My buddy was a serious ham and a natural performer. He belted out lyrics and howled like a banshee as he motioned Parker forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to Parker, a madman on the gee-tar,” Justin drawled. “Get over here, man. Don’t leave me hangin.’ What’s your special sauce song?”
Parker almost tripped over an amp cord. He chuckled nervously, casting his gaze from me to Justin. “It’s um…”
“Don’t tell us. Show us,” Justin urged.
Parker glanced down at the strings and hung his head for so long, I was sure we’d lost him. I was about to take over, but Tegan got there first.
“Look at it this way,” he said, tapping the snare drum in a one-two beat. “You cannot possibly be worse than Justin, and he’s been playing since before you were born.”
“You’re toast, T,” Justin growled.
We all busted up laughing…even Parker. Then he beamed at me and strummed the first few notes of “Love Me Do.”
Zero gave him the stage. We played background, letting his guitar prowess take center stage and I had to admit, he wasn’t bad. His fingers were nimble on the strings and he didn’t stumble over the chords. I was genuinely impressed. He accepted post-performance high fives and praise from the guys, and he didn’t shy away from my impromptu hug.
For the first time in my life, I felt a sense of pride that came from being invested in someone else’s growth and accomplishment. Sure, I’d taught other kids guitar, but I didn’t know them as well as I’d come to know Parker. The teacher in me was proud he’d learned that practice actually paid off, but there was more to it. I knew how hard he struggled and how much it meant to him to prove himself…especially in front of so-called experts.
But there was more.
I knew how much this would mean to Sean. I wished he could see his son’s smile so he’d know he was on the right track. The road might be bumpy at times, but moments like this were like mini signposts that let us know we were stronger and braver than we thought. And ultimately, we’d be okay.
Parker talked nonstop on the way home. Zero was so cool, Tegan was the best drummer ever, Ky was the best bassist, and Justin was just…super cool. No stuttering. No hesitation. He was on cloud nine, cataloguing the best parts of his afternoon like a mental scrapbook. I smiled, nodded, and grunted occasionally so he knew I was listening. And then he started asking questions.
“Who’s your favorite guitarist? Who was your favorite band when you were my age? Did you always dye your hair black? When did you get your first tattoo? Did it hurt?”
“Jimmy Page. Def Leppard. I’ve dyed my hair for a decade…I think. I was seventeen when I got my first tat and yes, it hurt like a motherfu—it hurt a lot,” I replied, veering left on Third Street.
“Was that legal?”
“Liking Def Leppard? Barely,” I quipped.
Parker shrugged. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Oh, my God. You have a lot to learn, my friend.” I hiked my sleeve up and pointed at the small skull on my bicep. “This is my first tattoo. It’s not much to look at, but I loved it at the time. However, do not get illegal ink. There are needles involved and you can’t trust everyone.”
“I know. I wouldn’t,” he huffed. “Mom would freak. She likes you, though, so maybe…”
I shot a stern glance his way. “No.”
Parker snickered. “I won’t. I promise. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you want to be in my school’s talent show with me?” he blurted when I turned on to his street.
“Uh. Which house is yours?” I asked, shamelessly stalling.
“That one.” He pointed at the modern two-story home behind a low fence entwined with grapevines. “You can think about it. You don’t have to tell me now, and I won’t be bummed if—”
“Hey.” I tugged at his backpack before he opened the door. “Not so fast. Talent show?”
“Yeah. Stupid idea. Never mind.”
“Whoa. It’s a great idea. But it’s a great idea for you…not me. I can practice with you, teach you a new song or something, and I’d definitely come see your show.”
“You would?”
“Of course.”
“Who would you bring? Would you bring your boyfriend?” His casual tone was phony as hell, but I played along.
“If I had one, I might. But I don’t, so…no.” I glanced toward the house, then met his serious gaze. “That guy that was in the studio today isn’t my boyfriend. My friends were just joking around…like the dorks you now know they are.”
Parker grinned. “They’re cool.”
“Yeah. I think so too. See ya, Park.”
“Later, John,” he singsonged, shutting the passenger side door behind him.
“Wise-ass,” I grumbled under my breath. I waited to be sure he was inside safely before instructing Siri to call Sean. “Where are you? We need to talk.”