“Why is it so damn hot here?”
Sean adjusted his cap, lowering it slightly, but not quite hiding his indulgent grin. “We’re in the desert.”
Damn, I loved that smile. It had taken a while to coax one out of him on the drive here, so I basked in the sweetness and told myself not to be nosy right away.
He’d grunted just enough info for me to piece together some discord with Fiona. I was careful not to weigh in. First of all, I liked Fiona. She wasn’t the bad guy, and neither was Sean. They had some baggage to unload, but that was between them. Secondly, while I had some opinions and ideas, and they weren’t all terrible if I did say so myself, it wasn’t my business.
I’d wisely stuck to neutral topics on the drive to Palm Springs, entertaining Sean with music and movie trivia. And the moment he’d closed the door of his two-story hacienda-style home, I used other tactics to lure him out of his funk. I dropped to my knees on the cool tile in the foyer and got to work. He cut my enthusiastic blowjob short and led me upstairs to his master suite. I lost my clothes in record time and found myself clutching at the iron bedframe for dear life while he licked and teased my hole before fucking me senseless. I white-knuckled my way through a ferocious orgasm as my lover rode me hard, pulling my hair, biting my neck, and scratching my sides in a frenzy until he finally fell apart.
Sean cut our post-sex nap short to drag me to the golf course. Honestly, it was pretty damn beautiful here. The cloudless sky and expansive course were the perfect backdrop to the nearby mountains. There was a crispness to the air that set our surroundings in relief, as if we were part of a landscape portrait.
I swiped a bead of sweat from my brow. “Right. And we’re playing golf…in the desert…in one hundred degree heat. Look at me, I’m schvitzing.”
Sean lowered his aviator sunglasses and shook his head in mock sympathy. “I told you not to wear black. I’ll buy you a polo shirt at the clubhouse so you’re more comfortable tomorrow.”
I snorted. “Fuck that. You’d have to kill me to get me in a polo shirt. And I’ll warn you now, I would haunt your ass until the end of time. So not worth it. Also, I’m not golfing tomorrow. This is your one and only shot to show me what you know.”
Sean handed me a golf club, then pulled one out of his bag for himself. “I thought you said you’d give it a try.”
“I’m giving it a try now.” I cast a quick glance at the older couple standing at a nearby golf cart. They looked very prim and proper in their pressed matching shirts, plaid shorts, and white caps emblazoned with fancy fonts. The woman took one look at me and blanched, turning away quickly when I met her tepid smile with a megawatt, shit-eating grin. “I think she’s going to call the golf cops on me. Will I get kicked out?”
“No such luck. This is the driving range. We’re just practicing your swing and—what are you doing?”
“I’m swingin’.” I did a jitterbug dance move, twirling the club like a baton, and finishing with a flourish.
Sean pursed his lips in amusement. “Are you done?”
I sighed theatrically and nodded. “Yeah. How does one hit that tiny ball with this big pole?”
“Behave,” he warned in a no-nonsense tone. “Now listen. Before you attempt to hit the ball, you need to get your grip and your stance down. Put your left hand on the club…like so. Curl your fingers and leave your thumb on top. Good. Now move your right hand above your left and—no, move it lower on the shaft.”
“Hmm. How’s this? Am I gripping my shaft correctly?” This time I kept my tone for Sean’s ears only.
He snickered. “Yes, you’re very good at that, baby. Don’t grip it with your palm. Good. Next…your stance. Your feet should be shoulder-width apart, knees bent, chin up. Excellent.”
“Can I breathe?”
“Please do. Now…your stroke.”
I quirked my head up. “Seriously? You want me to grip my shaft and stroke? Golf, where have you been all my life?”
Sean threw his head back and laughed. The older couple gave us a bemused once-over before slinking to their cart and driving away. I expected Sean to scold me for my pervy ways, but he couldn’t seem to pull it together. I set my hands on my hips and waited out his burst of hilarity.
“Oh, wow,” he sighed. “What are we doing?”
“You’re teaching me golf, and I’m pretending to care because I don’t want to hurt your feelings and admit I have zero interest in learning,” I replied matter-of-factly. “Golf isn’t silly enough for me.”
“Silly? It isn’t supposed to be silly. It’s a sport.”
“Yeah, but aren’t sports supposed to be fun?”
Sean cocked his head. “This is fun.”
“If you say so. I think it would be better if they piped music in. You could walk up to your ball when it’s show time and, whoa—is that my song?” I put my hand behind my ear, tossed the club in the air, then held it like a guitar, and proceeded to rock out to the Foo Fighters song I’d had in my head all day.
Now, I was obviously no expert on golf protocol, but I had a feeling I was probably in danger of pissing someone off. Thankfully, not Sean. He grinned like a loon, shaking his head every so often in a universal, “I give up.” The goofier I got, the more he seemed to relax. And when he gave in and laughed aloud, I upped my antics, strumming my golf club with attitude as I pranced around our section of the driving range. A few people stopped their cart to watch the crazy dude lose his marbles, but they moved on, leaving me with my amused and slightly exasperated lover.
“Are you finished?” he asked when I fell onto my knees on the grass with my face raised to the sky.
“Woohoo! Yes!” I jumped up and took a bow, waving at a passing cart. “Your turn.”
“For what?”
“To do something silly.”
“No,” he replied sternly.
“Sean, this is an exercise in the absurd. Look at me. This golf thing the way you see it, probably isn’t going to happen. We might as well make it fun.”
“I don’t do silly. However, I’ll make you a deal.” Sean pulled a golf ball from his pocket and set it on the grass. “I’ll do whatever you want…within reason—if you hit the ball from the tee.”
“Easy.” I made a production of perfecting my grip, then widened my stance over the ball and wiggled my ass before pulling the club back and walloping the ball. “Next.”
Sean opened and closed his mouth comically. “You said you’ve never played.”
“I haven’t. But I’m a pro on the miniature golf course.” I grinned as I tapped a finger against my chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see…break dance?”
“No.” Sean moved to the tee, set another ball down, and swung his club.
“Somersault.”
“No.” He set another ball on the tee and swung again.
“Hmm. Handstand.”
“No.”
“I have a good one.”
“No.”
“It’s really good, though. Let’s switch shirts.”
Sean chuckled. “You just said that being seen in a polo shirt is a fate worse than death.”
“And I stand by that, but—oh! Better idea. We’ll switch underwear.”
He hit one more ball, then turned to me, pulling his sunglasses off. His smile grew to a wide grin that lit his eyes to perfection. “I cannot believe I’m having his conversation, but…if I recall correctly, you’re not wearing any underwear at all.”
“True, but I meant tomorrow. All day. Not trying something on and tossing it aside. I want you to be committed to the banana hammock.”
“I think I require an eggplant hammock,” he replied in a serious tone.
I snorted as I stepped up to hit a couple of balls. “Truth. Mine are a smidge smaller, but I brought a pair I think will look even better on you.”
He moved to my side, fixing his gaze on my mouth. “What does it look like?”
I hit a ball, struck a pose, and turned with a wink. “You’ll see.”
We stayed out on the course longer than I thought we might before making our way to the clubhouse for happy hour. Sean commandeered a prime table for two at a corner window with lush vistas of the grounds. We ordered drinks and nachos, then settled in our chairs, lost in our own thoughts.
After a minute or two, I scooted closer and nudged my knee against his. “What are you thinking?”
Sean smiled. “I’m thinking this is the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time. Cheers.”
I tapped my gin and tonic to his and took a sip. “It’s beautiful here. You should come more often.”
“I know. It’s been a strange couple of months. I didn’t have time. Harry and Darren are my excuse to come for business, but they’ve driven in to LA and…” He looked away with a sigh. “It feels good to be here now. That’s all that matters.”
“So you have a nightclub here too. Is it like Vibes?” I asked.
“Yes. We get the WeHo crowd too. Lots of familiar faces in town. When someone looks familiar and I can’t remember where I’ve seen them, the answer is usually Vibes.”
“Right,” I drawled lasciviously. “Out there bumpin’ and grinding with the hot, shirtless hunks. I see how it is. Lucky bastard.”
He chuckled softly. “Not a chance. You’ll never see me dancing with anyone at either club.”
“Why not?” I thanked the waiter when he set our nachos on the table, then scooped guacamole onto a chip and popped it in my mouth.
“It’s a business for me, not a playground.”
“Are you saying you have ethical concerns about dancing with shirtless hunks?”
“No. My ethical and moral compasses are intact,” he replied, reaching for a chip.
“I know. So, why can’t you dance? Or…is it that you don’t know how?” I teased.
Sean rolled his eyes. “It’s just business. That’s all. Have a chip to go with that guac.”
“I love guac. This is good.” I finished swallowing, then sipped my cocktail. “Do you ever dance at your clubs?”
“No.”
“But you drink at your bar.”
“That’s different. I’m forty-five and—”
“Forty-five-year-olds dance too, Einstein. You’re a curious one, Mr. Gruen. You use age as a weapon. Too old, too young. Maybe it’s all just too gay.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I’m out and proud.” He lifted his drink in a mock toast.
“Sort of.”
Sean frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means…nothing in life is really black or white. Everything is in shades of gray. Trust me, I’m living proof.” I pointed to my eyes before continuing. “You may be gay or bi or whatever, but you reveal yourself differently to others depending on the circumstance. Kids notice that their parents speak to teachers, friends, and work associates in completely different tones based on what the situation calls for and what they deem appropriate. Are you following me?”
“Yes.”
“Even people with faulty filters have a built-in governor for voice modulation. You, my friend, govern your gayness.” I smiled to take the sting from the sentiment, but I didn’t think it worked.
The creases at the corner of his eyes deepened. “How?”
“I don’t know if I can put it into words. I can feel it, though. You hesitate and think about all the ways something can go wrong. Maybe it’s a business trick that bleeds into other aspects of life.”
“Don’t you think everyone does that to a degree?” he scoffed.
“Of course, but I don’t care about them. I care about you. And I have a theory.”
“Oh?’’
“I think you did one thing for yourself five years ago. You came out. You hurt some people, you lost some people. And in penance for their pain, you deny yourself the things you really want.” I waited a beat before pushing. “Am I right?”
“Maybe,” he conceded, glancing out the window. “I don’t know anymore.”
He was telling the truth. I’d bet big bucks he hadn’t realized he’d been punishing himself for being…different. I sensed deep-seated fear or guilt that I really didn’t think had anything to do with his children. But there was only so much digging one could do in a golf clubhouse bar during happy hour.
So I let it go.
Sean had big plans to show me around town on Saturday. He wanted to walk in the morning before the early May sun made it feel like the middle of summer. After a little exercise, we’d hit a couple of galleries and have lunch at a restaurant owned by one of his friends. He said I’d be impressed by the food, ambience, and the hot waiters. I smiled and told him I’d go wherever he wanted.
We didn’t go anywhere. We had groceries delivered and sat poolside, sipping margaritas and talking about…everything. Funny enough, we set well-trodden topics aside, like his kids and my band, and delved into offbeat things like the details involved in sci-fi world-building and what job you’d take if you had to work in a circus.
We tried to build our own planet, but we couldn’t decide on the name. However, we did agree that the circus would be more like a talent show with costumes. No animals involved. And because it was our idea, we could be the opening act. Juggling, card tricks…don’t ask how we got there, but I had tears in my eyes when he insisted he’d be in charge of the ticket booth.
It was so easy to be with Sean…to talk to him and laugh with him. We ate chips and guac under the sun, listening to an eclectic blend of jazz and pop music while dissecting plotlines from our favorite movies and TV shows. When the heat became unbearable, we moved an umbrella to the edge of the pool and sat side by side with our feet in the cool water, watching the ribbons of sunset fade in the sky.
Staring up at the inky darkness dotted with a million stars, I wanted to pinch myself. It seemed highly improbable that of all the people in the world, he was the one who fit me best. On the surface, we had nothing in common, but he was the very space between silence and the first hum of music. He was hard edges and rough terrain, but he was also the sweetest soul I’d ever met, with depths I probably needed two lifetimes to explore. And damn, I wanted at least one.
The thought that I might only get a month or two more stung like hell. I’d met famous athletes, movie stars, and fellow musicians who claimed to love me and my band. I’d been told over and over that Zero was on its way to the top and that I could literally have anything and anyone I wanted.
All I wanted was him.
Sean must have been thinking the same thing. He smiled in the dark and draped his arm over my shoulders. He kissed my cheek and nuzzled my ear. I turned slightly to press my lips to his. We went still for a moment or two, fused together with no sense of urgency, letting the tender connection slowly build.
Gentle licks and nips morphed into probing, hungry sweeps of tongues and a fervent desire to be as close as humanly possible. We stumbled into the house through the bank of sliding glass doors in a tangle of limbs, groping at each other wantonly.
“Upstairs,” he growled, biting my bottom lip, then leading the way.
We collided along the wide hallway. I almost knocked a frame from the wall when I lost my balance stripping my swim trunks off outside the bedroom door. Sean caught my elbow to steady me and carried me into the room. He set me on my feet and turned on a bedside lamp, flooding the space with soft light.
The room was luxurious, though a bit austere. It reminded me of a presidential suite at a posh hotel with fancy art on the walls, shiny mirrored surfaces, and the ginormous flat-screen TV opposite the king-sized bed. Even the view outside was lush. The huge window overlooked the sixteenth green…or something like that. Not that I’d given it more than a cursory glance. I’d spent a lot of time staring up at the cathedral ceilings with my legs around Sean’s waist or white-knuckling the iron headboard over the past twenty-four hours…and I was not complaining.
To be perfectly honest, my ass was still hurting from earlier today, but there was no way I could resist a naked Sean. His rippling muscles under the smattering of hair on his impressive chest made me weak in the knees. I squeezed my dick at the base, licking my lips as I eye-fucked him. I lingered on his perfect cock before meeting his gaze.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whispered reverently.
The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. He looked like a pirate, ready for all kinds of debauchery. He flopped onto the mattress and curled his fingers in command.
“C’mere.”
I obeyed.
The sweet press of skin on skin, rough kisses, and tangled limbs was a wild aphrodisiac. I probably could have come just from rubbing against him. I was leaking enough precum that we might not even need lube. I slinked my fingers between our sweat-slicked bodies and wrapped my hand around us, pumping my hips as I stroked us in a steady tempo.
I broke for air and pulled back to look into his eyes. “Baby, I’m close.”
“Shh. Not yet.”
Sean pushed me sideways and climbed over me, straddling my thighs. He splayed one hand on my chest and leaned toward the nightstand to grab the lube and a condom.
“You’re going to have to go really slow. I’m sore from earlier and…” My words trailed and my thoughts jumbled as I watched him pour lube on his fingers, then reach behind to stretch himself open. He winced in discomfort and released a ragged breath. “You want me to…”
“Yeah, I want you. This might take a bit. I haven’t done this in years. Be patient.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. I ran my left hand over his thighs and abs and stroked his thick cock with my right hand. Up and down, up and down. I twisted my wrist, smearing precum over the tip, rubbing my thumb around his crown. I wanted to taste him, but I didn’t want to mess with his rhythm. I sensed this was a big fucking deal and that he needed to do it his way.
Fine by me. The view alone was worth the wait. I smiled up at him and tweaked his nipple.
“Can I help?”
Sean shook his head as he fumbled for the latex, ripping the wrapper with his teeth, and rolling it on me like a pro. He settled back, lined my throbbing dick at his hole, and slowly lowered himself.
Not gonna lie, it took a while. He was tight as fuck. We should have spent a lot more time prepping him, but he seemed to like the sting of pain. He didn’t shy away from it. He bit his bottom lip and took all of me. And when I was buried balls deep, he held eye contact for a long moment…then began to move.
A slow, seductive roll of his hips followed by a gentle rock and a low groan. A little faster, a little rougher, a little more intention. He found his tempo and took off, layering every motion like notes of a song, building on every thrust and pump until he was completely at ease. I let go of his cock and widened my legs so I could fuck him from below. I pistoned my hips upward and curled my hand behind his neck to draw him close before crashing my lips over his, sucking his tongue and plundering.
Sean was much bigger and much stronger than me. I couldn’t switch positions without a little help. Thankfully, we were on the same wavelength. He pulled off and lay on his back with his legs spread. Holy crap. I took a second to drink in the sight of him. To have a big and powerful man like him so open and vulnerable to me was so…humbling. And sexier than hell.
“What are you waiting for? Fuck me,” he growled.
I nodded in a daze, surging forward, pushing all the way in and pulling out till just the tip of my cock was in his ass. Damn, I had to get myself under control.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m about to lose it and I—”
“Do it. I want you, Johnny. Come on, baby. Fuck me.”
Oh. Wow.
I braced my hands on his chest, rolled my hips experimentally a few times, and let go. Sean arched off the mattress, grasping my ass cheeks to hold me closer, alternately ravaging my mouth and urging me to give a little more, a little harder, a little faster. The bedsprings squeaked and groaned as we lost ourselves in each other.
I wasn’t going to last. I licked his lips and rested my forehead against his and gasped a warning just before I fell apart. I shook so hard I swore I almost blacked out. It wasn’t until Sean roared with the force of his release that I came back to Earth. I bucked my hips as he rode out his orgasm, then went perfectly still.
Outside of music, this felt like the closest I’d ever come to a religious experience. I wanted to cling to this moment for as long as possible. I’d never felt more connected to another human being in my life. Sure, that was an easy statement to make after mind-blowing sex, but there was something so much more here.
This man wasn’t supposed to be anyone to me. But he’d become my lover and then my friend. He might have looked like a warrior, but he was generous and kind-hearted. He gave money and time freely…but he kept himself out of the equation. Until now.
I cuddled close afterward, draping my arm across his stomach. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Sean cradled my chin and smiled. “No. It was fucking fantastic, and I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not worried.” I propped myself on my elbow and ran my fingers through the hair on his chest. “I never thought that would happen. Your ‘alpha dog, top only’ vibes are strong. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d said you’d never been on the receiving end.”
“You would have been wrong. But it’s been…decades.”
“Before you were married.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Post-college experiment. That’s what I called it, anyway. I’d met him at a bar. We played pool for a few hours and talked about going to another bar. He followed me to my car, we made out for a while, and then…he invited me to his place. That ‘experiment’ lasted a couple of months. He always bottomed, but one day, he suggested switching things up. It was just okay for me.”
“There was no one after you came out?”
“There were plenty. But I never wanted that from anyone. It’s too…intimate for me,” he explained.
“Why now? Why me?”
“I trust you.” He traced my jaw and brushed his thumb over my lower lip. “I’d give you anything you asked for, Johnny. Anything.”
We gazed at each other for a long moment. For once, we didn’t joke around to defuse any potential awkwardness. We’d always been very careful not to ask for too much. We’d said from the beginning that was why this worked. But something had changed.
We shared pieces of ourselves. We talked about where we’d been, where we wanted to go, and that had seemed intimate in a way, but I couldn’t help thinking that physically letting me inside him meant something more. I should have been scared shitless. This was more than I’d bargained for. I hadn’t planned on falling in love or—
Oh.
Fuck.
I loved him.
Sean
My friends considered Sunday brunch a weekly high holiday and depending on the client, the perfect occasion to entertain. We met Darren and Harry at Mariposa, the bistro we owned on South Palm Drive. I greeted the host at the front desk as I scanned the modern café. Darren was in charge of the interior design at the two restaurants we owned in town. I was afraid his penchant for all things fabulous would result in super kitschy decor, however, he’d gone for a stark backdrop with contemporary chandeliers and massive jewel-toned art on the white walls. It was tasteful and elegant. And crowded.
“Hi, there. We’re here to meet Harry and Darren.”
The handsome young man behind the podium shot a bright grin at me, then turned to Johnny and froze with his mouth wide open. “Oh, wow. Oh, my God. Hi. I’m a big fan of your music. Zero is amazing, Johnny. Amazing!”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” my lover replied, clearly amused.
“Right. Um, let me show you to your table. Wow. This is such an honor.”
The host hustled to Johnny’s side, barraging him with fanboy questions as he led us through the restaurant. A few surprised double takes and the growing twitter of excitement made me uneasy. I found myself looking for a ready exit in case I needed to guide him to safety.
“Thank you. I know the way.” I nodded brusquely at the host and pulled Johnny behind a potted plant before joining Harry and David. “Maybe this is a bad idea. You’re getting a lot of attention.”
Johnny widened his eyes comically and peered over my shoulder. “It’s weird. I wonder if Charlie did some kind of new promo. How’s my lipstick?”
I huffed. “Fine. The table is private and mostly hidden from view. Stick close to me. I bet your fans think I’m your bodyguard anyway, so this shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Relax. I’m not that big of a deal.” He winked and continued in a serious tone. “This isn’t official Zero business. Charlie gave strict instructions to let him handle that end. Fine by me. So I won’t be talking about bubbly water unless it’s super general. If your friends go too in depth, I need you to run interference.”
“Don’t worry about them. They’re characters, for sure, but they’re also very professional.”
The same couldn’t be said for Myron. Wow. There was no other way to put it…the guy was a Zero superfan. He stood when we approached the table, spared me a cordial hello, and grasped both of Johnny’s hands and shook them effusively.
“It’s an honor. Such an honor to meet you. I’ve been following you since the very beginning. I used to come by Aromatique when you and Justin and Tegan would do those mini concerts. I saw you at the Troubadour a couple of times too and the Hollywood Bowl last summer. You guys are…special. I mean—” Myron turned to Darren and Harry and threw his hands in the air. “This man is the next Keith Richards. I kid you not.”
Darren feigned interest like a pro. Or maybe he was interested. Either way, he was in his element, dressed to kill in a bright-yellow gauzy shirt and linen trousers while Harry looked like a banker brooding into his cup of joe on a Monday. He’d perk up when the food arrived or the conversation turned to spreadsheets. Whichever came first.
I pasted a smile on my face and somehow managed not to chuckle at Myron Bernstein kissing my boyfriend’s ass. My boyfriend. Hmm…
Back to Myron. He was a short, round, balding, and very unassuming fortysomething-year-old with a knack for making money. He was one of the major account VPs in charge of investments at McMillan. In the five years since I’d joined Harry and Darren in business, I’d dealt with him a few times on smaller projects and found him to be extremely competent and always professional. That made sense. He literally handled billions of dollars in financing projects. Our real estate venture in LA was a huge deal for Harry, Darren, and me, but it was only a medium-sized one for Myron and his firm.
However, it looked like meeting a band member of Zero was Myron’s idea of hitting the lottery. Specifically, Johnny. I took the empty chair next to Darren, casting a watchful gaze at the area beyond the row of palms, listening with half an ear as Myron enthusiastically fanboyed about all things Zero.
Myron grinned like a fool. “I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but I was a fan of Gypsy Coma too.”
Johnny smiled. “That’s okay. I wasn’t in that band. Justin and Tegan survived and—”
“I know. It’s truly amazing what you’ve built from scratch. I’m so impressed. McMillan is a large conglomerate. Sonoma sparkling water is just one of our divisions. I’m not queer myself, but selling diversity is good for sales. I know that sounds opportunistic, but I’m a realist. Just like these men here.” Myron gestured around the table, then reached for his glass, wrapping pudgy fingers around the goblet’s stem.
“Amen, darling.” Darren held a hand up, motioning for a waiter. “But we need a mimosa infusion ASAP and menus for our guests before we go any further.”
As if on cue, a pitcher of mimosas and crisp menus were delivered with the promise of coffee a moment later. I chuckled softly at Darren’s satisfied expression and Harry’s resigned one as the brunch ritual began.
I reached for my coffee and tuned into Myron’s animated chatter. Granted, I’d only met him in conference rooms and over the occasional thousand-dollar business dinner, but I’d never seen him so unabashedly excited.
“I’ve made it my mission to shake up the conservative board at McMillan with some positive change,” Myron said, unfolding his napkin like a flag and setting it on his lap. “It’s time to move into the twenty-first century, and I believe Zero is our ticket.”
Johnny quirked his brow in amusement. “Oh, yeah?”
“You have the right message at the right time and a ton of sex appeal. The kind that crosses generations and socio-economic spheres. And better still, Zero is extraordinarily popular across all forms of social media. Not an easy feat these days. And have you noticed the curious glances aimed at our table? My kids are going to be very jealous when I end up on Twitter with a famous rock star,” Myron enthused.
“I need to stop you right there,” Johnny intercepted. “I don’t want to pose for photos today. I’m here for a weekend getaway before the band heads into the studio. That’s all.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about me. You have quite a few fans in this restaurant. The public paparazzi can’t believe their good fortune.”
Johnny frowned as he reached for his mimosa. “Yeah, I wonder what that’s all about.”
“You’re all over the Internet today.”
“I am?”
“I think it’s the buzz from the Instagram post about Zero’s photo shoot with Clay Kanzler,” Myron replied matter-of-factly.
“Oh. Huh. Yeah, that’s in the works.”
Myron narrowed his gaze. “Mind if I get nosy? I saw the other post about you and Clay. It’s a beautiful shot, but it insinuates that there might be someth—”
“Hang on. What post?” Johnny asked, pulling out his cell.
“It was on a Zero fan page. Let me see if I can find it.” He scrolled intently, then passed his phone to Johnny.
“Unreal.” He showed me the handle and returned Myron’s phone. “I’m not with Clay in any personal capacity whatsoever, if that’s what you’re curious about.”
“Yep. Inquiring minds want to know, and I think this photo is trending…as my kids say.” Myron chuckled.
“What?” Johnny’s jaw tightened. He typed furiously into his phone, grumbling in frustration.
“Don’t worry. It’ll go away. Publicity ploys die a natural death,” he assured my lover sagely before gesturing between us. “One more question. Are you two…together? Like together?”
“No, we’re just friends,” I replied quickly.
Maybe too quickly.
I thought I detected a flash of hurt cross Johnny’s face, but he turned abruptly to field a new round of rock and roll questions from his manic Zero superfan.
An hour and a half later, Myron had covered everything from Johnny’s personal influences, favorite bands, best clubs to play in LA, favorite Zero song, memorable moments on the road, and the craziest experience with a fan…evidently not realizing that being grilled by a high-powered, middle-aged businessman over French toast and mimosas while being surreptitiously eye-fucked by curious patrons in a crowded bistro might rank on his list.
When we finally said our good-byes, Myron was practically levitating, Darren was pleased, though slightly bored, Harry couldn’t wait to go home, and Johnny seemed distracted.
Me? I was…bemused.
Hey, I knew Zero was a popular band. I’d been to a few shows and had watched them grow from a ragtag group with nothing to their name except a big dream. However, I hadn’t been prepared for the frenzy Johnny’s presence had caused. If it had been a few twentysomethings, I might not have thought twice about it, but Myron was a middle-aged adult, for fuck’s sake. And he was straight. He didn’t romantically lust after Johnny. He simply loved his music and admired his talent.
They all did. Every gawking, wild-eyed fan in that bistro wanted a piece of him. They wanted a contraband photo and the chance to say they were in the same room as a rock star. That had to feel so strange.
“Are you okay?” I asked, checking my rearview mirror as we coasted along the 10 freeway toward LA. “You had quite the fan club there.”
“Yeah. Weird brunch. I’ve never had that happen so…intensely. Not when I’ve been on my own.” He leaned forward to adjust the volume on a Bill Withers song and hummed along, beating a tattoo on his knees.
“Did you text Charlie about the Instagram post?”
Johnny sighed. “Yeah, he has no idea how it got leaked, but he doesn’t think it’s a big deal. You know, if you hadn’t warned me about Clay, I would never think twice about a leaked photo of my fucking arm. In fact, I’m sure I would have laughed. I’m actually pissed about it now. I’m not sure what’s changed.”
“You’re famous.”
“I’m just me, Sean.”
We were quiet for a moment. I wasn’t sure where his head was, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the rabid gaze of some of his fans today. It was…unsettling.
“All that…adulation.” I released my right hand from the steering wheel and circled my wrist for emphasis. “All that praise. Does it feel strange?”
He swiveled in his seat to face me. “I don’t pay attention to it. Look, it’s nice to have people tell you that your work means a lot to them. It’s more than nice. It’s meaningful. But the fans who love you today might not love you tomorrow. I’ve learned to take the praise with a grain of salt. Myron likes the idea of me and Zero, but he also likes that we may make him some money. I’m assuming your friends feel the same way. They looked relieved that Myron didn’t care about the Instagram pic. I guess it comes down to free publicity and money. See? It’s all business. And I’m a commodity. Hell, my arm is a commodity. How fucking strange is this world?”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Very strange.”
He waited until the song on the radio ended to continue. “I’m curious about something.”
“What is it?”
“Why did you tell them we’re just friends? I understand the ‘friends’ part, but you put a lot of emphasis on the word ‘just.’ It was italicized and in bold print. And your tone was very sharp…the way you get when you don’t want anyone to question you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I squinted against the sun’s glare on the broad window of the Suburban in front of me and changed lanes. Stupid move since the traffic was even slower.
“Liar,” he huffed. “It’s cool. You’re not ready.”
“That’s not true. There’s just a fine line between needing to protect you and your privacy. You saw those people. The last thing you need is someone asking who I am and what you’re doing with an old guy.” I aimed for light and breezy but failed.
“I’m not the one who needs protection, Sean. Not me. But you should know that I’m not going to drag you into something you didn’t sign up for. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you too.”
He turned the volume up on a song I didn’t recognize and stared out the window, effectively ending the discussion. I could have adjusted the sound and asked him what he meant, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.