JESUS CHRIST on a purple sparkly crutch, Colt was tired. Like bone-deep tired enough that if he stopped to think about it, he could see sounds.
Good thing he didn’t have a chance to stop and think.
Between rehearsing with Kyle, his studio work, writing with the guys, and trying to get to all the places to do all the things, he was running on seven seconds of sleep and blistered fingers.
Lord have mercy.
He finished his gig and sat there as everyone packed up. Midnight. Lord have mercy.
“Hey, nice work, guys.”
This jazz band was a bunch of nice folks, talented, but a little less easygoing. They had a budget and needed to wrap on time, so they pushed pretty hard in the studio.
Timmy came in and pressed a little metal tin into his palm, then started dressing cables and putting away microphones. “Caffeine mints. Two will do you for a couple of hours.”
Timmy set three microphones on the chair next to him and went to gather the others.
“Thanks.” He took four, breathing fire out of his nose for a second.
The folks in the band gave him nods and handshakes on their way out.
“Catch you tomorrow, Colt.”
“Get some rest, man. You look like you need it.”
“You need a ride anywhere?”
“I got him,” Timmy said, following them to the studio door. “I’ll be in at noon tomorrow. Studio is yours at two.”
“Right on. Night, Timmy.”
He sat there, trying to decide if he could just sleep here and get up and head to Kyle’s in the morning.
“Dude, I’m taking you home. Put your guitar away. And leave it here.” Timmy started stacking the neatly rolled-up cables into a crate.
“Are you?” He was so fucking tired. “Okay, boo.”
He just sat there like a lump.
“Okay, then.” Timmy didn’t say another word, but the next thing he knew, his guitar was gone and Timmy was turning the lights out. “I called an Uber. But I think I’m even skinnier than you are. I’m not carrying your ass, bro.” Timmy did at least offer him a hand up and pulled him to his feet. “Come on.”
“I don’ need carryin’, boo. I just tired, eh?” He was still doing good work.
“You’re not just tired, boo.” Timmy led him out to the car and pulled him inside. “You didn’t stand up to see the band out. You didn’t even stand up when I told you you should get moving. I just totally put your baby away for you, and you didn’t even tell me to be careful with it. You’re exhausted.”
“True dat.” He knew, but he knew it had to be done. Hell, more than that, he wanted it. He wanted it all.
He just didn’t know how to.
“When’s your next day off?”
He shrugged. Did he have those? He didn’t think so. Those were for people who didn’t have the music riding them hard.
His cell phone buzzed with a text message from Kyle. It was a picture of Kyle and another dancer with Alan, the bartender at the Purple Poet. Kyle had his arm around the dancer—was it Rob?—and was kissing him on the cheek.
Alan misses you. Aren’t you done yet? Come have a drink, baby.
Oh….
He sighed and leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Can you take me to the Purple Poet after you drop my friend off?”
He needed some uppers in the worst way. Just a little chemical boost.
“Is that Kyle? Come on, dude. Tell him you need to sleep. I’ll get you some green and you can relax. You gotta work tomorrow.”
“I’ll work. I swear.” Timmy didn’t understand, not really. It was hard to be everything he needed to be. Kyle was special. He had to try harder than everyone else, just to keep up. He wasn’t as shiny as everyone else in Kyle’s life.
Hell, what shine he had was from rubbing hard, not because he was made from gold.
“I know, dude. You work your ass off, I know. But….” The car pulled up to the curb, and Timmy sighed. “You gotta pace yourself or you’re not going to be any good, you know? And I’m not talking about the music.” Timmy slid out of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, boo. You’re good to me, swear to God.”
“Night, man.” Timmy shook his head, closed the car door, and gave him a wave.
“Thanks for doubling up, friend. I appreciate it.” He leaned his head back and watched the light trails dance in the rear window.
“No problem.” The driver got him there fine, but it took a while. It was late, but on Saturday night the traffic was as bad as rush hour. The bar was hopping too; a small crowd was hanging out outside smoking, and light and music spilled out into the street.
Kyle wasn’t hard to spot, which didn’t surprise him. His lover, in skinny jeans and a tight black sweater, was at the bar with a martini, sitting very close to that guy, Rob, who was in the picture Kyle texted. Rob had an arm across the back of Kyle’s chair.
Stop it. You’re shit-tired and feeling teeth on your bones. He headed over, offering Rob a toothy smile before touching Kyle with his aching fingers. “’Lo, cher.”
“There you are!” Kyle gave him a smile that lit up the bar and a kiss that stopped time.
“Mmm. Hey, how you been?” You been missing me?
“Move over, Rob, would you?” Kyle made scooty hands at Rob to make the guy slide over a stool, and then pulled him onto the warmed seat.
See? Nothing to get twisted up about after all.
“I had a long day. I needed to see you tonight. Are you okay? Are you sick? You don’t look good, baby.”
“Just tired. It ain’t no thing.” He leaned his cheek against Kyle’s arm. “I need to get me a coffee IV is all.”
“Aw. How was your session tonight?” Kyle took one of his hands and started rubbing like before, dragging warm thumbs over his tired, aching palm.
“Good. They’re fierce. They know what they want.” His eyelids fell closed at the massage.
“Is that easier or harder for you? Or… maybe that’s not the right question. You like to collaborate more, don’t you? Do you feel less creative when a group knows what they want?” Kyle let that hand relax and switched to the other one.
“You don’t have to think on it. You just give up the notes. You know, like a dance you’ve done for a lifetime.”
Kyle nodded. “Like the show I’m in now. I still love it, but I don’t think that hard about the choreography. I just get out there and dance. I really enjoy what we’re doing, though, the way we work together—oh! I got them to let us into the theater tomorrow morning. I thought it would be good for you to be in the space for a little while, feel it out for sound. I’ve danced there lots of times.”
“Sounds perfect.” This was why he’d come out, not because he was jealous of that picture. “You know how I love to see you dance.”
Lord, he needed a cup of coffee.
“We’ll just do a couple of hours. I know you have a gig after lunch.” His lover slithered off the stool suddenly. “Oh God. I have to pee. Watch my martini.” Kyle leaned in for another quick kiss. “Back in a sec.”
He watched Kyle go, his lover’s walk seeming pretty steady despite the drink on the bar.
Rob looked at him sideways, the uneven bar light casting shadows on the angular lines of the dancer’s face. “He is totally into you, man.”
“Good.” Because he was in love—balls to bones. “I like to hear that.”
“He says you’re working with him on his next show? He’s tough to keep up with. Works all the time. Heard you talking. You want a couple Adderall? You look like you need it.”
“What are them?” He didn’t want to lose his mind or wake up in three days mostly dead.
“ADHD meds. Stimulants. You know, uppers.” Rob pulled a little vial out of his coat pocket. “There’s a couple days’ worth in here if you want ’em.”
“Thanks. Been… been a long week, ain’t it?” Gigs and practice and writing and loving and touristing and—he was on his last drop of gasoline.
Rob nodded. “Yeah, man. It’s hard to keep up sometimes, right? My number is in there if you want more. Just give me a shout.”
It was good to know a dealer. Always. It was also good to know who they were. He had to wonder what Kyle got from Rob. Eh, it was none of his. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing you play. He has a lot to say about your talent.”
“I do my best.” God gave him the talent; he was born to use it, he figured.
Kyle came back to the bar, this time with an arm around Jake. “Jake thinks I should go home.”
Jake kind of rolled his eyes. “Not that you ever listen to me.”
“You want to take me home, lover?”
“I can do that.” He smiled at Kyle, admiring him, top to bottom. Jesus, so fine. He was a little stupid with loving his man. “Come on, cher. Let me help you find the bed.”
“Oh, I’m not that drunk. Not like I was the other night. Whoa.”
“You’re not that sober either.”
“Shut up, Robbie.” But Kyle was playing, stuck out his tongue.
“You’re fine and I ain’t even had one, so you’re in good hands.” He wrapped one arm around his own dancer. “C’mon.”
Kyle pressed close and let him lead the way out of the bar. His lover might be a flirt, but they were leaving no doubt for anyone looking on who Kyle was going home with.
“Glad you texted me. I was headed to the apartment, but I hadn’t made it.”
“It’s been a long day. I know you’re crazy busy right now, but I needed to see you. I’m really… I don’t know. I’m not looking for an all-nighter, I just wanted you with me.”
“I’m here, cher. All yours.” He had this, no worries.
Kyle got them a cab and was pretty quiet until they got home. “The show was rough tonight. We had some tech problems, and the energy was off. I’m not sure what was up.”
“That sucks. What do you do? Jus’ let it work itself out?” They started with their shoes, leaving them at the door, and then he put his cap on the hook. The hat tree by the door was new since Norv and Ryder visited.
“At first. I’ll start Tuesday’s show with a pep talk, and if we’re still off that night, then we’ll do some pickup rehearsals and figure out what we’re running up against.” Kyle threaded their fingers together and left the house dark, leading him up the staircase by the light from the street. “Most of the numbers are fine. It was more the energy thing. I reminded everyone tonight to get a good night’s sleep. Sometimes that’s all it takes.”
“Sometimes.” He burned for one of those, a long night of dreams. “I’m sorry, cher.”
He imagined Norv’s pep talk and coughed out a laugh. Yeah, no.
Kyle stopped at the top of the stairs and kissed him. “Thank you. I don’t know how to explain to you how it makes me feel that you care about this. It’s not even whether or not you get it, just that you understand what it means to me.”
He wasn’t even sure what that meant, but he was pleased that he was helping and not hurting. Sometimes that was all a man could do.
He let Kyle pull him into the bedroom, the neatly made bed and fluffy pillows calling to him like a siren. Like a muse. Come to me. Kyle gave him another quick smooch, then started puttering around the room undressing and turning down the sheets.
“We’ll get a little rest, and then tomorrow we’ll work for a while at the theater. Tomorrow will be a better day. Do your hands hurt, baby? Do you want me to rub them some more?”
He didn’t even have the words to answer. His fingertips had blisters so deep under his calluses that he didn’t think they could be fixed. It was okay. He got it. He stripped himself down and went to the bathroom to wash up real quick.
Kyle was sitting on the bed when he got back from the bathroom, and he felt his lover’s eyes on him. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Just tired, you know?” He’d been working on no sleep. He just needed to lay his burdens down for a second.
“Come on, baby.” Kyle’s arms opened, calling to him. “Come rest.”
For a weird, awful second he thought he was going to cry, but he didn’t, and that was okay.
Kyle hunkered down with him in soft pillows and under that fat, fluffy comforter and pulled him close. “Oh, you are just what I needed tonight. Thank you.”
“Merci, cher.” He knew all about need. All about. He laid his head down, the blackness sucking him in.