Syncopation Read online

  “I wish you would at least dance normal ballet, Kyle. Respectable, classical ballet as you were trained.”

  “You know I don’t like that, Kyle.”

  He shook his head. “What, Mother? Holding hands with my lover?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t—”

  “Where are you from, Mr. Boudreaux? New Orleans, right? What do you want with our son?”

  “I like how he cooks, and the way he dances makes me a little stupid.” Colt squeezed his fingers. “The sex ain’t bad either, to be honest.”

  “Mmm. That’s true.” Kyle laughed and wiggled his fingers.

  “Ugh! Honestly. We were trying to be kind by coming, but there seems to have been little point.” His mother swept out of the room, indignant.

  Dad looked at him. “I don’t see what your sister sees in… you. This. What a waste of our time. And you.” His father turned that look at Colt. “Your kind has no business…. Don’t let me see you near my son again.”

  “Or what, Dad?”

  “You are this close, Kyle. Don’t tempt me.”

  He would have argued further, but his father left the room just as abruptly.

  “Huh. They ain’t real nice, cher. That’s a shame. I’m a good guy.”

  Kyle looked at Colt a little wide-eyed at first, hurt and ashamed, but Colt didn’t seem to be blaming him. He just started to laugh. “You are.”

  Colt cupped his cheek. “You were amazing. I couldn’t stop watching you. So proud.”

  “Thank you, love. It felt good. I really like knowing you’re watching. And I love my roses.” He leaned in and kissed Colt. “I’m sorry about them. I’m not the least bit proud of them, and as far as they are concerned, I’m just disappointing. I’m not sure what Katie was thinking asking them to come.” He might just call her to find out.

  “No worries. It ain’t no thing.”

  Yeah, it was a thing. It just wasn’t a thing that had anything to do with Colt.

  There was another knock at his door. He sighed. What now? He opened the door to find a handful of dancers standing there. “Coming out, Kyle? We’re headed to the Poet.”

  “Um, maybe?” He looked back at Colt, grinning. “What do you think?”

  “I think that I’m at your convenience, you beautiful son of a bitch.”

  Someone in the group hooted.

  He really couldn’t contain his smile; it felt as big as his whole face. “Well, then, we’re partying, music man.” He grabbed his jacket and Colt’s hand, and that was that.

  The Purple Poet was a favorite among this crowd. It wasn’t touristy. It was close to the theater and always full of performers, music, and lots of like-minded locals. They headed there in a group of energetic dancers and techies high on opening-night adrenaline. Colt was right there, hand in his, thumb rubbing circles around and around. It made him tingle, made things just that much better.

  They’d make this work. Colt might have to travel, and he could too at some point, but that was the life of an artist, right? It was about the work; it was who they were. Nobody else was going to understand it better.

  “This is Colt?”

  “Yep. Colt… this is Joey, Ali, Brian, and Allegra, who we call Tweak, and that’s not a drug reference. Then walking over, there is Rob, Mora, and… well, you met Danny. Jake and his stage crew are up ahead there.”

  Joey stuck his hand out. “Kyle told me all about you the other day. Nice to have a face to go with the brilliant musician reputation.”

  Colt shook, bowed dramatically. “Pleased, y’all.”

  Kyle smiled as Colt was showered with a bunch of greetings and handshakes from everyone within earshot except for Danny—the brat—then they were all hustling and jostling one another through the narrow door to the Poet.

  He pulled Colt right to the bar. “What are you drinking, baby?”

  “Beer. Y’all got an Abita or a Shiner?”

  The bartender shook his head, obviously picking up on the accent. “Nah, man. No Shiner, and not the Abita you want. I got a Big Easy IPA, same brewery; that do it for you? Or a Yuengling?”

  “Big Easy is fine. I appreciate it.” Colt nudged him, grinned slow and easy. “What you want, stud?”

  “Dry martini, Alan. Extra olives.”

  “Could set my watch by you.”

  “Throw him on my tab, okay?”

  “Done. Give me a sec.” Alan got to work.

  “Stud, huh?” He slid his fingers up the side of Colt’s neck, loving how Colt just gravitated into his hand. Always. Every time.

  “Yessir.” God, that smile was electric.

  “Big Easy and your martini.”

  “Thanks, Alan.”

  “Hey! Kyle!” Joey was waving him over.

  “My people are calling. Come on, baby.” He made a straight line for Joey and six other dancers all crowded around a table. Two more seats appeared, and he and Colt squeezed in.

  “The opening number was smooth tonight, huh?” Mora said, tapping his hand.

  “I have very few notes on anything, to be honest. Everybody did a great job. That middle section, the tempo change? I would never know how difficult that switchover is if I hadn’t choreographed it myself. You guys made it look easy. Right, Colt? That tempo change right in the middle of the first number?”

  “It looked like y’all meant it to be like it was. Just like.”

  Kyle didn’t miss the way Mora stared at Colt, and she wasn’t the only one. “Uh. Thanks,” she said and exchanged a look with Tweak.

  “Exactly,” Kyle agreed, breaking the awkward silence. “Totally smooth.”

  “What about the little jazz section in the carnival piece?” Joey asked, and about three people jumped on that one at the same time.

  Kyle reached down and took Colt’s hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

  Colt winked at him, leaned back, and drank his beer.

  LORD HAVE mercy. He listened with half an ear to the dancers chatting and gnawing on the bones of their performance. So different from a night of jamming, but what he did wasn’t so much about his body. They spent hours playing and drinking and playing and drinking.

  These folks left all themselves on the stage with sweat and blood.

  Thought about shit a lot too.

  Him, he played and hoped it worked.

  He sipped his third beer. Of course, folks here thought more than his type, he reckoned.

  His type. Shit.

  Kyle’s people had looked at him like he was a piece of dog shit, hadn’t they? Bless their hearts. He forced himself not to roll his eyes, because someone’d think it was meant for them, but damn. Uppity folks that thought their shit didn’t stink were everywhere, and, fuck, but they hated it when some poor motherfucker like him pointed out they needed some Lysol in their lives.

  Maybe shot up their asses.

  Oh, wouldn’t that be fun as all get-out?

  A can of Lysol, a lighter, and a hose.

  Sounded like a Saturday night at home, so long as there was a pig roast.

  “He’s the most talented dancer I have ever seen, you know.” The sweet little dark-haired lead dancer was suddenly standing next to him. “Your boyfriend.”

  “I do. He’s magic.” He had never doubted that, not once.

  “I’m Allison… Ali, remember? And yeah, he is.” She put a hand on his. “You look bored to tears, and who could blame you, really? This group.” She rolled her eyes. “You want another beer? I was just heading to the bar.”

  “Do I? I ain’t bored. Just listening. I’ll come with and help fetch and carry.” Dammit. He didn’t want to hurt Kyle’s feelings. He loved watching and listening; he just wished he could do it with a guitar in his hands.

  “All right. Come on, then.” Allison led him away from the group and over to the bar where she ordered a round and put it on Kyle’s tab. “How’d you two meet? I’ve only ever seen Kyle with… I mean, it’s hard to meet people who aren’t also dancers.”

  “We
got us a friend in common. My roommate. He brought us together.” He knew mostly musicians, bartenders, and cooks. He reckoned that was normal.

  “Oh, that’s cool. I keep thinking I need to fish in another pond too.” She winked at him. “So, you live up here, then?”

  “I do. I have a lot of work, and the hotel was expensive, and there wasn’t a kitchen. My roommate works at the studio. It’s all good.”

  “Nice. Too bad you don’t have your guitar. I’d love to hear you play. I have to tell you, I never would have put Kyle with a blues musician.”

  “It would have been awkward as all get-out in the theater.” Why would a blues man be weird? He was common as salt.

  “Yeah, too bad.”

  Kyle laughed loudly and bumped shoulders with one of the dancers sitting next to him.

  “He’s quite a showman, Colt. I’m impressed how you’ve got him hooked.” She smiled. “Actually, it’s impressive that I know you’ve got him hooked.”

  “I just care about him, simple as that.” Hooked, like Kyle was a gator on a line. Lord. He looked back at Kyle, smiling. His cher was way finer than anything on the end of a line.

  “It’s not as simple as that for most people. The rumors make him sound hard to love, but they’re just rumors, and with this crew it’s usually the whole pot-and-kettle story. I’m happy for you both.”

  A bunch of beers and a couple of mixed drinks landed on the bar. “You need help with these?”

  Allison shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ve got a buddy.” She scooped up what she could carry. “Can you get those? I’m sure you know who the martini is for.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Rumors? Lord have mercy. He sort of wanted to grab Kyle up and hug him and tell him he was a good guy.

  “Thank you.” Allison passed out her drinks and then took all but the martini from him.

  “Colt! Kyle says you’re going to do music for his exhibition?” Jake took his beer from Allison and set it on the table. “Thanks, Ali.”

  “Yessir.” He handed Kyle his drink. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “It’s going to be amazing.” Kyle tucked an arm around him. “Colt is so talented, you guys. I can’t wait for you to hear him play.”

  Jake grinned. “Are we going to get our usual sneak peek sometime?”

  “Oh, uh. I don’t know. We’ll have to see.” He looked at Colt, explaining. “Usually I do a sort of mini performance for the company to get some feedback on a couple of pieces, but what we’re doing might not really require feedback, you think?”

  What did he care? He got to play, one way or the other. “It’ll change every time, huh? What we do?”

  “Every time,” Kyle agreed.

  “Change every time?” Jake looked at him. “What are you doing? Like a different ending every time?”

  “Improv,” Kyle answered for him.

  “Whaaaat?” Mora shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

  Kyle looked at Colt and grinned. “Yep.”

  He winked over. Improv was his life. He just went with it. No big.

  The group hung out, talking for a little while longer, but finally started to break up with some folks going home and some just getting drunker as it got late. Kyle was on martini number one-too-many—four maybe?—when he leaned in close to Colt. “Hey there. You’re handsome. Wanna make out?” Kyle slurred and planted a kiss on Colt that tasted like vermouth.

  He chuckled softly and kissed Kyle back, keeping it light, lazy. He needed to pour them both into a cab and get them home—either to his room or Kyle’s house, he didn’t care.

  “Was your beer good? We should go to a bar that has beer you like.” Kyle started to get up and stumbled a step. “Oh. Your lover is a little drunk, baby.”

  He grabbed ahold of Kyle around the waist. “Mm-hmm. Let’s go home, cher. Maybe have a long bath together.”

  “I’m all yours. Anything you like.” Kyle leaned on him as they made their way through the bar. “You liked the show.”

  “I loved it. It was damned fine. Your place or mine?”

  “Let’s do you, hm? Way closer. And I can smooch Timmy.” Kyle looked at him wide-eyed. “Smooch hello, lover, not smooch smooch. I got you to smooch smooch.”

  “You so do.” Lord have mercy, that was cute as fuck. He got them a car and got them moving before Kyle passed out or puked. A B-12, a Tylenol, and a big glass of water was on order.

  “’M not that drunk, you know.” He let Kyle lean on him in the cab, full weight against his shoulder. “Sorry I have asshole parents. They want me to marry this girl, Danielle? She’s my mom’s friend’s daughter. I think they’re missing something kind of important about me.”

  “Is that still a thing, cher? I thought that was for princes and all.”

  Kyle started to laugh, but it wasn’t happy or amused; it was rueful and ugly. “I am a prince to them, baby. My father and mother are king and queen of denial.”

  “Well, you ain’t got to do a thing but die and pay taxes, you know?” No one could force someone to get married these days.

  “Nope. I keep wondering what they’re telling Danielle. Poor woman.” Kyle sat up. “Enough of them. Tell me you’re ready to start working on Monday.”

  “You know it. I’m yours.” He meant it. He thought they’d have a ball—moving and playing.

  “Mmm. So mine.” Kyle slid a hand up his shirt.

  “Yes. All the way.” He let himself kiss Kyle’s jaw. “All the way, cher.”

  “Are we still in this damn cab?” Kyle pouted at him and rubbed his belly. “I mean come on. Hurry it up, driver!”

  Colt chuckled softly. God, drunken Kyle was cute as fuck.

  “Jake said there were a couple of critics in the audience tonight. It was good, right? You said you thought it was better than the rehearsal you saw even, right? Those critics can be so mean. But this company is so talented, aren’t they? I mean, Ali? She’s just smooth as glass. And Danny’s a turd, but he moves like he’s not even trying. And they usually like me, so….” Kyle grinned. “You’re not talking much.”

  “I loved it. I thought it had the best hoodoo. All y’all.”

  “Is this your neighborhood? Oh, I love it. It’s so, like, real New York, you know?” He let Kyle babble while he paid the driver. “Like, real people live here, not spoiled-brat ballet dancers.”

  “You’re real, cher.” He grabbed Kyle’s hand. “Come see my room. It’s sweet.”

  He tugged Kyle into the building and up the couple of flights to his apartment, but when he unlocked the door, it wouldn’t open. Something was wedged under it.

  He grinned. Timmy was smoking.

  “Hey, dude! One second, man. Hang on. Okay. Wait, I got it.” The door opened a crack, and the second he and Kyle had squeezed through, Timmy slammed it and stuffed the towel back under the door. “Sorry about…. Hey, Kyle!”

  “Hello, Timmy, you cutie pie. You’re up to no good, hm?”

  “Oh dude. You got him drunk.”

  “He got himself drunk. I was just there to love on him and make sure he was having a good time.” He winked over, got Kyle on the sofa, and snagged Timmy’s spliff. One long drag was all he needed.

  “Finish that up, dude. There’s a clip on the coffee table if you need it.” Timmy followed them in from the kitchen with a glass of water and handed it to Colt. “I have some Tylenol. Let me grab it.”

  “I am fine, Timothy. Don’t fuss over me. It was just… um… the thing with olives. Martinis.”

  “There is B-12 too. I’ll get him one from the bedroom.” Mmm… the green made his eyes cross for half a second.

  “Oh, the two of you,” he heard Kyle say as he ducked into his room.

  “Take both of those and the whole glass of water, twinkle toes.”

  Kyle sighed loudly. “Come sit with me, Timmy.”

  “I don’t think so, pretty dancer. You’re spoken for, and I have a nice buzz on I’m going to go enjoy in my room.”

  He winked at
Timmy as they passed in the hallway. “How you doin’, boug?”

  “I had a good night, just chillin’. How was the opening? Looks like you two had some fun.”

  “It was amazing. I could watch that for a lifetime.” He’d loved all of it, except maybe meeting the folks. That had been on the suck side.

  “Yeah, he’s got a hook for sure. I’m hittin’ the hay, dude. I’ll be out of your hair. Good night.” Timmy gave him a friendly slap to the shoulder and headed off for his room.

  He wandered back to Kyle, vitamins in hand. “Take these, huh?”

  “God, what now? I don’t need more pills.” Kyle took them anyway, though, and swallowed them down with the rest of his glass of water. “Happy?” Kyle gave him a flirty smile, softening the irritable words.

  “I am.” He climbed onto Kyle’s lap. “Very. You?”

  “Understatement. Ecstatic, elated, delirious, over the moon.” Kyle kissed him. Drunk Kyle kisses were almost better than sober ones in their abandon.

  “Mmm. Like that word.” He rubbed Kyle’s temples with his thumbs and held on, the kisses dizzying.

  Kyle nipped and tugged at his bottom lip and slid eager hands up under his shirt, going right for his nipples. “You taste a little green, lover.”

  “You want a shotgun, cher?” Oh, hell yeah. He arched into the touch.

  “No, baby. Don’t you know that old rhyme? Beer then grass, on your ass!” Kyle laughed and pushed his shirt up, replacing mischievous fingers with a clever tongue.

  His eyes crossed, that deep buzz making him a little dizzy.

  “You want to show me your room, baby? I should probably shower.”

  “I do. You want company?” He could wash that long body, clean him up.

  Kyle tickled his belly. “Your company? Always, always, always.”

  “Mmm. Good. Come on.” He grabbed ahold of Kyle’s hands and hauled him up.

  Kyle was not nearly as steady as it seemed on the couch and hadn’t sobered up at all. He stumbled along, carrying a lot of Kyle’s weight down the hall and into his room. “Oh, ’s big, huh? Gorgeous tall windows.”

  “Yeah. I like it. There’s a view and a big bed and great acoustics.”

  Kyle looked at him. “That’s my blues man. I love that you just said great acoustics. I love that you notice those things.” Kyle started stripping without regard for the windows and tossing his clothing on the bed. “Hot shower time.”