Syncopation Read online

  Colt’s face when he’d told him had been… fuck. He didn’t regret his decision, but he regretted having to make it. No, he wasn’t going out. He needed to go home. He needed to be sober. He needed to call Colt.

  He tried to text in the car on the way but deleted every single one without sending it. He went inside and showered, trying to figure out what to say. None of that did him one bit of good either, so he finally picked up his phone to make the call. He dialed, hoping to hell something came to him before Colt answered.

  If he answered.

  “Hey, cher. How you be?”

  He couldn’t hear anything from where Colt was. Nothing at all. “I’ve had better days. Where are you?”

  “Here at Timmy’s. I jus’ got off work.”

  “How… uh. How’d it go? Did you get something good down?” Are you okay? Do you hate me? Do you want to come over?

  “Ain’t nobody complained tonight, so I must have done okay. Norv and Ryder said to tell you goodbye. They went on home.”

  “They did? You didn’t tell me they were leaving.” He didn’t know whether that would have changed anything, but he wished he’d known. “Where are they headed?”

  Small-talking around everything, searching for normal, wasn’t working for him.

  “Home, I reckon. They just decided to go. It was time. Norv don’t do chilly weather.” Colt chuckled softly. “He’ll holler when he figures out what all we did that might sell.”

  “Do you want to come over?”

  There. If Colt turned him down, at least he could say he tried.

  There was a long pause, then, “Sure, cher. Give me a bit to get over there. I’ll text when I get close, ’kay?”

  “Yeah. Good. Okay. I’ll be waiting.” Happily. So much better than this awkward phone call. He needed to look at those eyes.

  He let Colt hang up first, then pulled on a pair of PJ bottoms and headed down to the kitchen to wait. God, he was terrible at waiting. He pulled out a couple of wineglasses and poured himself half a glass.

  It took a while for the text to come, but it did, and soon Colt tapped on the door. Colt stood there in a dark hoodie and a pair of worn jeans. “Evenin’, cher. How goes?”

  “I’m….” He just couldn’t play along. He sighed and shook his head. “You look so tired, baby.”

  “Been working some hours. You gon’ let me in, or we gon’ visit on your porch?” Colt smiled for him, the look quiet, not quite right.

  “Oh. What am I thinking? Come in. Sorry. You want some wine?” He stepped out of Colt’s way and let him in, heading for the kitchen. He wanted a kiss. He wanted to put his arms around Colt and make this okay.

  “Sure.” Colt took his shoes off, hung his hoodie by the door, the sounds normal, easy. “You have a decent show?”

  “It was good. We’re in a nice rhythm now. It feels great.” He poured a glass of wine for Colt and refilled his. “Are you hungry for anything?”

  He found himself second-guessing everything he did. Would he normally have kissed Colt by now? Should he? Was he asking the right questions? This was torture. What was the matter with him?

  “I ain’t, no. I had pizza for supper.” Colt sat, watching him. “Sit, cher. You as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs. I ain’t gon’ bite.”

  “I am a little.” He set Colt’s wine down and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’m glad you’re here. Do you have to be somewhere in the morning? I listened to your tracks today. They’re wonderful. Perfect. You didn’t name them, you know. You should. I spent a bunch of time with the first one, the really upbeat one? I thought you might be interested in seeing what I’ve got so far.”

  That was good, right? Make sure Colt knew he liked them. They were everything he’d asked for. Both of them.

  Colt shrugged and took his hand, tracing his fingers. “They ain’t got names, so call them what you will, and I’m working from noon to ten tomorrow, but I know you’re up and out before that.”

  That felt good, more real than anything else between them right now. The touch continued, even if the words didn’t. Colt seemed willing to just sit there with him.

  He lifted Colt’s hand and kissed every one of the callused fingers. “Maybe another time, then. I want you to get some rest, baby. Let’s take our wine up and turn in.”

  “Sounds good.” Colt stood and helped him up, then led him to the bedroom.

  So Colt was there, but he wasn’t… Colt. The look in his eyes wasn’t his Colt. His energy wasn’t right. He was making the right moves, seemed fine about being there, but he was unmistakably different.

  Once they were through the bedroom door, Kyle tugged Colt close and kissed him, trying to remind him what he meant, how important he still was.

  How much he still wanted this.

  Colt opened for him, hands warm and solid on his hips, holding him carefully, thumbs drawing lazy circles. He tested a little, not sure which Colt wanted more. Sleep, or… this. Him. He ran his hands under Colt’s shirt and up his chest.

  “Come to bed, hmm? I’ll love on you.” Colt let Kyle pull his shirt up and off.

  He smiled and relaxed a little. That was good, right? They’d figure this out. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He slid fingers under Colt’s waistband and gave his jeans a tug, then slipped out of his PJs and climbed into bed.

  Colt stripped the rest of the way down, slid in next to him, warm and close, lips hot on his throat.

  “Mmm. That’s nice, baby.” He ran his hands over Colt’s warm skin and let himself smile, arching his neck for Colt. This was always right between them, wasn’t it? Good days, bad days, it was always magic when they were together like this.

  “I got you.” Colt petted him, stroking him in long, slow motions that aroused and soothed all at once.

  He pulled Colt into another kiss. Their tongues tangled, Colt touched him just right, and what could have been a slow burn instead sent Kyle up in flames.

  Colt grabbed their cocks, holding them in one perfectly callused hand, finding a rhythm and tugging them, nice and steady.

  Jesus, those hands. “Yes.” He licked across the line of Colt’s jaw, listening to the breath between them grow heavy. He found one of Colt’s nipples with his fingers, rolling and tugging on it.

  Colt bent his head, resting his forehead on Kyle’s shoulder, panting hard as they rubbed together.

  “Does that feel good? Is that what you want? God.” He fed Colt encouraging words and moans, and tucked a hand behind Colt’s neck, his own breath growing shallow. “You like that? Yeah?”

  “C’est bon, cher. I got you.” Colt arched, teeth teasing the curve of his throat, fingers dancing over his ink, tracing the patterns.

  He dropped his hand down between them and curled his fingers around Colt’s, adding a little more pressure and shifting their angle just… so. He gasped. “Yeah, baby. Right there.” His eyes slammed shut, and he arched his head back, balls drawing up tight. “Fuck.”

  “Mmm….” Colt rolled his free hand over the tips of their cocks, making the world go bright white as the friction sent him over the edge.

  “Colt!” He grunted and rode it out, enjoying the high for a moment, loving the feel of those fingers scraping over his skin. But as soon as he could pull his mind back together, he pushed Colt’s hand out of the way, slid down on the bed, and took hold of his lover’s cock himself, closing his mouth around the ruddy head.

  Colt groaned, the sound deep and raw, rough as hell and wonderful, musical.

  He moaned around that thick erection and took it in deep, letting Colt rub and grind against the roof of his mouth.

  “Fuck! Cher!” Colt curled around his head, humping a few desperate times before spunk filled his mouth, the bitter and salt so Colt it made him groan.

  “Mmm.” He took his time releasing Colt, teasing him gently with teeth and tongue as he slowly climbed back up into the pillows. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love doing that for you. You’re so free.”
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br />   “Feels like heaven, cher. Thank you.” Colt curled in close to him, cheek on his chest.

  He tucked an arm around Colt’s back and kissed his lover on the forehead. He was tired too, now. Colt had to be just wiped out. But it felt so good to hold Colt close. “Thank you. You have magic hands.”

  “We got this. Rest, cher. Morning will come soon.”

  He intended to. He thought maybe he might even sleep well. But he waited for Colt to fall asleep first.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “YOU WANT to order a pizza, Colt?” Timmy was surrounded in a cloud of green smoke as he came out from his shower.

  “Sure, boo. What kind you want?” He had about two hours before Kyle texted, wanting him to come over. They’d found a rhythm over the last few weeks, him and Kyle. He worked from noon to ten or so, he showed up at Kyle’s a little after midnight, and then he got up with Kyle and headed out around seven to go home and write before he went back to play. Sometimes he goofed off, sometimes he headed down and played for tips because it made him feel alive.

  “Something with mushrooms. And whatever else you want. I have a craving for mushrooms. And maybe a beer.” Timmy stuck his arm out, offering the joint between his fingers.

  He shook his head. He didn’t need to fall asleep now. “You got it.” Sausage, onions, and mushrooms it was. He called and ordered, then plopped down next to Timmy. “You get your vacation planned out? You going to Hawaii?” The studio was basically closed between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, most folks taking time at the holidays for family. Timmy said he always went away for that month.

  “Nope. We talked about that, but we’ve done Oahu a bunch of times, and the guys wanted to do something different. My buddy got us a sweet place in Puerto Escondido. Big surf, awesome beach. It’s gonna be off the Richter. Probably work up a sweat too.”

  “Good deal. I’m gon’ eat turkey with Kyle for Thanksgiving and then go to Texas.” Norv and Ryder wanted him there, and there wasn’t work for him here. Not only that, but he did love him some Christmas carols, so they’d all play together, make some music. He could be back here at Timmy’s in time for Christmas proper to cook Kyle supper.

  Lord have mercy, he was going to have to figure what to get a man who had anything he could want. Maybe he’d find something in Texas. “What you want for Christmas?”

  “Company.” He looked over at Colt and grinned. “Company would be pretty boss. Also, candy canes. You?”

  “I got all I need. Maybe I’ll get some gloves down in Texas.” It would be colder here than there.

  “Gloves are a good idea. A scarf. Maybe some warm boots.” Timmy nodded. “Your buddies are putting you up? Is it all vacation, or are you gonna record?”

  “We’ll record a lot.” What was he if he wasn’t playing? Nothing at all. “And we’ll just fuck off and jam. It’s Austin, you know? There’s music everywhere, and there’s always somewhere to join in.”

  “Sounds like fun. I could totally get into that. Bet you’re gonna miss Kyle, though, huh?”

  “Yessir.” But he’d miss Kyle if he stayed here too. The man was booked solid, and he… well, he had lost his chance to be. At least in Texas he’d be among friends.

  “Thanksgiving will be good. Kyle throws an amazing party. That townhouse he has is built for it.” Timmy licked his fingers and put out his joint, then leaned forward and set it in an ashtray. “Are you gonna play at it? You should. His friends should hear you play.”

  “I don’t think so, no. I’m gonna just enjoy the day.” He didn’t play around Kyle no more. He didn’t know how to explain, really, so he didn’t bother. Kyle didn’t believe his gift was worth having, so Colt wasn’t going to waste it. It wasn’t no big thing. Lots of folks needed him to do what he did. Kyle needed him in the bed, needed him to talk to. Someone else could jam with him.

  Timmy had taken that on pretty good. You could look at Timmy and just see a stoner who worked at a recording studio. But kind of like Norv, kind of like a lot of artists Colt knew, if you sat with him on a couch for five minutes, you learned a lot more. Timmy got it. Maybe even better than most because he knew tons of musicians from all over. He knew how to turn a rough studio session around. He knew when to interrupt and feed people and when to step back and let the magic happen.

  So he knew what Timmy was thinking. Looked like the guy knew how to cut through bullshit too.

  “Dude. You just told me you’re going to spend your vacation playing. I don’t see you ‘enjoying the day’ without your guitar. What’s up? You and twinkle toes are the real deal, man. It’s time those dancer friends of Kyle’s got it, don’t you think?”

  He shook his head. “What I do ain’t theirs.”

  He sort of reckoned it was like lots of stuff. It was just fine to enjoy things that made up more than where you came from, but it was trashy for it to go the other way. His mamma had been that way. He’d been okay until she married money. Then he wasn’t. His music had been okay until Kyle was fixin’ to have to show it; then it had taken one late morning to be enough of an excuse. It was the way shit worked, he guessed.

  “I guess. I mean, you’re right. But don’t you ever want to show off a little? I’d love to see their faces.”

  “Oh, boo. If that was what got me what I needed, I’d be on a stage and be someone famous. I need to share my music—on a street, in a studio, with someone else having it.” He shrugged. “I got my pride, huh? At least a little of it.”

  And he knew he was cracked a little and not all the way back to healed. It wouldn’t take much to break him bad. Soon he would be back to patched, and the scar left behind would be stronger than ever, but not quite yet.

  Soon.

  “Dude. You’re gifted. Scary gifted, and you have everything to be proud of. Man, I’m proud of you. I love telling people I know this guitarist that absolutely will not let them down. I can keep you in session work forever, if it’s what you want to do. I just think you’re a lot more than that.”

  “You’re good to me, boo. Feels good to have your faith.” He didn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t tried to let Kyle down, but he had. That was that. Sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t be enough. C’est la vie.

  “Rock solid, bro. Rock solid.” Timmy clapped him on the knee as the door buzzer went off. “Ooh. Pizza’s here!”

  “I got it. You sit. We’ll feast.” He had time ’til he got called up to see Kyle. Time enough to relax and breathe easy, eat pizza and have a beer.

  Chapter Seventeen

  JUST LOOKING at the buffet table for his Thanksgiving party made Kyle happy. There was barely any food on it yet; it was just starting to come out of the kitchen, but it looked like fall—the oranges and reds and browns. The paper leaves and the tall taper candles gave off just enough “wow” without going overboard.

  It was technically a casual party, but as much as he loved to show off his ink, he got a little dressed up—slacks and a luxuriously soft button-down shirt that he actually tucked in, even a belt.

  The house smelled divine too. Colt was up early this morning, starting something amazing, and now the caterers were here too. Guests would be arriving any minute, but first he ducked into the kitchen to see how things were going and to just watch the carefully orchestrated chaos.

  “Y’all put them shrimps out with your trays, and the boudin. I’ll get on the potatoes and eggs.” Colt was in a T-shirt and jeans, his hair all pulled back, directing with a wooden spoon.

  Jesus. Colt looked every bit as appetizing as the food. The party hadn’t even started and his lover was already on the dessert menu. “There is nothing hotter than a man in the kitchen.” He moved toward Colt, smiling. “Unless the man is you.”

  “Ain’t you fine?” Colt smiled for him, warm and easy. “You excited about all your people coming to feast and give thanks?”

  “I am. I love a nice party, and this is the perfect day for one. Good food, nice wine, good company.” He hooked a finger in Colt
’s belt loop and tugged on it. “You’re working hard in here.”

  “It’s a good working, though. Careful with your pretty shirt. You don’t want it ruint.” Colt lifted his face for a kiss.

  “Mmm.” Colt’s kiss was sweet and easy as anything.

  Things seemed good between them now. Colt was over regularly, and that part of their relationship was wonderful. There was something still a little off, something he hoped they could rebuild if he could just figure out what it was. They didn’t go out a lot, and Colt hadn’t been back to see him dance, but Colt was easily as busy as he was. He was starting to think maybe he was just oversensitive. He was a dancer after all.

  Colt’s bag was in his room. His lover was flying out to Texas tomorrow for a writing vacation while he was swamped. It was going to suck, but he got it. There wasn’t any work for Colt here with Timmy heading off to the ocean, and Colt wasn’t happy unless he was… unless he was playing.

  He looked at Colt for a second, but the doorbell rang, and he didn’t have time to think too hard about that.

  “Excuse me, baby.” He smiled and gave Colt another quick kiss. “You’ll come out and play soon, yes? Everything smells so good!” He hurried over to the door and started letting people in. With a soft laugh, he thought about Norv and Ryder as he pointedly did not make anyone take off their shoes. He had the carpet cleaners coming on Monday.

  It was gorgeous, music low and easy, the bar set up and attended by a lovely man with a wide grin and a deft hand. The trays of appetizers started coming around, filled with a mixture of the expected canapes and some wonderful, spicy, rich offerings from his lover.

  He was on his second glass of wine before he really had a moment to stop and actually have a conversation. He looked up from straightening out a tray on the buffet table to find Timmy at his elbow.