A Kind of Truth (10 page)

“I’m not lying. I’m just not telling the whole truth.” I immediately winced. “I mean I’m not telling anyone what isn’t their business in the first place.”

“Not much better, but in a weird way I get it.”

“Where does that leave us? Last night was a game changer, Will. You know who I am, and I know you’re a—”

“A freaky cross-dressing escort?”

“You’re extraordinary. You’re a beautiful man… and a sexy woman. I’m very attracted to you.” I traced a circular pattern over his knee and massaged his inner thigh. He smacked my hand and lay down beside me, propping his head on his elbow.

“Oh please! I’m ordinary—”

“I hate to break this to you, but ordinary guys don’t have lipstick of their own in their medicine cabinets. If you’re ordinary, I like ordinary. Let’s put it this way, most guys are like Velveeta. You’re like Gouda.”

“Cheese?” His eyebrows knit comically in confusion. Who could blame him? What the fuck was I talking about?

“Bad example. Can I kiss you?”

He blinked a couple times but didn’t move. I inched closer so our knees touched, then reached out slowly to run my fingers along his earlobe. When he leaned into my hand, I cupped his neck and drew him forward and felt his breath on my lips. The urge to crash my mouth over his and twine my tongue around his was powerful. I breathed in his peppermint-and-sleepy scent before licking his bottom lip and tenderly pressing my mouth to his. His low groan echoed in the cool room. I heard a noise I belatedly realized was me whimpering for more. More contact. More Will. I tilted his chin and licked at his lips again, this time requesting entrance. He obeyed wholeheartedly.

The air was thick with possibility and an almost innocent wonder I hadn’t known in years. I relished the feel of his soft lips and the enthusiastic push of his tongue. There was more need and raw desire in the kiss than skill, and somehow it made every little sigh and moan sweeter. I moved my hands through his thick hair, over his shoulders, and down his back, stopping just above the elastic waistband of his briefs. I didn’t want to ask for more than he was willing to give. But the second he hitched his weight forward on one arm and inadvertently slid his hard shaft alongside mine, I thought I might pass out. We groaned in unison as the passionate fusion of lips was accompanied with a steady thrust of hips. Even with a thin layer of cotton separating us, it felt really fucking amazing.

Will bit my lip, then kissed and licked a path along my jaw and down my neck. Our morning stubble added a sexy, abrasive element. But it was the sway of his hips that drove me insane. If I didn’t stop him now, my tenuous hold on my control would snap.

“Will, slow down, baby. We—”

“I want it to be you.”

“Huh?” I pulled back in confusion.

“My first time. I want you to be my first,” he blurted.

I was stunned into silence.

“If I go back in the closet in May, I don’t want to be a virgin. I want it to be you.”

My brows rose in surprise. “What’s happening in May that’s going to make you close the closet door?”

“I graduate.” He huffed when I gave him a blank look. “It’s too hard to go into detail, but the gist is my family would like me to keep my sexuality mum for a while.”

“Starting in May?”

“Yeah, or summertime.”

“So you want to get it on with me once or as many times as possible between now and then?”

Will chuckled. “Something like that. I don’t want to get married and start a family, but I’m… I’m attracted to you too.”

We let the silence speak when it became clear neither of us knew how to proceed. Until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled back the covers to expose myself.

“I’m naked and hard. Are we proposing action now or at a later date?” I asked in a deadpan tone.

Will chuckled softly and reached for my cock. “I’m not sure. I’ve never asked anyone to—I mean, this isn’t normal for me.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, gently stilling his hand. Not an easy feat when my body was humming with excitement at the promise of release. “But I can tell from last night you’ve had
some
experience.”

“Some, but I haven’t… you know.”

“Gone all the way?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He arched into me, purring with need when I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me, sliding my aching cock alongside his. It was so tempting to push the cotton barrier away and take what he was offering.

“So you and Marty never—”

Will sat abruptly and gave me a dirty look. “No. I told you I’ve never had sex with Martin.”

“What do you call bending over in fishnet stockings, then?”

“That wasn’t sex!”

“Sex isn’t defined only by inserting your dick in—”

“Do you have to be crude? I didn’t blow him or give him a hand job, either. The most I ever did was kiss him. That’s not sex,” he insisted.

“Kissing is fine, but baring your ass is crossing a line, babe. Acts of intimacy and sexual favors are forms of sex, just like—”

“Do
not
give me another cheese analogy. Why does it matter, anyway? We can look at it as a business arrangement of our own. We can take it slowly, see if we’re even compatible. You’re pretty irritating. This might not work, but if it does, we have until May.”

“Compatible? What does that have to do with anything? I hate to point this out, but will you really solve any problems with your parents by going back in the closet? You’re only twenty-two. Things will change. You’ll meet someone and—”

“If that happens, I’ll reconsider. I think it’s the right thing to do for now. Maybe I can repair our relationship.”

“By denying who you are? You’d be lying.”

“Like you?” He gave me a smug look that made me instantly uncomfortable. “Think about it. This is a win-win. You’d get to keep your secret and still get—”

“Your ass?” I asked, unable to keep the disapproval out of my voice. The whole thing felt wrong and yet….

“Are you turning me down?”

“Hell no!” I sat up and planted a hard kiss on his lips. “Let’s get some coffee and talk about this.”

Will pulled back in surprise. “Don’t you want to… you know.”

“Yes, I most definitely want to… you know. But not all at once. I’m setting the pace. Usually that means you better hang on to your hat and hope you land in Kansas, Dorothy. But I’m going to try to curb my impulsive nature for you. You’re far more reckless than me, and you’re grossly unprepared to deal with the real world.”

“Excuse me?” His forehead creased in disbelief.

“C’mon, Will! What do you really know about that guy? You can’t be so trusting. Married Marty could turn into Marty the Murderer. That jerk could have gotten his kicks from beating the shit out of you, then fucked you senseless and left your stupid ass in a janky hotel room in Hell’s Kitchen. Your claim to fame would have been a tiny segment on the eleven o’clock news instead of your name in lights on Broadway. Not pretty. I’m all for taking chances, but basic caution is essential to survival, babe. Especially when your street smarts are somewhat… questionable.”

“Questionable?” he huffed. “I’ve lived here longer than you. I know how to take care of myself, Rand. And I’ve known Martin for years. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Years?”

“Yes, he’s a friend of my parents,” he said, casting an irritated glance over his shoulder before heading toward the rack of clothing in the corner.

I reached for my discarded jeans as I watched him slip a plaid button-down shirt over a
Harry Potter
T-shirt, then set his glasses on his nose.

“The creep factor just went through the roof. And don’t be naïve. You don’t know shit. Good thing you met me.”

He rolled his eyes and pointed toward the jacket I’d left on the futon. “Right. Lucky me. Except your reasoning is off. How are you any more trustworthy than the average guy? How do I know you aren’t Velveeta… or worse?”

I gasped theatrically, then waited a beat before asking with mock seriousness, “What’s worse than Velveeta?”

“A cheese ball. The kind with nuts,” he answered smugly as he pulled a red beanie over his head. “Let’s get coffee. Your treat.”

I grumbled good-naturedly as I zipped the coat he was loaning me and leaned in to kiss him. “Fine, but no fucking bagels.”

I followed Will’s melodic laughter out the door, equally as aware of the dopey grin on my face as I was that my life had taken a strange but interesting turn within twelve short hours. I wasn’t sure this was a smart idea, but hey… that had never stopped me before.

BY MONDAY,
I was sure I’d imagined the entire episode with Will. It was surreal. I ran the details through my head like scenes from a memorable dream. I wanted to stay in my head, making up silly songs about a boy dressed like a girl rather than dealing with real life. Real life was too unpredictable. General consensus was our first show had been a success. Our new manager was thrilled, and the guys were still floating on a post-show high. Sure, the venue had been modest, but the audience loved us. It was good news, but it was a small step in the overall scheme of things.

I listened to Mike’s excited chatter about putting together what he called a “summertime series.” He leaned on his elbows, then shifted back again as he outlined his plans to take over the small-club circuit in Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn. Tim, Cory, and Terry wore matching grins, oohing and aahing in all the right places while I sat tapping my fingers restlessly on my thighs. I wanted to get to work. All this talk made me antsy and only served to remind me I didn’t want to play crappy clubs forever. One good show did not equal success.

“That’s awesome! What do you think, Rand?” Tim gave me a sharp look, indicating he was aware of my flagging attention.

“It’s cool, but we have a lot of work to do. The show was good, but it wasn’t perfect by any stretch. We have to practice our asses off and get technically cleaner.” I glanced at my phone distractedly. I was done here.

“What do you mean ‘technically cleaner’?” Mike asked. He was probably in his early thirties but looked ten years older. He’d gone prematurely bald and had opted to shave his head. It was a good look on some guys, but I wasn’t so sure about Mike. He was a pound or two shy of being painfully thin and had a nervous habit of bouncing or swaying in his chair like a kid on a sugar high. Whatever. His job wasn’t to look pretty and not bug me. “The audience doesn’t notice technicalities, Rand. They go to bars and clubs to get tipsy and listen to some good music. Look at this review.”

Mike pushed his iPad toward me but didn’t seem particularly bothered when I didn’t reach for it. He picked it up and cleared his throat before reading aloud.

“‘Nothing beats the winning combination of a bluesy rock-and-roll sound and a charismatic front man who oozes sex appeal. Spiral is a new band with classic style. Lead singer Rand O’Malley knows how to work a crowd. He’s got moves that rival some of rock and roll’s best, a commanding presence, and damn, can he sing!’”

“I won’t go on, but the point is they loved you guys. That one is from Leah Fletcher’s
Inked Rose Beat
blog, but there’s another from—”

“Stop feeding his ego. The guy has a big enough head as it is,” Cory scoffed good-naturedly.

I ignored Cory and gave Mike a serious look. “Look, I appreciate the positive feedback, but a couple good reviews doesn’t mean we’ve made it. The goal is bigger, better venues and a record deal. No one will take us seriously if we aim low and don’t clean up the stupid mistakes we make onstage. Shall we practice, gentlemen?”

“I’m just saying, you guys sounded pretty damn good Saturday night. I wouldn’t sweat the small stuff if I were you,” Mike said with a grin.

Talk about saying exactly the wrong thing.

“Oh boy,” Cory and Tim groaned under their breath.

Tim made a funny face, silently pleaded with me to shut up. I ignored him and stood. I shook my head in an attempt to let the first wave of irritation subside before I gave Mike a detailed list of all the things wrong with “not sweating the small stuff.” It didn’t work.

“Gee, Mikey, I think somebody better sweat the small stuff, the big stuff, and every fucking thing in between. I think when Timmy goes too hard on a medium drumbeat or Cory flubs the backup harmony on a Muddy Waters classic, somebody better notice. Or when our guitar wizard Terry has ten miscues and forgets the bridge to an original piece? Holy crap… I hope someone has the balls to say ‘That sucked, dude.’ Anyone else want that job, or is it mine? ’Cause I’m not afraid to tell it how it is. We had a good first gig in an average-size club in Lower Manhattan. But stringing together a bunch of dates to do more of the same shit isn’t how we’re gonna make it big. Don’t try to sugarcoat reality, Mike. If we’re going places, it’s because the blinders are off and we’re fixing whatever doesn’t work. You know the saying ‘No one rises to low expectations’? Mediocrity is shit in my book. We can do better.”

Tim and Cory shared a look. I’d bet their silent communication was regret they hadn’t warned Terry and Mike about me. Spiral wasn’t recreation to me. It was bigger than all of us, and the potential for greatness was out of this world. If we worked for it.

“Uh. Right. I get it. I do. I’ll get some spring dates set up and contact a couple recording execs. I still like the summer series idea, but maybe we can go a little bigger on the clubs. I’ll work it, man. No worries.” Mike stood and extended his hand toward me. I shook it with a wry grin, proud I didn’t roll my eyes. “I’ll let you guys get back to practice. See you soon.”

The room remained quiet after the door closed. I glanced around the table at my bandmates, then clapped my hands together like a schoolteacher.

“Come on, boys. Let’s do this.” I lowered my voice to sound like a concerned parent. “Or do we need to have a discussion?”

“Please no.” Cory shoved his chair back and elbowed me in the stomach as he passed. “By the way, I never mess up Muddy Waters, asshole.”

“You did Saturday night. And it wasn’t pretty.” I chuckled when he flipped me off and moved toward the door.

Terry was right behind him. “It was a good show. I may have missed a couple cues, but not ten and—”