A Kind of Truth (3 page)

As the date neared, I felt a growing concern about Terry’s ability to handle the band’s original material. He was a decent cover guitarist, but I didn’t want to do all covers. We didn’t aspire to be a wedding or bar mitzvah band. I did my best to curb my impatience with his slow learning curve, but it wasn’t easy. I griped to Will and even jokingly offered to pay to have him give Terry a lesson or two. Will chuckled and shook his head as he ran his fingers lovingly over his guitar strings.

“Terry’s pride wouldn’t let him take a lesson from someone like me.”

I slapped my hands over my own strings, abruptly stopping all sound. Will cocked his head curiously at the jarring noise and stilled his fingers. “What do you mean, ‘someone like you’?”

He sniffed and shrugged nonchalantly. “Really? In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not exactly a rock-and-roll type.”

“What type are you?” I huffed in amusement.

I watched Will carefully. I’d only known him a couple weeks now, but there was something very fraternal about playing music. It was a soulful endeavor that gave you the feeling you were connecting on a different plane. Maybe it was one-sided. The truth was, I still didn’t know much about Will other than he seemed to spend a lot of time at the Performing Arts Center or in the theater district at his internship. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but every time I asked a simple personal question, he would distract me with a song, and before I knew it, I was lost in the music again.

He adjusted his glasses and rolled his eyes. “I’m a band geek.”

“Gotcha. A total nerd, eh?”

“Yep.” He grinned sweetly.

I laughed, realizing this teasing banter was a sign of a gentle thaw. For the first time since our initial lesson a couple weeks ago, Will was actively joking with me rather than looking at me with mild distrust. As long as we were playing, he was fine, but actual conversation seemed to make him uncomfortable. Unless it was about music.

“Were you in the high school band?”

“Yeah. I played the drums,” he said, adjusting his glasses again.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“You play the drums too?”

“Yes.” He shrugged and turned his attention back to his guitar. “You need to build your chords from the bottom up. If you….”

And that was evidently the end of personal-share time. His intent expression and the determined set of his shoulders acted like a reinforced barrier behind the acoustic guitar he held. I noted the way the light hit his brown hair, sending golden highlights across his forehead and—I reached out unconsciously and brushed at a smudge on his temple.

“What are you doing?” He jolted backward in his chair.

“Hey, relax. You have something on your face. It looks… sparkly. Like glitter.”

The skin beneath my fingers instantly turned a bright shade of scarlet. I glanced at my thumb and then at the shocked man cowering away from me in confusion. So what if it was glitter? Why was he so freaked out?

“Uh… thanks.” He swallowed hard, then sat back in his chair before clearing his throat noisily. “When you build from the bott—”

“Hey.” I gently rubbed his chin. A soft touch only meant to get his attention. He gulped again and bit his lip. The gesture went inexplicably straight to my dick. I refocused, waiting until he looked me in the eye before pulling my hand away. “I like glitter. And geeks are cool too.”

Will’s answering smile was breathtaking. The sun seemed to break through a thick cloud and bathe the room in brilliant golden light. My face felt suddenly warm. I wondered belatedly if I was actually blushing.

“Um, so the chords….”

“Right. Chords.” I offered a lopsided grin and bent my head in concentration. What the hell was wrong with me?

A FEW
hours later, I was still trying to figure it out. I couldn’t stop thinking about Will. Weird things. His hair looked longer today. Kind of messy. I liked it. And those golden highlights I noticed. Were they always there? They made his brown eyes take on a hazel tone with flecks of green and gold and—

“Earth to Rand. Hello. Anybody home?”

I stared straight ahead as though lost in thought, waiting for Tim to move in a little closer and do that wavy thing in front of my face again.
Bam!
I smacked his hand down flat against the table. Hard.

“Fuck, that hurt!” Tim glowered at me as he flexed his fingers dramatically.

I grinned wickedly and picked up my beer while Cory cackled across the table and Terry looked on in bemusement. It was like Lucy snatching the football from Charlie Brown at the very last second just as he was about to kick the shit out of it. Again. Same result, a different day. Tim was a little slow. And pissed off now. I mussed his hair good-naturedly and raised my bottle in a mock toast.

“Sorry.”

“Hmph.”

We were tucked into a corner table at Mickey’s, a tiny Irish pub down the street from the studio on Essex. It had become a favorite place to congregate because it was a no-frills, inexpensive meal in a town that charged three times as much depending on location. Supposedly it was a gangster hangout in the 1930s. I glanced up at the low tin ceiling and old-fashioned brass chandeliers over the bar. Yeah, I could definitely imagine guys with fedoras, slick suits, and shiny shoes hunkered over one of these worn wooden tables plotting murder and mayhem. Modern patrons were more likely to carry backpacks and wear ripped jeans and beanies. Like me. I snagged my hat from my head and stuffed it in my pocket, shaking the lingering numbness from my fingertips. Between my lesson with Will and regular practice with the band, my fingers were aching. It had been a longass day. I should have been exhausted, but I was bubbling with excess energy.

I glanced up at the waitress delivering our order and greeted her with an over-the-top welcome. I was starving. She laughed at my effusive thanks and lingered a little longer than necessary to make sure we were “satisfied.” Cory chuckled softly as he cut his burger neatly in half.

“What’s so funny?” I asked around a mouthful of french fries.

“You. You’re a charming fucker, Rand. You could sell ice to an Eskimo.”

I grinned in response before picking up my giant cheeseburger. “She’s cute, but she’s wearing a big ol’ ring on her left hand. No thanks. Let’s go out tonight and check out the clubs.”

“Can’t. I got a date later.”

“Later? It’s….” I checked my phone for the time. “Nine. Where ya going?”

“Out with Holly.”

“Oohh.” Tim and I threw fries at him and whooped like a couple of morons. Terry grinned but didn’t join in.

Times like this I really missed Seth. I knew he was happy with his man in DC and band life wasn’t for him in the long run, but he was one of us. He knew our stupid jokes and would jump in to razz without hesitation. Maybe I wasn’t being fair to Terry. I knew I had to be patient and give the guy a chance. It was harder than it should have been, which was strange. Physically he fit in with the band. He had shaggy brown hair, a scruffy beard, and usually wore old college T-shirts with Doc Martens and jeans. And he was a decent guitarist. Maybe spending time with a phenomenal one was making me realize it wasn’t smart to settle for second best. If there was any way Will would join—

Whoa. I had to stop thinking about the guy. I was bordering on obsessive.

“We lost him again,” Tim grumbled. “Are you writing a song in your head?”

I gave him a halfhearted smirk as I reached for my beer.

“Tell us about Holly. Hey, you know her, right, Terry?” I asked in an effort to move attention away from myself.

“Yeah. We had a couple classes together last year. One of them was with William, the geek with the glasses. He’s the one who gave you my name.”

I clenched my jaw and willed myself to behave. I tried counting to ten but only made it to five before I let him have it. “Hmm… you mean the incredibly gifted musician who turned down the job first. That guy?”

Terry tilted his head and squinted at me as though he couldn’t tell if I was playing with him or just being a dick. Tim and Cory knew. They both started talking at the same time while I stared at Terry with an insipid smile. Geez, I was an asshole. I allowed Cory to redirect the conversation and let the wave of protectiveness subside before I attempted to rejoin. They were talking about the bar where Cory was meeting Holly in SoHo. I took a long drink and turned to Tim.

“We should probably make sure he gets there safe and sound. What d’ya say?”

Tim chuckled. “Oh yeah. This is a tough town. We’ll take care of you, Cor. Wanna come along, Terry?”

“Uh… I can’t. I’m—”

“No one’s going anywhere with me.” Cory glowered across the table. “Assholes.”

We laughed a little longer than necessary. They were all probably happy to move past a potentially caustic scene, while I was frankly wondering what my problem was. Will
was
a geek. He’d say so himself. Why was I making life difficult with someone I was poised to possibly spend a lot more time with in the future than my guitar teacher?

Tim wanted to know the same thing. We tortured Cory by taking the subway with him as far as Broadway. His look of relief when we didn’t exit at the same time was comical. I tried to ask Tim what our plan was, but I could hardly get a word in edgewise. He was too busy giving me an earful about being a team player and suppressing my inclination to say exactly what was on my mind. He assured me my occasional silence was preferable. I pulled my scarf a little higher on my neck and let him talk ’til he ran out of steam. Which I hoped would be soon.

“What is your problem with him, anyway? He’s nice enough.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Are you done, Mom? I left him alone. I promise to be sweet to the little fella from now on. Better?”

I glanced out the window as the subway approached the next station. I stared at the young couple with matching nose rings exiting the train and idly wondered if they’d ever gotten stuck when they kissed. My attention was diverted by a flash of blue sequins a moment later. I looked up in time to see a tall woman in a long black coat and impossibly high heels move past me. Tim noticed my wandering gaze and snorted.

“Maybe you just need to get laid.”

“That’s always a decent solution. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, answer my question. What’s the deal with Terry?”

“There is no deal! He rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know why. It pissed me off that he had the gall to say anything crappy about the guy who ultimately gave him a shot.”

Tim shook his head in exasperation. “Gave him a shot at what? We’re nobodies, Rand! Your ego is insane. He didn’t say anything wrong, and you know it. Stop picking fights.”

“Okay.”

He cocked his head warily and elbowed my side. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I repeated with a grin. I threw my arm over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. Sloppy and wet. He batted me away and gave me a dirty look. “I promise to be nice. I’ll try anyway.”

“Please do. And back the fuck off. People are gonna think we’re a couple.”

I snickered and perused the sparse subway crowd with wide eyes. “God, that would be awful.”

“It would be for me. Check out the hot guy in the Yankee cap to your left. Don’t look at him, moron,” he hissed when I turned.

I rolled my eyes and clandestinely turned in my seat to catch a glimpse of said hottie. The man in question stood a few feet away from us, leaning on one of the poles near the exit next to the woman in heels. Her gaze was focused on her cell, but I could tell even from my angle that she was pretty. Short blonde, spiky hair, long eyelashes, and red lipstick. I turned back to Tim, indicating with a subtle hand movement he should check her out. He shrugged.

“I can’t really see her. The guy’s hot, though. He looks Puerto Rican or—”

“You’re cheating. I thought we agreed when we came to New York that you and I would keep our bi sides on the DL, Timmy.”

“Looking isn’t cheating. Besides, let’s be honest, I’m the drummer. No one cares who I fuck. And until we have a recording contract, I think you’re safe too. So… who would you choose? The Latin cutie or the blonde with the—oh. Never mind. She’s a he.”

“Huh?”

Tim yanked on my sleeve before I could turn. “Don’t stare. The pretty girl is a pretty boy, that’s all.”

“No way.” I turned to shamelessly gawk at the statuesque beauty. Tim was right. I was stunned, not because I was wrong but because there was something familiar about the man in drag, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe his profile or his—

“Quit staring!”

I nudged him hard and turned to give him a dirty look when he retaliated. The train was pulling into the next stop, and evidently, it was a popular one. Three or four people walked in front of us on their way to the exit. I stood in frustration and craned my neck to catch another glimpse of the drag queen, who’d moved toward the door.

“This isn’t our stop.”

“He looks like someone….” The crowd parted for a brief moment before converging again. I saw him clearly in that second but still couldn’t place him. Until he bit his bottom lip.

I froze. It was Will.

Or was it? I couldn’t tell for sure. I started to move toward the now-open door, but Tim pulled me back.

“It’s not our exit. Oh wait. Maybe it is. I think we change trains here.”

I listened to my friend’s commentary about taking the F to some other letter in the alphabet, but my focus was now on getting the hell out. I didn’t care about whatever club he wanted to go to in Chelsea. Could that really be Will?

I elbowed my way off the subway and stood on the platform, trying to get my bearings. But there was no sign of the man in a long black coat and heels. I swiped my hand over my chin in frustration. I was an idiot. That guy couldn’t be Will. Will was a serious musician with big goals. He wasn’t a cross-dresser. Not that he couldn’t be both, of course. But I just couldn’t see it. My overactive imagination had probably conjured him. I was obviously spending way too much time thinking about my guitar tutor. I just couldn’t figure out why.