Page 5 of His Surrender
Because yeah, he was definitely my type.
“So, it’s a bass clarinet?” I took another drink of my beer and muddled the thought around. “Is that what Kenny-what’s-his-face plays?”
“Nope. And you call yourself a music lover. Such a disgrace, Uncle Jay.” Foster giggled and hung his head. “I wish I could practice it after school. Maybe then I’d get better.”
“I’ll see about getting you one,” Ivan said, dumping a box of noodles into the pot. Then he took the hamburger meat from the fridge and dropped it onto a skillet. Hamburger mac and cheese. One of the only things my brother knew how to cook.
“You don’t have to,” Foster said, messing with the rubber bracelet on his arm that saidPlus Ultraon it. “I’m fine using the one from the school.”
“Hey, I don’t mind buying one for you,” I said, glancing from him to Ivan.
My brother was low on funds after the move from North Carolina. He had a thing aboutnot taking handouts,though, so I had to be strategic in how I helped him. Sometimes I bought a large amount of groceries and came over to cook dinner, and then just told them to keep what we didn’t use.
Ivan eyed me a moment before looking at the meat in the skillet. “That’s nice of you to offer, Jay, but I got it covered.”
Damn you and your pride, you stubborn ass.I had more than enough money to help.
“Mom and Dad should be over soon,” Ivan said, changing the subject. “I told them you were stopping by and they wanted to make a family thing out of it. You know how Mom is.”
I smiled. “I might give you crap, little bro, but I’m glad you two are here. It sucked having you so far away.”
We’d both grown up in Fort Smith but had moved away once we’d graduated—Ivan with joining the military and me with college, then law school. I’d made the decision to move back years ago when a better job opportunity arose. It was nice to have everyone back together again.
Mom loved it too.Her beautiful boysshe called us.
After a day with my family, I returned home that night to an empty house. Well, emptyof humans. My cat, Sputnik, waddled over to me—he wasn’t much of a runner—and rubbed against my leg, his rumbling purrs making me smile.
“Hey, you spoiled thing,” I said, kneeling to scratch behind his ears. “Let’s get you some food, yeah?”
I picked him up and carried him with me to the kitchen, setting him in the floor while I prepared his food. He had a lot of allergies and had to eat a certain type of food, so I had to be really careful in what I let him have.
“There you go.” I ran my hand down his back as he started eating. My chubby orange Persian. The only man to touch my heart in years.
I then walked to my bedroom, stripping as I went. The loneliness didn’t bother me like it did for some people. Partly because I knew I could have a guy over and in my bed in ten minutes if I wanted. I was alone by choice.
My home wasmyspace, and very few guys ever got the honor of seeing it. I hooked up in hotel rooms or at the other guy’s place, keeping emotions and all that shit out of it. It was how I liked things.
Kept me from getting attached.
Chapter 2
Remi
George Gershwin once said, “Life is a lot like jazz. It’s best when you improvise.”
I lived by those words. Life was reflected in my music, as was my music in my life. They went hand in hand.
“Good!” I told my class as they played the National Anthem that afternoon. The band played at pep rallies and football games, so it was a required song to know.
The instruments blended beautifully: trumpets, flutes, clarinets, percussion, and the tubas. There was only one student having difficulty. Foster Foley. He sat at the end of the row, his brow furrowed as he looked over the sheet music, awkwardly holding his bass clarinet. He’d transferred to our school last semester. I’d taught him the basics of reading music, and he’d caught on fairly quick. However, knowing and doing were vastly different.
With a little time and practice, I knew he’d get the hang of it. He had a passion for it; I could tell. What he lacked most was confidence.
“Awesome job, guys,” I said, once they’d ended the song. “So, we’re a week into the semester, and I’ve been tossing around ideas for what to do for the spring concert this April. But I want to hear some of your ideas.”
“Oh!” Lacey exclaimed. She played lead flute and was a senior in the class. “What about Andrew Lloyd Webber? We could do aPhantom of the Operapiece.”
“I’m down for that,” Dillon said. He played the tuba and was always cracking everyone up. He could be serious when he wanted to be though. “OrStar Wars. That’d be freakin’ epic.”
