Page 79 of Counterpoint
“Anyone special?”
Jackson laughed. “You know, I finally checked out that place you and everyone’s been bugging me to try a couple of weeks ago. You were right.”
“Good jazz?”
“Great jazz. And a very fine gentleman who is tired of the club scene, as well. And yes, same man from earlier, and yes, it’s serious.” Jackson’s grin was brilliant.
“How about that.” So, his best friend had finally found a guy worth seeing more than once. About time. Adrian chuckled, but it mixed with the jolt of pain in his stomach over the man he’d found. “I’m glad for you.”
“You didn’t just stop by to ask me about my hickey, Adi. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you about a band—I figure you know music better than I do.” He gestured to Jackson’s phone. It wasn’t on now, but half the time Jackson would be nodding along to some song or another. And his tastes went all across the board. Classical. R&B. Pop. Swing. Country. Rap. You named it, he’d probably listened to it—and had an opinion, one based on knowledge and taste.
Jackson swiveled in his chair. “Hit me up. Which band?”
“Twisted Wishes.”
“Oh, them. Fuck, they’re good. A little strange in places, like they can never decide if they want to be alternative or heavy metal or pop or punk, but man, really doesn’t matter.” Jackson scratched his chin, exposing more of his love bite. “They were in the news a ton recently. Sued their label to get out of their contract—and there was a whole police thing, too. Apparently their manager put the lead singer in the hospital with anaphylaxis by drugging him.”
“Holy shit.” Adrian gripped the side of the cube wall. This was in Dominic’s past?
“Anyway, they signed with a new label and are supposed to be working on a new album right here in New York. There’s been photos of them out on the town and everyone’s trying to get into the studio where they’re at.”
Adrian nodded. A new album jived with Dominic talking about practices with his band. But why the subterfuge? Why not tell Adrian about this?
“What’s your interest? I mean, they’re an extraordinarily queer band, but you don’t do rock, at least not anything from the last decade or two. You’re not gonna be hearing Twisted Wishes at the clubs.”
“Wait, what? Queer?”
Jackson stared at him, eyes a little wider. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?” Adrian might as well have asked Jackson to program in Cobalt or something—complete shock and disbelief were all over his face. Though, knowing Jack, give him a fifteen-minute primer on Cobalt, and he’d be able to program in the language. Still.
Adrian knew he was blushing. Felt the heat of it. “No. I might have heard some songs in passing if they’re that popular, but...” He leaned against the cube frame. “Do you mean queer as in...” He waved his hand between the two of them. That would also jive with Dominic.
“Yes, exactly. Their lead singer has been openly gay since day one, and he up and married their drummer. That dude’s pansexual, according to the interviews. Everyone thinks the bass player is bi, since she’s been seen with men and women. No one really knows anything about Domino, but I’m betting he’s gay, too.”
Felt like spiders were walking up his spine. “Who’s Domino?” The words were out of his mouth even as he knew the answer.
“The guitarist. He’s wicked talented—I mean, they all are, Adi—but Domino plays like he could rule the world. Dresses like he wants to give everyone the finger.”
Dominic. His lovely bookish man. Not at all the image in his mind. Though...there’d always been that spark, that steel behind the shyness and blushing. And that meshed with the cover of the magazine.
“Why’re you asking, anyway? Though, to be honest, you might like them.”
Adrian’s mind whirled, trying to slot in what he was learning with his reality. His limbs felt like lead. “I saw them on the cover of a magazine and they caught my eye.” He shook his head. “I was looking for poetry.” For Dominic. Only to find the man he knew was not the man he knew at all.
“Well, they are all beautiful people, yeah. But you ought to listen to their lyrics, given your interests. Ray Van Zeller writes some stunning words. And the music.” Jackson let out a satisfied sigh. “I like ’em.” He glanced as his smartphone. “Give ’em a shot.”
“Yeah, I might.” Adrian patted the cube wall. “Thanks.”
“Hey, no problem.”
He headed back to his own cube, dropped the bag of magazines on his desk, and sat down. Dominic had planned to come over tonight. A late dinner out, which also meant passionate sex and sleeping in with Dominic next to him—one of his very favorite things. But now? He rubbed his face as his stomach knotted. How was he going to do this?
Yes, secrets. But this—he looked at where the magazines lay in their plastic shopping bag—wasn’t a secret. Dominic was a fucking well-known, gossiped-about rock star.
The rest of the day was pretty much a wash. He struggled to get his damn code to compile until he realized William had been mucking around in his lines again. Every time that man tried to “fix” a bug, he introduced six more. And now he was creeping around in two of Adrian’s projects, one of which Adrian didn’t even want.
It was fucking hell.
