having money ready for her. Rick bit back his smile when the other man launched into a flattering assessment of her ensemble, finishing with a casual wave at Rick and the comment, “Not that the Neanderthal ever notices. You’d be better off wearing a cowbell and sparklers in your ass before he’d pay any attention.”
62
WHAT WE MAY BE
She brayed good-naturedly, but only cast one more sideways glance at Rick before heading off to another table.
He watched her leave in amazement, then shook his head.
“How did you know she wasn’t going to spill your drink down your front and make a stink about the queers in the corner?” he asked.
Jared took a sip of his beer. “I didn’t. Well, I didn’t think she would, but I knew that was a possibility. She acted like the kind of girl who could take a joke.”
“Good for us.”
“Good for you. You don’t have to worry about her hitting on you anymore.”
A fact for which Rick was grateful. Leaning closer, he said in Jared’s ear, “I’ll make it up to you later. All you have to do is name the place and position.”
Jared’s sharp intake of breath made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You couldn’t have said this after the band plays?” His voice was just as low and intimate, though the angle of their heads made it look like they were just buddies sharing a private comment rather than lovers. “Now I’m going to sit here hard as a rock for the rest of the night.”
Rick smiled and sat back in his chair, letting his legs stretch out beneath the small table. It took the strain off his own erection, though thankfully it was well-hidden by his shirt hanging outside his belt. “My diabolical plan has worked then.”
Rolling his eyes, Jared took a long swig of his beer.
“You’re the least diabolical person I’ve ever met. That’s why I 63
WHAT WE MAY BE
like you.”
The band coming out on the stage stopped Rick from replying, and he shifted his focus as the lights in the bar dimmed slightly to accommodate the musicians. He could think of a dozen reasons why he liked Jared so much, not the least of which was the way he always said what was exactly on his mind, even if it meant jumping to the wrong conclusion.
He had these ideas about Rick, mostly because they didn’t know each other well enough yet, but he wasn’t afraid to say them. That took guts. Courage. Rick respected that.
Tyson caught his eye and smiled. He was actually looking good, Rick thought. His new drug protocol was working wonders, giving him strength he hadn’t had in months. He was still far too thin, and his color wasn’t anywhere near normal, but when he’d said he was going to play this gig, Rick wasn’t going to advise him not to. Before he’d been diagnosed, Tyson had lived for his music. Rick wanted him to have it back. At least for a little while.
Beneath the table, Jared’s foot nudged his. Rick glanced over in time for the lights to go completely down, and then it was Jared’s hand covering his, as well. Jared smiled, like a shot of adrenaline to Rick’s heart, and nodded toward the stage. Rick settled back in his chair with a matching grin.
The music was loud, the bass line hard, and the singer not entirely sober, but Rick couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun listening to a band. Jared never let his hand go, and the heat rose between them, a reminder of the attraction that had assaulted him since first spying Jared half-64
WHAT WE MAY BE
soaked with Mr. Jansen’s fruity drink. Rick started tapping out the beat of the music on the side of Jared’s hand, and it throbbed through his veins like hundred proof bourbon. Before the third song was done, he vowed to buy every CD Tyson’s band had. This was a night he wanted to remember.
During the set break, Tyson didn’t go backstage with the rest of the band. He propped his guitar on its stand and strolled straight for Rick’s table. Rick was on his feet before Tyson’s boots hit
62
WHAT WE MAY BE
She brayed good-naturedly, but only cast one more sideways glance at Rick before heading off to another table.
He watched her leave in amazement, then shook his head.
“How did you know she wasn’t going to spill your drink down your front and make a stink about the queers in the corner?” he asked.
Jared took a sip of his beer. “I didn’t. Well, I didn’t think she would, but I knew that was a possibility. She acted like the kind of girl who could take a joke.”
“Good for us.”
“Good for you. You don’t have to worry about her hitting on you anymore.”
A fact for which Rick was grateful. Leaning closer, he said in Jared’s ear, “I’ll make it up to you later. All you have to do is name the place and position.”
Jared’s sharp intake of breath made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You couldn’t have said this after the band plays?” His voice was just as low and intimate, though the angle of their heads made it look like they were just buddies sharing a private comment rather than lovers. “Now I’m going to sit here hard as a rock for the rest of the night.”
Rick smiled and sat back in his chair, letting his legs stretch out beneath the small table. It took the strain off his own erection, though thankfully it was well-hidden by his shirt hanging outside his belt. “My diabolical plan has worked then.”
Rolling his eyes, Jared took a long swig of his beer.
“You’re the least diabolical person I’ve ever met. That’s why I 63
WHAT WE MAY BE
like you.”
The band coming out on the stage stopped Rick from replying, and he shifted his focus as the lights in the bar dimmed slightly to accommodate the musicians. He could think of a dozen reasons why he liked Jared so much, not the least of which was the way he always said what was exactly on his mind, even if it meant jumping to the wrong conclusion.
He had these ideas about Rick, mostly because they didn’t know each other well enough yet, but he wasn’t afraid to say them. That took guts. Courage. Rick respected that.
Tyson caught his eye and smiled. He was actually looking good, Rick thought. His new drug protocol was working wonders, giving him strength he hadn’t had in months. He was still far too thin, and his color wasn’t anywhere near normal, but when he’d said he was going to play this gig, Rick wasn’t going to advise him not to. Before he’d been diagnosed, Tyson had lived for his music. Rick wanted him to have it back. At least for a little while.
Beneath the table, Jared’s foot nudged his. Rick glanced over in time for the lights to go completely down, and then it was Jared’s hand covering his, as well. Jared smiled, like a shot of adrenaline to Rick’s heart, and nodded toward the stage. Rick settled back in his chair with a matching grin.
The music was loud, the bass line hard, and the singer not entirely sober, but Rick couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun listening to a band. Jared never let his hand go, and the heat rose between them, a reminder of the attraction that had assaulted him since first spying Jared half-64
WHAT WE MAY BE
soaked with Mr. Jansen’s fruity drink. Rick started tapping out the beat of the music on the side of Jared’s hand, and it throbbed through his veins like hundred proof bourbon. Before the third song was done, he vowed to buy every CD Tyson’s band had. This was a night he wanted to remember.
During the set break, Tyson didn’t go backstage with the rest of the band. He propped his guitar on its stand and strolled straight for Rick’s table. Rick was on his feet before Tyson’s boots hit
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