the main floor, and he clapped Tyson on his bony shoulder once the man was close enough.
“You look great up there.”
Tyson grimaced in mock exaggeration. “I notice you didn’t say I sounded great. That’s not good.”
“I thought that was a given.”
Tyson’s chortle rocked his slight frame. “That’s because it’s the first time you’ve ever heard me play.” His gaze slid to Jared. “And you brought a friend.”
Rick stepped back as Jared rose to his feet. “Tyson, this is Jared. Jared, Tyson.”
The two men shook hands. An unspoken understanding passed between them, one Rick wondered if anybody else noticed.
“Your keyboardist has some serious skills,” Jared commented.
Tyson’s brows shot up. “That sounds like you play.”
“A little.” Jared winked. “Lessons from Grandma Grace.
Just enough to make me interesting, not so much to lose my precious social life.”
65
WHAT WE MAY BE
Their shared laughter filled their little corner of the bar.
Tyson waved toward the friendly waitress and pulled up a chair to their table.
“You look familiar.” Tyson squinted at Jared. “Do I know you, or do you just have one of those faces?”
“One of those faces. I used to model.”
“Really?” A quick glance at Rick. “Really?”
He knew what the subtext was. Not his type. Before Jared, Rick would’ve agreed with him. After Jared, he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t held on to his own biases a little too tightly, also.
“We met at the charity dinner I organized for Leo,” he explained. “They used to work together.”
It took Tyson a second before he put it together. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot Leo used to model.”
“Were you at the dinner?” Jared asked.
Tyson scoffed. “At five hundred dollars a plate? Not in this lifetime.” He flashed the waitress a smile when she set a bottled water in front of him. “How much did that end up raising?”
“Once expenses got deducted? About forty thousand dollars.” Rick sighed. “Leo had hoped for more, but it’s better than nothing.”
“More than a group of my friends could’ve raised.” Tyson jerked his chin toward the stage. “What you see is what you get.”
Jared fell oddly silent as Rick and Tyson continued to chat, and though he laughed at the right jokes, or commented when he was directly addressed, Rick could tell his thoughts were 66
WHAT WE MAY BE
elsewhere. When the lights dimmed, Tyson scraped his chair back and stuck his hand out to Jared again, smiling as they shook.
“It was good to meet you,” Tyson said. “I hope we get a chance to talk again.”
“So do I.”
Rick waited until the band had filed back onto the stage before leaning over and saying, “You okay?”
Jared smiled. “Yeah. Why?”
“You got quiet.”
“You saying I’m a motormouth?”
Though there was a tease in his voice, Rick recognized an evasion when he heard one. But the music was starting, and this wasn’t really the time or place for this kind of conversation. He groped for Jared’s hand beneath the table and resolved to talk to him about it later. Once they had a little privacy, and it didn’t matter if he was hard as a rock just because he liked the way Jared smelled. Of course, then, there might not be actual talking as there would be other, more delightful pastimes, but even if that happened, eventually they would reach a point where their dicks were done and all that was left was getting things out in the open.
That’s what he wanted. The more time he spent with Jared, the more he hoped Jared wanted it, too.
67
WHAT WE MAY BE
CHAPTER 6
Jared’s apartment was both what he expected and completely surprising. Where Rick’s was a tidy mess, Jared’s was an explosion. Of color, of furniture, of items he’d either collected while he was modeling or raided from Goodwill stores. The couch was a futon buried in overstuffed pillows, each one a different brilliant fabric. Rick wanted nothing more than to sink into it
“You look great up there.”
Tyson grimaced in mock exaggeration. “I notice you didn’t say I sounded great. That’s not good.”
“I thought that was a given.”
Tyson’s chortle rocked his slight frame. “That’s because it’s the first time you’ve ever heard me play.” His gaze slid to Jared. “And you brought a friend.”
Rick stepped back as Jared rose to his feet. “Tyson, this is Jared. Jared, Tyson.”
The two men shook hands. An unspoken understanding passed between them, one Rick wondered if anybody else noticed.
“Your keyboardist has some serious skills,” Jared commented.
Tyson’s brows shot up. “That sounds like you play.”
“A little.” Jared winked. “Lessons from Grandma Grace.
Just enough to make me interesting, not so much to lose my precious social life.”
65
WHAT WE MAY BE
Their shared laughter filled their little corner of the bar.
Tyson waved toward the friendly waitress and pulled up a chair to their table.
“You look familiar.” Tyson squinted at Jared. “Do I know you, or do you just have one of those faces?”
“One of those faces. I used to model.”
“Really?” A quick glance at Rick. “Really?”
He knew what the subtext was. Not his type. Before Jared, Rick would’ve agreed with him. After Jared, he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t held on to his own biases a little too tightly, also.
“We met at the charity dinner I organized for Leo,” he explained. “They used to work together.”
It took Tyson a second before he put it together. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot Leo used to model.”
“Were you at the dinner?” Jared asked.
Tyson scoffed. “At five hundred dollars a plate? Not in this lifetime.” He flashed the waitress a smile when she set a bottled water in front of him. “How much did that end up raising?”
“Once expenses got deducted? About forty thousand dollars.” Rick sighed. “Leo had hoped for more, but it’s better than nothing.”
“More than a group of my friends could’ve raised.” Tyson jerked his chin toward the stage. “What you see is what you get.”
Jared fell oddly silent as Rick and Tyson continued to chat, and though he laughed at the right jokes, or commented when he was directly addressed, Rick could tell his thoughts were 66
WHAT WE MAY BE
elsewhere. When the lights dimmed, Tyson scraped his chair back and stuck his hand out to Jared again, smiling as they shook.
“It was good to meet you,” Tyson said. “I hope we get a chance to talk again.”
“So do I.”
Rick waited until the band had filed back onto the stage before leaning over and saying, “You okay?”
Jared smiled. “Yeah. Why?”
“You got quiet.”
“You saying I’m a motormouth?”
Though there was a tease in his voice, Rick recognized an evasion when he heard one. But the music was starting, and this wasn’t really the time or place for this kind of conversation. He groped for Jared’s hand beneath the table and resolved to talk to him about it later. Once they had a little privacy, and it didn’t matter if he was hard as a rock just because he liked the way Jared smelled. Of course, then, there might not be actual talking as there would be other, more delightful pastimes, but even if that happened, eventually they would reach a point where their dicks were done and all that was left was getting things out in the open.
That’s what he wanted. The more time he spent with Jared, the more he hoped Jared wanted it, too.
67
WHAT WE MAY BE
CHAPTER 6
Jared’s apartment was both what he expected and completely surprising. Where Rick’s was a tidy mess, Jared’s was an explosion. Of color, of furniture, of items he’d either collected while he was modeling or raided from Goodwill stores. The couch was a futon buried in overstuffed pillows, each one a different brilliant fabric. Rick wanted nothing more than to sink into it
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