Country Ballet
Chapter
Jake hefted his bass and peered up through the falling snow at the dingy sign—Carlton Community Centre—above the double doors of the building. He glanced back at his phone. Sweaty despite the chill wind blowing snow into the corners of the steps, his palm slipped on the handle of his instrument case.
“We’re sure this is the place?” he asked, watching their Uber literally slide away from the curb. “Because there goes our ride.” He doubted if they’d get another one in this weather.
The prospect of missing their gig tightened his clench on his case. He blamed the cold air for the shortness of his breath, not the deviation from the original plan. They had been scheduled to meet two more of their band members, Coby and Bruce Kennedy, lead singer and drummer respectively, at their Toronto home on the outskirts of the city, but Lewis had wanted to come into the city early to shop.
Jake had the devil of a time saying no to Lewis, and at the time, it hadn’t seemed like that big a deal. Now that he was standing outside this run-down building in the middle of a grungy neighbourhood, he was having anxiety about the wisdom of not sticking with the rest of the band, and the security detail that always accompanied them.
“Yup.” Lewis grinned at him, his sunny expression a little bit brighter, even than the fat, white flakes of snow falling around them. “Come on.” He shrugged his guitar case higher on his back and transferred all his packages to one hand so he could grip the handrail. “I bet Bruce and Coby are already here.”
Together, they slipped and skittered up the icy steps in their tractionless cowboy boots.
“You know our Detail guys are going to be pissed that we did this, right?” Jake asked. “We were supposed to wait at that last shop for our security guys and ride with them.”
Lewis waved off the comment. “They’ll get over it. There’s no danger now Phil’s where he belongs, and Bruce and Coby are safe.” He pulled open one side of the double doors and held it for Jake. “After you, my love.” He made a sweeping gesture with his bags and little bow.
Jake’s chest expanded, breath coming easier at Lewis’s smile and goofy solicitousness. “I’m still blaming you,” Jake said as the door closed behind them. “If it comes up.”
Lewis stopped in the hot, blowing air between the outer doors and the inner, took Jake’s guitar case and set it aside with the parcels. “I know.” He stalked Jake, backing him against the wall and taking his face in his cold hands. “I’m okay with that.”
“Yeah?”
Lewis grinned. “Yeah.” He moved in for a kiss slowly, grin never faltering, but eyes flicking between Jake’s.
“You want a kiss?” Jake whispered, playing with the ends of Lewis’s long blond hair. He tugged lightly, reminding Lewis who was in charge without stopping his advance.
“You know I do.” A deep gulp was Lewis’s only hesitation.
Before Lewis could doubt his welcome, Jake gripped a loop of Lewis’s jeans and yanked him in. Their lips met and the kiss carried all of Lewis’s good nature, enthusiasm, and joy even as Lewis melted against him with a sigh.
And there it was. The last bits of anxious nerves released, and Jake could breathe again with Lewis’s slim weight pressing him against the wall.
That this amazing man trusted him with all things Lewis-related reminded Jake he wasn’t the nervous, insecure kid who had first approached the Kennedy twins in high school, ancient bass in hand, hope leaking, unstoppable, from every pore.
Now he was Jake Anthony Carr, bassist for one of the biggest country acts on the continent, friend to the irrepressible Kennedy twins, lover of Lewis Park, the shining-bright guitarist, incredibly open songwriter, and basically best thing in the universe.
Jake literally held a star in his hands every time he touched Lewis, and he couldn’t deny how much strength he drew from being allowed to do that.
Twining his fingers into Lewis’s hair, Jake took possession of the kiss, driving his tongue into Lewis’s yielding mouth.
Lewis’s accompanying moan went straight to Jake’s dick and he made that known with a light thrust of his hips.
“Fucking hell,” Lewis muttered into the kiss, returning the thrust a little harder.
“Heh.” Jake used the leverage of his handful of hair to pull Lewis away. “Much as I’m into this, babe, and would love to bend you over the nearest thing, we’re here to work.”
Lewis whimpered and sagged against him, resting his head on Jake’s shoulder. “Mean.”
“I’ll owe you a good fuck after, but for now—”
The door to the stormy outside burst open and Lewis jumped, putting a foot of space between them so shockingly fast Jake staggered. “Hey,” he snapped, holding out a hand.
Lewis took it without comment and moved to stand next to him, head down.
“Don’t let us interrupt, darlings,” one of the men who entered said. “Warm yourselves up.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “It’s cold out there.”
“Cobalt,” the other man admonished gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t tease.”
“Please.” He turned enough to look up at his companion. “We’re all adults here.” He turned back to Jake and Lewis. “You are meant to be in here, yes?”
“Pretty sure,” Jake said. “This is the venue for the Lucky’s Foundation Arts Program fundraiser?”
“It is.” Cobalt lifted his chin until the look he gave them slid like ice off the end of his nose. “And you are?”
“One of the acts,” Lewis piped up. “Or part of one of the acts. We’re Patchwork Heaven.” He pointed a thumb at his own chest. “I play guitar.” He pointed to Jake. “He’s bass.”
“Patchwork Heaven.” Cobalt tilted his head to one side. “The country band.” He said it with such disdain Jake’s hackles rose.
“You must be Cobalt Winslow. The Ballet bit—”
“Careful,” the big man behind Cobalt rumbled at the same time Lewis snapped “Jake!”
Cobalt grinned, sharpening the points of his angular face.
“Bigshot,” Jake said, non too kindly. “The ballet bigshot.”
“Oh, I like him,” Cobalt said over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Winslow,” Lewis said, stepping around Jake to place himself between him and Cobalt. “Jake’s a bit tense, but I’m a big fan.” He held out a hand. “I’m Lewis Park.”
Cobalt eyed his hand, then his face, then his hand again.
His burly companion sighed heavily and reached around Cobalt. “Preston,” he said, taking Lewis’s hand. “Malory Preston, but everyone calls me Preston.”
Cobalt leaned back until his shoulder blades contacted Preston’s chest. He gripped the front of his layers of shawls and scarves at his throat. “Nothing personal, darling,” he said. “Have a good show.” He lifted himself, as if he was being draw up by a string through the top of his head, turned on one impressively heeled boot, then pushed through the inner doors.
“He really doesn’t mean anything personal by it,” Preston said to Lewis. “Pre-show nerves and an aversion to touching people he doesn’t know.”
“And to country music,” Jake muttered.
Preston sighed again. “His tastes are very… defined. If it’s any consolation, I’m personally a huge fan. I’ve seen your stage show a number of times.”
Jake would have been skeptical about that, but Preston went on to describe his favourite show at a tiny venue, an unscripted, unexpected moment when Lewis had taken over vocals from their lead singer Coby when Coby had exhausted his voice and couldn’t sing one of the more demanding ballads. “I’m looking forward to hearing you again tonight.” He smiled directly at Lewis.
“Oh, well, this won’t be like that,” Lewis assured him. “It was a one-off. Coby’s in fine form. He’ll be doing all the singing. It’s not really my forte.”
“If you say so.” Preston patted his shoulder. “Don’t let Cobalt get to you. He’s a bitch to everyone before performances.”
Lewis nodded. “I’ve heard that. Still. I admire his courage. He just puts it all out there.”
Preston chuckle. “That he does. See you in there.”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t know you were that into ballet,” Jake said as he retrieved his bass. It sounded more than a little petty, but it irked him that the dancer had been mean to Lewis, who was only ever nice to everyone.
“Oh, yeah. Mom was, more than me, but Dad wasn’t interested, so she took me to see some stuff. Cobalt Winslow was amazing back in the day. I’m sure he’s still good, but honestly, I just…” He sighed. “Anyway—”
Jake opened the inner door and held it for Lewis. “Don’t tell me baby Lewis had a big ol’ crush on the ballet diva.”
“No.” Lewis pointed to a sign indicating where the organizers had set up a dressing room for the band. “That’s us, looks like. And I didn’t have a crush on him. More like hero worship. He was always so out there, you know?”
“You always said your folks were cool with you being whatever.”
“They always knew I liked boys and girls. Mom didn’t care. Dad…” he shrugged. “Not really what I’m talking about.”
“Oh! You mean the clothes. His heels and satin and—”
Cobalt appeared in the hallway just then and Jake clamped his mouth shut.
Jake didn’t know where he’d been going or what he’d been doing, but the bright-edged look Cobalt shot him cut deep.
“Never mind.” Lewis ducked his head causing his hair to hide his face as he slipped through the door with their band name taped over the window.
Cobalt tipped his head to one side. “What about my heels and my satin and my never mind, darling?” he asked, sounding far too sweet.
Jake opened his mouth, closed it, huffed. and shook his head. “Nothing. We were just—”
Cobalt’s eyebrow went up so abruptly he didn’t have to speak to cut Jake off.
“Jesus, princess,” Jake muttered. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. No one cares.”
Cobalt chuckled, the sound surprisingly rich and devoid of sharp edges and he glanced at the closed door. “My panties,” he drawled, “I should think, are not the ones being twisted.”
“You,” Jake took a step towards the dancer, “leave Lewis alone. Like I said. No one cares.”
Cobalt smiled, the curl of his lips sweet, the ice in his eyes not so much. His tone, when he spoke, sent a shiver through Jake. “It’s one thing, my darling bumkin, to tell him you don’t care about his lacy panties. Quite another to show him exactly why you do.”
“But I don’t.”
“Hmm.” Cobalt lifted his chin. “I’m sure it’s none of my business.”
“It really isn’t.”
“In any case, I came to tell you there has been a slight change in the program, as Damian, from Firefly, who was going to sing a few songs, couldn’t make it. Apparently, his flight out of Windsor hasn’t been able to get off the ground. Will you be able to stretch out your set by ten minutes or so?”
“Sure.”
“Excellent. I’ve already asked a friend to drop a solo dance number he’s been working on into the slot right before the intermission, so that should cover the rest of Damian’s timeslot. We wouldn’t want our donors to feel shortchanged.”
“No, we would not.”
Cobalt made a shooing motion towards the dressing room. “Now go see to your boy.” He winked. “Tell him he looks pretty.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Off you go.”
Inside the dressing room, Jake found Lewis staring at his slim frame in the mirror above the long, low counter. His reflection was cut off by the top of the mirror, as were his legs just above the knees, by the counter. He had his hips canted, his T-shirt hiked up, his jeans low on his hips.
He gazed thoughtfully at the strappy bits of a lace thong rising above the band of denim.
Jake assumed it was a thong by the way the thin straps rode Lewis’s hips. It wasn’t a secret that Lewis liked his lacy bits, but they didn’t really talk about it, either. Jake hadn’t thought it mattered. Now he wondered.
“Oh. Hey.” Lewis quickly straightened as Jake opened the door, pushing his T-shirt down. “Where’d you go?”
“You okay?” Jake asked.
“‘Course. Why?”
“Only just now you looked… weird.”
Pink flushed into Lewis’s cheeks as he tucked in his T-shirt. “Gee thanks. I’m fine. What took you so long out there?”
“Oh. Cobalt said one of the acts didn’t make it. We have to add a few songs to the playlist. Any ideas?”
Lewis shrugged. “We should try out the new one, but we’ll ask Coby and Bruce when they get here. Michaela just texted me she’s about five minutes out, so we can go over the set list with her and see what she thinks while we wait.”
“Sounds good. You sure you’re okay?”
“Dude, I’m fine.”
“You know you don’t have to hide—”
“I said I’m fine.”
Jake nodded. “Okay, okay. I’m gonna go sit in the audience for a bit. Check out sight lines.”
“Sure. Be there in a few.”
When Lewis did join him, Michaela came with him, with the news that Coby and Bruce were stuck on the wrong side of roads closed by excessive snowfall and downed power wires.
Jake scrubbed at his face. “Who’s going to tell Cobalt we’re out, too?”
Michaela and Lewis said nothing.
“Come on.” Jake got up and left the auditorium, his two band mates on his heels.
In the back hallway, they found Kip, their lead roadie. Cobalt had recruited him early on, to stage manage the event, and he looked exactly like a guy managing a slowly crumbling variety show.
“Hey. Thanks.” He took the bottle of water Lewis handed him. “You guys about ready for your sound check?” He glanced around. “Where’re the twins?”
Jake sighed.
“No.” Kip gulped water. “No” He pointed a finger at them. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Sorry, little dude,” Lewis said. “Closed roads. I doubt they’ll make it for the show.”
“I need you guys! Firefly already bowed out.” He scowled, but almost immediatly, he looked up at Lewis. “Hey. what if—”
“No.” Lewis took a step back. “No chance. No.”
“You wrote most of the lyrics,” Kip pointed out. “You know them.”
“I didn’t. I collaborated with Coby, and just no. I’m a guitar player, not a lead singer.”
“Y-you d-do h-have a g-great voice,” Michaela pointed out.
Lewis closed his eyes.
Jake moved to his side and took his hand. “Babe, think about it. If you really can’t, I got your back, but at least think it through.” He turned to the others. “Mick, if you could go look over the set list, make notes, we need about six to ten minutes more than we currently have to cover Firefly’s time.”
She nodded and disappeared.
“Kip, could you set us up for a three-man band sitch, and make sure we have access to an iPad or something for the lyrics. Just in case.”
Kip, too, agreed and quickly vanished.
“They gone?” Lewis asked.
“Yeah.”
Lewis opened on eye to look at Jake. “This is nuts. I can’t—”
“It’s not like it will be thousands of screaming fans. It’s a bunch of rich dudes. Most of them are probably here to see the fancy ballet diva. We’re incidental. All you have to do is keep them in their seats between twirls. I’d do it but—”
“God no.” Lewis grimaced.
Jake chuckled. “Nice.”
“Love you for a lot of reasons. Singing is not one of them.”
“I can do back-up.”
“Marginally.”
“I’d ask Mick, but you know she needs a lot more prep to not be too nervous.”
“What can we even do with just a guitar, a bass and a violin?”
“We have piano, too, between you and her, and I can play guitar. We can make it work if you sing lead.”
“No percussion, though.”
“So we go acoustic. That’s fine.”
Lewis shook his head. “This is insane.”
“So yes, then?” Jake tried to hide a grin.
“Only because I could have used the kind of organisation like Lucky’s Foundation when I was a kid, and Kip could have, too. I want that for kids now, and this is a good way to finance it.”
Jake nodded. “Of course. Sacrifices for a good cause.”
Lewis gulped hard. “Yeah.” He wasn’t the right colour, and Jake tightened his grip.
“Breath, babe.”
“Not sure I can.”
“You can.” Jake moved around in front of him and gripped both his hands with tight fingers. “Focus on me.”
Lewis met his gaze.
“In an hour or so, we’re going out on stage, the three of us, and you’re going to sing some songs.”
Lewis stared at him, unblinking.
“Say it,” Jake prompted.
“We’re not in bed right now,” Lewis said. “You can’t use bedroom tricks here.”
“They aren’t tricks.” Jake took a step closer. “This is us, this is how we work. I tell you how it’s going to be, and you trust me to make sure it all goes okay. I trust you to do what I say so you’ll be safe, yeah?”
Lewis nodded.
“So trust me. This is going to be okay. I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“I know that.”
“So say it.”
“In an hour we’re going to go on stage.” Lewis drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out. “I’m going to sing some songs.”
“You’re going to be awesome.”
Lewis took another big breath.
“Say it,” Jake prompted.
Lewis looked at him. “Say what? I just did.”
“Say ‘I’m going to be awesome’.”
“You don’t know—”
“Fucking yes I do. Now be the good boy I know you are and say it.”
“I’m…” Lewis blinked.
“Come on.”
“I’m going to be awesome.”
“You see?” Jake dropped his hands in favour of cupping his face and stepping in until they were inches apart. “You’ve got this, baby, and I’ve got you. I promise.” He kissed Lewis, deep, possessively, until Lewis sighed into his mouth.
Tangling his fingers into Lewis’s hair, Jake pressed the kiss until he got a chest-deep groan from his lover, then he pulled back. “There it is.”
“Mean,” Lewis complained.
Jake grinned. “Now you have something to look forward to after the show, is all.”
“I can’t go on stage with a stiffy.”
“Go warm up your voice. Do your sound check. If you’re very, very good, I’ll let you jerk off while we change.”
Lewis groaned. “Promise?”
“Do as you’re told, and you’ll get a nice reward.”
“Kiss me again? Please?”
Jake was never one to say no to his boy if he could help it. He dove in for another, even deeper kiss. When Lewis whimpered into his mouth, he drank the sound up.
Lewis pressed his body, rock hard dick and all, against Jake, and Jake pulled his hair enough to get him to break the kiss and lift his chin. “Want access,” Jake explained as he trailed kisses and teeth down Lewis’s jaw and throat. He slipped a hand down the back of Lewis’s jeans, confirming his own curiosity about the lacy underwear being a thong, and cupped one firm ass cheek.
“If you’re exceptionally good,” Jake promised, “after we’re done here, I’ll burry myself in you. Nice, long, slow fuck, yeah?”
“The meanest,” Lewis assured him with breathy words in Jake’s ear. “And yeah. You can do whatever you want.”
Jake slipped his fingers under the strap of the thong so he could slide one over Lewis’s pucker, drawing another deep groan up his throat. “I know I can.” He eased his hand out of Lewis’s clothes, slowly, because he wasn’t so mean as to be too abrupt when his lover was already slipping below the surface, then guided Lewis’s head back to where Jake could kiss his mouth tenderly. “It’s going to be a very, very good night,” he promised.
Lewis took a moment to lean on him after the kiss, arms draped around him, erection tucked firmly into the crease of Jake’s hip, but not otherwise demanding anything at all. Not touch, not friction, nothing. He merely leaned, passively soaking up Jake’s reassurance, steeling himself for the show, steadying his heart to sing it out on stage until he could collect all of Jake’s promises with his body and his soul.
Part Two
As efficient as he ever was, Kip had the drum kit off the stage and the remaining instruments set out at the ready by the time Jake had fully convinced Lewis he could do the thing. When Jake went to talk to Kit about setting up, and it was already done, he side-eyed Kip.
“What?” Kip blinked at him.
“I came to tell you he finally agreed, and you’ve already set up as if you knew he had.”
“I knew he would.”
Jake tilted his head to one side. “How, exactly?”
“One, because this cause matters to him almost as much as the band does. Two, because you asked him to, and he’ll do anything you ask.”
“That isn’t true.”
Kip narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t it?”
“No it isn—is it?”
Kip shrugged, hefted a coiled cable over one shoulder and a cymbal in the other hand. “It’s easy when you’re in love, and he’s in love.”
“Love’s a pretty strong word.”
Kip snorted. “Keep telling yourself that, Jake.” He paused, levelling a surprisingly intimidating glare at Jake, given he barely reached Jake’s shoulder. “Seriously. Keep reminding yourself that, because if you’re not, you have to remember everything is different for him, because he is.”
“Pre-show love lessons from a roadie?” Jake asked.
“Ageless life lessons from someone deeply embedded in a non-reciprocated love affair.”
Jake blinked at him.
“Sometimes you can’t help who you fall in love with, and if you’re the only one in there, it can get pretty rough. I’m just reminding you, he’s in. You’re not. Don’t mess with that.”
“We are still talking about me and Lewis, and not you and Bruce, right?”
“We’re talking about you and Lewis.”
Jake straightened. “Good. Then you have it all wrong.”
“Do I though?” Kip shifted his heavy load. “I got work to do. Have fun up there.”
“We will. Thanks.” He watched Kip stride off under his burdens, still slightly confused. Did everyone around them think he wasn’t into Lewis as much as Lewis was into him?
Hey, J-jake?” Michaela popped her head around a wing and motioned to him. “N-need you in h-here n-now.”
“Yeah. Coming.” He hurriedly followed her back to the dressing room to find Lewis sitting on a stool, head between his knees, Cobalt standing over him, a hand on the back of his neck.
“There you are, darling.” He waggled a hand, indicating Jake should come over to take his place. “Your boy needs some grounding, I think.”
“Not my boy,” Jake muttered.
Lewis’s head shot up, his eyes haunted, and he groaned.
Quickly, Jake replaced Cobalt’s hand on the back of Lewis’s neck and kneaded gently. “What’s happening?”
Lewis groaned again.
Cobalt lifted his chin. “Don’t worry, honey.” He patted Lewis’s shoulder. “You’re not the first to puke before a show, and you won’t be the last.” He shot Jake a steely glare. “You here now?” he asked coldly. “I have warming up to do.”
“Yeah,” Jake snapped. “I’m here. You can go.”
“Gently, darling.” He patted Jake’s cheek with one long-fingered hand. “This is a big deal for him.”
“Think I don’t know that?”
Cobalt lifted an eyebrow, but left the room without saying anything else.
“Mick, can you go talk to Kip and make sure everything’s ready for a sound check? I think getting up there singing before anyone comes in will help.”
“S-sure.” She darted out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
“Okay.” Jake knelt next to Lewis. “Talk to me, babe. I thought you were good.”
“Freaking out,” Lewis muttered. “What if I forget all the words?”
“You won’t.”
“You know the future?”
Jake leaned in until his forehead was pressed to Lewis’s temple. He could smell the puke on his breath, but ignored it. “I know you,” he promised. “I know you can do this. I have faith in you.”
“Don’t know if I can even play,” Lewis said, holding out a hand that visibly trembled. “Never mind sing.”
Jake smiled. “Okay” He took Lewis’s had by his fingers, kissed the back of it, and got up. “This, I can help with.” He fetched an acoustic guitar propped on a stand in the corner. “Here. Take this.”
“Jake, I—”
“Wasn’t a suggestion, babe. Do as you’re told, please.” He tried to be firm, but not harsh, and maybe it worked, because Lewis took the guitar. “You remember the first song you ever played for me?”
“I was trying to audition for the band, but the twins were—”
“Preoccupied. Yeah. It was a different time. Bruce wasn’t in top form. But not the point. Do you remember the song?”
“I felt like an idiot at the time, because it was just you and me in a tiny closet of a dressing room.”
Jake nodded. “You said at the time. But once you started playing and singing, it didn’t matter.”
Lewis’s cheeks turned pink.
“Little did either of us know at the time…”
Lewis grinned. “Better Together.”
“Sing it now.”
“Not sure I remember—”
“You do. You know you do.”
He did, because along with being able to play pretty much anything he’d listened to a few times, he never forgot how to play those things, once he’d learned them. As much as he called himself ‘just a guitar player’, he was, in fact, kind of a musical superpower.
Lewis strummed a few chords, then his sweet tenor started with the ‘forty HP Johnson’ and floated on to the end of the last ‘as long as you’re right here.’
Jake’s chest got tight somewhere around the oil and water part, and he could not believe anyone thought this man didn’t mean everything to him.
“You see?” he said at the end, ignoring the pinch in his tone and the constriction closing his throat.
“See I can sing a sappy love song to my lover?”
“See you—” He had to stop and clear his throat. “See you can lose yourself in the music and have it come out like perfect silk.”
“You okay?”
“You’re going to kill this, babe. Let’s go do the sound check.” Explaining how much more than okay he was, and how very far from okay he was at the exact same times was more words than Jake could handle right then, so he opted for action instead, and stood up.
Lewis nodded. “Sure. Sound check. Right” He set the guitar back on it’s stand and rose, not meeting Jake’s gaze, even hen he took Jake’s outstretched hand. “Come on, then.”
The sound check went off without a hitch, visibly boosting Lewis’s confidence, which Jake knew would happen. Backstage, Lewis hummed and primped, shedding his plain, knees-torn-out Levis for a pair of worn-through, soft jeans and his T for a cowboy shirt with enough fringe and sparkle to rival Dolly Parton’s best efforts.
“Too much?” he asked, straightening his collar and gazing at Jake over his shoulder in the mirror.
“You look fantastic.” Jake smoothed a hand down the front of his own plaid. “I’m feeling a bit underdressed, in fact.”
Michaela entered then, her leggings and sweatshirt changed out for a long-sleeved mini dress in shades of cream and pink that shimmered when she moved.
“Oh hell,” Jake muttered, and hurried to his duffle to root through it for something fancier. He found only a white button down and a black T.
“W-we g-got you,” Michaela assured him, and after a quick change, he felt more on par in the white shirt, the pink sequined sash of her dress tied around his waist, and a black, lacy cravat at his throat.
At least he looked like he might be fancy enough to match them, now, but he slid a finger between the cravat and neck. “This thing is itchy as hell,” he muttered.
Lewis grinned. “You get used to it.” Then his cheeks flushed, and he hurriedly turned away. “We should get backstage for our cue” And he was out the door like scared rabbit.
“Shit. I shouldn’t have—”
“You’re f-fine,” Michaela assured him. “He’s nervous is all.”
“I wasn’t making fun of wearing lace.” Jake stared at the slowly closing door.
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that. And now really isn’t the moment to worry about it. We have to keep him upbeat. Confident.”
“Right.” Jake hurried after Lewis, finding him pacing in the wings, half watching the current act on stage, half freaking out about being up next, as evidenced by the way he gnawed on the side of hie thumb.
“Keep that up,” Jake whispered in his ear, “and you won’t be able to pick.” He reached around from behind Lewis, took his hand and drew it away from his mouth.
Lewis turned to face him. “I can’t stop freaking out.”
Jake smiled, lazy, eyelids dropping half-closed. “I can give you something else to think about.”
“Unlikely.”
Jake crushed his mouth against Lewis’s, gripping the back of his neck with his free hand and closing his wrist in an iron grip with the other, pinning it behind his back.
After a moment, Lewis groaned, and after another heartbeat, surrendered his weight against Jake’s body.
Deepening the kiss until he heard the tell-tale hiss and sigh form his lover, Jake eased off, then tucked Lewis’s head against his shoulder. “You see?” Jake asked. “You’re so mine, I can own what’s in your head.”
Lewis whimpered. “Wanna blow you so bad,” he whined.
Jake ground his hard cock against Lewis’s thigh. “Go out there and sing your heart out, and I’ll let you,” he promised.
“Can’t sing with a hard-on.”
Jake moved away from him, though he kept the hand on his neck and the grip around his wrist, so as not to throw him completely off balance. “You can, and you will.” he grinned. “You can hide it with your guitar.”
“Guitar’s on stage, asshole.”
Jake grinned wider.
The fancy juggler was waving his way off stage to happy applause and the MC had already taken the mic to introduce Patchwork Heaven and the unexpected treat of Lewis Carr taking over lead vocals for Coby.
A murmur went through the audience at that, and Jake laced his fingers through Lewis’s hauling him towards the stage before Lewis could balk.
Michaela followed, taking Lewis’s other hand, carrying her violin and bow in the other, and waving the instrument at the crowd, her smile wide, bright, and shining under the lights.
Jake led Lewis to the mic, handed him his guitar, then circled behind him to clamp both hands on Lewis’s shoulders and lean in close to whisper in his ear. “You got this, Lewy. And after the show, you get me.” He clapped Lewis’s shoulder, gave the sound guy a thumbs-up signal to turn on their mics, and raised his voice to address the crowd.
“Canadian winter, am I right?” he called out.
The crowd laughed and clapped.
“But no worries. Even Jack Frost can’t keep a good country boy—” he waved an arm at Michaela, who unfurled a complicated strand of notes from her violin in response— “or girl down. Folks, I know you’re with me in wishing the Kennedy twins make it out of the storm safely. We’ll miss them tonight, but hope you’ll join the rest of us here by cozying up to a one-time only Patchwork Heaven special edition concert.”
That got an even more enthusiastic applause from the assembly. Their response gave Jake enough time to get his bass strapped in place, and Lewis another second to breathe and hopefully, find his center.
“Hi,” he breathed into his mic at last.
The crowd settled and grew silent.
“Thank you, folks for your support of this important cause. And your support of me doing this. Coby, Bruce, wherever you are, guys, stay safe.” He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, strummed out a few chords, breathed deep, and began to play.
The first three bars of the first song were a complicated guitar riff Lewis had practiced a million times and played at every concert. Jake and Michaela had chosen it for exactly that reason. His guitar was his security blanket, and Jake knew he always took comfort from playing it. It didn’t hurt that the repeated practicing of this particular song meant he sang the lyrics to himself a million times, too.
And yes, when he started to sing, his voice shook a bit. His guitar riffs wavered momentarily. His cheeks pinked, he swallowed hard, and the next line was barely audible. He shot Jake a panicked glance.
Jake nodded. “You got this,” he said quietly, and if his mike picked up the encouragement, so what?
A soft hum rippled through the seated people, and a few of them took up the lyrics, singing along until Lewis’s voice returned, stronger, and more sure.
People clapped. A few whistled.
Someone shouted “Yes, Lewis! You go baby!”
Jake’s mic definitely picked up his chuckle, and Lewis grinned. By the time he reached the chorus, if he was still nervous, it didn’t show.
