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.
