Authors: S. J. Frost
“Man, we’ll be living in arenas for the next eight months,”
Kenny said.
Julian met Kenny’s honey-brown eyes. “We’ll also be living off restaurant food, so I think I’d like to do a home-cooked dinner. And sucking on a grisly chicken bone for a scraggly little strip of meat isn’t my idea of a good meal. Why don’t you both come over to my place instead? I’m making spaghetti.”
Brad turned to Kenny. “That sounds like a better plan.”
“Will there be waitresses dressed in shorts so tight and small you know they don’t have anything on underneath?” Kenny asked.
“No, but I could make a few phone calls and get a couple
waiters
dressed in a similar fashion if that’d help.”
“Uh, no. It wouldn’t.” Kenny turned to Brad. “C’mon. You said you’d go with me.”
Brad looked at Julian and shrugged. “Guess I have to. Maybe I can stop over tomorrow and we’ll hang out.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Kenny shoved Brad on the back. “Now let’s go before all the hot waitresses are taken.”
“Man, wherever we go, the hot chicks follow.” Brad looked at Julian again. “You sure you don’t want to join us?”
Julian nodded once. “I’m sure, but thanks.”
“Alright, later.”
As Brad walked away with Kenny, Julian opted to deny himself the pleasure, or torture, of looking at Brad’s ass, and focused on the piano keys. He took a deep breath and sounded the first notes of Beethoven’s Fur Elise, hoping the gentle melody would distract his emotions from the desire to have someone to share his evenings with as more than friendship.
“Okay, so there’s really no point is showing you around the arena. We’ll be at a different one every night. What’s important for you to know is stage setup, so get it down. Learn fast or get out of the way, that’s how things go here.”
Morgan turned his head away from his new boss since he couldn’t restrain himself any longer from rolling his eyes. He’d known Kurt Holt for less than five minutes and already wanted to punch him. How the hell was he going to make it through an eight month concert tour with this clown as his boss?
“So listen here, Matt—”
“Morgan”
Kurt’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“My name is Morgan.”
“Right, Morgan. Morgan Conner.”
“Morgan Chandler.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, I got about a hundred names I need to remember, you can’t expect me to keep track of everybody, and you’re new, so it’s going to take a while. Now like I was saying, you don’t have concert experience, right?”
“No, I don’t, but—”
Kurt interrupted with a snort. “Don’t know how the hell you got this gig. You wouldn’t have if I had interviewed you. I don’t have time to deal with rookies. This is a big tour, the biggest of the year with the biggest band of the decade. I need experts, not hands to hold.”
Morgan ground his teeth, then forced cordiality into his voice. “I might not have roadie experience, but I have plenty of experience with music and instruments. My father owned a music store, and—”
“This is what I get for not doing the interviews myself.” Kurt
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shook his head. “Lesson learned. You better learn quick, because I don’t need getting my ass chewed out by Mr. Alexander, or worse, Mr. Arden, for bad setups. You know, I was the staff manager for Conquest on their last tour before they joined up with Mr. Arden’s tour. He already had a staff manager in place, otherwise I would’ve had that job, too.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Morgan mumbled, his soft tone hiding his sarcasm.
“Now, I don’t know how you feel about the whole gay thing, but unless you’ve lived under a rock for the past three months, you know Mr. Alexander and Mr. Arden are in a relationship.”
“Actually, I’m—”
“If you’re for it, great. If you’re not, keep your mouth shut.”
Kurt’s voice dipped low. “To be honest, I always knew about those two, but that’s beside the point. What I’m saying is if you want to live to old age, you better not look at Mr. Alexander in any way other than friendly professionalism, because Mr. Arden won’t just throw you off the tour. He’ll throw you in front of a semi-truck if you look at Mr. Alexander as anything less or more.”
Morgan glanced at him. “Isn’t it kind of formal to constantly be calling them mister? I mean, they’re rock stars, not the President.”
Kurt stopped and jabbed his index finger in the air toward Morgan’s face. “These men are our bread and butter, and I won’t have them treated with anything but top respect. Got it?”
Morgan clenched and unclenched one hand, wanting to grab Kurt’s finger and shove it into the man’s own face. “Yeah, I got it.”
Kurt continued his march toward the arena interior, mumbling to himself, though his voice was loud enough for Morgan to hear, “I knew I should’ve handled all the interviews.”
Morgan glared at the back of Kurt’s buzz-cut blond head and filled his lungs with a long, deep breath as he followed after him.
He still wondered how his life had taken this turn. He knew the Keys to Love
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realities of it well enough. He looked at them constantly in the stack of bills from the music store. If only he’d known when his father was alive the financial trouble he was in. Maybe he could’ve helped him before things reached such a desperate point.
Not that he could’ve lent much aid. His job for the past eight years teaching music at a local Chicago high school didn’t exactly pay a prince’s salary, but what it lacked in monetary compensation it made up for in emotional satisfaction. Nothing compared to seeing a young person’s face glow as the music clicked with them for the first time.
He loved his job. He’d always thought if he could do it every day for the rest of his life, he’d be content. If only the school system felt the same way. Budget cuts made them slash a number of the arts programs from many schools, and his job was completely eliminated. He was allowed to finish out the school year, and all summer he searched for another school, but the ones with the funds to support a music program already had instructors. Now it was September and classes were in session.
At best he could do substituting.
Between his shrinking savings and the debts of his father’s music store becoming his own, he was forced to work full-time waiting tables at a small café, along with part-time at a boarding kennel. Really, cleaning the kennels didn’t bother him. He enjoyed being around the dogs, and he found it less disgusting than the messes people would leave in the café. But when he saw the band Conquest was looking for tour staff, he jumped on it. Even though they weren’t his type of music, as far as rock bands went they were certainly the best around. And there was one other reason he wanted the job, one that was the real motivator.
Kurt’s voice broke his thoughts.
“Keep up! You want to keep this job, you need to move faster!
It’s all about time here!”
Morgan quickened his pace, though more because annoyance spurred him rather than having a desire to obey Kurt. “I was taking things in.”
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“Like I told you, don’t worry about the arena.” Kurt held open a large door.
Morgan stepped inside the inner arena. A sea of empty seats stretched before him. Down at the end of the open floor was the stage.
Kurt’s voice pitched higher with excitement. “There he is!”
Morgan followed his gaze to the stage holding the members of Conquest along with a few other people. Recorded music blasted through the arena and at the sight of the lead singer, Jesse, dancing, Morgan realized they were working out choreography.
He gave Kurt a quick look, taking in the man’s rapt expression.
For someone who warned him not to drool over Jesse, the guy was certainly doing a good job of forming a puddle at their feet.
Morgan looked back to the stage. Undoubtedly, Jesse was a beautiful man with his delicate features, black hair, and dark blue eyes. He wouldn’t, and couldn’t, deny Jesse was also an amazingly gifted musician. But his type? Not at all. He saw enough of him in interviews to know Jesse was too hyper for him. Plus, Jesse had Evan Arden, who he saw standing off to the side of the stage.
With Evan’s dark chestnut hair streaked in highlights of gold and copper, his brilliant blue eyes, it was hard to tell which of them was more attractive, but they certainly made for a good looking couple.
No, it was fine by him if the whole world lusted after Jesse. It left the one he found most attractive more available, not that the beautiful pianist would want him.
Morgan focused his eyes on Julian Forrester, seated at the black grand. A sudden weakness struck his legs. He felt warm, like he couldn’t get enough air to steady his pounding heart. He knew when he got this job he would see Julian in person, even meet him since it would be his duty to tend to Julian’s instruments, but it didn’t seem real until that moment.
How long had he admired him? Years. Going back to when Julian still played classical piano. It was on an album of the New York Philharmonic Morgan had heard him for the first time on Keys to Love
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the very first song, Fur Elise. Just the memory of Julian playing those notes, the sheer loveliness, the emotion he lifted from the keys, stirred his heart. He hadn’t known what Julian looked like, but he swooned over his talent. Then he searched for him online and saw his picture, Julian with his pale blond hair bound in a sleek ponytail, his light blue eyes holding a smile. Never before had Morgan’s heart surged in such a way at the mere sight of someone, and furthermore, someone he couldn’t hope to know.
He followed Julian’s classical career, wishing for the day when Julian would tour as a solo artist, or at the very least, hoping he would be invited to play with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.
Before that day could happen, Julian walked away from classical music to become a rock star. When Morgan learned of the news, his heart sank. He wondered why a man with such talent would lower himself to playing rock and pop. He decided Julian must have done it for money, which disappointed him in ways he couldn’t explain.
When Julian appeared in the public eye again, it was with Conquest as their keyboardist and pianist. Morgan heard Julian’s artful playing melding with the driving drums and wailing guitar, led by Jesse’s powerful tenor, and he realized Julian was more diverse in his talent than he’d ever thought. Though, he still missed hearing Julian master Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Bach, and all the greats.
Not long after Conquest’s first tour started, he saw Julian on TV at the Grammy Awards and he looked like a different man. He’d cut his sleek ponytail and sported the style he wore now, layered with sharp angles, often having a tousled look. At the awards, Julian was wearing black leather pants and a black V-neck sweater. He looked like…well, like a rock star. But those light blue eyes were still the same, as was his smile, and when he spoke, not all the rock star attire in the world could mask Julian’s sophistication.
There was an even better part of seeing a new side to Julian.
A few months ago when Jesse openly proclaimed his relationship with Evan, Julian also admitted he was gay. The confession didn’t
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change the fact that he believed they’d never meet, just added more reality to his fantasies. But now, he could meet him.
Movement out the corner of his eye caught Morgan’s attention. He looked at a young man hastening toward them.
“Kurt!” the young man called. “Dude, we got a problem.
Some of the guys were hooking up the amps, and sparks and shit started flying everywhere. Now five of them won’t come on. I think they fried ’em.”
Kurt blinked rapidly as if coming out of a trance. “Goddamn it! Can’t I leave anyone alone in this place for more than five minutes?” He turned to Morgan. “Take a seat and wait for me while I go see what’s been screwed up now.”
Morgan didn’t bother acknowledging Kurt, his gaze already back on the stage. He saw many had left, and Conquest’s guitarist and drummer were approaching Julian. He could hear their voices, but couldn’t make out their words, though the sound of Julian’s light tenor voice sent warmth through him. The guitarist and drummer walked offstage. Morgan stayed in place. For so long he had wanted to see Julian in concert. Now an entire arena was theirs. All he needed to do was walk down to the stage, say hi, introduce himself. It didn’t really matter if Julian wasn’t interested in him. To just speak to him and be close to the talent he’d admired for so long would be enough.
Morgan took a step forward, then froze. Gentle notes sounded from the piano, notes he knew so well. A soft gasp escaped him as the arena filled with Julian playing Fur Elise. The beauty of the music stole the last of his strength. Morgan staggered to the side and dropped down on a chair, his gaze fixed on Julian.
Julian played with his eyes closed, his hands floating over the keys in fluid, graceful movements. His body rocked slightly as the music claimed him. His soft facial features were filled with serenity. A cluster of his long bangs fell over one of his eyes.
In his mind, Morgan envisioned brushing the soft tendril of hair away, letting his fingertips caress Julian’s cheek. If only such a thing could happen. Despite how he admired Julian, despite Keys to Love
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how attracted he was to him, he knew Julian would hardly spare him a glance. It wasn’t that he was unattractive, but he was about as opposite from the sophisticated pianist as could be. He felt certain Julian would pick a man who could equal him in class and talent, if such another man existed. Or maybe, Julian already had a man. Morgan had never heard he was seeing anyone, but that didn’t mean Julian wasn’t. Julian could be the type of celebrity who didn’t broadcast such things and preferred maintaining as quiet a life as possible.
It was a sad irony that he would be a total mismatch for a man who seemed so perfect for him. Even if he never got beyond two words with Julian, at least he’d always have his music, and this moment. Listening to Julian play as if for him alone brought Morgan more joy than anything heaven could offer.
A loud snap next to his ear startled Morgan. He whipped his head to the side to find Kurt glaring at him.