Love on Stage (7 page)

He found a few pictures of Miles at music-industry events, a website for his business, and a couple of mentions in trade journals. He friended Miles on Facebook but was careful not to like any of his posts or pictures from too long before—God forbid Miles would think he was deep-faving him. Miles’s profile said that his relationship status was single, that he had studied Music Technology Engineering at Berklee College, and that his title was “Producer” at Miles To Go Productions.

He had a lot of friends, mostly people connected with the music industry. But Gavin couldn’t find any conclusive proof that Miles was gay—no membership in GLBT groups, no pictures of him kissing or holding hands with another guy.

He gave up and did some yoga to work on his posture, then went back to breathing exercises and scales. By the time Larry came in late that night after playing online games with his fellow programmers, Gavin was exhausted.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work so hard at something,” Larry said. He peered at Gavin. “You’re not just doing this for some guy, are you? Because there are a lot easier ways to get laid. You of all people should know that.”

“I’m not doing it for him,” Gavin said. “For me.”

“Aha! So there is a ‘him’ involved. Who is he?”

“He’s not involved. I mean, I’m not involved with him. He’s just helping me get better at singing.”

“Tell me another fairy tale,” Larry said, settling into the chair beside Gavin. “Have you slept with him yet?”

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m telling you, it’s not like that.”

“Why not? Is he straight?”

“I can’t tell.”

“You can’t tell? Gavin, you have the best gaydar of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Well, it’s not working with Miles.” He ran through the interactions he’d had with the Music Dude.

“Hold on,” Larry said when Gavin repeated the comment about Miles not biting Gavin unless he wanted it. “The dude was flirting with you.”

Gavin shook his head. “It was just something he said. When I tried to suck his fingers that time, he pushed me away like I had some disease.”

Larry put his arm around Gavin’s shoulders. “Poor baby,” he said in a mocking tone. “Now you know what it’s like for the rest of us.” He flexed his fingers. “Let’s see what we can find online. What’s his name?”

Gavin turned and looked at his roommate. Larry was a goofy beanstalk of a guy, always mooning after unavailable men. “Larry,” Gavin said, and he hated the whiny tone in his voice.

Larry just looked at him.

“Miles Goodwin.”

Larry typed. “Too many hits. He’s here on the Beach?”

Gavin nodded, and Larry typed again. “Here he is,” Larry said after a moment. “Miles To Go Productions.” He hit a couple of keys. “Impressive résumé. Berklee College is one of those primo music schools.” He typed some more. “This is cool. The music technology program he took is in Valencia, Spain. Is he Spanish?”

“I don’t know. He looks kind of Hispanic, but he has that really WASPy name.”

“Names don’t mean anything in Florida,” Larry said. “Half the Jamaicans I know have Jewish or Chinese last names. And remember that girl from FU, Heidi Zuckerman? She was from Argentina.”

Gavin leaned in and looked at the screen. Despite his thinning hair, Miles was only six years older than they were. But he had an impressive raft of credentials. Too impressive, maybe. Why was he wasting his time with Gavin, who could barely sing, when he had worked with artists like Pitbull and Gloria Estefan?

Larry kept searching, and a window from the property appraiser’s office popped up. “He owns a condo in Collins Park,” Larry said. It was a recently-rehabbed neighborhood near the Bass Museum. “Got to be doing well if he lives there.”

“He could have a mortgage,” Gavin said.

Larry shook his head. “Look at him. Even I can tell those clothes are hella pricey.” He pushed the laptop back toward Gavin. “I’m going to my room. I found this awesome gay anime porn site I want to check out. You can stay here and obsess if you want.”

Gavin stayed at the table, staring at a photo of Miles at a party for some rapper’s latest album. The Music Dude wore a black T-shirt that showed off his chest, and Gavin noticed a tattooed trail of clef notes running up Miles’s right arm. His head was thrown back, and he was laughing at something some big-breasted girl must have just said.

Gavin wrapped his arms around his chest, pressing against Miles’s ratty T-shirt. He spent the evening in Miles’s clothes, despite the weird fit. If he couldn’t have Miles Goodwin, at least he could have the feel of the Music Dude’s clothes against his skin.

Worth Waiting For

His dad called him that Friday evening. “Your friend checks out,” he said. “Alan has spoken with him, and they’re hammering out a deal now.”

“Oh, wow, that’s so cool,” Gavin said.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He’s been working on a project at a studio. I haven’t seen him for a few days.”

“So you really aren’t dating him?”

“Da-ad. I told you I wasn’t.”

“Well, I know the kind of mischief you get up to down there, Gavin. I’m not judging you, but I have to protect the family.”

“I’m telling you, Dad, there’s nothing going on between me and Miles.”

“Well, see that you keep it that way, at least until after the performance. Dealing with this family is already a big enough chore without bringing in more drama.”

Gavin’s father had been calling him dramatic long before his coming out. “No drama, Dad. I promise.”

He hung up the phone, so excited he felt like jumping around the room. But why hadn’t Miles called him to let him know? He should have. Was he so busy at that studio in South Miami that he didn’t even know?

He fished out Miles’s card and dialed his office. He probably wasn’t working that late, but at least Gavin could leave a message.

When Miles answered, Gavin said, “Hey, it’s Gavin. I just spoke to my dad. You’re going to come to Wisconsin?”

“Hold on. It’s not certain yet. My lawyer is talking to your lawyer.”

“Come on, dude. Lighten up. It’s going to happen; you know it.”

“I hope it will.”

“We should celebrate!” Gavin said. “Oh, but you’re probably working, right?”

“I’m going to finish up here in an hour. You want to meet for a drink?”

“That would be awesome,” Gavin said and then realized he ought to be dialing back his emotions. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

Gavin thought Miles would want to meet at one of the gay bars, like Score or Twist. But instead, he suggested a quiet little place a few blocks from his office on a side street. Gavin had never been there, but he’d heard it was romantic. That sent a shiver of expectation up his spine.

He dressed carefully, pulling on a dark-blue linen shirt that brought out his eyes and a pair of skinny jeans. Tougher to get out of quickly, but they showed off his assets well.

As he stepped into the restaurant’s lobby, he saw a dozen small tables off to his left and an ornate wooden bar to his right. Miles stood at one end, leaning across the bar talking to the bartender, and Gavin felt a pang of jealousy.

Miles looked like he’d just finished a long day’s work. He wore a form-fitting T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, his dark hair was tousled, and he had a five o’clock shadow. Gavin felt silly for having dressed up.

He walked up on them, and Miles turned and extended his hand. “Thanks, Gavin. I think this is going to be a great partnership.”

Gavin liked the feel of Miles’s hand in his. His grip was strong, his fingers long, his nails clean and well-manicured.

“What can I get you to drink?” Miles asked.

“I’ll take a Cosmo,” Gavin said. As long as Miles was buying, he’d go upscale from his usual beer.

They leaned against the bar, and Miles said, “I’ve been listening to ‘Apple Cider Time.’ Which one of the sisters is your grandmother?”

“Frances,” Gavin said. “The lead.”

“The mezzo,” Miles said. “Mezzo-soprano. That means her voice range is between the high notes of the soprano and the lower notes of the contralto. Her range is probably from the A below middle C to the A two octaves above.”

Gavin was processing the music terminology as the bartender brought his Cosmo and a margarita rocks for Miles. They clinked their glasses together.

“Aunt Ida sings the high notes, so that makes her the soprano, right?”

“Exactly.”

“And Aunt Myrtle is the contra-alto.”

“It’s all one word. Contralto. Now you, you’re a baritone. That’s the most common type of male voice. You said you have two cousins who are going to sing too?”

This wasn’t the way Gavin had expected the evening to play out. He had been hoping to get to know Miles more, but Miles was all business. He’d even pulled out a pocket notebook and begun taking notes.

“My cousin Erica just graduated from music school, and she’s starting a master’s in opera in the fall. She says she’s a colorful soprano.”

“Coloratura,” Miles said. “You’ve got to get these terms down, Gavin, if you’re going to sing professionally. Coloratura means she can do lots of tricks with her voice in the high register, trills and runs and so on.”

Gavin nodded. “Yeah, she does that kind of thing when we sing together. Her senior performance was Tytania in the opera of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
, and she killed it.”

“And your other cousin?”

“Archie is a bass, I know that. He sang with an a cappella group in college. It’s kind of funny, because he has pale skin and red hair, but he has this dark, almost wolfish tone to his voice. He does a lot of beat box stuff too.”

He gave Miles the name of Archie’s college group and then answered a lot of questions about how the family sang together. “Grandma Frances wavers sometimes,” Gavin said. “It’s almost like she knows what she wants to sing, but her voice can’t keep up.”

“That’s going to be tough with her singing lead,” Miles said. “In the recordings, the other two are always following her.”

“Yeah, that’s what Erica said. She says I’m going to have to carry the melody.”

“Sounds like we have a lot of work to do.” Miles picked up his glass and drained the last of his margarita. “Thanks for meeting me, Gavin. This is all useful information.” He stood up to leave. “Keep practicing those exercises, and we’ll be in touch once the dust settles on the contract.”

“Wait.” Gavin stood up, close to Miles, and looked in his eyes. “I can’t do it,” he said, surprised at his own words. “I can’t spend so much time with you at Starlit Lake and not know what it’s like to kiss you.” He leaned forward and kissed Miles on the lips.

There was an electric tingle as their lips met, and Gavin inhaled, sharing breath with Miles. Gavin was scared that Miles would pull back, the way he had when Gavin tried to suck on his fingers, but after only a brief hesitation, Miles was kissing him back, their lips pressing together. Gavin pulled Miles close, and Miles put his hands on Gavin’s back.

Gavin opened his lips a bit more and met Miles’s tongue, and his body trembled. This felt so right, being in this man’s arms, kissing him. It was all he wanted, he realized. Just to be with Miles, to hold him and kiss him.

But Miles pulled back. “We can’t do this, Gavin. It’s going to screw everything up. I’ve seen it happen too many times when an artist and a producer get together.” He stepped away. “It’s not about you or about me. It’s about the two of us together, how combustible that could be, and how it could ruin everything we’d be working for.”

Gavin’s emotions were swooping from highs to lows. “You don’t know that.” He stepped back into Miles’s space and kissed him again. He sensed the tension in Miles’s body, and it felt almost like those very first overtures he’d made, when he was a teenager, to another boy who wasn’t sure what he wanted.

But Miles knew. “I’m not a love-struck teenager who makes out in a public bar,” he said. “My apartment.”

“I’m with you,” Gavin said. “But we’re going to have to move quickly.”

“You’re a goof,” Miles said, but he leaned in and kissed Gavin again. “All good things are worth waiting for, you know.”

He took Gavin’s hand, and they walked out of the bar together. The humidity was intense, and after the cool interior of the bar, Miles’s glasses misted up. He had to take them off and wipe them on his shirt. He looked so vulnerable without them, Gavin thought, as if Miles used those hipster lenses as a shield between him and the world. It made him want to wrap Miles in his arms and never let him go.

They followed the narrow side street north, under the shelter of palm trees. “I still think this is a mistake,” Miles said as they passed through a couple of blocks of single-family houses, white stucco with red barrel-tile roofs. He held on to Gavin’s hand, though. “Just for the record.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gavin said.

“I don’t want you to think I do this all the time.”

“I don’t care if you do,” Gavin said.

“I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a good-looking, sexy guy. You work hard, and you deserve to play sometimes.”

“You’re a sweet talker,” Miles said. “Good kisser too.”

They stopped in the shelter of an Art Deco-style apartment building with those long outcroppings over the windows, called eyebrows, and kissed again. Let anybody look, Gavin thought. I’m staking a claim here.

Miles pulled away and tugged him around a corner into Collins Park, a pocket neighborhood of more of those low-rise apartments with rounded curves and porthole windows. Miles’s building had been slotted between two Art Deco buildings, with glass curves that matched the surrounding buildings.

He led Gavin into the lobby and nodded at the concierge. Gavin wondered for a moment if, despite what Miles had said, he did this a lot, brought guys back to his place—but then he pushed the thought away and focused on being there, with Miles. They held hands in the elevator, and once they reached the apartment, Miles unlocked the door and pulled Gavin inside.

Miles rubbed his face against Gavin’s, and the rasp of his stubble sent vibrations direct to Gavin’s groin. He sighed into Miles’s ear and felt Miles relax into him. Miles reached under Gavin’s T-shirt and splayed his hands on Gavin’s washboard abs. His long fingers caressed Gavin’s skin, eliciting sensations he’d never felt before.