Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Soul-deep conversations and tender moments transform into a passion that shocks them both. Since neither has ever entertained the idea of being with another man, they attribute their confusing feelings to their established nightly routine. Determined to spend time apart, they resume their solo lives. But the desperate, achy neediness only returns, and soon enough they’re back in each other’s arms—and beds.
Before they have time to work through it, the real world intrudes. Admitting their secret status would change not only the chemistry of their band but the trajectory of their lives. Plus, their newfound feelings seem as fragile as the beginning notes of a new melody. They’ll need to rely on the solid foundation of their friendship, and even then, it could all fall apart. Will they become a one-hit wonder or a love song that endures the test of time?
TW: Discussions of past child abuse and a home invasion involving weapons
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Nolan
Ellis leaned toward the microphone near the end of our final set. “Thanks for coming out!”
We drew a decent crowd on a good night, but by this hour, it normally thinned out. Ellis got enthusiastic applause from the stragglers, either because they enjoyed our music or because he was so charismatic. I often wondered if he should’ve been our front man. But I had better pipes. Still, he and Perry sang backup, mostly for the more energetic songs, and Ellis was always the one who got the crowd going because he was like a bright light everyone gravitated toward—and not only because of his sunny outlook. He was damned handsome with his perfectly styled dark hair, groomed scruff, and tall and bulky stature. His mad skills on the bass helped too, the ladies easily swooning. It was why we’d decided he should be the one introducing the band.
Ellis continued, “We’ve got Anthony on the drums, Perry on the keyboard, and our front man, Nolan, on the guitar. And he’s single, ladies.”
The audience clapped as I shot him a scalding look. I was going to kill him. Ellis enjoyed being in relationships, while I’d rather remain solo.
He ignored me, flashing our attendees a smile. “And I’m Ellis, on the bass. You’re listening to In a Funk, and this is our final song. Something new we’ve been working on.”
Our diehard fans, whom I recognized by now, seemed enthusiastic as I looked pointedly at Anthony, then Perry, my fingers perched on the fret. Perry counted off the beat to the first note, and then we were off, playing our newest song we’d practiced for weeks.
We had a regular Thursday night gig at the Thirst Lounge, a little hole-in-the-wall place in downtown Ann Arbor, which was a mecca for live bands. We looked forward to it all week. Just four guys in our thirties who worked regular day jobs and breathed music.
What was left of the crowd swelled toward the stage because it was a livelier number. An older couple even started their version of swing dancing, which wasn’t new. Once they got going, they were pretty entertaining to watch. Ellis and I moved closer to belt out the refrain, smiling on either side of the microphone. We were considered a funkadelic band in the same vein as Bruno Mars. Hell, we’d even covered some of his songs, but we did a ton of our own music because we loved the creative energy so much. We’d never strike it big or score a recording contract, despite Perry’s lifelong dream. Most musicians didn’t, but if we could play for the rest of our lives, we’d die happy.
“Good night!” I said into the mic after the song ended. I was sweating underneath my trusty hat, my glasses sliding down my nose, and from the looks of Anthony, whose shirt was soaked through, he was just as exhausted. It used to be Heather on the drums, and she was badass. When she left the band, it was hard to find a replacement who clicked with us. Finally, Anthony had shown up for the ad we’d placed, sat in on one of our sessions, and won us over.
Perry, Ellis, and I had been in the music scene forever and had seen bands come and go. Musicians fought and broke up like the most dysfunctional families. That was why we had to put our foot down when it came to asking Anthony to join our crew.
“We’ve got some ground rules. For one, don’t throw a hissy fit and walk out on the band. Be a grown-up and talk it through first.”
His eyebrows had lifted. Oh, he was gonna love the second.
“Never mention our former drummer. It sends Perry into a tailspin.”
That made the third rule easy. “No dating between bandmates allowed.”
Full stop. We were done with that bullshit. It was silly to mention that last rule, though, because we were all straight dudes—and Anthony was actually married, we later learned—but the look Perry gave me spoke volumes. Still, you never knew what might happen. We’d considered adding a fifth—maybe someone on the saxophone—for a long time.
We didn’t talk about the reason Heather left, but it had everything to do with Perry. They’d started dating, and it all went downhill from there, which sucked so bad, especially since we’d had a good thing going.
We walked off the small stage, Perry reaching for a hand towel to wipe his brow, and headed to the bar for refreshments. On the way, we were greeted by fans who loved listening to live bands. This was our community, and we reveled in it because everyday life could be a grind.
“Great job, guys,” one guy said.
“Love the new song,” another called out.
“Thanks,” I replied, my cheeks striped pink. But it felt good.
Lydia, the bartender, already had our beers lined up, and we gulped the cool liquid without any chatter between us. We’d brought water onstage, but I was still parched from playing, the tang of the blunt we’d shared before the show still on my tongue. One of our rituals.