Nightsong

Nightsong

Notes from Boston #2

A. M. Leibowitz

Smashwords Edition

Supposed Crimes LLC, Matthews, North Carolina

All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2017 A. M. Leibowitz

Published in the United States

ISBN: 978-1-944591-24-3

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Mark well, therefore, our souls,

rather than the poor players’ garb

we wear, for we are men

of flesh and bone, like you, breathing

the same air of this orphan world.

~Prologue, Pagliacci (Ruggero Leoncavallo)

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to those who took the time out of their busy schedule to beta read (and re-read and suggest changes). Your dedication and support are above and beyond, and this novel would not exist without you.

Thank you to my family, particularly my children, who have provided names for people and locations. You are all better at this than I am, and I hope you know we’ll be having many more conversations in which I will ask you to name things for me.

Finally, thanks to my readers. While reading the words may be a solitary activity, a book is a communal experience. I hope through these pages you learn that you are not alone, you are not wrong, and you are not broken.

Chapter One

Nate Kingsley was on the theater’s third floor in the classroom wing, washing dishes in the lounge. He heard a noise behind him and peeked over his shoulder. A beautiful young man with light brown hair and eyes to match bounced in, still in costume from the rehearsal going on downstairs. The elegant cape around his shoulders billowed out as he twirled across the room. After grabbing a peach from the fridge, he stood in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip, waiting for Nate to acknowledge him.

Once Nate turned around to look, Del cleared his throat. Never get involved with a married man, he declared. With that sage advice, he flopped onto the couch in the lounge and swung his feet up, heaving a dramatic sigh.

Nate raised his eyebrows, trying to decide if Del was serious or not. He half suspected most of what Del said was exaggeration, but in this case, he didn’t doubt there was some truth to it. Del had been on about this particular nameless man for several weeks. On the other hand, he had a reputation as being up for anything—or anyone—and he needed to maintain it, regardless of how true the story was.

Learned your lesson the hard way, eh? Nate asked, drying his hands.

Del flung his arm out. Guess it wasn’t meant to be a fairy tale ending.

Nate snorted and turned away. Del’s relationship woes were notorious, and hooking up with a married man was only the latest in a string of poor partner choices he’d made, at least if he was looking for the mythical happily-ever-after. Nate would have felt sorry for him, but Del knew the man was married, knew he was closeted, and knew he had no plans to leave his wife or come out. Eyes wide open and all that. The truth was, Del liked drama. It’s what made him good at what he did, even if it also made him ten kinds of irritating whenever he chose to act out his profession in his personal life.

Not that Nate should be talking. He’d wasted a lot of years on the wrong people himself. If he were making a list, he might as well start with his first boyfriend and end with the unrequited crush he’d had on his best friend, Trevor. The result of his own bad decisions had been losing one of them and nearly losing the other. Del didn’t know any of that, however, and it left Nate free to needle him a little.

You could have said no, he pointed out.

Del rolled his eyes. Where’s the fun in that? I had three months of getting fucked by the hottest man I’ve ever met. I can die happy, even if I’m disappointed it’s over.

You have a one-track mind. Nate crossed the room and began picking up trash left by the previous occupants.

And you haven’t gotten laid in…how long now? I’ve lost count. Del bounced off the couch. You’ve been super bitchy lately, and for everyone’s sake, it needs to stop. Obviously your own hand isn’t enough.

First of all, Nate said, turning around again, don’t call me bitchy. You know how I feel about that word. Second, my stress has nothing to do with my lack of sex, thank you very much.

That was mostly true. Nate had taken over as creative director of the tiny opera company less than a month prior, and not only did he miss taking lead roles, he also hated the endless and infuriating day-to-day problems. Del was the least difficult to work with because he didn’t tend to bring his issues on stage, even if he did complain about them during breaks. Far worse were the couple who constantly broke up and got back together, the person who complained daily about not getting the right roles, and the one who made rude comments every time a particular cast mate was on stage.

Del huffed. I get that you’re a tortured artist and all, but I really do think you need to relieve all that pent-up tension.

Why? Are you offering? Nate sneered at him.

Oh, honey, you could not handle me, Del replied, his voice smooth as butter. I’m so not your type. Take it from me, though. You’ll feel a lot better once you blow off some steam. No one can go this long without it building up.

Not all of us are like you, Nate snapped. At Del’s hurt expression, he relented. I’m sorry. Listen, I know you mean well, but I don’t need a man to make my life better. What I need is to get my own shit together and focus on work. After the holiday production, I’ll have a break to deal with my personal relationship crises. Okay?

Okay, okay. I’ll leave you to it. Del stretched, scratched his stomach, and flounced out of the room.

Once he was gone, Nate sat on the couch Del had vacated and put his head in his hands. Del was right about one thing—Nate had been taking out his frustration on everyone else as much as they’d been annoying the snot out of him. He wished he could go home, whine about it a little—fine, a lot—and let Trevor take care of him the way they’d done all through school. Except they were adults now, had been for a long time in fact, and Trevor was not interested in engaging with Nate in any tension-relieving activities. He had enough to balance with a new relationship and a baby on the way; never mind that he’d made it clear his and Nate’s days of being each other’s right hand were over.

Nate growled and flopped against the back of the couch. It was going to be a long day.

#

Tired and with aching feet, Nate opened the door to the apartment, ready to put away the few groceries he’d bought, grab a beer, and throw himself onto the couch to watch mindless something or other until the other guys he lived with arrived home. Instead of silence, he was greeted by the sound of angry voices drifting from the hallway by the bedrooms. He was torn between worry and a sense of deja vu. If they kept it up, their downstairs neighbor—affectionately referred to as Mrs. Crochety—would have something to say about it. He stepped into the apartment and peered around cautiously.

Sure enough, outside the bathroom, Jamie was having another fight with his on-again, off-again boyfriend. Everything about Nate’s day felt like it was on repeat, from the backstage attitudes to Del’s relationship drama to this. Nate tried hard for Jamie’s sake not to hate The Boyfriend, whose name he intentionally didn’t remember, but it was damn hard. The Boyfriend was whiny, immature, and entitled. None of them understood why Jamie liked being around him, especially on days like today.

Nate watched and listened for a few minutes, catching the gist of the argument. The Boyfriend was after Jamie about some plans he’d made which Jamie either didn’t want to go through with or hadn’t agreed to in the first place. Nate guessed it was the latter because Jamie wasn’t one to break a commitment.

Please, Jamie begged. You know how I feel about it. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

The Boyfriend tsk’d. "For once in your life, think about how I feel."

I am! Jamie protested. You can take someone else. I can’t, okay? Please. He was shaking.

The Boyfriend obviously realized he wasn’t getting anywhere because his next move was to step closer and put his hands on Jamie’s shoulders. Sh, baby. Come on. It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it. We don’t even have to stay the whole time. Everyone wants to see you, and I want to show them how fucking hot you still are. He kissed Jamie’s lips, despite the fact that Jamie was a stone in response.

He moved one hand down to Jamie’s hip then slowly inched his fingers farther in until they rested on Jamie’s crotch. Jamie flinched, but his muttered, Stop it went unheeded.

Nate hated getting in the middle, but once Jamie’s no had been disrespected, he couldn’t help it. Hey, Jay? he called, moving closer to them.

The other two fell silent. Jamie cleared his throat and responded, Yeah? as he turned toward Nate.

Want to come help me in the kitchen for a sec?

Jamie started to step out of the hallway, but The Boyfriend caught his arm. Where the fuck do you think you’re going? We’re not done.

I’m going to help Nate like he asked. Jamie jerked his arm away.

He entered the kitchen and wiped his face on his sleeve. His cheeks were blotchy and his eyes were bright, but he looked all right otherwise. Nate wouldn’t have put it past The Boyfriend to hit Jamie, though he hadn’t seen him do it yet. He held out the bag of groceries and leaned in as if he were discussing the cream cheese.

Are you all right? he asked, low.

Yeah.

Jamie.

It’s nothing, okay? Jamie sighed. But thanks for getting me out of there.

Want to tell me what that was about?

Jamie shrugged and stepped around Nate to open the fridge. He glanced over his shoulder and leaned closer. Not now.

Nate nodded and put the last few items away. He tossed the reusable bag into a drawer and stalked over to The Boyfriend. Nate towered over him, and he wasn’t afraid to use his height to his advantage. The Boyfriend shrank back a bit, though he was still scowling.

Probably a good idea to leave, Nate said.

Not without him. The Boyfriend nodded at Jamie. He’s coming with me like he promised.

Hell, no. Didn’t sound like he promised you anything. Nate crossed his arms and stared down at The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend gave a whining huff and stormed out, pulling the door shut with force behind him. Jamie relaxed visibly and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

Thanks, he said.

He’s an ass, Nate said.

Please don’t, Jamie snapped, his posture abruptly changing. You don’t understand.

Understand what? I have no idea what you were arguing about, but damn it, Jamie, it gets fucking old.

Oh? I’m sorry my life is ruining yours. Jamie pushed past Nate and took off down the hallway to his room. He slammed the door, leaving Nate alone in the kitchen.

Nate closed his eyes and breathed slowly. Great. Another friendship on the verge of collapse because he simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He thought about Trevor and the mess he’d created there by accidentally-on-purpose outing him in a public and humiliating way. It had worked itself out, but it would be a long time before he could reconstruct their trust again. Now here he was, hurting Jamie too.

He smacked his hand on the counter. Enough was enough. He wouldn’t lose someone else because of his overdeveloped sense of what was right. Nate went to Jamie’s room and knocked on the door.

What do you want? Jamie asked.

I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry I was a dick just now.

A moment later, Jamie opened the door. They stood there, Jamie craning his neck to look up at Nate, who was a good ten inches taller. Jamie’s eyes were red-rimmed. Nate put a hand on Jamie’s arm and squeezed gently. He let go, and with a nod, Jamie stepped back into his room and closed the door with a soft click. If Nate’s eyes misted over too, no one else needed to know.

#

By the time Mack, their other roommate, came home, Jamie had mostly recovered. They had a private talk Nate didn’t intrude on, and he hoped Jamie was telling Mack more than he’d told Nate even though he suspected he wasn’t. They emerged from Mack’s room a short while later, by which time Nate had food on the table. Mack gripped Nate’s arm as he slipped past him to get a drink.

It should have been awkward, being there without Trevor. Technically, Trevor still lived with them. Most of his things were there, and he occasionally came back for a day or two at a time. He paid rent, and he wasn’t planning on moving out officially until after Thanksgiving. But he was still trying to work through his complicated relationships with his boyfriend, Andre, and Marlie, who was having his baby and may or may not still have been his girlfriend. Nate was unclear on what sort of arrangement they had. He tried, and failed, not to judge them. It was only that he couldn’t understand being in love with two people at once—he couldn’t imagine wanting to share himself or a boyfriend that way.

Over their meal, they discussed the upcoming benefit event Mack was helping to plan. Andre volunteered part-time at his grandmother’s health clinic and youth shelter. The clinic had a serious lack of funds, so the whole group was in the process of putting together the charity show. As they talked, Jamie slowly emerged from his earlier low and became more animated.

So, Trev called, he said with enthusiasm. He said Andre’s friend from the bar—don’t know if you remember him, he’s the bouncer—is working on getting us a night. Probably sometime in November. Says he wants to do it before people get too busy with the holidays. So we have, like, six to eight weeks to plan this thing.

That’s not a whole lot of time, Mack commented. I’m not sure I know enough people to participate. He snorted. Could be mostly us playing for the whole night. I’m pretty sure no one wants that.

Jamie punched him in the arm, but he laughed. We’re not that bad. Are we? He turned to Nate.

Nate shrugged. You’ve improved. He was distracted, thinking about how Trevor had called Jamie and not him. Less than a year ago, things would have been different.

Yeah, well, I don’t think we’re going to improve enough in six weeks to carry a whole benefit concert, Mack said.

I can get some of my people to do something, Nate found himself saying.

Opera? Mack said, sounding incredulous.

Jamie socked him again. That’s a great idea! he gushed. People will love it. It’s so…I don’t know, kind of out there but in a good way.

Gender-bent opera, Nate said, chuckling. Yeah, we’re definitely different.

Well, there’s two acts, then, Mack said. I can have Andre ask Curtis about the regulars who perform on drag night, too. Surely some of them would be willing.

Nate hoped so. He’d seen them before, and they were good. An image of his favorite one sprang to mind—a queen with a full beard. Neatly trimmed, sure, but a beard nonetheless. She was gorgeous, too. Almost as tall as Nate and lean with long, long legs. He vaguely remembered her name was TaTa Latke, so he’d been expecting a bit more of a Jewish shtick. She didn’t deliver it, though. The first time he’d seen her was during another benefit night at Grand Slam, the bar where Curtis worked. TaTa had been singing Annie Lennox songs. Nate kept it his little secret that he’d gone to see her regularly, especially after discovering her usual routine involved popular theater and her voice was incredible. She sometimes had a partner, a drag king. They were fun together, made hilarious by the fact that her partner was quite a bit shorter.

Mack broke into Nate’s thoughts. I wonder if Curtis could ask that guy who does Irish dance to come back. Holy fuckin’ hell, he was hot. I’ve never seen anyone do that in a thong before. Damn, I’m sweating thinking about it.

His remark surprised Nate. Mack hadn’t ever spelled anything out about his sexuality. He had a girlfriend, or possibly a friend with benefits, so Nate had made assumptions. Clearly he’d been wrong.

Jamie frowned. He’s one of my cousin’s friends, actually. But he’s kind of a snot.

Who cares? Mack argued. Ask Brandon if he thinks his friend will do it. He grinned. Preferably nearly naked again.

Fine. Jamie scowled, and Nate wondered what had him so bent out of shape.

Meanwhile, I’ll talk to Gemma and Cassie about scheduling a few extra practices. They were in Mack and Jamie’s band, keyboard and bass respectively.

Jamie nodded. I’ll see if Trevor can get Irina Clay-Jones, but I’m not sure if a rainbow-friendly bar alongside a bunch of drag queens and half-naked men is really the best place for gospel music. He snickered.

Nate laughed in spite of himself. I don’t know. There are plenty of queer Christians who might enjoy it. Plus, we definitely need some more lady talent up there, and I’ve been assured by people who like women that she’s swoon-worthy.

Amelia practically drools when she sings. Mack grinned. God, sex afterward is so—

Nate put up both hands. Do not. Even. Say it.

Mack finished eating and put his dishes in the sink. He wasn’t entirely being rude by not staying to help wash up. His regular job involved washing dishes, so they had an agreement it wouldn’t be one of his household chores. Nate cleared the rest of the table, frowning when he noticed Jamie had barely eaten, but dismissing his surprise when he recalled what had happened earlier. He wouldn’t have been in the mood either. Jamie helped him, leaving everything in the dish drainer. Nate spent a whole ten seconds contemplating drying them before deciding against it. Trevor would have been disappointed, but he wasn’t there to complain or to clean up after them. They were doing better now that they couldn’t rely on him, but their apartment had been a little scary for a bit.

Jamie escaped to his room, and Mack went out somewhere with Amelia, his whatever-she-was, leaving Nate alone in the living room. He flopped onto the couch and stretched out his long legs, leaning his head back. Before he had a chance to decide what movie to watch, he was fast asleep.

Chapter Two

Israel Izzy Kaplan turned away from the radio and hollered over his shoulder, Morales! Morales, get in here!

A petite, dark-haired woman poked her head around the corner. Yeah?

You’re not going to fucking believe this. Izzy shook his head, chuckling. He couldn’t hold back, and deep belly laughs rolled out of him.

Kaplan, get it together. Val poked him in the side.

He composed himself, trying to keep a straight face despite the snicker filtering through. We have a patient to pick up.

And you’re still sitting here because…? She waved her hand at him.

It’s not an emergency.

It’s not like you to mock the homeless guy who keeps calling. Val’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Izzy clammed up then cleared his throat. Sorry. Not the homeless guy, either. You know I wouldn’t make fun if it were. When haven’t we gone to take care of him? It’s something else.

Val huffed. Yeah, okay. Get to the point already.

We’re supposed to go—he laughed again—pick up—another snort—a skeleton.

Val’s face registered confusion. Someone’s been dead a long time.

A real long time, Izzy agreed. On the order of millions of years.

Uh…

He guffawed again. We have to transport a fucking dinosaur. That’s not a metaphor.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Val grinned. Well, my day just got about a thousand times more interesting. What are we waiting for?

They pulled on their jackets and walked to the bay, both still snickering. The only reason given by dispatch was that the dinosaur was safer riding in an ambulance