Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Benji followed Andy and Danielle off stage, with Bobby behind him, the hoots and hollers from their audience still ringing in his ears.
He gratefully accepted a bottle of lukewarm water from a tech, happy to ease his slightly sore throat.
One set didn’t usually weaken his vocal chords this fast, but he’d woken that morning with a minor sniffle.
His manager had vitamin C tablets and those preventative powder things in him so fast, Benji barely remember taking them.
Fading Daze was playing his favorite kind of venue tonight: a gay club.
A place he’d actually heard of before in Providence, Rhode Island.
They didn’t get those bookings very often, but since Benji was openly gay, it helped widen their appeal and gain new fans.
And holy crap, he had plenty of fans to stare at while performing, many of them shirtless.
“Talk about eye candy,” Danielle said, sipping her own water. “Holy crap, I could dive into that crowd and die a happy girl.”
“Hey,” Andy squawked.
She placated him with a firm kiss to the mouth.
Benji palmed his phone. He’d felt the vibration of a missed message during the set. Voice mail from Joshua. His heart fluttered with joy. He hadn’t seen Joshua since Virginia Beach, but they kept in contact even more frequently now, both of them so keenly aware of what they’d almost lost.
The backstage area was still crazy noisy, and dance music boomed over the loudspeakers, so he eased his way down a short hallway to the green room. The walls vibrated a little, but he could hear well enough to play the message.
“Hey, babe, I know you have a show, but I need to talk to you. Call me, okay? I love you.”
He listened again before erasing it. Something in Joshua’s voice was off.
Not upset, but whatever he needed to say didn’t sound like amazing news.
They had twenty minutes before the next set.
Part of him said to wait until they were done with the show, but that would be well after one o’clock in the morning. Joshua might not stay up.
“Hey,” Joshua said, picking up right away. He had to have been holding the phone to reply so fast, and that set Benji on edge.
“Hey yourself. Emmett’s party over already?”
“No, I wasn’t in the mood anymore, so I’m hiding in my room. It’s winding down, though.”
Benji smiled at a faded poster on the wall. “You never were one for big crowds.”
“Not really, but I was trying out that whole making friends thing.”
“How did it go?”
“Not well. I mostly stuck to people at the party I knew.”
“Like Emmett and Lincoln?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “And Van.”
Something curled around Benji’s lungs, making his breath catch. “Van was there?”
“Yes. He’s roommates with Melody, who’s dating Emmett’s cousin Adrian.”
“Right.” Swallowing hard, Benji asked, “What did you and Van talk about?”
“Different things. It happened in a roundabout way, but he told me he has issues with his heart. He really has to stay healthy or he could have a heart attack.”
Benji nearly dropped his phone. “Dude. Wow. You wouldn’t even guess that to look at him.”
“No. So later on, Lincoln and some of the other musicians there started jamming, and after a while Emmett mentioned that Van once played guitar.”
More new, fascinating information about Van. Benji never would have pegged Van for a musician, but he really didn’t know the guy well. Obviously not as well as Joshua, and that stirred up tiny pricks of jealousy. Except he wasn’t sure of which guy he was jealous.
“I thought it would be awesome to hear Van play,” Joshua continued, “so I goaded him, he got upset, said no, and then stormed out of the party. I felt like an ass, so I followed him outside and we talked more. He said he has reasons he doesn’t play, but didn’t tell me what they were.
Things kind of got intense between us and . . .”
Benji held his breath, a flash of fear turning his stomach to ice.
“Van kissed me.” Joshua spoke so softly the words almost didn’t make sense.
Benji sank into one of the green room chairs, his knees wobbly, insides all shaky. His breath came in small hitches. It must have stopped there. He needed to know it stopped there. “Did you kiss him back?”
Joshua made a small, whiny sound that pierced Benji’s heart. “Not at first. Once I did, it was for maybe two seconds, and then I stopped it. I’m so fucking sorry, Ben.”
Not at first. For maybe two seconds.
My boyfriend kissed another man.
Benji closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting while his emotions ran riot over his thoughts. He didn’t understand what was happening. Three weeks. They’d managed three weeks as an officially committed couple, and then Joshua kissed another man.
For maybe two seconds.
Not an excuse. He hadn’t pushed Van off him right away; he’d allowed it to happen, because Joshua was attracted to Van, and he’d wanted Van for weeks. They had a private moment, guards down, and they kissed.
One kiss.
It could have been worse.
It shouldn’t have fucking happened.
“Benji? Talk to me, please.”
It took several tries to make his voice work. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I fucked up. I know I did, and I am so sorry. Tell me what to do.”
Benji hated the rough, tear-filled sound of Joshua’s voice, but he couldn’t find any words to comfort him.
He couldn’t process this right now. On one hand, it was one kiss, but on the other hand, it was a kiss with Van.
The guy they’d actually considered, for however brief a time, asking to join them in bed.
I should have given Joshua up weeks ago. He could have been happy with Van all this time, instead of waiting for me to come back to him.
But he didn’t want to break up with Joshua, especially not over one kiss. He couldn’t stand for Joshua to think the absolute worst of himself—that he was a cheater at heart, just like his parents.
He also didn’t think he could forgive him yet.
“I can’t do this right now,” Benji said. “Our show isn’t over.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called during a gig, but I had to tell you right away. I didn’t want to keep it a secret, because that’s as good as lying to you.”
He wanted to give Joshua points for being honest as soon as possible, but he was still too knotted up about the kiss, period. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll call you.”
Joshua made that awful, pitiful sound again. “I love you.”
“Yeah.” Maybe it was cruel, but Benji didn’t say it back before he ended the call. He also couldn’t move, so weighed down by his confusion and hurt. Music from the main floor thundered in the walls, but was no match for the beat of his own angry heart.
“Benji, we need to—shit, who died?” Andy had stopped right inside the green room door and was staring at him with wide eyes.
Benji stared at his band mate. “No one died.”
“Then why do you look like you wanna cry? Do I wanna know? Should I get Dani?”
These were the moments when Benji really missed XYZ and being around other gay guys who weren’t afraid to talk about emotional stuff.
Who didn’t get weird about his and Joshua’s relationship, and who didn’t practically wear “no homo” on their sleeves.
Andy was a decent guy, a great musician, and he meant well, but he was not someone Benji could unload on.
“No, it’s fine,” Benji said. “It can wait until the show’s over. I just need a minute, okay?”
“Okay, dude. We’re back on in five.”
“Thanks.”
Benji went into the green room’s tiny private bathroom to splash water on his face.
He didn’t bother with his reflection, because he knew what he’d see—tired, sad eyes and red cheeks.
He very nearly broke his “no liquor between sets” rule, hopeful a shot or two would settle his nerves and make the next hour easier to bear.
But his throat was already rough, and he didn’t want to risk it.
I’m a professional. I can get through this.
He still wanted to curl up and cry, but first he had a fucking job to do.
“Benji!” someone yelled.
“Coming!” After another deep breath that did nothing to calm his nerves, he left the bathroom to rejoin his band, determined not to let this screw up his performance.
They had to change their closing set list around, because by the time they went on stage for the third and final time, Benji’s voice was nearly gone.
They picked as many numbers as they could that featured Danielle on lead vocals, with Benji doing his best to back her up, but it wasn’t their best work.
After their last song, Benji trudged off stage with no real energy or enthusiasm, despite intense applause.
He slouched into a chair in the green room, then curled onto his side, aching and exhausted. Danielle squatted in front of him, her round face a twisted mask of concern. “Do you have a cold? Are you sick? What do you need? You look like shit.”
“Dunno,” was all he managed. He needed Joshua to have never called him with that confession, but it was too late.
“Need me to call Joshua?”
“No.” The last person he wanted to speak to was Joshua. “What I need is a goddamn drink. A very stiff one.”
She blinked several times. “Are you sure about that?”
“He looked weird after the first set,” Andy said. “Said he didn’t want to talk about it.”
“And I still don’t.” Benji sat up. “I want a drink. I’m not sick.”
Danielle didn’t look like she believed him, but she moved so he could stand.
Once their equipment was safely stowed in the van, they had another hour before last call.
Usually Benji either stayed in the green room, or went back to the hotel, but not tonight.
Tonight he followed his band mates out into the pulsing club.
At the bar, he ordered two tequila shots, then downed them one after the other.
The liquor burned nicely, warming his blood, allowing the music to get into his bones.
Someone at the bar offered to buy him another shot.
The guy was cute enough, so Benji tossed it back, and then went to dance with him.