Chapter 1 #2
The place wasn’t too crowded yet, so Lincoln snagged a spot at the bar. He vaguely recognized both the male and female bartenders from last year. It didn’t take long before the guy, a hot number with spiky black hair and very sharp cheekbones, asked what he was drinking.
“What local on tap would you recommend?” Lincoln replied.
The bartender winked, then grabbed an empty glass. He returned a moment later with a pale ale with a light head. “Tab?”
“Sure.”
He didn’t plan on getting wasted, but it was easier than sliding his debit card over and over.
Not that he had an endless amount of money in there, either.
He hated knowing every penny in his account was a gift from Dominic’s parents and tried to use as little as possible. Tonight he needed to fucking unwind.
“You look familiar, man,” the bartender said while he mixed another drink order. Just Lincoln’s luck he sat near the man’s workstation. “Been here before?”
“About a year ago.”
“Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” Lincoln sipped his beer. Perfectly chilled, malty with a nice, crisp finish. Not bad. “What is this?”
“Dogfish Head,” the guy replied without looking up from his garnishes. “Firefly Ale.”
“Weird name.” But a good beer.
Hot Bartender handed off his two drinks, then took cash to the register. On his way back, he said, “Named it after a local music festival.”
Ah-ha, that made sense. Lincoln had been to the Firefly Music Festival a few years ago as part of the general audience, and it had been amazing. It had also been a dream of his to see XYZ perform there. That wasn’t happening ever, and not just because the festival had shut down.
He hummed a few verses of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” while he sipped his beer and crowd-watched.
Groups of women at the tables, a scattering of guys.
Eight was pretty early for the typical bar crowd, and he had no idea if the place attracted a lot of queer patrons.
Lincoln was just as interested in the music as in a physical talent search.
His phone buzzed with a text alert. Photo from Dominic. Cute selfie of him and Trey outside of some Memphis bar advertising Bar-B-Q in bright neon.
Hope you guys have a redneck set for that crowd.
He sent a thumbs-up emoji as reply.
Movement right in front of him made Lincoln jump and nearly elbow his drink. The male bartender was grinning at him while wiping a glass with a towel. “Thought I recognized you, man.”
Lincoln raised an eyebrow.
“You were in that band XYZ,” the bartender went on. His smile faded away. “Shit. You were in that accident, right?”
“Yeah, I was in that accident.” Lincoln held his temper, waiting for the pity or the sad looks, questions about his general health.
The guy surprised him by offering his hand. “Van Holt.”
Lincoln shook. “Lincoln West.”
“Look, next one’s on me, okay?” Van pointed at his half-empty glass.
“I appreciate it, thanks.”
Van went about his work, smoothly dancing around the back of the bar with a short female.
He had a seriousness about him that gave his angular face an almost angry look, but he smiled and flirted with his customers, lining his pockets with tip money.
Lincoln no longer trusted his gaydar after getting it blown to pieces by Trey coming out last summer, so he shelved Van under Undetermined.
The eight o’clock act ended up being a girl with a guitar doing folksy renditions of pop hits.
She wasn’t awful, but Lincoln wasn’t sure that anything other than local stages were in her future.
He spent most of her set picking apart her arrangements and redoing them in his head on a guitar he could no longer play.
Not that he’d forgotten how or had lost control over his hands from the concussion.
Traumatic brain injuries were crazy tricky, and for some reason that his neurologist could not explain, the vibrations of the guitar strings made him dizzy.
It sucked ass, because he loved guitar. It had been his focus instrument since he was ten years old, and now his sat in its case in a closet at the Bounds house. Doing nothing.
Should’ve pawned the damned thing.
A slinky female number in a tight blue dress eased onto the empty stool next to his, angled toward him. “What are you doing out all alone on a Friday night?” she asked.
Lincoln leaned his elbow against the bar, too bored to shut her down right away. “Nothing much. Listening to some music. Enjoying a local brew. You?”
“Same. Except I don’t seem to have a drink to enjoy.”
Oh yeah, she was hustling him for a drink. But Lincoln didn’t swing that way, and he wasn’t wasting good money on something he had no hopes of banging later tonight. “You might want to get on that, then.”
She pulled out her very best pout. “Someone’s not feeling generous tonight.”
“Someone’s not fishing for your brand of talent tonight.”
“And what brand is that?”
He made an exaggerated head-tilt in Van’s direction.
“Seriously?” She dropped the pout and just looked . . . tired. “You’re gay?”
“Bingo.”
“Why can I never flirt with the right people? Why?”
Lincoln laughed. “I don’t know you well enough to make a guess about that one, sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His companion flagged down Van and ordered a vodka sour. “Melody.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name. Melody Thompson.”
“Lincoln West.” His second introduction in less than an hour. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this socializing thing.
Van returned with Melody’s drink. She immediately ate the cherry garnish. “So, how come someone as hot as you doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
Lincoln blinked. Despite Roxy’s blunt nature, he wasn’t used to hanging around chicks who said whatever was on their mind.
It was kind of refreshing, given the way most people in his life treated him—like they wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap so he didn’t fall over and break.
“You’re not so bad-looking yourself,” he replied.
“How come someone as hot as you doesn’t have a boyfriend? ”
“I’m too picky, I guess. Plus, you know, this tendency I have of sniffing the wrong tree.”
He wasn’t sure that was the right metaphor, but whatever. “Ever try an app?”
“I’m not that desperate yet.”
She sipped her drink, and Lincoln took the pause in conversation to study her.
Melody had a pleasantly round face, no sharp angles, and plump lips perfectly shaped with lipstick.
Just enough makeup to accent her eyes and cheekbones without being over-the-top.
Curly dark hair that barely brushed her shoulders.
Slim body with not a lot of curves, small tits she made the most of with that tight dress.
Someone tonight would definitely want to hit that.
Just not him.
“Want to man-watch together?” Melody asked.
“Sure, why not?” Dominic would be so proud of him for making a friend. Even if only for a few hours of bar conversation. “You have a type?”
She winked. “Blond.”
He ran a hand through his unkempt blond hair that was probably a month past needing a decent trim. “Shocking.”
“You?”
The words “tall, dark, and biracial” lingered on the tip of Lincoln’s tongue, but he kept them to himself.
Despite the fact that Dominic was madly in love with Trey, and that Lincoln hadn’t had a sexual relationship with Dominic since they were teenagers, a part of Lincoln had remained in love with Dominic since he was seventeen.
Every guy he dated got compared to Dominic, every prospect falling short of expectations until Lincoln gave up on dating and focused on his music.
Casual fucks became the norm, and he kept his long-distance crush to himself.
He and Dominic would always be friends and brothers, but that was it, and Lincoln needed to move on. “I’m not too picky,” Lincoln replied.
They both spun their stools around and spent the next half hour critiquing every guy in the place.
Some talent existed, but they were either on the arm of another girl or in a clinch with another dude.
As the time wore closer to the ten o’clock act, the bar filled with more people and Lincoln was halfway into his fourth beer.
Probably not a great idea, considering he’d taken his depression meds later in the day than usual, but whatever. He was out having fun for a change.
His lips also felt a little numb from all the alcohol, so he tapped a finger against them.
Both still there.
He also found himself stupidly curious about his drinking companion. “So are you local or on vacation?” Lincoln asked.
“New transplant.” Melody had only just ordered her second vodka sour, and she stirred it with the tiny straw. At least Dom would have been matching him beer for beer. “I moved to the area about a month ago.”
“From?”
“Onley, Virginia. Tiny town on the lower shore. You?”
“Here for the summer.”
“Where do you live when it’s not summer?”
“Philadelphia.”
“I’ve never been.”
“What?” Lincoln stared at her in genuine horror. Philly was the best city within a three-hour driving radius. “Now that’s a damned shame. I’ll have to show you around sometime.”
“I guess you will now that you’ve offered.” She tapped at her phone, then turned it around. “Give me your digits.” He did, and she immediately shot him a text. “There, now I can bug you until you do take me.”
He laughed, then finished off his beer. The alcohol gave the world a nice, fuzzy edge. All of his problems were far away, no longer haunting his every step. He liked the fuzzy.
He liked the fuzzy so much he almost missed the appearance of a new face behind the bar.
Younger than Van, with a slim, almost twinkish frame and thick, dark hair.
Adorable face with a serious expression.
He dumped a container of lime wedges into the bin at Van’s station, head ducked in a way that said “Don’t notice me. ”
Lincoln couldn’t stop noticing him. He stared so hard the guy must have felt it, because he looked up. Pale eyes met his, and something inside of Lincoln sat up and took notice. Except the object of his attention looked away fast and practically bolted from behind the bar.
Fucking sunglasses. Probably couldn’t tell I was totally cruising him.
His issue all night, he was sure of it. He couldn’t hold eye contact when guys couldn’t fucking see his eyes.
He sensed the warm body near his before the hand gently brushed his hip.
Lincoln swiveled away from Melody, toward tall, blond, and stacked.
The new guy leaned against the bar on his elbow, his free hand drifting to Lincoln’s knee.
The bar back’s pale eyes lingered in his memory, but this guy wasn’t running like a startled deer.
“Hey,” Lincoln said.
“Hey, yourself.” That hand inched a bit higher. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“First time in a while.” His dick started paying attention to the pressure on his leg. “Didn’t feel like staying in tonight.”
“Same here.”
Lincoln leaned in, angling his head, hoping to make his intentions clear. “I’m not opposed to calling it an early night if I have someone to take home with me.”
“You taking them home for anything in particular?”
His lips were inches from the guy’s ear when Lincoln said, “So we can fuck.”
Tonight’s talent shivered, then said, “Sounds good to me. Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes. Let’s.”