if you really like, you can let the media continue with their crazy conspiracy theory crap. Though, with there being truth behind those conspiracies, it might be better for Harley and Ryder if you come forward and clarify.”
I stare at Denver, who seems unsure. “I wouldn’t have kissed him in public if I wasn’t ready to face all that.”
Denver’s shoulders sag in relief. “Me too.”
“Good. That’s settled.” Gideon takes out his phone. “I’m going to make some calls. Be back soon. You got an office I can use?”
Denver leads him down the corridor but returns moments later and sits closer to me so our thighs are pressed against each other. I reach for his hand, and our fingers intertwine.
It’s interesting to me that Denver and I are easily showing affection when Harley and Ryder don’t with their partners. I think being closeted is so ingrained into them that they’re used to refraining in public. We are all trained to be that way to an extent because the public wants to know everything about our lives, but there’s a difference between holding a woman’s hand and looking lovingly into another man’s eyes. Harley’s and Ryder’s guards have been up for over a decade, and I think that’s why Denver and I were able to come out when they couldn’t.
The industry is evolving, but Harley and Ryder have had years of “You should do this” or “You shouldn’t show this side of you” to get over.
“So, schedules permitting,” Harley says, “we’re hoping to spend the rest of summer and part of the fall writing while Blake’s doing his movie.”
Blake uses his Coby Godspeed I’m about to kill you face. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
I grin. “You’re welcome. Who knows, you might like kissing Jordan.”
He waves me off. “It’s not the gay stuff that I’m worried about. It’s mainly how the public will react to it. Homophobes might stop watching Coby Godspeed, the queer community will hate that I’m a straight dude representing a gay guy … There’s a lot more to be worried about than kissing Jordan Brooks. I’m comfortable enough in my heterosexuality to get the job done.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Anyway,” Harley cuts back in. “We write and record for the album, drop a single or two over winter, and then tour next summer. Next year will actually be the ten-year anniversary of our first album, so it’s perfectly cheesy and symbolic.”
Straight back to business as always. We may mock him and mess with him about all this stuff, but I trust him to get the job done right. He’s meticulous, like he says, but it’s because he cares so much. I want that in my corner.
“Mason already has some songs,” Denver says, and I swear I’ve never glared at him harder.
“No, I don’t.”
Denver nudges me. “Yes, you do.”
“Let’s hear them,” Harley says.
They’re all going to pay for this. “I lost them. Oops.”
Every set of eyes land on me.
“There was a fire.” I gesture an explosion with my hands. “Poof.” They don’t believe me. I throw my hands up. “Fine. But remember that you said we’re allowed to do our own sound. I recorded this in Denver’s music room, so the quality is crap, but you get the gist.” I take out my phone, but instead of going to where I have actually recorded rough tracks, I pull up YouTube and type in the search bar “Songs with animal sounds” and click one of the top results.
Then, as a version of “What is Love” comes through the small phone speaker, I watch as every single face in the room drops. I have to bite my lip to stop laughing out loud.
“I’m really proud of it,” I say, my voice only cracking a little. I’m surprised I even manage.
Harley presses his lips together, probably trying to choose between telling me to fuck off and remembering that I haven’t actually signed a contract yet. “It’s … uh … interesting.”
Right as he says that, a rooster crows in the song, and I lose any composure I had left. I completely let my laugh fly, and then suddenly, Denver’s decorative pillows he has on his couches are being thrown my way. From everyone in the band.
“Asshole!” Harley says. “I thought you were serious. I’m sitting here trying to remind myself that I’d give you creative freedom!”
I’m still laughing, so much so, I’m too distracted to notice Denver going for my phone. “No!” I try to get it back, but he holds it above