Joshua carried four finished drinks back to their group, while Van completed the order. Benji watched him work like he was studying for a test later, observing precise movements and pours and garnishes Van knew by heart. Occasionally he had to look up a drink, but he’d spent a lot of long, lonely nights his first year bartending studying two different recipe books. Very few stumped him anymore.
“You really love this job, don’t you,” Benji said, more a statement than a question. “It shows in how you work.”
“I do.” Van added a cherry to Melody’s sour. “There are rules to the drinks, but I’m still creating something like art every time I put down a glass. Not unlike music, I suppose. You’re limited by what the instrument can do, but you can still make it beautiful every single time.”
Benji’s endearing smile sent a funny spark down Van’s spine. “I like that comparison.”
“I don’t always metaphor well, but when I do . . .” He floundered for a good ending.
His failure to finish the thought made Benji cackle. “You’re cute when you can’t speak in full sentences.”
“That’s the only time I’m cute?”
“Yes.”
Van chuckled and finished a pair of mojitos. Final drinks. Joshua was back, and he helped Benji gather the four drinks. Everyone had alcohol the first round, so either someone wasgoing to stop later, or they’d all walked. Bartender instinct kicked in, even though he expected the friends would all look out for each other.
His attention drifted to the pair many times over the next couple of hours, especially when the dance music was up. The club didn’t have a large dance floor, mostly a twelve-by-twelve open area near the stage. Bodies were jammed together, and the friends danced as a group, but once in a while Van would catch Benji and Joshua grinding on each other. Beatrice demanded an open-minded staff and clientele, but Van understood the need to be careful in mixed company.
Everyone had indulged in multiple rounds by the time Beatrice enticed Fading Daze on stage for a few numbers. Benji was flushed and bouncing on his toes through all three songs, and Van could barely stop watching long enough to make drinks. Benji came alive on stage. Van found himself desperate to capture the moment, but knew a photograph wouldn’t do its beauty justice. Benji moved and sang and fucking lived his music under those lights.
I used to love it too, once upon a time.
Until the very idea of touching a guitar again made him sick to his stomach, and he stopped thinking about it at all.
Van paused mixing long enough to join the applause when Fading Daze left the stage. He spotted Beatrice off to the side, recording on her phone. The videos would be a great addition to the club’s website, maybe draw some new patrons, eager to check out the place where a favorite band did a pop-up performance. Off Beat’s bread-and-butter came from the locals, but they’d never turn down good tourism money.
They piped more music until the eleven o’clock act was ready. Benji came over to settle the tab on multiple credit cards, which took a little bit of time to sort out. Van returned with various slips that Benji took with a subtle brush of his fingers.Van mixed two Blue Lagoons and had them rung up before Joshua returned with the receipts.
Joshua leaned across the bar, a very intent smile on his face. “Tell me if this is moving too fast, but I’d like to see you tomorrow.Wewould like to see you.”
Van returned the smile with a saucy grin of his own. “Would we now?”
“Yes.”
“I sleep late and then work again at six.”
“Plenty of time. Text me when you get up and we’ll figure something out.”
Joshua put so much subtext into those final few words that Van had no strength to say no. Not that he particularly wanted to say no. A chance to spend a few more hours with two men he was beginning to care a great deal about? Yes, please.
“Sounds like a plan,” Van said. “How bad will Benji blush tomorrow if I ask him for details of your afternoon together?”
“Pretty red. Maybe one day he’ll be bold enough to show you what we did in person.” With a wink, Joshua returned to the group that was hovering near the stairs, waiting to leave.
Van caught Benji’s gaze and grinned. He held on tight to the smile Benji threw back—full of so much affection and tenderness, and a hint of the devil, too. No one had ever smiled at him like that?—
One guy did. A long, long time ago.
He shoved aside the ghosts of the past and got back to work.
SIXTEEN
Benji usedhis cell phone’s GPS to find Van’s apartment, while Joshua drove. Familiar roles from dozens of excursions to new places, mostly because Benji hated driving. He only did it when he had to. Passenger and navigator? Cool. Driving to an unknown place? No thanks. Too damned nerve-wracking.
Van had called Benji half an hour ago, inviting them to a late brunch at his place, because Melody was working all day. Benji and Joshua had eaten a light breakfast, so they agreed to come over at eleven. They were both eager to see Van again and had no idea what to expect from his invitation, beyond being fed a super-healthy meal.
The address led them south, to a four-story beach house tucked away among a dozen others, with a sign that said Ocean View Apartments. An exterior wooden staircase zigzagged from the ground up to the fourth floor, with landings on each level. Van had said 2B. Joshua parked, and they got out, chilly October air slapping them in the face. The temperature had taken a nosedive overnight.
