Evan pulled a high stool up to the table and sat. “Let me see that.” He took the phone from Julian and perused it. He smiled. “You should apply for this.”
Julian arched his eyebrows.
Evan handed the phone back to him. “You forget, Iknowyou. I see right through you.” He sighed. “You miss singing. You miss doing it foryou.”
“I sing,” Julian protested. “Recitals, masterclasses…” Being a classically trained tenor was yet another string to his bow.
“Sure—with rules, with pretension.Youwant to sing somewhere that doesn’t give a damn if you’re wearing eyeliner or a collar.” Evan pointed to Julian’s phone. “And maybe this will give you all that.” His eyes gleamed. “If you’ve got the balls to go for it, of course.”
Okay, that was a challenge, and Julian could never back down from one of those.
He glanced at the screen, made a mental note of the link, and typed it into Google. The audition link revealed the date and venue.
Tomorrow. Soho.
“That’s really short notice,” he murmured.
“Got many clients tomorrow? Anything you could re-arrange?”
“Actually? I’m free all day.”
Evan blinked. “Is business bad?”
He laughed. “No, it’s my day to get all my mundane jobs done. You know, shopping, cleaning, laundry, setting up appointments.”
Evan guffawed. “Appointments sounds so professional.”
He arched his eyebrows. “Which is how I always approach my work. Treat it like a business, and it’ll pay like one.” He glanced again at the screen. “Not sure about this, though.”
“Getting cold feet?” Julian didn’t have to look at Evan to know he was grinning.
“Fine,” he retorted. He clicked on the date, then added his details. He met Evan’s grin, his jaw set. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Now buy me a coffee. You earn more than I do.”
Julian rolled his eyes but slid off his stool to head to the counter. He’d met Evan four years ago in a bar in Soho. They’d both been eighteen, and Julian had just left Bristol, hoping London would give him what he was looking for.
So far, London had delivered, and Evan had become Julian’s closest friend. Not that they saw a lot of each other—their relationship was confined mostly to chats and the occasional coffee or night out—but it worked for them. Based on their conversations, Julian had the impression Evan’s dad was a bit of a grump, but thankfully not a homophobic one.
Julian already had a family full of those back in Bristol.
He returned to the table with Evan’s cappuccino.
“So, any idea what you’re gonna sing for your audition?” Evan’s eyes danced with amusement. “Or what you’re gonna wear?”
“I’ve only just applied, for God’s sake,” Julian groused.
“But it’stomorrow.” Evan folded his arms. “I think you need to make them sit up and take notice, the minute you step into the room.”
He grinned. “That’s a given.” If they didn’t like the look, they weren’t the right match for him.
He already saw it in his mind: a leather harness cutting sharp lines across sheer mesh, silk trousers that shimmered with every step, lips slicked cherry-red. Not the boy next door, and definitelynota choirboy, but a man who knew his worth and dared them to keep up.
Julian didn’t just want to be heard.
He wanted to be unforgettable.
Julian walked into the studio as if he was strutting a runway. He oozed confidence, even if beneath it all adrenaline spiked through him.
