“I took the day off work because I didn’t know how long this would take,” I reply calmly. “And I’m the boss Dad, I can do that.”
He frowns. I have so many of his features, including his blue eyes, but I hope to hell I don’t have as many wrinkles around them when I’m fifty as he does. I’m trying hard to avoid a career, and life, that makes me scowl as much. I turn to make my way down the sidewalk, towards my loft. But Colin, dear brother that he is, isn’t done yet. “Let me know if you ever play a bar that isn’t….Con Plumas.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I turn back to face him, the words coming out in a growl because I’m pretty certain whatever it means, it’s not pleasant.
“Lacey said you played that gay bar a few weeks ago,” Colin says, his voice dropping to a stage whisper on the word gay, and my blood instantly starts boiling in my veins. “Con plumasis Spanish. It means with feathers. I was just trying to be discreet.”
“That makes no sense. If you’re going to be a homophobic jackass at least have it make sense,” I spit out and turn to leave.
“Chase!” My dad bellows my name so loudly people on the sidewalk passing by turn and look but I keep walking. I don’t stop until I reach the corner and then I don’t have a choice because there’s traffic and I don’t have the light.
“Son,” my father’s voice startles me. I didn’t expect him to follow me.
I look at him and pull my sunglasses down from on top of my head because I don’t want him to read a single emotion that he might be able to see in my eyes. He sighs. “Colin was out of line.”
Well, that’s unexpected. “Yes. He was. And wrong.”
“Incredibly tasteless,” Dad agrees, and I have to work to keep my jaw from dropping. This is not the man who I came out to—well, sort of came out to—in college who insisted I was just confused because my liberal school was brainwashing me, and it would pass. I would grow out of it. Could he have actually grown as a person, into someone who will accept me as I am? “I’ll make sure he knows it on the ride back home. In fact, this just confirms what I have been debating for a long time now.”
“What’s that?” I ask and ignore the fact that the light has changed, and I could walk away right now.
“That Colin desperately needs a coach. Someone who can help him learn what is acceptable and unacceptable behavior for a potential political candidate,” he explains, shaking his head and looking at me like this is the actual problem with Colin’s behavior. “Those people are a huge and growing demographic and if you’re going to succeed in this world nowadays you have to appear to be an ally or get, what do they call it? Cancelled?”
He couldn’t say that more begrudgingly if he tried and it turns all those stupid feelings of hope I had seconds ago into little jagged rocks in my gut. Dad blinks. My disappointment must be visible on my face, even with the Ray-Bans I just put on. “What I’m saying is I have no issue with your band playing in gay bars. Lacey was smart to go and watch you too, because it shows that population they can vote for her.”
“Or maybe she just wanted to support a talented friend,” I mutter. “I have to go Dad.”
“You weren’t there for anything else, right?” he asks bluntly. “I mean, we’ve talked about it and you’ve said you’re not really gay. You like girls still, mostly, too, right?”
“We are not having this conversation again,” I tell him and cross the street even though I no longer have the light. Luckily, Burlington isn’t exactly New York when it comes to traffic so I’m not putting my life at great risk. And I’d take a jaywalking ticket over trying to explain what bisexual means to my dad again.
The walk back to my place is short. The sun is shining and the sky is cloudless and I would normally enjoy the gentle spring breeze and the sun warming my skin but, as always, spending time with my family has created a cloud inside me that eclipses any goodness in the world around me. But then I turn the corner, and my building comes into view, and standing outside of it are three people. Joe, Grant, and Bowen. They’re in a semi-circle, facing each other, talking about something. Everyone is smiling. Bowen lifts his head, the wind blowing his long hair across his cheek. As he brushes it away, he catches sight of me and he smiles. And that cloud inside me starts to dissipate.
6
BOWEN
We spend two hours jamming in the loft. Turns out the drum kit that they brought to Vino and Veritas for their gig is Chase’s and lives in the corner of his massive living room normally. Those guitars he has on his walls are also used by the band and well, basically, Chase owns all the equipment and musical instruments. The session goes great. Amazing, if I do say so myself. I have to work a little on “Come as You Are” and “Summer of Sixty-Nine” which means I’ll have to dust off the old drum kit at home, but I’m actually looking forward to it.
“I can’t believe your neighbors let you have band practice in your living room,” I say to Chase, and he shrugs as he puts down his guitar.
“I own the building.”
“What?” I try to do the mental math on that. I mean, it’s not a huge building. Narrow, four stories. He occupies the first floor with his business and the top two with his home so that means he isn’t paying additional mortgages or rent elsewhere, but still. It’s downtown. Church Street. Prime real estate. It wasn’t cheap.
“Well technically I don’t own it. It was part of my grandfather’s assets. And before he died he promised I could use it, for free, if I stayed in Vermont and opened a business he approved of. So I did, like a good boy,” Chase grins. “Grant rents the loft in between the office and this one, so he doesn’t complain about noise.”
“I have had to jab a broom handle into the ceiling some nights when there isn’t practice,” Grant says and laughs as Chase shrugs sheepishly. I realize Grant wasn’t exaggerating when he said he could stumble home the other night.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. The dude is rich. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as rich as him before. Joe hands Chase his guitar and claps him on the shoulder, then turns to me. “Good session today. We’ll be ready for that gig next Saturday. Now I have to go grade papers.”
He sighs and heads towards the elevator. Grant grabs his coat off one of the stools at the kitchen island. “I have to head downstairs and put the finishing touches on a presentation for tomorrow.”
“The outerwear company?” Chase asks and Grant nods. “Need me for that?”
“No, man, I think we’re on track,” Grant says as he shrugs into his coat and starts toward the elevator as the doors open and Joe gets on. “I’ll call if there’s a red flag. Otherwise, the pitch will be waiting for you when you get in tomorrow.”
“Awesome.” Chase nods as Joe holds the elevator for Grant to step in. As soon as he does, the doors swish closed, leaving me alone with Chase.
