- Black Gold 2 - Double Black (20 page)

“Oh God.” Cole rolled his eyes and shoved another sandwich in his mouth. Though his face had returned to its usual color, the tips of his ears were red, and he couldn’t meet Goldie’s gaze. Mouth full, he mumbled what sounded like, “Maybe that’d be okay.”

Goldie couldn’t help but feel a glow of excitement for Cole. Granted, this was far from a sealed deal, but Kyle definitely sounded fond of Cole. “The rooms on the end were decorated by Jett, so they’re a little more leather. Very appropriate for…”He smirked and gave Cole a sideways hug. “How long have you liked him? How long have you known each other? Do you want him to be your boyfriend?”

“Jeez! Does it matter?” Cole shot Goldie a wary look but didn’t resist the affection. “We met in kindergarten. We’ve gone to the same schools our whole lives, and we mostly shared classes if not homerooms. When my mom got sick, everyone else bailed but Kyle.”

Cole shoved the chair back and stood. “I’m gonna go pick out our rooms.” He started to leave, then hesitated and looked back at Goldie. “Thanks. I mean it.”
Goldie tried not to pout at being thwarted in his attempts to dish. Then again, if he was a parental figure, Cole probably wouldn’t want to talk about things. Their relationship was a little complicated since Goldie’s age fell almost exactly between Jett’s and Cole’s. He was too old to be a bestie and too young to be a parent. Cole’s parent, anyway.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Cole. You did the right thing coming to us. Now go get your rooms picked out. I’m excited to meet your friend!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Despite the annoyed demeanor, Cole’s expression was a close approximation of the mischievous grin Jett wore when he was getting away with something. “I’ll see you in a bit. I’m gonna shower and stuff too. Wash the jail off.”

The next morning, Jett woke before nine to have a quiet smoke. At that hour, only Grace was up and around. They exchanged a few words, she told him what new hell had broken loose, and he walked back inside. Then he went upstairs to crawl into bed beside Goldie and wake him with his cock while the boys slept at the other end of the house.

It was a good day.
By the fourth day after Kyle’s arrival, Jett had decided a house full of crazy Kansas boys was just what he’d needed. Judging by Goldie’s bright smiles over family dinner when he got home from making the rounds of the top-tier, LA-based talk shows, he felt the same way. Sure, Goldie cracked wise thanking the boys for babysitting Jett so he could go out and do the star thing, and every so often, right when Jett thought they were having a moment, Goldie would sigh and withdraw a little, but it was a good life.

Maybe there was some truth to it, Jett thought. The boys did keep him busy. While Cole still glowered at Jett from time to time, Kyle thought he was awesome and wanted to be taught how to take apart sound equipment and rebuild it, ride a motorcycle, and make Jett’s infamous grilled cheese sandwiches. When no one was watching, he’d added another step to the process: beer-battering. Even Hasani wanted to know the secret of how Jett got them so perfect.

As in love with Goldie as Jett was, Goldie wasn’t raucous or wild the way his band had been or the way Cole and Kyle were. Though Goldie had a well-developed sense of fun, his innate elegance and dignity clashed with the frankly stupid things Jett sometimes felt an urge to do. While Goldie always humored Jett’s lamer,
Jackass
-variety stunts, he didn’t have a teenage boy’s appreciation of their crude genius.

When Goldie was gone during the day, Jett sneaked beers into the garage and conned the boys into helping him assemble a working rocket out of discarded amplifier parts. Goldie probably would’ve laughed at the lengths to which Jett went to escape being noticed by Grace and Hasani and not minded himself, but it was more fun to Jett when he pretended it was verboten. Cole and Kyle instinctively joined in Jett’s fantasy of gleeful mischief.

Jett knew better than they did how far Goldie’s aura of gentle command extended, but the boys picked up enough to stifle belches in their hands and lay off the fart jokes when Goldie was in the room. It was less “don’t tell Mom” and more “don’t disappoint the hottest guy you’ll ever meet,” but that would remain the status quo until Cole and Kyle adapted to Billy the human being as opposed to Goldie the jerk fodder.

For the past couple of years, Jett had expended his crazy with the acts he courted for their label. He’d show up, toke up, jam out, and head out to get home to Goldie for sexing up before crashing. Now he got his fill of jamming from the copy of
Rock Band
Kyle had talked Grace into bringing home. At first it baffled Jett that being an actual rock star didn’t get him the high score, but once he got the hang of things, he had the time of his life schooling those adolescent dickbrains.

When the call came from the paternity clinic, Jett answered it, smiled, and went back to whipping the boys’ asses before telling Cole he was gonna be a rich little shit the minute Jett dropped dead. He almost went for the hug, but he wasn’t gonna cock block his own son by embarrassing him in front of his crush. Judging by the glacial pace at which their clumsy courtship advanced, they were both virgins.

It was so cute Jett had to leave the room sometimes to grin so they wouldn’t think he was mocking them.
Watching them, he remembered the kid he’d been before his parents died and years of touring had jaded him. It hurt too much to think about for long, but he couldn’t help wanting to make sure Cole’s life included fewer scars and near-lethal cocaine binges than his own. It broke his heart that he hadn’t been a part of Cole’s life before, and as grateful as Jett was that Cole tolerated him now, it wasn’t the same.
But Jett couldn’t think about those things. It was his rule not to want what he couldn’t have.

With Robbie to watch over security needs, Goldie had discussed the situation in which the pair had found themselves on
Conan
,
Ellen
, and
Craig Ferguson
. He bantered with them, performed for the studio audience, and did his best to sway public opinion in their favor.

Sarah and Carol urged Jett to do the same in the coming weeks, but the FCC would fine him into the poorhouse for the cursing he’d do in one three-minute segment just trying to avoid talking about his private life. Goldie was better than he was at articulating the witty, lighthearted responses the public wanted to hear.

During a lonely moment, Jett rewatched the DVR of Goldie teaching Ellen a dance move on the show the day before. He wanted to fast-forward life as easily as he did the TV and skip to when he and Goldie were on their next tour, writing and singing and playing and fucking and
together
every minute.

Then Cole and Kyle barged into the media room, laughing their asses off about something. He waved at them with the hand holding the remote.
“Did you kids see this? It’s cute, right?”

Kyle nudged Cole with his shoulder and mouthed what looked like,
Told you so.
Cole glared at Kyle as though anybody bought that he didn’t want to kiss him at any given moment. Then he glared at Jett much more convincingly. “So are you just watching Goldie be awesome while you sit on your ass at home?”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.” Jett snorted and straightened from where he’d been sprawled on the big leather couch. He patted the spots on either side of him.
Kyle launched at the closest cushion, flopping down next to Jett and cackling like he’d got one over on someone.
Cole grumbled and took the seat opposite instead of sitting beside Jett. “So do you have any like…plans? Are you just going to hang out here with us like a third wheel, all day, forever?”
“Cole,” Kyle started, a warning note in his voice.
“What? You see how he is. Thinks it’s enough just to be available for boning or whatever. He’s going to lose Goldie if he doesn’t step it up.” Cole leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Listen, Jethro, Goldie’s prime beef, and you’re over the hill. You’re practically nobody. And for whatever reason, he thinks you’re hot. It won’t last. What are you gonna do then?”
“Cole!” Kyle straightened and gave Cole a wounded look.

Jett wondered what his own expression looked like. He felt numb. He reached for the bong he’d left on the coffee table, grabbed the lighter, and smoked for a few seconds while Cole stared at him in open disbelief.

“You are such a disgrace.” Cole reached for the bong and burned himself. He yelped, and Jett set the pipe aside and grabbed Cole’s hand, inspecting it and kissing the red mark on his finger before he could stop himself.

Behind him, he heard Kyle. “He loves you. Why are you so awful to him?” It should have been comforting, but it wasn’t.
He didn’t slow down to hear Cole’s reply.

Once Jett made it to the practice room, he closed the door behind him. The strange hollowness that had filled him upstairs grew until his skin stretched like a balloon around an enormous, empty ache. Pressure built behind his eyes until he imagined them exploding like jelly.

Jett’s thoughts whirled senselessly, and he couldn’t figure out his next move. On instinct, he went to his old acoustic guitar and sat beside her stand to tune her. Before he’d thought it through, he was playing the refrain of one of the first songs he’d ever written and singing his heart out.

Somewhere in the middle of the second chorus, Jett changed the words and started singing about Cole. He sang his anger and frustration, his shockingly deep love for his son, his realization that this was the only blood he had left in the world. He sang about losing his parents, how he’d never recovered from the loss, about Linda dying without ever telling him she’d chosen him to be the father of her child. He sang until he was hoarse and then burst into a wild frenzy of finger tapping and tinny, throbbing notes that climbed above his brokenhearted warble to punctuate the ululations when he ran out of words.

He returned to his senses slowly, becoming aware bit by bit that he wasn’t alone. Cole stood with his arms crossed. He avoided Jett’s eyes. “Kyle says that was harsh. He says I should apologize. He’s probably right, or something. Guess tough love wasn’t what was needed.”
Jett shook his head and looked at the floor. He hugged his guitar like she’d protect him from whatever else Cole was going to say. “It’s not a thing. Billy talks like we’ll be together forever, but I’m aware I don’t deserve him.” He shrugged. “You wanna start a betting pool or something? Could probably get Grace and Hasani in on it, but Robbie’d tattle.”
“No, man.” Cole rolled his eyes in the way of teenagers who knew everything but had to humor adults. Jett remembered being that age, especially the unintentionally cruel arrogance.
Cole flopped onto a stool. “Look, I’m over my…whatever about Goldie, pretty much, but I still care about him and about you. I want you to do something. I don’t think Goldie’s just
talking
about forever, I think he means it. I’m just not sure
you
do. I mean, what is that shit doing drugs around him? You know his bandmate died from an overdose.”
“Jesus, Cole, what are they teaching you in school? You ever heard of a fatal overdose from pot? I never do anything else around him. Well, I mean, not often. I even go outside to smoke ’cause of secondhand smoke and shit.” Jett stared at Cole like he was an alien who somehow shared DNA with him. “You don’t think if it bothered him, he’d have told me before now to lay off?”

“Yeah, ’cause that’s how he is around you, isn’t it? Just ordering you around. Never just puts up with shit.” Cole shook his head, glaring at Jett. “I’ve been thinking about things. I mean, he was lonely, Jethro. He jumped at having some dumb kid in your house just to get closer to you. And you don’t even seem to notice or care. You love hanging around us, but what do we really demand of you? I think you resented me at first ’cause you thought you’d have to grow up. Instead, you’re just running around like you’re our age and letting Goldie do the adult things. He’s so fucking in love with you that he doesn’t even seem to mind.

“But not just for his sake, man. For yours. You need to seal this deal.” “What the fuck?” Jett sighed and scowled at Cole, trying to figure out his angle. He became aware after a moment how ridiculous it was, the two of them engaged in a staring contest like eight-year-olds on a boring car trip. It even made Cole’s point.
Jett laughed humorlessly. “So what, then, Cole? You want me to quit smoking pot, which is fucking harmless, by the way, and propose?”
“We both know that you’ve done some coke lately.” Cole narrowed his eyes at Jett. “And I fail to see how inhaling smoke into your lungs is harmless, ever. It’s smoke. It shortens your lifespan, you know. You’re already one hundred years older than Goldie. Do you ever think how he’d feel having to go on without you?”
Apparently gaining steam, Cole leaned forward. “And what’s so wrong with proposing? You’re a single dad now. Besides, gay marriage is going to be legal. It’s just a matter of time. But you know what helps to move it forward? When famous people that Middle America likes show how normal homosexual relationships are. Shallow as it may seem, it makes a difference. It shows kids like me that it’s possible and lets other people see we're not just about sex or subversive relationships, but about love—just like every marriage should be. Do you love him, Jett? Do you love him enough to give him that kind of commitment?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that? You think I don’t love him? Does anybody think I don’t love him?”

Did Billy think Jett didn’t love him?
That hollow ache intensified until Jett pressed both hands to his temples and rubbed, trying to define where his skull ended and hem in the hurt. His instinct was to grab a bottle of Scotch, but he knew Cole would give him shit about it. Who knew having a teenaged son would be so much like having an overbearing mother?

He wondered if Cole was right. Did the world know Jett was in love with Goldie? The so-called celebrity news shows didn’t seem to think so. Maybe to everyone outside their tiny circle, Goldie was a poor, duped gay man who’d given some sex-addicted skeezeball the free ride of his life.