Chasing Death Metal Dreams (15 page)

“Seriously? You won’t keep her?”

“I like taming the wild ones. I do a bunch of that at the shelter.” The stray cat problem was unending, but Nate liked to think he was at least doing his own small part. “Although, she’s the first one in a while that I could bring home.”

“Why’s that?”

He pointed at the floor. “Metal band.” And then up. “Deaf cat.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah.” Carlos lifted the bacon out of the pan onto a plate and tipped the can of beans into the fry pan. “Don’t you want to keep her? Sounds perfect.”

Nate shrugged. Sure he did, sort of. But after losing Slinky to cancer less than a year after getting her, he wasn’t giving his heart to any new cat, just because she wouldn’t freak over Eli’s band. There was safety in being certain that there was a time limit on it. In an odd way, planned heartache was easier than not knowing. “I’m helping her find a forever home. I’m good at it.”

“Cool.” Carlos sprinkled something on the beans and began crumbling the bacon. “Should I save her a bit of this?”

“Sure. Maybe I’ll finally lure her close with bacon.”

“It would work for me.” Carlos popped a strip in his mouth, then tipped most of the crumbles into the beans. “Give me a minute, and we can eat this.”

The bacon and whatever else he’d used gave the canned beans some zip. Combined with the salsa, fresh diced tomatoes, lettuce and onions in a tortilla, it wasn’t half bad. They ate standing at the counter, leaning over plates to catch the drips. Nate mumbled through a mouthful, “This isn’t close to authentic, though, right?”

“No way.” Carlos’s voice took on a hint of accent. “Abuela and Mamá spent half the day buying food and preparing food and cooking food. Of course, there were ten people in the house. Man, I miss their cooking.”

“Not enough to spend half the day doing it, though,” Nate suggested cheerfully. He’d bet it wasn’t just the cooking Carlos missed.

“Nah. Not that much.” Carlos shoved the rest of the tortilla in his mouth. “So, do we have time for me to blow you for dessert before—” The sound of cars pulling up out front answered that question.

“Guess not.” Nate tugged his jeans straighter. “Hold that thought.”

He tucked the remaining bacon bits into the fridge, where Miss Antisocial couldn’t just help herself. They headed outside, down the steps, and met Eli and his bandmates in front of the garage. Tom rolled up the door and the guys began setting up, while Eli pulled Carlos and Nate aside. “So, Carlos, what’ve you got?”

Carlos said, “In my car. Let me get it.” He came back with a sheaf of paper. “There’s two songs here. You should try this one first. “Tongues and Ashes.” I originally wrote it for lead, bass, drums and cello, but I tabbed the cello part for the second guitar. I think it’s a better song than “Dead on the Tracks” but I brought that one too.”

Eli took the pages, scanning the first one. “Yeah, okay, good stuff. We’ll give it a try. Pity we don’t have a cello, really. It would be good to have something to set us apart from the rest of the bands.” He glanced at Carlos. “Hey, RoRo used to play a little fiddle. Maybe we could bring that back.”

“Probably not on this song. But yeah, I can think about adding a fiddle part somewhere, if he wants to.”

Eli laughed. “It might take blackmail. He hated practicing it. What else is here?”

“I want to tweak “Past Gravity” a bit. There’s a new lyric sheet for that at the bottom. Here.”

“I liked the old one.”

Nate stepped back, watching his boyfriend and his brother with their heads together, poring over the papers. Really, it was a damned good thing Eli hadn’t turned out gay.

Carlos shrugged. “It’s not bad. Could be better.”

“Well, come on, then, hang out and tell us how it should go.” Eli hesitated. “Unless you want to, like, hand this over and split. It’s not your band.”

“It’s my song.”

From behind Nate, Dad said, “Hey, Eli, I’ve got something for you.”

They all turned. Dad held out a pair of bags to Eli. “I already gave Nate his. This is stuff your mother wants out of the house.”

Eli said, “Can’t you find somewhere to keep it?”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Nate said. “Mom will kill him.”

Eli reluctantly went and collected his bags, dumping them inside the garage near the wall. The guys looked over from setting up and came out to say hi to Dad. All of them had been playing together since high school, and some of them had probably spent more time around Nate’s folks than around their own. Dad greeted them and asked about parents and siblings. Eventually he said, “It’s nice to see you all. You’re in and out so fast these days, we barely hear how you’re doing. You should stop by the house and see Rebecca when you’re done. I know she misses you.”

“I bet she likes the peace and quiet,” Eli said.

“It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’d bet she’d even let Tom use her good pans for drums again.” As the guys shoved Tom, reminding him about the time he got the band kicked out of the house, Dad glanced at Carlos, then asked Eli, “Do you guys all know Carlos? I just met him today.”

“Sure,” Eli said easily. “He wrote a couple songs for us.”

“Oh, how nice.” Dad got a twinkle in his eye as he turned to Nate. “And here I thought you swore you’d never date a musician. He must be special.”

Nate said fast, “He’s a friend.” But it was too much to hope that the whole lot of them hadn’t overheard, or that Carlos wouldn’t give the game away by turning to expressionless stone. Nate took a fast breath, his mind scrambling for damage control. Dad glanced between them, his brow wrinkling, amusement fading.

Eli butted in clumsily, “He’s just here to help us with practice. If we win this battle of the bands thing, it’ll be with his songs.”

But Tom said, “Hey, Nate, you really dating this guy?”

Nate choked on his answer, which left Carlos to say, slow and deep and rough, “Yeah. He is. That a problem for you?”

“Kind of.” Tom came closer. “He’s like our honorary little brother, right? You’re a local musician, so you’ve got to be as broke as the rest of us. You play metal, so you’re as crazy as the rest of us. I wouldn’t let Nate date Chris or RoRo.” He waved at the other two guys.

Chris snapped right back with, “And we wouldn’t let him date you. Hey, Nate, what’s this guy got that we don’t got?”

“Good taste?” Nate suggested, his voice shaking with relief. “And a real day job. And a black belt. And you douches don’t get to decide who I date.”

“Well, fuck. I guess I withdraw my objection then,” Tom said.

“I don’t have a black belt.” Carlos sounded less nervous.

“Sure you do,” Nate told him. “I think it’s under my couch.”

“TMI!” Eli put his hands over his ears. “Nate, when you’re done traumatizing my band, would you tell your boyfriend to come do that magic thing where he makes us sound like pros.”

“We
are
pros,” Tom objected. “But he makes us sound like better pros.”

RoRo said, “Well, you’re gonna sound like crap unless you get that rack straightened up.”

Tom snapped back, “By the time you get all six strings tuned in the same key, I’ll get the rack uncrooked.”

Dad shook his head. “Boys, boys. Do I have to put you in separate corners?”

“We’ll be good, Mr. G.” Tom ambled back toward his drum kit. “Come on, Chris. Help me with this mother.”

RoRo and Chris followed him, leaving Nate and Carlos standing with his dad and brother, listening as the sounds of tuning up resumed, perhaps a bit louder than before.

Dad looked at Nate. “Did I just do what I think I did?”

“Yeah.” Nate wanted to tell him it was no problem, but that wasn’t his call. He turned to Carlos.

Dad did the same, saying, “Carlos, man, I’m so sorry. Open mouth, insert foot. I just, well, Nate’s never dated anyone who wasn’t out. I assumed.”

Carlos shrugged. “We are dating. It’s true.”

“But it wasn’t my place to say so. What can I do?”

When Carlos shrugged again, Nate moved closer, near enough to touch. Carlos didn’t react, though. Nate said, “I don’t think it’s a problem. Not right now. I mean, these guys have known me for ten years, and I’ve been out for all that time. If they were going to have a problem with the gay, I’d know about it.”

Eli said, “He’s right. RoRo can be a bit of a dumbass, and Tom likes to talk, but they’ve met Nate’s boyfriends before. They were jerks once or twice when we were in school, but they’re big boys now. They won’t care.”

Carlos licked his lips. “I guess.”

Nate dared to put a hand on his back. He could feel the muscles under his palm twitching, like a racehorse held back in the gate. He rubbed in a circle, but after a second Carlos shook him off and stepped away. Nate told Eli, “Make sure they know not to spread it around, right? Tell Tom to keep his mouth shut.”

“Look, we don’t need to get carried away,” Eli said. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yeah?” Nate glared at him. “Name one big out gay metal artist who isn’t Rob Halford.”

Carlos frowned at him. “Not helping.”

That stung. Nate bit his lip.

Carlos turned to Eli. “Look, what’s done is done. Let’s make some music, right? That’s what we’re here for.”

“Exactly.” Eli brightened. “Come on.”

Carlos followed him into the garage without another look at Nate. Dad said softly, “How bad did I really screw things up?”

“I don’t know.” Nate glanced at him. His eyes stung, which was crazy because this wasn’t even his problem. Everyone knew
he
was gay. It was Carlos who’d get hurt if this came out. “I wasn’t kidding about the metal scene. Too many of the guys are anti-women and anti-gay bigoted assholes.”

“Maybe that should change.”

“Of course it should. But it’s not going to change for some guy in a no-name band who happens to be outed. Maybe if there’s enough top artists someday, but, I mean, if fucking
Judas Priest
can’t change people’s minds, it’s gonna be a long wait.”

“Or maybe the way the whole world is changing will carry metal fans with it.”

Nate nodded. It was a nice dream. “In the meantime, if this gets out, Carlos’s band could be more fucked than it already is.”

“I thought he was a songwriter.”

“And he has a band.”

Dad sighed. “Can you tell him I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“What’s he like? Have you known him long? He seems pretty tough.”

“Yeah, he is.” Nate wasn’t sure what that would mean, how Carlos would react if he freaked about being outed. “But he’s also smart and funny, and he gets me. We have fun together.” It was only payback to add. “Out of bed and in it. He’s really fucking hot in bed.”

Dad sighed. “You get a pass on that. This time. What do you think? Should I stick around and grovel a bit?”

Nate thought briefly. “No. I’m sure he just wants to forget it.”

“All right. But tell him for me I’m glad you’re dating someone you like that much. Bring him by sometime when it’s less fraught. Your mother will want to meet him.”

If we’re still dating.
“Sure. I’ll do that.”

Dad suddenly pulled him into a quick hug. “I wish I could change the world for you, kid. And for your Carlos.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Good night.”

Nate watched his father cross the drive toward the house. From the back like this, he suddenly looked older and more bent. Nate had an impulse to run after him, but instead he turned back to the garage. Carlos and the band were bent over a music stand, heads together. As Nate watched, Carlos pointed at something, then reached for Eli’s guitar. Nate held his breath, but Eli handed the instrument over. Carlos played something short, then another longer section, and passed it back. The musical huddle broke up, with the guys all taking their places. On Eli’s three, they launched into something unfamiliar, only to stop a moment later with an obvious discord. Carlos went to Chris, saying something Nate couldn’t catch. The band got ready and began again.

Nate watched for a while, then snuck up to his apartment. As he came in he spotted Ghost in the sink, licking at the frying pan. He managed to catch himself in time not to smack the counter at her.
That
could have set his taming efforts back weeks. Instead he approached obliquely, opened the fridge, and got out the plate of bacon. “Here, sneaky girl.” He tossed a tiny piece onto the counter beside her. “Try the real thing.”

She twitched her ears, but sniffed, nostrils visibly moving. Then she stretched her neck out and lipped the bit of treat daintily off the counter. She swallowed, paused, and her tiny pink tongue came out to sweep around her mouth. Nate tossed another bit, and was rewarded by seeing her snatch it up more enthusiastically. With careful placement of another six bits he was able to lure the cat out of the sink, up onto the counter, and within a foot of him. She eyed him sideways as she chewed the last bigger bit, and he decided not to push his luck.

“You see? Humans are friendly. Humans slay the dreaded giant boar to lay its cured flesh at your royal feet.”

She opened her mouth, but instead of a hiss, he heard a tiny breath of a mew.

“Are you asking nicely? All right then.” He tossed her the biggest piece and set the plate down. She flinched at the motion but snatched the bite of bacon before retreating up to a perch to eat it. When he walked over to look up at her she peered back down intently, instead of running into one of the closed boxes.

“So would you say I’m crazy?” Nate asked, just to hear the sound of his own voice. “Taking on a kitty with attitude and then returning her the moment she starts to like me?” The cat only blinked calmly, before turning her back on him to begin washing herself. “Oh yeah, lick your butt at me. Good answer.”

He tidied the kitchen, doing a half-assed job because his mind kept going back to Carlos. The music filtering up from below suggested practice was going on as usual. He trusted the guys in Serpentine not to give Carlos a hard time. But once they were gone, once he and Carlos were alone again… had that twitchiness been fear? Anger?

When Darryl was mad, he used to twist things around to make sure it all looked like Nate’s fault, and Nate had half believed it. He’d spent more than a year trying to make up to Darryl for supposed sins that he couldn’t even explain to himself. When Garrett was mad he’d sulked and acted hurt, and had to be coaxed out of his mood with favors.
What would Carlos do?