When the Jazzman Sings

Chapter 1 He came out of nowhere, meandering along the nearly deserted, tree-shaded sidewalk to gain my undivided attention. I had just closed up my shop, Peck’s Antiques & Collectibles, and had paused in the doorway to momentarily rejoice in the nimble evening breeze pouring from out of the western sky. My mind had started a debate about how to appease my grumbling stomach. Slide a frozen pizza into the oven, or toss a macaroni and cheese dinner into the microwave? At that point in what had already been a long day, thanks to more than a dozen boxes of dusty merchandise I had inventoried, cleaned, polished, and put on display before calling it quits, neither choice held much appeal. The weariness seemed to have already crept into my bones, the same as the grime of the workday felt like it had infiltrated every one of my pores. While running a hand over my bearded face, I stifled a yawn. I decided I might just take a shower, grab a snack, curl up on the sofa, and immerse myself in the fantasy of some television show until I drifted off to sleep. No sense breaking from routine. But then I turned my head, and that’s when I spotted him, the tall stranger with the dark hair, facial stubble, and muscular yet lean build. He wore a navy blue dress shirt with white pinstripes and had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his blue jeans. With the uppermost buttons of the shirt unfastened, and the sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows, my gaze instantly noted his tanned skin and the light brown hair skimming what appeared to be a well-defined chest and beefy forearms. The shirt’s hem, untucked and fluttering as he moved forward, also provided a teasing view of the impressive bulge hidden behind his zipper. The clip-clop of his snakeskin boots against the pavement lazily dragged behind the tempo of my suddenly galloping heart. In a flash, my weariness subsided. Amazing what just the glimpse of a handsome stud could do to a gay man who hadn’t seen any action in months. Or had it been years? Hard to remember, since one day seemed to roll into the next in this town. But this guy had what it took to shake me to the depths of my soul. It wasn’t only his good looks, but his manly yet youthful aura that fascinated me and held me spellbound. I actually experienced one of those moments every gay man feels on occasion—a moment that had become all too infrequent for me, unfortunately—the ferocious urge to drop to my knees, spread my arms out wide, and praise the heavens for being queer. Somehow, however, I managed to stay on my feet. I smiled at the tantalizing view sauntering toward me and wondered where the hell he’d come from. Oh, not that strangers in these parts were a rare commodity. With our small, sleepy town of Willowby, Connecticut, being sandwiched between livelier burgs and not terribly far from main thoroughfares leading to New York City and Boston, we saw plenty of out-of-towners pass through, especially folks seeking antiques. That was the main reason my shop, along with about half a dozen competing shops in the town’s business district, continued to see a modest yet steady business, year in, year out. But this particular stranger seemed different somehow. With sunglasses shielding his eyes from the fading sunlight, he strode along Main Street without browsing the windows of the closed shops. He acted more like a “local,” a man who had already seen it all before, completely unlike the relic hunters I had grown accustomed to viewing this time of year. But it couldn’t be possible, could it? Living in a town with a population of less than 2,000 residents, I thought I knew all the males hereabouts and I would have certainly remembered someone who looked like him. Delicious, utterly delicious, the type of guy I’d been hungrily seeking to meet, and a sight for my jaded eyes. Once again, I had the impulse to sink to the ground and sing Hosannas to the gods for sending me this eye-candy to whet my appetite. Yet I didn’t want to get my hopes up. After all, even though he ambled down the sidewalk in my direction, what were the chances he would strike up a conversation? And even if he did, what were the odds he would have any interest in me, let alone—? “Excuse me,” he said, his broad, white smile reflecting the rays of the sinking sun. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I wonder if you have a moment.” “Ah, yeah, sure.” Anything for you, buddy boy. Anything at all. “If you want something in particular inside”—I gestured to the door, then scrounged in the back pocket of my jeans for the keys—“let me know and I’ll be happy to reopen—” He glanced at the windows of the store, then shook his head. “Oh, no, nothing like that. At least not at the moment.” “Then what can I do for you?” “I was wondering…” He slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his slim nose, revealing the most soulful hazel eyes I had ever seen. They twinkled almost as much as the twin diamond studs in his right earlobe. And his gaze looked me over, from head to toe. Meanwhile, a cockeyed smile cut a dimple into his right cheek. I’d seen that look in a man’s eyes before—quite a lot, actually—prior to moving back to Willowby nearly two years ago. The dude was checking me out, actually cruising me right here in front of my shop like the guys used to do in front of a gay bar in Bridgeport I’d often frequented. Would wonders never cease? “Everything around here appears closed,” he said, then released a disappointed sigh. “Yeah,” I answered, giving him a humorless grin. “They pretty much roll up the sidewalks around here when the sun sets.” “Do you happen to know of anywhere in town where I can still get a bite to eat and an ice-cold beer?” “It depends.” “On what?” “On the type of mood you’re in. Do you want lively, fast, and furious”—fond recollections of cruising for c**k in Bridgeport came flooding back to mind—“or laid-back, leisurely…and oh, so gentle?” I’d uttered that last question in almost a growl while giving him a languid once-over myself, and not hiding the fact either. What the hell, I thought, it was worth a shot. If I’d judged properly, his approximate weight as well as his six-foot-two stature matched mine. I would also bet, if compared side by side, my arm and chest muscles had a bit more bulk. So if I’d misread the signals he’d tossed out and he ended up being a homophobe scouting for trouble, I knew I could defend myself. I had on a few occasions many years ago, which was why no one in this town, especially those with a good memory, had messed with me since my return. To my thrill, his smile widened even more, while one dark eyebrow quirked upward. The sudden sparkle in his eyes conveyed a ribald sense of humor, a clear indication that he’d caught my subtle double entendre, and of greater importance, that he liked it. “The latter, most definitely,” he said. “Languid…gentle…oh, yeah, I prefer taking my time when it comes to…entertainment.” “Then you’ve certainly come to the right place, considering the general dreariness of this town.” “Dreary? Definitely not from where I’m standing.” Another smile enlivened his face as his gaze crawled over my chest and upper arms. For work, I had donned a simple black T-shirt, one tight enough to display the evidence of my daily appointment with the bench press in my apartment. The fact that he obviously approved of my efforts to keep in shape had my blood racing even more. “I want a place to just kick back with a frosty beer, with soft lighting and low music, somewhere I can converse without having to shout over the din. And if I’m lucky enough, maybe I can persuade a sexy stranger into being my dinner companion.” Holy f**k! Yes, honest, open flirtation, a breath of fresh air, something almost completely foreign to me since returning to this slumberous old hamlet. “Then that would be The Silent Seagull.” “Interesting name, considering this town is nowhere near the coast.” “Try telling that to the owner. Nevertheless, the ‘silent’ part of the name is more than appropriate. Plus, the food is good, but the alcohol is even better.” “Sounds too perfect. Is it within walking distance?” Glancing at only two cars parked along the block, and several bicycles chained to saplings on the sidewalk, I laughed. “If you haven’t noticed by now, just about everything in this town is within walking distance, pal. The bar is just around that next corner, in fact.” I c****d my thumb toward the west. “Hmm…since I’m new around here, and I actually have a tendency to get lost in unfamiliar places, can I convince you to show me?” I smirked. Get lost? In a bumble-f**k town like this? Nice pick-up line, buddy boy. But his obvious deception intrigued me even more, so I decided to play along. “Unless it’s out of your way or you need to get somewhere—” “No, not out of my way at all.” And there’s nowhere I’d rather be, I wanted to add, but didn’t. Even though I lived directly above my business, with the separate entrance to the staircase leading up to my apartment wedged unobtrusively between one wall of my shop and the ice cream parlor next door, I would have walked anywhere for a chance to share a few more minutes with this guy. Hell, I would have trudged a detour through Outer Mongolia just to talk to him some more. Spending the past few minutes in his company had been about the most exciting thing to happen to me in months. I pulled a deep breath, then gestured again toward the corner. “This way.” We started down the street, wordlessly passing the darkened windows of Sophie’s Boutique, Hackley’s Shoe Emporium, and Washington’s Den, another antique shop, one that specialized in Revolutionary War relics. All the while, I struggled to find something intelligent to say, but my mind had lost the ability to concentrate. I feared if I dared to open my mouth, nothing but senseless blathering would emerge. Suddenly, my sexy companion removed his right hand from his pocket and extended it toward me. “Oh, how rude. The name’s Gray.” “Gray?” “Well, in actuality, my name is Neville Grayson, but just about everyone calls me Gray.” I stopped at the corner before Minnie & Maude’s, a convenience store run by spinster sisters. Even at this relatively early hour, it proved anything but convenient with the “CLOSED” sign on the door. I took the stranger’s hand in mine, noting his firm grip and also the shiver of excitement that raced up my arm. “I’m Elijah Peck, but Eli is just fine.” “Nice to make your acquaintance, Eli. You have no idea how nice.” He withdrew his hand from mine, all too soon, to my frustration. “Say…Peck, as in Peck’s Antiques & Collectibles back there?” Once again, with his sunglasses still lowered on his nose, he glanced at my T-shirt. “Or pec, as in pectorals?” I felt myself blushing. Damn, it had been way too long since being in the company of a man who was interested in my body as much as I was in his. “The former, definitely. The latter…well…at least that’s better than the alternatives.” “Which are?” “Let’s just say that a boy from a middle-class family named Peck who grows up here in Hicksville, USA, becomes more than familiar with the term ‘peckerwood’ long before he hits high school, where he suddenly becomes ‘Woody’ overnight.” “Excuse me? Sounds promising.” I laughed again, and my blush deepened. “Not that sort of woody. I mean ‘Woody,’ as is ‘woodpecker.’” “Oh, I see.” Gray chuckled. “Then I’m sorry about the ‘pec’ versus ‘pectoral’ thing.” “No need to be. As I said, it’s much preferable. Besides, I’ve heard that one before, too, but in truth, it’s been a long while.” “A shame. Beauty through dedicated labor should always be admired and praised.” “Thank you.” I wanted so desperately to return the compliment, but where in the world would I start? If I voiced the qualities, the beauty, I found in him, I’d be talking non-stop for days. Still slightly reeling from the exchange, I let the matter rest and led him around the corner, stopping before the establishment in question. The large bay window bore artwork depicting numerous seagulls swirling above a crisp blue ocean, and in the center, large bold text proclaimed The Silent Seagull. I uttered a silent expletive—when it came to everything in this town being within walking distance, it acted as both a blessing and a curse. Now, the curse came into play when I realized my mission as tour guide had ended. I pointed to the window and shrugged. “Well, here it is. Maybe I’ll see you again before you leave town.” “Leave? I just got here, and here I’m planning to stay.” “In Willowby?” I asked, unable to hide my shock. I also battled to contain my joy since I didn’t want to raise my expectations. “Joking aside, how long are you actually planning to visit?” He smirked. “I’m not kidding. I’m staying as long as the town will have me.” “So I assume you’re bunking at the Mayflower Inn down on Second Street?” “No, but I hear George Washington actually slept there. Is that true?” “Don’t let the propaganda of the owners fool you…Washington refused to sleep there, because even back in the 1700s, Willowby was so damned dull.” That made him laugh again, a sound I savored. “Seriously, I’ve got my own place over on Maple. I moved in a few days ago.” “So you really are staying.” Hot damn! But my confusion mounted. “Why in the world would anyone want to make their home here when there’s so many exciting places to live?” “For various reasons.” Now, he removed his sunglasses entirely and slid them into the breast pocket of his shirt before giving me another dimpled smile and a thorough once-over. “And the reasons are growing more numerous by the moment.” “You’re quite the shameless flirt, aren’t you?” For a moment, his moist lips pursed as he weighed my words. “I’ve been called worse. A lot worse, actually. You weren’t the only one to face nasty children in your youth. Neville…rhymes with devil. Need I expound? There’s a reason I go by ‘Gray.’ Although, considering my sordid past and wayward youth, some might say the ‘devil’ name is more appropriate.” “Somehow, I can believe that…and…” “And what?” “It’s disturbingly compelling.” “Have a thing for bad boys, do you? What does that say about you, I wonder?” “I really don’t want to speculate. Delving too deep into my psyche could get a bit hairy.” “Not willing to talk about yourself, huh?” “Oh, I’m always willing, but for anyone who’s listening, I’m afraid I’d bore them to tears.” “I doubt that. Maybe a few drinks will help to prove me right.” “You mean…?” I pointed to the bar. “You were serious earlier?” “Generally, I’m always serious. A bit too serious on occasion. Another one of my faults, perhaps. But yeah, I wouldn’t have nearly as much fun without someone to talk to, that sexy stranger I mentioned. Especially one who probably has a lot to say and who also has a tendency to blush at my flattery.” My face instantly came alive with additional heat. “So, Eli, if you’re not too busy and you don’t have other plans, care to join me? It will be my treat.” “Oh, I can’t let you do that.” “Sure you can.” Gray opened the door to the bar and gestured me inside. “And you’d be doing me a favor. You’re the only guy I’ve met in town close to my own age who has…well…similar interests, if you know what I mean? So it’s the least I can do for putting you out like this.” Fuck, this guy could put me out anytime. Indeed, he could put me out, pull me in, or screw the stuffing out of me—whatever the hell he pleased—and I would happily oblige. Doing my best to shake off my almost childlike giddiness, I stepped past him and into the bar. I allowed my eyes to grow accustomed to the softly lit interior, then indicated the back of the place. The good thing about The Silent Seagull was that on weeknights such as this, and after the dinner hour, the joint slowed to a smooth crawl. Nearly all of the rear booths lay vacant, so after getting two mugs of beer at the bar, I led Gray to the most secluded one. The less distractions, the better. I slid into the booth with its wraparound red leather seat and watched my companion sit opposite me, that carefree and slightly naughty smile still on his face. I sighed. What had been up until a few minutes ago a bland and exhausting day, a repeat of just about every day I’d spent in this town, had somehow morphed into an evening of colorful promise. I wondered if it would live up to my expectations.