Page 33 of More Than Scars
“I just can’t believe we’re finally here,” Tibby said. “I’ve played with so many bands that fizzled out. It’s like karma was finally on my side.”
“This week we’ll be in the studio,” I said as Bowie and Stoli walked up. “You’ll still work on the songs you’re playing at the weekend shows, but Easton wants you to start laying down some of your own tracks for your debut record release next April.”
“What the fuck, man. You’ve got to work on your delivery,” Bowie laughed. “These are all big things you’re throwing down last minute. I mean, our first release. That’s a huge fucking deal.”
“My bad?” Collectively, they sighed.
“Dude, no.” But Tony was all smiles.
“Alright, it’s time to bid you goodnight. See everyone Monday at ten.” We loaded up and waved at Josh and Reagan as they locked up and headed to their vehicle. What a night. I was nearly as amped up as the guys were. They keep playing like this, and there will be no stopping them as they rise to the top of the charts.
Tony and Bowie sang along with the radio, air guitars running wild while Bowie cranked out random drumbeats via the dashboard. The guys were riding high, and it was gonna be a while before they came down from it. Though I had to admit, this drive was quite entertaining.
There was no bringing them down, nor would I try, so as soon as we got home, I lit the firepit and grabbed us each a beer. “Gentlemen, join me outside?” and held the bottles up. Tony snagged his, while Bowie’s came with a bonus kiss.
“Peaceful serenity,” Bowie broke the silence. We’d quietly sat around the fire for a bit, coming down and enjoying the warm evening. One of the last ones for a few months, I’m sure. “I find my Zen out here and have done some of my best writing fireside.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” Hopefully that will aid in his final decision when it comes time for him to move out…or not. I wasn’t above pulling out all the stops. Even though we’d skirted around the issue of monogamy, in my eyes we were a couple working toward a future together. Guess it was time to determine relationship boundaries.
“Alright,” Tony yawned, “I’m calling it a night.Hasta mañana, mis amigos.”
“Night,” Bowie and I replied.
As soon as the door closed behind Tony, I mustered the courage for our long overdue talk. “So, um, where do you see this going? You and me, I mean.”
Bowie sat there for a couple of seconds before responding, and I nearly retracted the question. “Well, I thought it was going pretty good. Slow, but I know you said we’ll move at my pace. What question are you avoiding asking?”
Was I that transparent?
“I um,”come on, Pressley, spit it out.“I was hoping to make us an official monogamous relationship.”
“Huh, I thought we already were.”
“Maybe it’s my age, but I guess I just needed to hear we were exclusive.”
“Awe, is Pressley feeling insecure?” Bowie baby talked. I shook his chair, making both of us laugh. “All joking aside, I haven’t dated, hooked up, or even thought of being with anyone since the accident.”
“You know, you don’t have to hide from me. Right?”
“Yeah, that’s kinda what Stoli pulled me aside about tonight. He um,” Bowie nervously wiped his palms on his jeans. “He caught my one fuck-up tonight.”
So did I, but now wasn’t the time to point that out.
“He told me not to hide who I was. I gave him the Cliff Notes version of what happened, but only you, Tony, and my family know the whole story. Hell, Tony stayed right by my side through physical therapy and everything. He’s the one who bought me Percilla when I was still in the hospital.”
“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. No one has the right to tell you how to heal or when, everyone does so in their own way and time. But Stoli’s right, hiding isn’t the way to go, but you’re the only one who can decide when it’s okay to be you.” We’d previously had this conversation, and I’d have to thank Stoli for stepping in, but it barred repeating tonight. “You mean a lot to me, Bowie, both as your band manager and your boyfriend. I’m here for you however you need me to be.”
“Yeah, you said that before. Words I replay on repeat to boost myself up. You, um, you mean a lot to me too.”
We leaned forward at the same time, lips meeting in the middle, which quickly heated until Bowie fought back a yawn.
“Time to call it a night. Maybe tomorrow another date?”
“How about a stay-at-home date where we veg out and binge bad sitcoms?”
“That sounds like the perfect Sunday to me, Bowie.” With that plan formulated, I decided to break out the crockpot and slow cook a roast with potatoes and carrots for dinner tomorrow night. We’ve been so damn busy lately I haven’t had the chance to dazzle them with my culinary expertise.
More like Mom instilled ‘my son will learn how to cook’ expertise.