Page 7 of Mr. Naughty List
“I don’t know. Seems like it’s pretty similar. You’ve still got homework, even if it’s called grading, and you get summers and holidays off. Plus, you have to hang around with teenagers all day. So, where’s the difference?”
“When you put it like that…” Mr. Danvers winked. “Though I teach middle school now. So, I guess I went back to seventh grade. Which was, if memory serves, even worse for me. Maybe I’m a masochist.”
RJ’s fingers clenched his beer bottle reflexively. Had Mr. Danvers meant to use that particular flirty tone on the word masochist, or was he imagining things?
And RJ hadn’t known about the switch in schools. How had he not gathered that from stalking Mr. Danvers’s social media? Probably because he’d been more obsessed with pictures than anything else. Deciding to leave innuendo aside for now, RJ asked, “Oh, yeah? Why the change?”
“I prefer the age group. They’re fun.”
“What’s fun about a stinky, emotional preteen?” His mom had one living in her home right now, and RJ didn’t think his moody, snarling stepbrother was all that amusing.
“When they aren’t yours, a lot of things.” Mr. Danvers smiled again, and RJ’s heart did a funny little flip. “They’re all so damn sincere and trying so hard.” His eyes went fond and pitying. Then he brought his gaze back to RJ, who found it impossible to think that there could be a gay man alive who wouldn’t think that Mr. Danvers was the stuff dreams were made of.
“But enough about me.” Mr. Danvers waved his hand, batting away the topic of his career. “Tell me what you do now, RJ. Play music, obviously. But is this just a hobby or is it a career for you? And what’s this about Finland in January?”
RJ relaxed back in his chair again.Thishe could do. Talking about his work and adventures as a touring guitarist for various bands was easy and usually entertaining. He didn’t start at the beginning. He didn’t bother telling Mr. Danvers how, on graduation day, he’d gone back to his mom’s trailer and packed up his things while she cried.
He didn’t start in the middle either, with his disappointing first year in Nashville.
No, RJ started his tale for Mr. Danvers with his first big tour as guitarist for a little-known band, Society Demons, opening for The Cure. The band’s regular guitarist had injured his hand in a fireworks accident and Society Demons had required a last-minute replacement. RJ’d been thrilled to snag that opportunity.
Afterward, he’d toured with band after band. Any genre—country, rock, funk, soul. The tours lasted months or weeks, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was being out there on the stage, feeling the music rise in him, and being part of it all. He didn’tloveliving on the road. It was tiring and strange. But, after that first stint with Society Demons, he’d never been anywhere in the world long enough to call a place home. Nothing held him down. No apartment, or car, or student loan. None of the things that so many of the kids he’d graduated with claimed as their own.
What he did have were a ton of stories, a lingering, now-never-indulged desire to snort coke and smoke pot, a history of a few shitty relationships, and memories of being on stages of all shapes and sizes, and in so many different countries that he’d once started a list to keep track of where he’d been.
And he wouldn’t trade any of it. Not really. Even if the traveling life ate at him as time went on, wearing him down, killing him little by little with the lack of stability. God, his head was kind of a muddle. He both loved and hated his career right now.
But RJ knew how to paint over the whole messy business with the rosy brush of humor, fun, and scandal, keeping the dark side of the industry out of it. Plus, he wasn’t an idiot. Mr. Danvers wouldn’t be seduced by stories of feeling burned out and too old for his years, or how much he wished he’d put some serious cash aside earlier in his career so that he could buy a little house to call his own.
Maybe here in Knoxville, maybe not. He didn’t care. He just wanted to crash for a few weeks now and again to catch his breath in a comfortable place he could recall from the chaos of Singapore and know it was there waiting for him.
Burnout storiesdidwork to seduce certain kinds of men. The ones who wanted to take care of RJ, soothe his pain. That sort of thing. But that wasn’t really RJ’s jam. He didn’t like to play that role. He preferred to be the one doing the soothing. After he’d inflicted pain of the fun variety, that is.
And RJ could tell… Mr. Danvers would be seduced by the awesome stuff: the wild fans, the huge crowds, the beautiful theaters, and the long, spangled nights when RJ was too keyed up after a show to get to sleep. He’d seen some of the most glorious sunrises because of that post-show high. Including one from Montmartre in Paris, on the steps of Sacre-Coeur. That sunrise had changed his life.
“It made me want to be a better person,” RJ explained. “That’s why I came home for Christmas this year. I wanted get to know my little half-siblings and make peace with my past. Well, that sunrise and the religieuse I was eating at the time. Have you had one? Better than an éclair.” RJ smiled. “They don’t taste the same outside of France. Different butter, you know. So, you’ll have to go there to experience the real, life-changing deal. But it’s worth it.”
Mr. Danvers had listened with bright-eyed enthusiasm, and now sat with his nearly entirely empty whiskey glass clutched in his beautiful fingers, and with a fond, pleased expression on his face. “I haven’t been to Paris,” he murmured. “I haven’t been many places, to be honest.”
RJ shrugged. “You’re young. You’ve got time.”
Mr. Danvers laughed, his eyes scrunching up adorably. “I’myoung. So says my former student.”
“Well, I’ve heard that the student becomes the teacher.”
“So true. They often do.” Mr. Danvers rubbed his fingertips around the side of the whiskey glass. “And now what? You’re here in town, playing some gigs with some local friends, or…?”
“Yeah. Joel, Becca, and Casey have been pals of mine since high school. We were in a band back then. Don’t know if you remember it? It was pretty bad. We called ourselves the Old Skool Millennials.”
Mr. Danvers snorted softly. “I think I remember seeing a flyer or two around the school, yeah. Any bigger plans?”
“You could say so.”Seducing you.He gave Mr. Danvers a coy smile.
“I’m impressed, RJ. What a life you’ve been leading.” Mr. Danvers’s gaze lingered on RJ’s mouth, before he brought it back up to RJ’s eyes again. He hesitated but asked, sounding a bit breathless, “What else is the holiday bringing you? Anything good?”
“I doubt it. I’m pretty sure I’m on Santa’s naughty list.” RJ grinned.
“Come on, Mr. Naughty List,” Mr. Danvers teased. “There must be something you’re especially looking forward to?”