Page 6 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

CHAPTER 6

SPEAK LOW

Rupert

“Damn, I needed this…” I murmur to myself. I’d missed Manhattan’s fast pace. Nashville’s fun, but being surrounded by my fellow band members can be exhausting at times. They’re all so hyper, focused, and… straight.

Coming back from France, I was none of those things.

Being gay was never a choice, and my wonderful mother accepted that as soon as I had the courage to come out to her at fourteen. But here I am, over ten years later, struggling to fully open up to some of my closest friends and reveal the real me, or all of me that I shouldn’t aim to hide. The engagement party weekend didn’t come at the ideal time during my hectic summer schedule, but sharing the moment with Tim took priority. Seeing him again was awesome, only the trip unexpectedly stirred conflicting emotions that had nothing to do with nostalgia from being back at his house.

To get my life back in order and clear my head, I had to revisit the basics.

Thank goodness, I attended a couple of Nathan Price’s seminars on the art of breathing a few years ago. I’m well-aware that some people consider meditation and breathing techniques to be bullshit, but they changed my life!

I don’t practice as often as I probably should. Mastering the art requires determination and consistency. Trust me, the encounter with Elliot, which should have been a non-event, put this ritual back on the table after I fled. I literally fled the awkward temptation. It took a few more days to forgive myself for caving to his… assault because, truth be told, the selfish, batshit crazy asshole is charming. And I hate him for it, almost as much as I hate myself for having these thoughts. For sure, I hadn’t seen this one coming!

Hence, my phone is on airplane mode, my bedroom door is closed, and the blinds are half-down to block the brutal September sun; I’ll enjoy this beautiful day later. The spot by the window suits me as I, too, slowly drift into airplane mode.

Quiet. Collected. Peaceful.

Sitting on a cushion that elevates my hips and keeps my back straight and comfortable, I cross my legs and rest my hands on my knees. Eyes screwed shut, I take a moment to feel where my body meets the cushion and floor. Deep breaths through my nose make my belly expand, and I hold them before releasing the air through my mouth, focusing on the sensation when it enters and leaves my body. My mind is centered on the importance of each breath, and when it wanders, I gently redirect it to my breathing. I keep going for several minutes longer, gradually acknowledging the sounds and sensations around me. Refreshed, I slowly open my eyes, taking a moment to register that I found my balance and can move on with the day.

With Sally running errands all morning, it turned out to be somewhat uneventful. I worked on a couple of songs until Tim texted me to inform me that I’ll be his best man. (Shocker!) The rapid exchange mentioned that I’ll be receiving a formal wedding invitation by snail mail in a few days… and he threatened to kick the living daylights out of me if I bailed on him since he chose his wedding date around my obligations. I guess I’ll be back at the Lefevre’s after all.

Next July.

***

“Of course, you should text him.” My shoulder bumps Sally’s playfully. By now, she knows that I don’t speak in riddles. Talking about Nathan Price puts color in her cheeks. It’s adorable. “I’m shocked that you haven’t already. Weren’t you the one to insist that there’s more to him than his looks… which, by the way, is exactly what I said about you when we met in London years ago!”

Eyes trained on the task at hand, I tighten my hold on one of my beloved Japanese knives and slice the beet, cucumber, and mushrooms. Gathering the ingredients from the wooden cutting board, I toss them with everything else to finish up our lunch salad, then add various herbs to enhance the flavor.

I proudly acquired this Nakiri as my twenty-second birthday present on my first visit to Masamoto Sohonten when a bunch of models from my agency were invited to attend Tokyo Fashion Week. Talk about a change of scenery and lifestyle compared to my pitiful British childhood!

Glancing at my beautiful Canadian roommate, I swiftly rinse my beloved Nakiri and step aside so that she can rinse the last ripe tomato. She juts her chin towards the cutting board. She heaves a contented sigh. What’s going on in that troubled mind of hers? Is she considering giving Nathan—my meditation guru, as Sally referred to him—a chance to breach her walls?

I resume my position, enjoying the knife’s precision. Slicing, dicing, and mincing has always been my job. “You’re staring,” I falsely complain.

Two friends, both carrying enough baggage to recognize the hurt in each other’s eyes the moment that they bumped into each other outside of the Natural History Museum in South Kensington. In the blink of an eye, we were inseparable—in a platonic way—and became each other’s anchor. Our dating charade started soon after. She swore to shield my sexual orientation from the public eye while I helped her to heal from previous toxic relationships. But now, things are rapidly evolving with Nathan. From the way she’s been talking about him, I can tell that she’s been smitten for weeks. Good for her! I may not know Nathan very well, but from my experience, he is a decent and respectful guy.

Maybe it’s time to ? —

I stop short, wondering if I should go there and contemplate the thought of?—

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I should make sure she’s comfortable with the idea first. Swallowing my sudden unease, I ponder the question that’s bouncing inside my equally messed-up head: Am I okay with ending our arrangement?

“Yup!” A hint of amusement touches her well-defined lips. “You know how I get when your fingers are at work.” Her using innuendos is such a rare occurrence that I can’t help but tease her. I always give her my full attention when we broach a potentially sensitive subject, so first, I put the Nakiri away, add some red pepper to the giant bowl, and plate the Indian-spiced chicken breasts. We discuss how she recently became more relaxed when talking about sex, although her libido’s been frozen for a while, and I’m the only one privy to that story. I hint that Nathan Price might have a certain influence on its revival. Soon enough, I engulf her in a warm hug; she mostly sets the pace as far as PDA is concerned, and it’s generally reserved for when we have an audience. She’s such a brave fighter! I’m so proud of her. I’m so ashamed of myself. I’m so conflicted about our relationship.

I cough slightly. “It’s not like you need my permission to give him a try.”

She worries her lower lip with her front teeth and eventually admits, “I kind of feel like I do.” Fuck! What have I done? To stay closeted, I keep her locked in some kind of twisted scenario and convinced myself it was beneficial for her. The very sharable and very straight Nathan might be the key to her freedom, but she has to discover that for herself. Yes, I’m ashamed of my selfish self. This talk is much more serious than anticipated. “I know we’re not a couple and all, but I love you nonetheless…. And we have this… agreement.”

“I’m well-aware of that, but don’t stay stuck in this agreement on my account.” I speak my mind. “Sometimes, I feel like I’ve trapped you in something that’s stopping you from moving on with your life.” I tilt my head and peck her cheek. “Sally, I’m not blind. I saw the sparks between you guys. You’re ready to move on, and if you need my blessing, you have it. I mean, I’m thankful for our agreement while it lasted, but looking back, it was utterly selfish of me; I apologize for that. Keeping fans and journalists at bay has been great. It’s nobody’s business that I enjoy sucking cock more than you do.” The second the words leave my mouth, I purse my lips, my eyes widening. “I’m sorry, I got carried away at the thought of blowing Price, which isn’t in the cards for me.”

The corner of my mouth quirks up because blowing will definitely happen tonight. I got a PM on one of my hookup apps during my meditation session. Utterly relaxed, I didn’t even pay attention that my phone had remained on airplane mode, so it took hours before I confirmed that we were on for tonight. At least, he sounds willing and eager. So, there’s that.

As for Sally, she feels the need to reassure me. “It’s fine, Rupert. We’re way past that, aren’t we? It’s not your fault sex has been off the table for me for years. You didn’t trap me. Our agreement was a mutual win-win situation. If anything, you helped me recover from the…” She trails off, and I redirect the conversation towards Price, the possibility of trusting him, building her confidence, and receiving countless earth-shattering orgasms in return.

“I should take my own advice…” I blurt aloud. Thoughtful, I shake my head. “Nah, I have plenty of orgasms. Thank heavens, willing candidates are queuing up. Making sure they don’t run in country music circles is the trick! Anyway, enough about me…” Moments later, my gaze zooms in on her, and I choose my words carefully to talk some sense into her. “I love you with all my heart, but we belong together as friends; Nathan should know that. I’ll always be there for you, but we can’t continue this charade. You are ready to move on, and I should have seen it earlier. This isn’t healthy for either of us anymore.” My brow spikes up.

She frowns. “What do we do now?”

Reading the rising panic in her expressive blue eyes, I shoot her a reassuring smile and kiss her forehead before suggesting in a quizzical tone. “Take chances?”

With that, she nods in approval, then asks me to accompany her to Nathan’s art show tonight. I point out that I assumed she’d go on her own, even though he also invited me, but she feels more comfortable with me by her side.

She kisses my cheek and walks to the dining room to set the table where we eat lunch moments later while listening to some Brit pop. Thankfully, she recognized early on that I can tolerate nearly anything but The Beatles. I share details of my trip to France, saving Elliot’s reunion for the end when I’m saved by the bell in more ways than one since I do not fancy the bitter beverage she makes and dares to call coffee.

“Hello?” I inquire, already leaving the table when I realize that I didn’t check the caller ID for once.

“ Bonjour, mon ami .”

For a second, I mistake the masculine voice for Tim’s. I halt in the middle of the hallway. It’s warmer. It’s deeper. It’s Elliot!

My heart skips a beat. Catching my breath, I breathe in and out, reaping the benefits of this morning’s session. Serene, I quickly recover my sanity, head towards my room, and close the door behind me. As expected, I start pacing. “ Bonjour , Elliot.” I switch to English to avoid making a fool of myself, contemplating asking if it isn’t past his bedtime, but why be snappy with a friend, right? Still, given how we parted ways, I wouldn’t have contacted him, friendship or not.

As if reading my mind about making small talk, he cuts to the chase. “I have your sunglasses. You forgot them at the café that day.” That day… when I lowered my guard down and overstepped boundaries. My throat constricts. “You there?”

Am I imagining the amusement in his tone?

“Yeah, sorry, kiddo —” I say, reminding us both that he’s Tim’s much younger brother. Off-limits. “It’s okay, I have extras.” Blatant lie. Truth be told, I do need a new pair to deal with this kid, for sure. Nothing to do with sunglasses, though. “I’ll get them back next year.”

It’s about time I obtained the upper hand in this friendship. The tone of his clipped reply betrays that calling him that struck a nerve, especially when he hangs up on me after muttering an angry,

“Fine!”