Fractured Fairy Tales (8 page)

“You should just be grateful that the women in your life get along so well,” Rose pointed out, smiling softly.

“And people wonder why I’m gay.”

“Why don’t you want to go to the party, sweetheart?” He stepped away from the door, clearly sensing a long conversation. She slipped inside, glancing quickly around the room to make sure it was tidy.

His bed was made but the cover was creased. His record player was switched on, the vinyl spinning hypnotically, filling the room with a softer version of whatever he’d been listening to earlier. The posters that covered his wall were curling slightly at the odd corners he hadn’t stuck down, but apart from that, everything seemed pretty neat. Yeah, he was definitely a good kid.

“I’m not the partying type,” he replied, sitting on the edge of his bed. She sat down beside him, bumping her shoulder against his.

“I know the whole drinking-dancing-partying thing doesn’t come naturally to you,” Rose began. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. But you’re nearly eighteen years old, Jack. You should be putting yourself out there, taking chances and making memories.”

“I don’t even understand why the Keswick kid invited us,” he admitted with a sigh. “He’s never shown much of an interest in us before.”

“Hasn’t he been going back and forth between boarding schools his whole life?” She pointed out. “Maybe he just hasn’t had the time before. I’ve seen him around town, he’s hotter than Palm Springs in a heat wave.”

Jack made a face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes, but she knew he didn’t really mind her talking like that. There wasn’t a massive age difference between them after all, and she wasn’t his mom. Not really.

“Or like the fires of Hell,” he snorted, running his hands through his hair. “Jess did say that he dropped the names of a couple of really great bands when he was talking to her, maybe he’s not too bad.”

“So, the fact that he looks like he just walked out of a high end fashion magazine does nothing for you, but throw around a couple of band names and he gets the seal of approval?” Rose asked. “You baffle me, kid.”

“I’m a mystery,” Jack murmured, eyes bright through his lowered lashes. “Maybe I should go, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Says who?” Rose grinned, getting to her feet. “I was at the community theatre the other day, sorting through the costumes, and I bought some things home for you.”

“Really?”

“And you know how protective Doris is over the costume department, so they’re all in great condition. I’ll just go grab them.”

She’d fallen in love with the vintage blazer as soon as she’d seen it hanging up on the discarded costumes rail. It had only been used in one production and was in great condition, considering how old it was. Doris explained how it had been her son’s once, a couple of decades ago. It had been the height of fashion in London then, and Rose could tell it was one of those pieces that had cycled back into style. It was black with white trim along the lapels and across the pockets, fitted at the waist and flaring at the back in a way that would really highlight Jack’s slender frame. Daniel worked hard to provide for them, and she helped when she could, but they just didn’t have the money to buy Jack the really amazing clothes that he deserved.

So, she made a deal with Doris – she was going to do her gardening once a week for the next month – and ended up leaving the theatre with the blazer and an unused pair of new black skinny jeans that she knew were Jack’s size. It wasn’t often that she could treat him to some clothes that weren’t necessities, and if they helped give him the confidence boost he needed, then she would do Doris’s yard for the next year.

She couldn’t stop smiling when she handed over the clothes, her cheeks aching when she saw the way his eyes lit up.

“The blazer belonged to Doris’s son. He wore it to a David Bowie concert once,” she told him. “He works for NME now, you know, the music magazine?”

“I know what NME is,” he replied with his trademark exasperated smile. “These are great, Aunt Rose. Thank you.”

“Any time, kid. Now, you put those on and I’ll help you tame that hair of yours. Jessica is picking you up in fifteen minutes.”

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Jessica was waiting for him in the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear as he stomped down the stairs in his battered calf high Dr Martens. The boots had belonged to his dad at least a decade ago but hadn’t fallen to bits, yet.

As his aunt/substitute mother, Rose knew she was biased, but Jack really was a handsome kid. He’d dragged a comb through his hair with enough force to get it to behave and his eyes were glittering with something that looked like excitement. The blazer fit him perfectly, just like she thought it would, giving an elegance to him that she had never seen before.

“Hell yeah! You scrub up well, Daveyson!” Jessica grinned, leaping to her feet to fling her arms around his neck. He rolled his eyes but smiled at her, patting her back.

Rose couldn’t help but wonder what their relationship would be like if Jack was straight. Jessica was a beautiful girl, petite but absolutely fierce. She had dressed to impress in a tight, thigh skimming black dress and a fitted leather jacket, looking tougher than a girl her size had any right to.

“Alright, kids. Now as much as I hate playing the concerned adult role, Jack’s dad trusts me to keep him alive and oddly enough, I don’t want to let him down. So – don’t get drunk, remember weed is a gateway drug and be home by midnight. You can stay here tonight, Jess, it’ll be safer if you two come home together.”

“Yes, Aunt Rosie,” the two kids parroted, their smiling faces the picture of innocence.

She snorted – she knew better.

“And remember, you are only young once, this is the start of your senior year, and as long as you don’t get pregnant or catch a disease, there’s no mistake you won’t laugh about later!” She yelled as they strolled towards Jessica’s parked car.

She could feel Jack rolling his eyes, even with his back turned, and she beamed at the back of his head. She wanted him to be safe, sure, but more than anything she just wanted him to be a kid and have fun. If Jessica’s enthusiasm was anything to go by, he was in for the time of his life.

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About three hours into what was shaping up to be another infamous Keswick party, JJ found himself fondly reminiscing about the brief couple of weeks when he had stopped throwing parties. It seemed like the local girls had formed a queue, each of them taking a shot at flirting outrageously with him, eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

It was all too much, too fast. He was expected to smile, wink and flirt outrageously back, picking a girl out and following her to his bedroom. That’s what he would usually do, he would even enjoy it nine times out of ten. He wasn’t sure when the idea of meaningless sex stopped appealing to him, couldn’t pinpoint the moment when it no longer filled the void that had been eating at him ever since Mike died. All JJ knew was he couldn’t keep the mask on much longer, it was making his skin crawl.

His music room was separated from his room by his ridiculously lavish en-suite bathroom. It had originally been a study, but had been converted into a music room when he was little. His mom had started filling it with instruments when he was still too young to play most of them. His black upright piano glittered in the moonlight drifting in through the balcony door. The electric guitar in the corner had a matte purple finish, sleek, wicked and utterly seductive, even when it was left to gather dust on its stand. His white pearl finish drum kit had been taken down, stacked in pieces in a corner until he had the time and the desire to re-assemble it.

Jack Daveyson stood by the piano, his fingertips resting reverently on the polished wood. He was leaning over to read the sheet music left haphazardly on the music stand, his lips curved in a knowing smile. His unruly hair spilled into his eyes—surrounded by the instruments, he was distracted and completely entranced.

“Of all the music rooms in all the world, you just so happened to wander in to mine,” JJ said, resting against the doorframe in the hopes it would disguise the nervous tremor in his hands.

Jack spun on his heel, guilt flashing across his face like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A sharp inhale of breath betrayed his surprise, his eyebrows drawing together as he frowned.

“This is yours? All of it?” He asked, uncertainty and curiosity warring in his captivating hazel eyes. JJ was a bit hurt by the shock in his voice – sure, he may give off the impression that he cared more about partying than playing music, but he’d hoped that someone like Jack would see through that, the way he seemed to see through everything and everyone else.

“All mine,” JJ confirmed with a nod, stepping into the room.

Jack seemed wary, but didn’t take a step back. “The guitar is a Fender,” Jack pointed out, throwing an appreciative glance in the direction of JJ’s favourite electric guitar.

“A 1992 Stratocaster, to be exact,” he pointed out, taking in the way Jack’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Do you know how much those guitars cost?” Jack sputtered. “I’d give my right arm for one.”

“Well I paid about a thousand for it, give or take,” JJ shrugged. “Wouldn’t be much use to you if you traded arms for it though. You’d be better trading a leg.”

The surprise on Jack’s face melted into a soft, almost self-conscious smile. Combined with his lowered lashes and faint blush, it was enough to make JJ feel a little shaky. It was like being drunk, the whole world seemed a bit brighter even if it was blurry around the edges.

“So you’re the infamous JJ Keswick,” Jack said, his eyes raking over him quickly.

“The one and only,” JJ replied, taking a very gentlemanly bow.

Jack’s smile widened. “I thought you would be taller.”

“It’s because I play basketball. That’s the stereotype, right?”

“I’ve never met a jock with a music room like this,” Jack admitted, casting another appreciative glance around the room.

There was a tenderness in his gaze that JJ recognised—it was the look of someone who had endless love and respect for what he was looking at. He hadn’t seen a look like that in a long time.

“Like I said,” JJ winked. “I’m the one and only.”

“I’m getting that,” Jack said, tearing his eyes away from the gleaming instruments to meet JJ’s. “Is that why you invited Jessica to your party? To show her your…music room?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, the way the blush rose higher in Jack’s pale cheeks as he asked his question was just adorable. He was clearly trying to ask JJ another question, and JJ knew his response could dramatically alter the coy playfulness they both seemed to be wrapped up in.

“What if I wanted to show it to you instead?”

Jack’s eyebrows raised and his blush deepened. He clearly had not been expecting that – hell, he would have been expecting anything but that. JJ’s somewhat fluid approach to sexuality was one that was kept strictly under wraps. It wasn’t worth the small town stigma, or having to explain himself constantly. He also had the sneaky suspicion that his father wouldn’t be too pleased if his disappointment of a son also turned out to be less than straight.

“But I’m…”

“I know. You’re Jack Daveyson. You’re smart and you’re sensible. You don’t believe in random hook ups, and you’ve sacrificed having a love life for having a quiet life. Cuz let’s face it, these cookie cutter townies wouldn’t let you openly date another guy without making some sort of fuss about it. How did I do?”

“Ten outta ten,” Jack replied, a hint of sadness creeping into his smile. “But that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh,” JJ murmured. If he was the type to get embarrassed, he would probably be praying for the ground to open and swallow him up. “What were you going to say?”

“That I’m gay, and you’re not,” Jack pointed out, shrugging his shoulders.

“You sure about that?”

“Not anymore,” he admitted. “Is this some sort of prank?”

The blonde host shrugged out of his tailored jacket, draping it over the piano like it didn’t cost more than Jack made in a month. He flicked open the top button of his shirt with practised ease, revealing a tantalising hint of collarbone and flawless tanned skin. Jack’s eyes swept over the strong line of his jaw, tripping down the long line of his throat like he just couldn’t stop staring.

It had been a while since JJ had made the first move on anyone. He hadn’t really been interested enough in someone to put himself out there like that. Sure, if a girl came on to him, he was happy to go along with it, but he hadn’t shown his hand for ages. The more he let people see, the more information they had to use against him.

Jack’s lips were soft and slightly parted in surprise when JJ leaned in for a gentle kiss. JJ smiled as Jack flailed a bit, not sure what to do with his hands. He placed them on JJ’s waist, the callouses on his fingertips making the blonde boy shiver when they brushed against his exposed skin.

“Convinced yet?” JJ whispered as he pulled away, his words ghosting over Jack’s lips.

“Yup. Where’s your room?”

Between the music room and the bedroom, Jack had kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket. He was grinning as the back of his knees hit JJ’s bedframe, laughing under his breath when JJ nudged him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him with all the grace of a drunken sorority girl.