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“To start the rest of our lives together.”

The End

Coming soon

Lights, Camera: Backstage Pass

2023

Excerpt

EVAN was a having a bad day.

Or a bad week, but today was particularly a bad day.

He was on his fourth — fifth? — tequila shot and the buzzing in his head was starting to bother him and his sense of sight, but he couldn’t stop himself from drinking. Evan was doubtful at first, but after a glass of martini and shots of this divine tequila, he now understood his best friend Dorian’s love for drinks, or really, slight alcohol addiction. It was burning him up, in a really good way, and he wanted more of it, because it also made the day’s events to be somewhat of a blur.

Evan licked his palm wet, putting some salt on it before licking it again and taking another shot, following it up with a suck on a lemon wedge. The fuzzy feeling was overwhelming and he smiled to himself. He would never turn down Dee’s invitations to go drinking with him again, he thought as he placed the glass in perfect alignment with the other glasses.

He blearily looked around at the place, this hole-in-the-wall, dingy bar he found a few blocks away from their office, the dim lights easy on his dazed eyes as he adjusted his prescription glasses that slid down his nose after the drink. Evan was looking for something to eat, something greasy and affordable, so he could wallow in pain and sorrow for what just happened at work, when he found the bar. He didn’t realize he was walking mindlessly and he was unfamiliar with the place, but it drew him in, especially when he saw the hood of a vintage car hanging on the ceiling right on top of the bar counter. It was illuminated with red and yellow lights and Evan thought it was cool so he walked in and sat on one of the six stools below it. The bar was small, with only six steel table stands and ten wooden tables that sat four, or five if the people there were willing enough to scoot close and squeeze in. Most of the tables were already occupied as it was a Friday night. There was a huge mirror on the left wall that tricked the eye into believing the place was bigger than it really was, and the wood flooring was full of old stains but was otherwise shiny and waxed.

Evan looked back to his drinks and found that he had finished his martini and only had one shot left so he grabbed the menu, looking for something good and something new to try. His stomach was rumbling, probably because he didn’t get that greasy food he was craving after walking aimlessly for hours when he was dismissed from the office, but he was also feeling thirsty, so maybe that should come first.

He was dimly aware of someone occupying the seat beside his, but he barely registered it when his throat tightened and his heart pounded as the thought of him getting sacked from work this afternoon came back with a vengeance, and he could feel his eyes welling up with hot tears as he imagined how heartbroken Dee would be for him, and for them, once Evan told his best friend they’ll be running out of money sometime in the next month.

Swallowing hard and blinking away the tears before they even fell down, Evan focused his gaze on the menu, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through his mouth to calm himself as he read the backside of the single-page cardboard where the special drinks were listed down. He almost laughed out loud with what he just saw when he heard the deep rumble of the person ordering beside him as the middle-aged bartender talked to them, before walking over to Evan with a kind, albeit amused, smile.

“How we doin’, kid?”

“Good, good! Can I get another one of these please?” He asked cheerfully, pointing to his empty glasses — except for one more tequila shot, and if Evan slurred a bit, no one should care but him. And then he remembered the funny thing on the menu and waved it frantically to the middle-aged, African-American man with the kind eyes and permanent grin, whose name was Lamar, according to his name tag. “Ooh, and what is this? Is this for real? Look!”

Lamar took the laminated paper from him and leaned over so they could both check what Evan was referring to. He jabbed his finger on the item on the menu, giggling. “It says here: Blowjob $12. Blue Balls? This is a drink, right? Tell me it is.” He could feel the heat on his cheeks as the stout man laughed. He also tried his best to ignore the judgmental gaze of the person sitting beside him which he could see from his peripheral vision.

“Of course it is a drink,” Lamar said.

“Wew. Okay, then please refill my martini and I’ll have another tequila shot. And please let me try that blowjob,” Evan said, a tiny bit mortified when a giggle came out of his mouth.

Shaking his head, Lamar just shrugged and put in his order. “As long as you can get yourself home, kiddo.”

“Not a kid,” Evan muttered. He knew he still could pass as a teenager, what with his lanky built, and his, as his best friend Dee put it, baby face, but he was twenty-seven this year, and even though he tried to dress up as mature as he could and tried to tame his crazy dark curls, he still got carded whenever he watched an R-rated movie or ordered a drink. Lamar should know; he asked for his ID when he first got here.

He wondered how he would make himself more mature and presentable for when he needed to go to interviews, but quickly deflated when he remembered the minimal job listing he found online while he was wandering around the city this afternoon. There seemed to be a shortage of openings for editors, which was ridiculous because the number of typographical and grammatical errors he had spotted when he was online was astronomical and people with web content obviously needed a proofreader for it. He saw a couple of opportunities for home-based freelancing and he would be looking into that this weekend, although the internet subscription in the apartment he and Dee was sharing wasn’t the best for working from home, and his laptop was as ancient as a tyrannosaurus fossil, but he would cross the bridge when he got there. Evan just wanted to have some good news when he told Dee that he was jobless starting Monday. It was just his luck that Dee was spending his weekend with his mother in Diamond Bar so Evan had two more days to find a job.

Evan knew he was being ridiculous. His friend would never fault him for getting laid off. Hell, he didn’t want Evan to worry about him or even take care of him. But Evan knew how passionate Dee was in his art, and art making was expensive yet could make so little money especially for someone like Dee who was so talented but didn’t have the right exposures or the perfect opportunities to showcase his work. Dee helped with what he could sell from his daily commissions doing caricatures and portraits in the streets, and when he got lucky, from when a small-time gallery needed his help for a show. It wasn’t enough, Evan knew. Dee especially knew. There were days when Dee got zero commissions and times he couldn’t give his share of the rent for the month, but Evan never minded. He wanted to support Dee the way Dee and his mom supported Evan when he struggled to make his way through community college.

He thought of his asshole of an ex, Tyler, and how he lied to his co-workers at their company party on Sunday that Evan graduated from UCLA because he was embarrassed that Evan was a product of the local community college. God, was he glad he didn’t invest as much time on that little shit as he wanted to, or like how he did on his short list of asshole ex-boyfriends. Evan was shit when it came to finding the right man. He looked down at the napkin he didn’t realize he was folding in square, and he squinted down to make sure all the corners were aligned when he heard a chuckle from the person beside him.

Evan looked to his left, and paused.

Sweet baby Jesus, was this man a god.

The man turned in his seat and looked at him, raising a golden brow. At least it seemed golden under the dim lights. “What are you looking at?” He asked Evan in that deep voice he heard earlier. It was familiar, and Evan wondered if this guy narrated audiobooks, and if so, did he do gay romances?

Evan squeaked, his face heating up at the thought. This guy was a gay’s wet dream come true, with his broad shoulders and large pecs that stretched his black T-shirt, the sleeves fitted around bulging biceps. Evan’s eyes darted to his veiny, hairy forearms, a weakness of his, down to those big, gorgeous hands. He had a brief flash of how those hands would look like holding Evan’s tiny waist — his fingers would probably meet in the middle.

Evan breathed out, stopping himself from looking further down and forcing his eyes up to the man’s perfect face. He might be drunk, but he could tell this guy’s one of the most gorgeous people he had ever seen in his entire life. The baby blues were the first thing he had noted, and then his sharp jawline. His lower lip was fuller than the other but oh so red, surrounded by a well-trimmed scruff, although Evan personally could do without his weird 70s pornstache. He was wearing a Dodgers cap, but Evan could see a tight bun behind his head. It was odd, that he thought he had seen this guy before but couldn’t place where exactly. And Evan would surely remember him, especially with the mustache. Especially with how hot he was.

“What?” The man asked again. He had probably decided that Evan had stared enough, and probably drooled enough; Evan didn’t — he subtly checked.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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