Kell let him, trembling in Blake’s arms, and Blake sighed.
“Trav?”
“Yeah?”
“Would it be awful if I asked you to take him out and get him drunk? He’s not an addict—he stopped without even being asked. But he needs something… something….”
Trav sighed. “Something. Yeah. Blake, you wanna wait here for Mackey and Briony? Text me when they get back, okay? I think Kell needs a fucking drink.”
Blake nodded. “Can I watch your TV?”
Trav wanted to laugh. Kids. All of them. “Mackey’s tablet is in his carry-on—you guys play games on it, right?”
“Yeah—and I even know which icons to ignore.” Blake shuddered. “Gay porn is for gay men and straight women, I’m not telling you something you don’t know.”
Trav laughed. He had to. “Thanks, Blake. C’mon.” He slung his arm over Kell’s shoulders and steered him toward the bar. “Blake?” Trav said over his shoulder before they walked out from under the hotel overhang and into the pouring rain. “Text Jefferson—have them come down too. I don’t want any of you alone.”
The look on Blake’s face—God, it was grateful. Trav steered Kell to the bar they’d left not half an hour ago, thinking that addictions and comfort were a very, very tricky business.
“D O YOU know how hard it is?” Kell asked soggily. “Being his brother? He’s like, all bright… like the song. Like everything is a song to him. There’s shooting stars, and there’s Mackey, and the stars are trying to catch him. And the rest of us… we’re… I mean, he’s so smart . He just got in the middle of the living room and said, ‘You, you’re gonna play lead,’ and I did. Man, I didn’t even know what lead guitar did , and he made me practice, and now I wouldn’t change it….”
Trav took a deep breath and patted Kell on the back. He thought about offering up another beer but then figured Kell would have enough to throw up as it was. No wonder the boy never got drunk—this was just embarrassing.
In a way.
In another way, Trav thought as he nursed his own beer bitterly, Kell sort of hit the nail on the head. Mackey was a shooting star. The kind of guy Trav had always gone for. Whether it had been his painful half-realized crush on the soccer forward who played the lead in the sixth-grade school play or the blistering first affair with the guy who played saxophone on the corner by the library and the drugstore the summer before he went into the service, Trav had loved the shooting stars, the talented, the magnetic. He’d never been able to understand what drove them, but he loved it just the same. It hadn’t been until Mackey that he’d seen his same obsessive need for order mirrored in Mackey’s creative drive, and still—Mackey was the shooting star. Trav just cleared the cosmic debris from his path.
“It’s hard,” he said, feeling melancholy with two beers. “It’s hard loving people that bright, that shiny, that they make everyone else in the world look dim.”
Kell nodded. “Grant was like that,” he said ruminatively. “Grant did what you did, real smart, but…. God. He was only happy when he was on the stage with me and Mackey, playing the guitar. He was good. So good.” Kell sighed into his beer. “So, so good….”
Trav pulled out his wallet and set his card on the table, nodding at the night-shift bartender. The place had cooled down after the band’s set, and no one seemed to recognize the lead guitarist of Outbreak Monkey working some shit out with his brother’s boyfriend.
“It’s not your fault you didn’t know,” Trav said, wondering if Kell would remember in the morning.
“It is,” Kell said, proving, once again, that people underestimated him a lot. “I told them they couldn’t be who they were. I told them they had to hide. So they did. Grant hid until he disappeared. Mackey tried, but—” Kell laughed fondly and drunkenly, rubbing his hand over his growing buzz cut in thought. “Mackey
“Trav?”
“Yeah?”
“Would it be awful if I asked you to take him out and get him drunk? He’s not an addict—he stopped without even being asked. But he needs something… something….”
Trav sighed. “Something. Yeah. Blake, you wanna wait here for Mackey and Briony? Text me when they get back, okay? I think Kell needs a fucking drink.”
Blake nodded. “Can I watch your TV?”
Trav wanted to laugh. Kids. All of them. “Mackey’s tablet is in his carry-on—you guys play games on it, right?”
“Yeah—and I even know which icons to ignore.” Blake shuddered. “Gay porn is for gay men and straight women, I’m not telling you something you don’t know.”
Trav laughed. He had to. “Thanks, Blake. C’mon.” He slung his arm over Kell’s shoulders and steered him toward the bar. “Blake?” Trav said over his shoulder before they walked out from under the hotel overhang and into the pouring rain. “Text Jefferson—have them come down too. I don’t want any of you alone.”
The look on Blake’s face—God, it was grateful. Trav steered Kell to the bar they’d left not half an hour ago, thinking that addictions and comfort were a very, very tricky business.
“D O YOU know how hard it is?” Kell asked soggily. “Being his brother? He’s like, all bright… like the song. Like everything is a song to him. There’s shooting stars, and there’s Mackey, and the stars are trying to catch him. And the rest of us… we’re… I mean, he’s so smart . He just got in the middle of the living room and said, ‘You, you’re gonna play lead,’ and I did. Man, I didn’t even know what lead guitar did , and he made me practice, and now I wouldn’t change it….”
Trav took a deep breath and patted Kell on the back. He thought about offering up another beer but then figured Kell would have enough to throw up as it was. No wonder the boy never got drunk—this was just embarrassing.
In a way.
In another way, Trav thought as he nursed his own beer bitterly, Kell sort of hit the nail on the head. Mackey was a shooting star. The kind of guy Trav had always gone for. Whether it had been his painful half-realized crush on the soccer forward who played the lead in the sixth-grade school play or the blistering first affair with the guy who played saxophone on the corner by the library and the drugstore the summer before he went into the service, Trav had loved the shooting stars, the talented, the magnetic. He’d never been able to understand what drove them, but he loved it just the same. It hadn’t been until Mackey that he’d seen his same obsessive need for order mirrored in Mackey’s creative drive, and still—Mackey was the shooting star. Trav just cleared the cosmic debris from his path.
“It’s hard,” he said, feeling melancholy with two beers. “It’s hard loving people that bright, that shiny, that they make everyone else in the world look dim.”
Kell nodded. “Grant was like that,” he said ruminatively. “Grant did what you did, real smart, but…. God. He was only happy when he was on the stage with me and Mackey, playing the guitar. He was good. So good.” Kell sighed into his beer. “So, so good….”
Trav pulled out his wallet and set his card on the table, nodding at the night-shift bartender. The place had cooled down after the band’s set, and no one seemed to recognize the lead guitarist of Outbreak Monkey working some shit out with his brother’s boyfriend.
“It’s not your fault you didn’t know,” Trav said, wondering if Kell would remember in the morning.
“It is,” Kell said, proving, once again, that people underestimated him a lot. “I told them they couldn’t be who they were. I told them they had to hide. So they did. Grant hid until he disappeared. Mackey tried, but—” Kell laughed fondly and drunkenly, rubbing his hand over his growing buzz cut in thought. “Mackey
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