Chapter Twenty-Two
As soon as Rusty left the warmth of Blake’s house and breathed in the cool air outside, he wondered what the hell he was doing.
Specifically, he wondered what the hell made him feel like he needed to do favors for Blake.
Not needed, either. Wanted.
He wanted to do Blake a favor, he wanted Blake to be pleased with him.
That was… new, and not something he was willing to poke at too much. He was afraid there was something even scarier inside it.
The thing he needed to focus on right now was where the hell he was going to get his hands on a guitar. He hadn’t spotted anything that looked like a music store in town, so that option was out straight away.
The next best source of guitars was people who played them.
Back home, there were half a dozen numbers he could have called to get his hands on something like this in an emergency. Here, he was flying blind.
The pub, maybe? They’d know who the local musicians were, and if Rusty was charming enough, they might even tell him.
Just as he had that thought, his eyes fell on a flyer taped to one of the telephone poles.
A flyer with a guitar on it.
That was about as direct a sign as he was going to get.
Sunday Sessions, the headline read.
And then gave the address of…
The book store?
Well, he’d played in plenty of little indie bookstores himself, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise. They were a whole lot more likely to be open at this time of the day, too.
He rolled his shoulders back, breathing a sigh of relief. He felt a step closer to the solution to all his problems.
Which brought his mind right back to Blake, and why, exactly, he was doing this.
He didn’t know. At least, he couldn’t immediately come up with an answer that satisfied him, and he didn’t have time for soul-searching right now.
It was probably just because he liked to help people, and Blake reacted well to being helped. He hadn’t really needed to do any of this, but despite a few hiccups, he’d been enjoying himself.
It’d been a long time since he just stepped back and had a little fun.
And it wasn’t as though he hated playing for people. It wasn’t why he did it, but it was nice to have an audience every now and again.
The sun reflected off the glass of the bookstore door as though it was pointing directly at it, a beacon leading Rusty to what he needed. He jogged the last few steps, pushing the door open and heading inside.
It was a lot darker and warmer in here, with a little coffee shop set up in the front, and walls lined with bookshelves.
A man carrying a stack of books smiled at him from the back of the store, his eyes lighting up.
“You have to be Rusty,” he said, setting the pile of books down on the counter. “Everyone’s talking about you. I’m Ash.”
Rusty blinked at that. Everyone was talking about him?
That was… weird. He didn’t think he was all that remarkable.
“Oh, uh. Yeah, guilty as charged. Umm.” Rusty paused to rub the back of his neck. “I’m actually in here to ask a favor. Long story short, my sister-in-law’s getting married today and we’re short a band, so I promised to play a set for her, but… I don’t have a guitar, and I saw your flyer, so I was thinking you might know who I could borrow one from.”
Ash’s face broke into a broad smile.
“My husband is teaching himself,” he said. “He won’t mind you borrowing it.”
Husband. Rusty had heard that from men a lot while he’d been here.
“This town is astoundingly gay,” he said without thinking. Ash didn’t necessarily know he was gay, and he might take that the wrong way.
And Rusty really needed his help right now.
Thankfully, Ash chuckled before Rusty could even open his mouth to apologize.
“Right? We didn’t notice until we moved in here, but… it’s a nice place. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never lived anywhere I felt safer or more accepted.”
“I do kinda get that vibe,” Rusty said. “This isn’t a bad little place.”
“Maybe not as exciting as where you’re from,” Ash said. “But it has its charms.”
Rusty chuckled about that. “There’s a few little bookshop cafés like this in Melbourne. They’re some of my favorite places.”
“Well, you’re welcome here anytime. To play, or just to hang out.”
Rusty opened his mouth to say he wasn’t staying, but he didn’t want to disappoint Ash. The guy seemed nice, and he was offering to let Rusty borrow a guitar.
“Sounds good. Probably have to get a guitar of my own, though.”
Ash’s eyes widened. “Oh, right, that’s probably kinda urgent, huh? I’ll be right back,” he said, heading for the stairs at the back of the store.
Rusty breathed a sigh of relief, glad he had one less thing to worry about. Things were starting to go according to plan.
Just as he finished having that thought, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out, wrinkling his nose when he saw it was his father calling.
He had to take the call. It could have been an emergency, though he suspected, somehow, that it wasn’t.
“Hello?” Rusty answered, trying to sound less annoyed than he was by the interruption.
“I thought you were sorting all this out and coming straight home,” his father said.
Rusty’s jaw tightened. “I’m allowed to be wherever I like,” he responded. “I’m a grown man, and you can do your photo op without me.”
“Have you solved your little problem yet?”
Rusty clenched his teeth. Little problem.
That was all Blake was to his father. A problem.
He didn’t care about Blake’s feelings, or Rusty’s, or anyone else’s. All he could see was how this affected him, and what he wanted Rusty to do about it.
“Problem,” Rusty said, keeping his voice as even as he could.
“Would you prefer mistake?”
Rusty moved the phone far enough away from his mouth that his father wouldn’t hear him take a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing himself not to respond immediately.
He was angry. Angrier about this than he had been about anyone else.
His dad could belittle him as much as he wanted, fine, but not Blake.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Rusty said. “And Blake is a human being, not a problem. I’m out here doing you a favor, and I don’t have to take your shit.”
Before his father could respond, Rusty hung up.
He expected to get half a dozen angry texts about it as the day wore on, but he didn’t care. He was tired of hearing about what he had to do, or fix, or be.
He didn’t even want to divorce Blake.
He…
Wait.
He didn’t?
“Found it,” Ash said, interrupting Rusty’s train of thought before he could follow it any further. “Declan had it hidden away in the storeroom.”
“Oh,” Rusty said, blinking at Ash as he came back to the real world. “That looks perfect.”
It was a completely standard, full-sized acoustic guitar, which was exactly what Rusty wanted. He’d been afraid it’d be a three-quarter size, since a lot of learners got them and then wondered why it was so hard to get their fingers in the right place.
Declan was obviously a smart man.
“I hope it works out for you,” Ash said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Rusty responded, taking the guitar when Ash held it out. “Tell Declan I owe him one, yeah?”
Ash grinned at that. “He’d love to meet you. It’s been a pleasure.”
“Same to you,” Rusty said. “I’ll stop to chat when I bring this back, okay?”
“Works for me,” Ash called after Rusty as he left, slinging the guitar over his shoulder by the strap.
He intended to focus on playing a few songs at the wedding, and not on the conversation he’d just had with his father.
Or rather, the thought he’d had immediately after the conversation.
That was way too big a thing to worry about right now.