Three more bands said yes over the course of the next three weeks. On week four, Vance flirted and conquered two more. The victories weren’t all that exciting — as soon as he name dropped, he knew that he had whatever band he wanted wrapped around his little finger. The truly satisfying part of continuing to court local talent was to see how Aaron learned and grew from it.

It was goddamn inspiring.

Aaron, so professional and uptight, loosened up. One night on the fourth week, he wore a fitted t-shirt and dark-wash jeans out to see one of the bands they were courting. He made small-talk. He laughed. Vance figured that he never would have heard Aaron laughing while on the job, but he was proven wrong, and he loved it.

Aaron was adapting to the business. He learned to speak music, and he clued in to what details were most important, and what details meant shit-all. And he did it fast. There were some nights after they parted ways that Vance lay in bed and imagined what Aaron would have been like had he chosen to become a band promoter or manager instead of an event planner. Vance had always thought he was too high-strung to involve himself with the insanity that could be the music industry, but he learned he was wrong. Aaron was really coming into his own, and it sparked all kinds of fantasies about the filthy things they could do together as manager and client.

Fuck.

Vance wasn’t exactly out. He had a reputation as a lady’s man — an image he’d groomed carefully in order to mask his tracks. It wasn’t that he was particularly ashamed of being gay, or that he didn’t want others to know, but being caught up in a scandal was about the last thing he wanted, and when he’d risen into superstardom, coming out might have crushed his career. No one really knew his face, which meant that public outings in small, out-of-the-way places like Prescott weren’t much of an issue, but he could only imagine the headlines if he went back to Los Angeles while banging his new, smoking hot manager.

These days, that alone might be newsworthy enough to get my career back on track. I’d get a lot of hate for it, probably, but I don’t think that it’d be a deal breaker.

Vance was lost in thought when his phone rang with a text message. He was lying in bed, contemplating getting off to fantasies of Aaron, and his phone was on the bedside table. He reached for it and read the text. It was from Aaron.

Hey. Wanted to know if you wanted to do lunch after today’s meet-up.

Yeah, I’d love that. Where?

I don’t care too much. Wherever is fine. The band is meeting us in Prescott so maybe the diner. I’ll eat your fries again.

Vance snorted a laugh. He set the phone down and closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to take Aaron back to Los Angeles with him. The excitement, the opportunities, the people… he’d flourish. Vance knew he would. What did small-town Prescott have to offer him that the city didn’t? Aaron, who was so career driven, would find growth and satisfaction there.

They could share fries whenever they wanted.

What the hell am I doing, thinking these things? It’s not like me at all.

Vance got out of bed, rolled his shoulders, and got ready to go. He had another band to court — and another chance to see Aaron spread his wings and really come into his own.

* * *

Vance charmed the pants off the band, and Aaron sold them on the deal. When phone numbers had been exchanged and hands had been shaken, Aaron and Vance relocated to the diner in town, and Vance sat next to Aaron at the counter. This time, Aaron didn’t wilt onto the counter or scowl at him suspiciously. Instead, he chatted as if there’d never been any bad blood between them.

“How likely do you think it is that some of the bands are going to ditch?”

“Usually I’d say pretty likely, but with my name on the promo material? I think you’re going to have some damn good attendance. I wouldn’t book more than you can afford or accommodate. You want to make sure everyone has enough time.”

“Right.” Aaron nodded. His eyes were on Vance. He hadn’t even looked at the menu. Vance took notice, and he took pride in it. Aaron wasn’t going out of his way to avoid him anymore — he felt like he’d won half the battle. “So I’ve been thinking… I know that I can’t really afford to pay them what they expect, but do you think the other guys in Midnight might be willing to come out and play the show for you for old time’s sake? You haven’t been on the road in eight years, right? That’s what I read online the other day.”

Vance dodged the question. “You were Googling me?”

Aaron’s cheeks turned red. “I mean, yeah. You’re a public figure, and I realized that I didn’t really know much about you, so…”

“You were Googling me,” Vance said with a laugh. He shook his head. “That’s really cute. You know, if you’re curious, you can always ask me about what I’ve done with my life. You don’t have to go read about it online when you have source material right in front of you — or on the other end of a telephone.”

“I… yeah.” Aaron scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “I guess you’re right. I hope I didn’t offend you. I wasn’t looking for anything dramatic, or looking to cause trouble.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Vance said. He found it way too amusing that Aaron was so interested in him. “Did you read anything good? Sometimes, when I want to self-depreciate, I Google myself and learn all kinds of things about me that I never knew I did.”

“No. I just read the Wikipedia article.”

Vance laughed. He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head until he’d composed himself enough to speak. “There was one time where someone edited the Wikipedia article on Midnight to say that we chose the name of the band because, at midnight, we all transformed into lizard people and reported back to our overlords in the sewers. I wished I’d still been touring at that point, because I wanted to go full lizard one show. I laughed about it for a week.”

“A lizard person?”

“They apparently run the government, I think,” Vance said with a wry grin. “They’re a super evil subterranean race that’s looking to take over the world. Or… I don’t know. I actually have no clue what they are. I’d have to read up more about it… hopefully not on Wikipedia.”

Aaron snorted. He looked like he was about to say something, but the waitress stopped by at that point to take their orders. By the time they’d told her what they wanted and she left, the topic had gone cold.

Aaron asked his question again. “But lizard people aside, do you think they’d come out for just one song? A bit of fun with the old band?”

“I…” Vance pursed his lips and resisted a frown. There wasn’t really a good way to work around the question — he’d have to be honest. “They’re not going to want to, I don’t think. I mean… I could ask, but I wouldn’t expect a yes.”

“But you guys were in the band together, right?” Aaron frowned, clearly not understanding. “What happened?”

“They…” Vance chuckled nervously. “They kicked me out.”

“What?” Aaron narrowed his eyes in disbelief, looking Vance over. Vance was the one to duck his gaze this time. It wasn’t something that he liked to think about. “They kicked you out? Why the hell would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” Vance said, trying to be vague. It still hurt to talk about. “All of us were friends, you know? I didn’t know them before I came to LA and we were all introduced when the band was put together, but we did everything together. We went on tours, shared the same bus, ate the same meals, slept in the same hotels, practiced together all the time… it was rough when they kicked me out. We were family. I still don’t really know what happened.”

“Vance…”

“It’s cool.” Vance shrugged. “I don’t think it’s actually ever been officially announced. No one took it public, and they haven’t put out any new music out as Midnight since I left, so… that’s fine. I don’t know if it’s because they couldn’t find a new singer, or if because, without my voice, the band was dead. You know?”

“You never asked them what went wrong?”

“No.” Vance crossed his arms on the counter. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Aaron. “I didn’t feel right getting in touch with them after they told me to get out. It was like… if they felt so strongly about getting me to leave, then I didn’t want to bother them again. I figured that I could figure stuff out on my own, but I got a little too into the party scene, and I burned a lot of time I should have been spending making music on making connections and being cool. I always thought that I was a big enough name that I could make it work without them. All I’d need to do was come up with some new music, drop it, and I’d be back on top of the charts. It turns out, it doesn’t quite work out that way.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” Aaron said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s totally okay. I didn’t tell you, and you have every right to ask me whatever you want to ask. If I didn’t want to talk about it, I could have kept my silence.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Vance looked up at him to find Aaron looked guilty. Vance’s heart skipped a beat, and he found himself momentarily unable to reply. Silence was rare for him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Vance found his voice just in time. “And I hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. Sometimes, we do things that we don’t know will hurt other people… and you have my sincere apology for it.”

Aaron frowned, looking uncertain of himself, but Vance would take it. It was so much better than if he’d scowled.

Their food arrived. Vance pushed his basket between them — there were plenty of fries. “Don’t be down. Eat my fries. I need help.”

“You’re something else, you know that, Vance?” Aaron asked stiffly. He plucked a fry from the basket regardless.

Vance winked. “I made a career out of it. I’m something special… I’ve just got to work on getting back to it.”