“Ari!” Professor Marston cut through the milling crowd, eyebrows first. “You made it. And this must be Jax.”
“It is,” Ari confirmed, tugging Jax forward. “Jax, this is Professor Marston. He taught me almost everything I know about composition.”
“It’s Chuck, Ari, I keep telling you. And he flatters me, Jax. I taught him half of what he knows at best.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
The host called them to their table before Ari could make further introductions, and they were led to a private room near the back of the restaurant, where they had the opportunity to hang up their coats. Jax had chosen a fitted charcoal collared shirt and tailored gray trousers Ari had never seen on him and which he planned to remove at their earliest mutual convenience.
As Ari and Jax were the out-of-towners—and as Ari had some degree of celebrity, much as it pained him—they were cajoled into the seats in the middle of the table, where everyone could hope to have a turn talking to them. Jax hooked his ankle around Ari’s under the tablecloth, where no one would see, either as a gesture of support or a request for comfort, and the proper introductions commenced.
Apart from Professor Marston—Chuck—Gianna Handel, the piano chair, and Tomas Markovic, who taught music theory, Ari knew two other faculty—Janie Cheng, a violinist who’d been finishing up graduate studies when Ari was at the conservatory, and Marco Cervini, who also played violin but wasn’t in Ari’s cohort. Two others, Marisa Lopez and Adi Singh, he hadn’t met before.
“I’m a vocal instructor,” Marisa said, smiling. “So if you ever decide you’d like to sing on your own album….”
Chuck and Gianna both laughed. “Don’t think we haven’t tried that before, but he is very determined.”
“I’m very aware that my singing voice is average at best,” Ari corrected. Besides, sometimes the emotion in his own music got to him. It made singing challenging. “What about you, Ms. Singh?”
“Just Adi,” she corrected. “Contemporary improvisation and musicology.” She darted a glance at Jax. “Forgive me, but I feel like I may have seen you somewhere before….”
“You don’t look familiar,” Jax said apologetically. “Have you been in Boston long?”
“This is my second year teaching.” She tapped a finger against the edge of her water glass. “Well, never mind. It’ll come to me.”
The server came by to take their drink orders, interrupting the flow of conversation. Jax got only one raised eyebrow for opting to stick with water, from Marco, who had never been able to mind his own business when they were undergraduates either. Ari hoped that the presence of his coworkers would prevent him from acting on the same misguided impulses that had driven him to needle Ari back then.
“You don’t like wine?” Marco asked, and Ari squeezed Jax’s leg under the table—both a warning that Marco could be unpleasant and a show of silent support.
“Interferes with my medication,” Jax said smoothly, “so I limit consumption.”
Ari hid his smile by taking a sip from his own water glass. He should have known that Jax could defend himself while making Marco look like an asshole without drawing even the slightest scrutiny.
The server disappeared and Chuck turned to Jax. “So what is it that you do?”
Since Jax had just lifted his glass to his mouth, Ari said smoothly, “He’s a bartender. It’s how we met.”
“Do you enjoy it?” Chuck asked. “I hated my months as a waiter.”
Jax shrugged. “I do, actually. I like people and making them happy.” Chuck nodded and smiled, and a look around told Ari that only Marco was being judgmental.
“It’s the same bar I worked at years ago. Murph is a good man,” Ari added.
Adi smacked the table. “That’s where I know your face! The video!” She pointed a finger at Jax and continued happily, “That was some truly impressive ivory-tickling.”
“Ari was the impressive one. I was just trying to keep up.”
“So you play piano at this bar?” Marco said between sips of wine. “I commend you. I’m not sure I could survive playing that many renditions of ‘Piano Man.’”
“Ehh. I don’t play it as often as you’d think. I’m more of a Beyoncé and Taylor Swift man.” Jax smiled beatifically. Ari wanted to kiss him.
Adi grinned. “You do covers of Beyoncé?”
Jax shrugged. “My ‘Bootylicious’ is legendary.”
“I thought,” Ari said with a smile, “that your version of ‘Single Ladies’ was more impactful.”
“You just like my dance moves.” Jax fluttered his lashes outrageously.
