Knowing it was a bad idea but unable to stop himself, Jax clicked on the Instagram profile.
The profile picture was artsy in the extreme—a black-and-white silhouette too tiny to be studied. The biography listed him as a singer/songwriter and gave links to the usual suspects—website, Twitter, Facebook, Bandcamp. Jax turned to the recent posts.
Some food, artsy pictures of instruments… a close-up shot of his face. Jax clicked it and swallowed. The promotional shot was head-on and showed him to great advantage. The large eyes were centered in a heart-shaped face with a cute nose and delicate but sensitive mouth. His hair was fashionably cut—the left side above his ear was shaved close, and the top was long and swept across his forehead and right cheek. In this photo, his lips were parted invitingly, suggestively, as he eyed the camera.
Fuck.
Jax would proposition him in a bar.
He scrolled down to see more photos.
It turned out that spending almost an hour internet-stalking the cute boy your boyfriend was doing a music collaboration with was not good for your mood.
At work, Jax put all his feelings in a tiny box and focused on what needed doing. First, he needed to talk to Murph about next week. Ari should be home on Sunday, and Jax had a plan for his return, but he needed Murph’s cooperation if he was going to pull it off. Cute singers notwithstanding, Jax wanted to show Ari that he wasn’t the only one who could plan a romantic date.
Fortunately, Murph would agree to just about anything if you asked him while lugging kegs around, though the look he shot Jax made it clear he knew Jax was exploiting his weakness. “I’d have said yes anyway,” he huffed as they wrestled in the replacement keg.
“Yeah, well, I’m a mathematician.” Jax grunted and nudged the keg the rest of the way into place with his shoulder. “I like to stack the odds.”
As Jax knelt to connect the tap, Murph stood and prepared the pitcher for the head. “Next Sunday soon enough? It’s getting cold enough that crowds are slowing, and the college kids are buckling down for exams. We’re probably going to have to go down to six nights a week.”
Jax hid a wince even as he nodded. That was one less night a week to line his bank account. On the other hand, at least he’d have time to see Ari and a way to host a romantic date without breaking the bank. “Next Sunday. Thanks, Murph.”
The doors opened at seven and brought the usual rush of students who wanted to get in early enough to avoid paying the cover charge but would end up spending as much on drinks. Jax scrupulously checked IDs and toned down the flirting, suddenly feeling his age. They weren’t there to flirt with him anyway; they just wanted to unwind after their midterms.
Well.Mostof them weren’t there to flirt with him. That didn’t stop them from adding it to their agenda. He filled orders for a Slippery Nipple, a Blowjob, and a Screaming Orgasm for a sophomore with a blond bob and a T-shirt that readGeologists Do It in the Ash. She took the shot before she left the bar, no hands, licked the cream off her lip, and winked as she walked away with the other two.
“They get younger every year,” Jax muttered, trying and failing to feel less like a dirty old man.
Someone at the bar let out a sharp laugh. “What are you, twenty-five?”
Jax turned toward the voice and smiled reflexively. “Twenty-seven,” he said defensively. Well, close enough.
The man who’d spoken was handsome in a refined way, like aGQmodel, and wearing a watch that belonged in one of their ads. If Jax’s estimation wasn’t too far off, he was at least in the ballpark of thirty. Now this guy Jax could flirt with.
“Oh, well, huge difference,” the guy said. “One foot practically in the grave.”
Jax’s turn to laugh. “All right, Kierkegaard. Can I get you a drink?”
“Beer,” the guy said agreeably. “Cold.”
“Coming up.”
There was a lull in bar traffic as Bruce started to charge a cover at the door, slowing the influx of patrons, so Jax had a few minutes to make small talk. “First time here?” he asked as he slid the guy a coaster.
“What gave me away?”
“I didn’t recognize your face,” Jax said dryly. “I’m in every day. Kind of a giveaway. What brings you in? Drink specials? Thirst for live music?”
“Coworker.” The guy nodded thanks as Jax set the beer on the mat. “This is his chosen watering hole, not that he’s had time to make an appearance lately with the shifts he works. When I mentioned my sorrows, he suggested I come here to drown them.”
“Well, you’re in luck. Drowning sorrows is our specialty. Anything in particular?”
The customer leaned his elbows on the bar. “What do you do for a guy whose romantic prospects are so pathetic his parents set him up on a blind date with another guy. Chaperoned—” He paused for dramatic effect. “—by both sets of parents.”
Jax whistled under his breath and reached for a shot glass. He filled it with vodka and slid it next to the beer. “Start with that, then wait for the show, I think. I’m Jax, by the way.” He wiped his hands on the bar towel and held one out to shake.
The man smiled, reaching out. “Nice to meet you, Jax. I’m—”
