Family Is What You Make of It
It was late at night when Wen came to visit him. Hearst was at work, bent over a bunch of documents that required ‘immediate perusal’ according to his boss, and since Jamie was away for two nights performing with Melinda and other musicians, he saw no reason not to pull an all-nighter even if it was Friday.
His brother walked in, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie – although it was too warm outside for that sort of clothes – and stared around with unconcealed disdain. His nostrils were flaring, and his lips were pursed in an expression of absolute scorn. Whether that sentiment was directed at Hearst or his place of employment or both was unclear.
“So this is where you work,” Wen said, struggling to keep in whatever he truly wanted to say.
Hearst pushed his chair back and stretched with a yawn. Since he had plenty of time until morning to read all the case papers Nolan had entrusted to him, he could use a break, even if it promised to be an unpleasant one.
“Yep, this is where I work,” he replied, not bothering to conceal the pride in his voice.
“Aren’t you overjoyed to be worked to the bone like a dog?” his brother asked with a sneer.
Hearst smiled. “Sit down,” he ordered and got up. There was still coffee that Jamie had left hours earlier before leaving for his weekend of making music, as such events were called in their family. Well, they weren’t married or anything, but they referred to themselves as such. Hearst wondered what Wen would think about that. Nothing good, obviously.
Wen accepted the coffee. “Well,” he said as he took a sip. “This is good coffee,” he admitted reluctantly, placing the ceramic mug on a tiny spot on Hearst’s desk, miraculously free of papers and folders and whatnot.
“Jamie makes it,” Hearst sat matter-of-factly.
“Wow,” Wen said, his sneer returning. “So he’s still a part-timer with no ambitions in life.”
“Our expenses aren’t high. And Jamie continues to make music. It’s what he’s passionate about.”
Wen made a face like he was about to mock Jamie’s definition of passion but seemed to reconsider. If he was there to fight, he needed to pick one. Hearst was still expecting to hear why Wen was there.
“How could you, Hearst?” Wen eventually asked. “I mean, after everything mom and dad suffered--”
“You kept it a secret from me,” Hearst interrupted his brother before he hijacked the narrative and made it all about fake matters.
“Even so. You know he’s going to kick you to the curb, right?”
Hearst shrugged. He had no intention of convincing his brother that what he and Jamie had was the real deal. He doubted Wen would have the capability of understanding that two people could meet, understand each other, like each other even, and decide to live together. Indefinitely. These days, Hearst didn’t feel like engaging in losing battles. His brother and his dysfunctional way of looking at the world weren’t his responsibility.
“Why did you come here, Wen? Besides to tell me about imaginary disasters in my love life?”
Wen looked like he wasn’t ready to give up. So this was the fight he had picked. Good to know.
“After spending so much time around Jamie Vayne--”
“He no longer goes by that stage moniker,” Hearst corrected his brother. “He’s Jamie Wicklow and quite proud of his name.”
Wen smiled conceitedly. “Proud, huh? What does he have to be so proud of? His parents are ex-cons--”
“Who are rebuilding their lives, thanks for asking,” Hearst couldn’t help a jab of sarcasm directed at his older sibling.
Wen worked his jaw. He made a move to grab his coffee cup but thought better of it. “They did what they did to our family.”
“True,” Hearst admitted. “But that’s between the grownups in our families. I suppose mom and dad haven’t told you, but Jamie’s parents are sending them a small check every month.”
“No shit,” Wen said aggressively.
“Wait,” Hearst narrowed his eyes, “how long has it been since you went home to see our folks?”
Wen shrugged. “I’ve lost count.”
“Okay.” Hearst was at a bit of a loss. Wen couldn’t be here only to rile him up about Jamie and try to poison their relationship. “Do you need money?”
“No,” Wen reacted right away. “I am working,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t need your charity.”
“There’s no such thing as charity between family members. It’s called help.”
“Aren’t you the wise one?” Wen sneered again. “Are you going to start using Yoda English?”
“Fuck off, Wen.” Hearst was itching to go back to his case files and work. “Thanks for checking on me. The door is over there.”
It was evident by the expression on Wen’s face that his brother hadn’t expected him to have grown a backbone during the time they hadn’t seen each other. It had been months, but still not long enough for him to turn into a different person, right? Hearst liked to believe that he was someone better now. Yes, he worked hard, but Nolan wasn’t pressing him to do so. There was a reason why he was pulling an all-nighter now. If Nolan had everything he needed on his desk on Monday morning he wouldn’t require his assistant until late in the afternoon. That gave Hearst just the right motivation to finish his job, because Monday mornings in bed with Jamie were the best. It was one of the days when Jamie worked afternoon shifts at the café, and also the only day of the work week when he wasn’t tutoring aspiring young musicians. Taking care of Jamie’s social media, which also served as a platform to attract more listeners to his music and potential clients for the tutoring side gig, took hours out of their evenings, too, so, all in all, they were living a packed schedule.
Not that either of them complained. They had their dreams and ambitions, no matter how small. Of course, none of that would sound like the version of success Wen envisioned for himself – or anyone else for that matter.
It was better not to talk about them and just see Wen out the door before one of them said something regrettable that wouldn’t be easy to take back. These days, Hearst used implacable words like ‘never’ less and less frequently. Hope was a beautiful thing. Happiness was even better.
He couldn’t explain such notions to his brother. He wished he could, but it was clear as day that it wasn’t possible. At least, not at the moment. If Wen ever came around, Hearst would be ready to help him in any way he could.
Wen waited for a while for Hearst to add something to his rude invitation to leave, but nothing else was forthcoming. He got up slowly, keeping his eyes on Hearst, who was already engrossed in his source materials and no longer paying his brother any attention.
“Okay, little bro,” Wen said in a forced light tone. “I suppose you’ve made your bed.”
“And I’m lying in it just fine,” Hearst replied. “Come back when you really have something to say to me.”
“Is that how it’s going to be?” Wen asked.
Hearst looked up. He could hear genuine regret in his brother’s words, which meant it was his duty to pay attention.
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said. “It can change whenever you want it to. But if you plan on visiting me at home, you need to drop the attitude. You can hurl insults at me if you feel like it, but I can’t allow you to do the same to Jamie. He has done nothing to you. Even if his parents scammed our parents, that was something he learned about only from me. Not to mention that he wasn’t involved in it in any way.”
“He was involved in other things,” Wen insisted.
“He was a kid, trying to please his parents. Don’t tell me you can’t relate,” Hearst said cuttingly.
Wen paled visibly. That must have hit pretty close to home.
“If you need my help, my door is always open. I’m not swimming in money, but I can tide you over if you’re in a pickle. My boss knows a ton of people, so if you need a job, I’m sure he can fix you up with something. It might not be what you want – or believe you deserve – but it’s going to earn you an honest paycheck.”
“I don’t need your--”
“I’m offering it anyway,” Hearst cut his brother’s words off once more. “What you’re going to do with what I’m offering is up to you. The rest is out of my hands.”
“Don’t come crying to me when Jamie kicks you out!”
The sudden passionate outburst surprised Hearst. He looked at his brother, who stared back at him shaking with undisguised fury.
“Okay, Wen, when that happens, I won’t come crying to you,” he said in a steady tone. “Now, please, if you’re finished, I have a ton of work to do, and I can’t indulge you in this weird self-flagellation.”
Wen turned abruptly on his heel. He slammed the door behind him. Hearst let his shoulders slump and sighed. Going against family was no joke. But Wen needed some serious putting in his place, and as much as Hearst had never imagined that he would be the one to do it, he was glad he’d been capable of doing it.
His phone rang. Could it be that Wen was calling to apologize? Yeah, fat chance.
Hearst’s face lit up as he saw the name of the caller. “Hi,” he drawled playfully. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy collecting panties and bras off the stage by now?”
Jamie chuckled in his ear. No matter how far away – physically speaking – they were from each other, this deep intimacy that had developed between them made Hearst feel like they were always close, like one breath away close.
“Are you trying to imply that I’ve started liking women?”
“Okay,” Hearst said. “Jock straps, then?”
This time, Jamie laughed out loud. “Sorry, not even one cute guy thought of throwing such a souvenir at me. How are you? What are you doing? Are you in bed?”
“No,” Hearst said. They had established that they wouldn’t lie to each other, no matter how small or white the lie. “I’m at work.”
“You’re working too much. I’m going to tell Nolan to confiscate your key and send you home with a boot in your ass.”
“Stop it. You know I’m not into kinky shit,’ Hearst joked. “I want to finish everything Nolan needs for Monday, so we can… you know,” he said with a small laugh.
“Don’t tell me you wiggled your eyebrows while you said that,” Jamie replied with a chuckle of his own.
“Maybe,” Hearst admitted. “What time do you think you’ll be home on Sunday? I might try to cook something.”
“No, please, don’t,” Jamie groaned. “I don’t want to return to a burnt down house. And a roasted rabbit.”
“You’re insulting my abilities as a cook,” Hearst said, faking outrage.
“Babe, you know you suck balls when it comes to kitchen things. I’ll just grab something on my way home. I’ll be home before five.”
“Wen was here,” Hearst said. He wouldn’t keep a thing like that from Jamie.
“What did he want?” Jamie didn’t hide his displeasure at hearing Hearst’s brother’s name.
“He was his usual self. I suppose he was hoping to see me down and miserable.”
“And? What did he see?”
“The opposite of that. I told him what I had to tell him and then kicked him out.”
Jamie breathed out audibly at the other end. “Good. Don’t believe a thing he says about me. I know he has this weird idea that we shouldn’t be together.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. He doesn’t know you. I’m the only guy who can call himself an expert on Jamie Wicklow, drummer extraordinaire, the best drum teacher in the world, and also the most gorgeous barista in a one-thousand-mile radius.”
“Hmm, I feel my ego growing just hearing you say all that. Don’t stay up too late, babe. Only I have the right to keep you up all night.”
“That sounds great. I hope you’re going to keep that promise.”
“Okay.” Jamie let out another chuckle. “Then I’ll let you get back to work so you can finish. I’m missing you already,” he added quietly.
That intimacy, it was clearly there. Hearst felt his chest getting warm. “I’m missing you, too,” he said.
***
“Calling your boyfriend?” Melinda slapped him on the shoulder and handed him one of the heavier speakers.
“Yep. He’s working too hard, and I have to remind him that he needs to rest from time to time.” Jamie began to move the equipment efficiently as the last musicians were emptying out of the club.
“Ah,” Melinda sighed in satisfaction as she hopped on a table, “tonight was such a banger. What do you say, Jamie? Is this life working for you?”
“It definitely is,” he said as he pulled off his working gloves and accepted the beer bottle she handed to him. “Who needs to be famous? Am I right?”
Melinda laughed and clinked her beer bottle against his. “Totally. Although, I’m afraid it’s not up to you.”
“What?” Jamie frowned a smidge.
“Come on, don’t look at me like that. I’m not Arthur.”
After playing music together for some time, Jamie had told Melinda about Arthur and his weird play. She had listened to him intently without saying a word, but in the end she had broken into a string of expletives directed at the man in question. It looked like, after all, they weren’t as tight friends as he had thought, and Jamie could tell her about the whole thing without ending up as the one being judged.
“Here,” Melinda said and showed him her phone screen. “You and other influencers are invited next week to talk about social media and making music. It’s a big talk show. A bit musty, in my opinion, but it has good ratings.”
Jamie shrugged. “Shouldn’t have they contacted me first? They just went and made it public like that.”
Melinda sauntered off the table. “It’s the way things happen today. They don’t go through agents and whatnot anymore. To be honest, I think it’s better. You’re in charge of what’s happening with your music career, Jamie. Don’t you agree?”
“Yeah. Definitely. Well, it’s not like going on a show like this with ten other people will make me famous, so I think I’m safe.”
“Jamie, you are one subscriber away from hitting the magical one hundred K followers,” Melinda reminded him. “That’s big for a musician, no matter who they are. I’m glad for you. And these,” she said, smacking his upper arms, “definitely help.”
“Ah, damn, I should wear long sleeves then,” Jamie moaned. “I don’t need people drooling over me. It’s strangely icky.”
Melinda laughed. “You did not just say that. Ah, I forgot. Only your boyfriend has the right to take advantage of your big guns. Tell that boy to worship your big, muscled body as he should, or else someone might snatch his place.”
“I’m not going to tell him that sort of stupid shit,” Jamie said, grinning. Picturing Hearst worshipping him didn’t seem like a bad idea at all. He would have to coax his rabbit boy into it. Or maybe not. Everything he said in that family quickly became Hearst’s number one priority. There was definitely comfort in having someone who cared so much about him.
Melinda patted his chest. “When we met, I didn’t peg you for the sort to tie the knot, but it looks to me like you’re not that far off from that with that guy of yours.”
“You’re right, but don’t tell him that. He’s a bit more traditional. He wants us to get to know each other first.”
“I don’t blame him,” Melinda said with a grin. “After all, he needs to make sure that your days of breaking hearts left and right are over.”
“They’re gone,” Jamie said, more fiercely than intended. “And I really don’t know why people thought I was breaking hearts. I was always that friend you go to when you have a problem. And want to have sex,” he admitted quickly. “Well, I guess you’re right,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I’ll convince him. It’s my number one priority.”
Melinda gave him a warm smile. “I don’t doubt that for a minute, Jamie. You’re great. And I’m sure he knows it.”
***
“You’re early,” Hearst mumbled sleepily as Jamie showered his face in kisses.
Jamie removed the book Hearst must have been reading before dozing off and straddled his lover. The sofa wasn’t big enough for both of them, but it had to do.
“I wanted to surprise you. I also brought food.”
Hearst perked up considerably at the mention of nourishment.
“Not so fast,” Jamie said and pushed Hearst back into a flat position. “First, you need to do something.” He removed his t-shirt in one move, enjoying the way Hearst stared at his naked torso, all wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Melinda put a weird idea in my head. She thinks you should be worshipping my muscles every day.”
Hearst grinned. “She does?” He put his hands on Jamie’s pecs and pulled his nipples hard. “She has no idea, though. I’m not the worshipping kind.”
“You’re not?” Jamie let his face fall, as if there was no bigger disappointment in his life than to hear such a thing.
“No. But I do like licking you all over. Does that count?”
“It definitely does. Okay, let me put my t-shirt back on so we can eat.”
“Not so fast,” Hearst stopped him. “I have to worship you properly first.”
TBC
Thank you for reading! There's just the epilogue left now!
@Derek - he-he, the sequel for Wolf in the City will follow, so you will still have two stories from me to read :)
@DavidB - well, to be continued is part of what always gets me writing... but next time, it will finish with a happy end, of course :)
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
