Facing the Beat

Title: Facing the Beat

Series: Young Spades #2

Author: Riley Long

Genre: NA M/M Romance

Release Date: October 1, 2018

Lead guitarist for the indie rock band Young Spades, Liam Wilson has a shot at big city fortune--or he would, if he wasn’t too busy licking his wounds to admit the real reason his girlfriend left him. Determined to stay single, Liam has no time for anything--or anyone--new.

Jack Newton is used to playing the field. A talented photographer, he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. There's just one hitch: when an enigmatic guitar player wanders in front of his lens, Jack feels the tug of a chord he has never heard before.

The bathroom was empty, and Liam thanked his lucky stars. He made his way to his favorite shower stall, last in the row, and pulled the curtain behind him. The bench in the little changing area was dry, so he placed his clean clothes on it, and hung his towel on the hook. Liam shucked his clothes and turned on the water, the sound echoing in the tiled bathroom, as he waited a few moments for it to come up to temperature before stepping in. Immediately, Liam sighed. The water was hot and relaxing, and he was glad he’d decided to shower now, in the middle of the afternoon, when there was nobody else around. He had the whole bathroom to himself, which almost never happened. Usually the times Liam was free, the bathroom was teeming with underclassmen. He relished the time alone. As the surprisingly good water pressure eased the knots out of his shoulders, Liam soaped himself up and washed his hair. He stood there, letting the water rush over his body for longer than necessary and after a couple of minutes, he decided to relax further. He slid a hand down to his groin and palmed his dick, then began stroking. He let his mind wander to his go-to jerk-off scenes, mostly images from porn he’d mentally filed away for later. Sweat, fingers pressing into flesh, teeth digging into tender places. He pulled up mental images of breasts, legs, asses. Nothing was doing it for him though. His thoughts jumped to what Shane and Ari were doing after all, then steered himself aggressively in another direction. Ari was his roommate for Christ’s sake. Shane was in his band. It was just fucking weird. Liam leaned back on the shower wall and dropped his head against the thick plastic divider between stalls, eyes closed. It figured. Too much pot, too much stress, too much on his mind. Way too tired. Way too tired. He sighed and gave up. Just his luck he couldn’t get anything to happen on the rare occasion he was alone and needed to relax. He gave up on the shower, turning off the water then toweling off. He’d brought a button-down plaid shirt and skintight jeans, which he tugged on to his damp skin with some effort. He planned to wear this particular outfit to the show tonight, and didn’t want to have to go through the effort of changing again. All clean, dry, and changed, Liam headed back to his room. He gave the courtesy double-knock he and Ari had agreed on before he walked in, hoping Ari and his boyfriend Shane hadn’t taken advantage of his disappearance to have sex. It happened sometimes, and there was nothing worse than coming back to catch them hastily putting clothes on, or to find the room smelling of sweat and cum. Liam found them exactly as he’d left them, snuggling on Ari’s bed, watching videos on someone’s phone. He felt a pang in his gut. “Hey guys,” he said, barely able to conceal his grumpiness. He shut the door and dumped his things onto the dirty clothes pile on the floor. “Hey,” they said in unison, barely seeming to register his presence. Liam debated lighting up a joint as he climbed back onto his bed. It would certainly improve his mood, but Ellie would be likely to kill him if she found out he’d been getting high before a show. Liam played lead guitar for indie-rock band Young Spades, and Shane was the lead singer. Ari had become their number-one groupie, and appeared front-row at every show to cheer them on, or perched backstage waiting to tell Shane how fantastic he sounded. They’d only been dating about six months, but Ari had become a fixture at their concerts. Liam didn’t mind—Ari was the best roommate he’d had, and he’d gone through a few during his freshman and sophomore years. He thought about lighting up again, and sighed. It wasn’t even worth it. Shane in particular took serious offense to anyone smoking anything around him. Liam understood—Shane had lost his mom as a kid to lung cancer, and truth be told, he’d almost not dated Ari because of cigarettes. He sighed again. This wasn’t the mood he wanted to be in hours before a performance. “What’s going on?” Ari asked, after a minute or so of silence from Liam. Liam shrugged. “Just not in the mood today, I guess.” He lay down, kicking his backpack to the floor, unconcerned about the books and notebooks inside. The truth was, he’d started to realize it was his senior year, and he’d done almost nothing except get high, play video games, and join a band. Not that the band was nothing—it was great, and they were planning to move to LA once he graduated. But it felt like not much today. He wanted something more. Probably living with Ari, seeing him happily snuggling with Shane every moment they weren’t in class or working, wasn’t helping. It couldn’t be good to be surrounded by that lovey-dovey cheer all the time, could it? Maybe that was it—maybe he just wished he had a girlfriend or something. Ari picked up on his doom-and-gloom mood. “You wanna play some video games before your show?” “Nah, man, I’m good,” Liam said, even though he knew he needed some cheering up. Instead, he was tempted to take a nap. Getting off wasn’t an option so maybe getting some sleep would help. Actually, what he needed to do was pick up his guitar and run through a few songs. They’d recently added to their lineup, and while they hadn’t taken the full summer off, they had definitely played fewer shows. He worried a little about getting rusty, if not on the instrument then at least on the tunes themselves. “Mind if I practice a little?” “Go right ahead,” Ari said. At that, Shane sat up. “I’ll join you.” “Aww,” Ari protested. “You left me.” Shane smiled warmly and kissed Ari. “I’ll come back,” he promised when they parted. Liam fought the urge to roll his eyes, grabbed his guitar from its stand, and crossed his legs on the bed. Playing guitar always lifted his mood, and Shane chiming in with his vocals didn’t hurt. After a while, he did feel better, ready to put the weird cloud over his head behind him, and kick ass at the show. # Jack lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was going to get up early the next morning and hike to see if he could take some good photos of birds for his class in the morning light, he decided. His phone buzzed. “Yeah?” he said by way of an answer, without looking to see who was calling. “What are you doing tonight?” asked the voice on the other end. He recognized it instantly, one of only two people who ever called him. The other was his granddad, the only person in his family who gave a shit about him. “Liv, we are literally roommates. You could have waited until you got home to ask me that.” “Fuck you. Now what are you doing tonight?” “Nothing, really. I’m going hiking tomorrow with my camera so I’m going to bed early.” “Not anymore. We’re going out.” Normally he was up for just about anything, but he’d really had his heart set on getting those shots before his Saturday got too far along. “Do I have to?” “Young Spades is playing. I’ve been meaning to get to a show for ages. I think you’ll like them. And the drummer is hot, so I want to see if I can get her number.” “Of course you do. And hey, I’m happy you’re over your ex, but why does that mean I’ve gotta play wingman?” “You’re my best friend. It’s what best friends do.” “Fine.” “Listen, you’ve only been out for, what, three years? You’ve hardly hooked up with anyone in months, and you’ve never bothered to have a boyfriend. Have fun. Loosen up.” “I have fun. I sleep around when I want to get off with someone. I don’t have time for a boyfriend. I’m busy. I wanna build my portfolio so I can get a decent freelance job when I graduate.” “Photography is great, but have you even had sex before, John Wayne?” “Fuck you. Keep my real name out of this.” She laughed—cackled really. “Just because you’re moving literally a bazillion miles away once school ends next semester, doesn’t mean you have to live a cloistered life now. So what time can you be ready to leave? I’m going to work in the art studio until I have to pick you up.” Jack sighed. “Okay, fine.” He knew he wasn’t going to win this battle, so it was better to give in now than to argue. “What time’s the show?” “Nine.” “Oh, God. Nine? Really?” He had zero chance of getting to bed early enough to go hiking the next morning. Not if the show started at nine. “Yes, grandpa, and you’re going.” “Hey, my granddad stays up late, like a normal college kid, thank you very much. Come home whenever, eight maybe?” She snorted. “Sure thing. See you then!” The phone disconnected. Jack lay there another minute. Young Spades. He’d heard of them, but he didn’t know much about the band. They’d even played at the spring music festival on campus last semester, but Jack never bothered going to those things. His taste in music was pretty terrible by any reasonable standard, so he knew he’d probably hate them, but if it made Liv happy, he’d go. Despite the fact that they shared an apartment and were best friends, they didn’t get much time together, considering they both spent a lot of time with their respective art projects. He didn’t mind sacrificing a single plan of his own to make her happy. Not really, anyway. In the meantime, he could work on editing some shots he’d taken during the week. Jack grabbed his laptop and camera and transferred the images to his computer, then set to work. He’d taken some shots around campus, mostly candids of unsuspecting students, because he hadn’t really had time to get out and do much else. The first week of school was usually pretty laid-back, but now that he was a senior, it seemed his professors were determined to make the classes challenging. The time slipped by, and before Jack knew it, Liv was barging into his room without knocking—as usual. She planted herself at the foot of his bed and stared at him. “Done yet?” “I’m never done. You should know that, you’re an artist.” Jack saved his work and set his laptop aside. “So, you ready?” Jack glanced at the clock on his laptop. It was significantly later than he expected. “Not exactly.” Liv sighed. He closed his laptop and took it to his desk, then began rummaging in his closet for something reasonable to wear. Eventually he settled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He slipped his sneakers on, grabbed his camera, and stuffed it into its bag. “You’re taking your camera?” “When do I not take my camera?” “Good point. Now are you ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Liv grinned. “Perfect.” The End

Riley Long is a wife and mother living a quiet life in Virginia, with her husband, son, and very silly Pit Bull puppy. She passes her evenings writing, reading, and watching bad television (or not so bad television). For fun, Riley participates in NaNoWriMo, GISH, and reads with her book club, the BAMFs. She likes things with silly acronyms. The craziest thing Riley has ever done involves lots of butter and a time lapsed video.

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Pulling Strings

Title: Pulling Strings

Series: Young Spades #1

Author: Riley Long

Genre: NA M/M Romance

Release Date: September 5, 2018

Aristotle “Ari” Dineen, Jr. thinks he doesn't deserve love. Ari has bipolar disorder and parents who don't understand his challenges. Falling in love isn't on the playlist for a guy like him, someone running from his past and so uncertain about his future.

Shane Beckett doesn't have time for things like love. He's busy - giving music lessons, finishing his senior year, and oh yeah, he's the lead singer of up and coming indie rock band, Young Spades.

A cup of beer, a music history class, and a pack of cigarettes changes everything.

As Ari and Shane are about to find out, despite having a lack of time or the confidence to believe they can make it work, love has a way of pulling them in and rocking their worlds.

CHAPTER ONE

Ari played with the brown pillow in his lap, sliding his thumb over the tag before giving the zipper a tug. He sighed.

“What do you think?” his therapist, Hannah, a short woman with a mane of black curls, asked.

Ari snapped to attention. “I, uh, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Truth be told, he hadn’t really been paying attention.

“I think it would be good for you,” she said, pointedly, 

It took him a minute to mentally track back to what Hannah was talking about, but eventually he called it up. Ari nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I don’t want to.” 

“We know that isolating yourself make the thoughts worse. Go out. Make friends. You just might have a good time.” 

Mentally, Ari was rolling his eyes. “I hear what you’re saying. I’ll go, I’m just saying I don’t have to like it.”

“You’re right, you don’t.” 

“I’m not even out to my parents yet. What’s the point of trying to date?” 

“You don’t have to be out to your parents until you’re ready. And as we’ve discussed, new experiences can be healthy. Let me know how it goes.” She stood and went to her appointment book. “When would you like to come back?” 

Ari pulled out his phone and made an appointment with her for the following week. 

“Have a great time, Ari,” she said as she walked him out. “See you soon.”

Ari plodded back to his dorm, the gray Colorado sky matching his mood. He hated living in the dorms, and felt like practically the only junior doing so, but at least he had Liam. His roommate was great, much to Ari’s relief. He’d had a string of shitty ones, too, especially before being diagnosed. And now that he was getting himself stable—mostly—it was nice to have someone he could trust. 
When he made it to their shared room, Ari found Liam sprawled on his bed, reading. His shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was wearing flannel, as usual. Liam had slipped out of the room that morning before Ari was conscious, so they hadn’t seen one another all day.

“What up, Lee?” Ari asked as he entered. 

Liam rolled onto his back. “Aristotle! How’s it going?” Liam was the only person other than Ari’s parents who could get away with calling him Aristotle without getting their ass kicked. And with a name like his, Ari had plenty of experience in ass kickings, both receiving and giving.

“Good. Just got back from therapy. Apparently I’m going with you tonight.” 
Liam sat up suddenly, closing his book. “Hell yeah, you are!” 

“So, what do I need to know about this thing?” 

Liam grinned, rubbing a hand along the stubble on his square jaw. “Nothing, my man. It’s a party. Wear clothes. Drink beer. Make friends. If you’re lucky, hook up with someone.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll just be crawling with guys to hook up with.” 

Liam shrugged. “The Kappas are a pretty open minded frat. They have a few gay brothers. You never know. Plus, there’s always Shane.” 
The blush flooded his face almost instantly. Shane. Tall, thin, with tousled dark hair, soft brown eyes, and perpetually tanned skin, Shane definitely was what Ari was looking for. He may have been the subject of a few fantasies, even. When he’d found out Shane was gay, the fantasies intensified, not that Ari would ever actually do anything about it. 

Shane and Liam had been in a band together for a couple of years, and Ari had the pleasure of meeting him when he came to collect Liam for practice. Shane had also done homework with Liam a couple of times in the cramped dorm room, and Ari had a habit of excusing himself when they did. He was afraid he’d say something stupid and miserable and embarrass the shit out of himself. 

So yeah, Shane.

Ari cleared his throat and licked his dry lips. “Shane’s going to be there?” 

“Damn right. The whole band is. Shane, Ellie, even Trick.” 

Trick was Liam’s nickname for Patrick, the fourth and newest member of their band. He played … something. Ari wasn’t sure what, exactly, because he’d never bothered going to a show, despite Liam’s repeated invites. 
“Trick, too, huh? I didn’t think this would really be his scene.” 

Liam laughed. “No, not really, but we managed to pry him away from the art studio for the night.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“What do you say we play a little before we head out?” Liam held up a video game controller.

Ari glanced at his phone. They had hours before they needed to leave, and it wasn’t like there was much else to do. He’d already unpacked his meager belongings the day before, there was no homework, and his volunteer shifts at the crisis center didn’t start until next week. Spring semester was barely underway.

“Sure.” They’d be able to pass the time blowing up virtual adversaries and hoarding gold. He let himself get lost in the game, not thinking about his stupid therapist or the stupid party or Shane being there. He didn’t want to think about anything, just for a while.

#

Shane strummed his guitar absentmindedly. 

“Shane, get your ass ready,” Ellie called from the bathroom. 

He sat the instrument on the dark blue blanket covering his bed and ambled into his tiny apartment bathroom. Ellie’s round face was close to the mirror as she carefully attempted to get what she called ‘the perfect cat-eye.’ He wasn’t entirely sure what the perfect cat-eye looked like, but whatever. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t poked her eye out with that thing yet.

“I am ready. It’s you who’s taking forever.”

Ellie snorted and eyed him in the mirror. “You’re wearing that?” 

Shane shrugged. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“Dude, you look like a TA or something. You don’t need a button down to go to a frat party. Go put on a t-shirt. That black one looks good on you.”

“Which black one?” 

“The plain black one. V-neck. You wore it the other day.” 

“Fine, fine.” Shane headed back into the bedroom, yanking his shirt off over his head. For two years, he’d known Ellie, and for two years, she’d been giving him shit. He rifled through a pile of clothes until he found the aforementioned black v-neck and sniffed it. It smelled clean, so he tugged it on. 

Ellie emerged from the bathroom, head held high in triumph. “How’s this look?” 

“Um, you’ve got swoopy things?” He gestured towards the corners of his own eyes. “It looks good, El. You know I don’t know shit about makeup.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, holding up a stick of something in her right hand. “Now come here, let me make you look pretty.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Guyliner,” she said, closing in on him.

“What? No.” He swatted her away, but she was relentless. 

“Yes. You’ll look hot. Sit.”

He sat, sighing. “Fine.” He had a habit of giving in to Ellie. It was a good thing, really. They’d only known each other since the end of freshman year, but became fast friends bonding over shared interests in music theory class. They had created Young Spades together, and it would be nothing without Ellie’s driving force behind the drums. The band was the sanity-saving force he’d needed and without it, he didn’t know how he would have made it through the past few years, despite Ellie’s militant, unforgiving style when it came to running the band. “Okay, look up,” she murmured as she approached his eye with the pencil. “Thanks for coming to this thing with me,” she said, placing her free hand on his cheek. “No problem.” “I think it’ll be good for you, y’know? To get out of the house. No, don’t look away.”

“I get out of the house.” He went to class, gave music lessons to middle schoolers, and was in the band.

“No, you know what I mean. You need to get out more. Be social. Have a life.” 

Shane pulled his head away from her hands, eyes narrowed. “I have a life.” 

“That’s not what I meant. A social life. Aside from the band. You need to date.” 

“And I’m going to find a lot of gay guys at a frat party?” He relinquished control of his head back to her, and she went to work on his other eye.

“Well you’re not going to find any gay guys giving music lessons to children.” “Good point.” 
Ellie straightened, appraising her work. “Perfect. You look totally hot. If I didn’t know better, I’d hit on you myself.” 

Shane pushed himself off the bed and headed to the bathroom to take a peek. He glanced in the mirror, surprised by how much bigger and more open his eyes looked. And, sure, if asked, he would probably agree that he did look pretty hot. From the other room, Ellie’s phone chirped. 

“Okay,” she called out. “It’s eleven. Let’s get going. ”

Ugh. It was so late. Luckily, the semester didn’t start for a few days, so he’d have time to recover, but seriously, who in their right minds went to a party at almost midnight?

“Now don’t rub your eyes or you’ll look like a raccoon, okay?”

Shane nodded and made his way to the bed. He picked up his guitar again and returned it to the case. He tried to mentally brace himself for this party. He wasn’t much of a partier, but he couldn’t convince Ellie otherwise. She was determined to get him out more. She claimed, with this being their senior year, he needed to think about more than just the band and graduating, and had spent the entire fall semester attempting to get him to come to more parties. Finally, he’d caved, so here he was, wearing eyeliner and a black v-neck and wondering whether he’d be better off sleeping so he could get up early and work on the song he’d been writing. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he figured, so he’d decided to just go with it. Besides, maybe he’d meet someone hot, blow off a little steam, and be more focused when he did get back to writing. After all, it had been a very long time since he’d slept with anyone. 

“Ready,” he said.

“Great! Liam’s already there.” Ellie grabbed her phone and tucked it into the pocket of her skintight jeans. She led the way out of Shane’s bedroom, through the living room, and onto the third-floor landing, which he could easily see from his bed with both doors open. He picked up his own phone and followed close behind. 

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Riley Long is a wife and mother living a quiet life in Virginia, with her husband, son, and very silly Pit Bull puppy. She passes her evenings writing, reading, and watching bad television (or not so bad television). For fun, Riley participates in NaNoWriMo, GISH, and reads with her book club, the BAMFs. She likes things with silly acronyms. The craziest thing Riley has ever done involves lots of butter and a time lapsed video.

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Night Shift ~ Falling Apart ~ Another Shot

Title: Night Shift ~ Falling Apart ~ Another Shot

Author: Riley Long

Genre: MM Erotic Romance

Release Date: March 5, 2018

Night Shift

When Officer Daniel Haddox wakes up one morning, and everything starts to go wrong, he knows it’s going to be one of those days. Things get worse when he’s sent to the hospital for smoke inhalation and prankster and all around dick of a nurse, Angelo, is on duty and ready to treat his injuries. 

That night, a series of events unfolds that leaves Daniel’s head spinning. Will Daniel finally snap and give Angelo what he’s got coming? Or has Angelo got a different kind of fun in mind this time?

Falling Apart

Rising rocker Ryder Sullivan has everything he’s ever dreamed of - a skyrocketing career, a band to support him, and a willing bedmate anytime he chooses. He’s sure something is missing and discovers exactly what it will take to fill the void when he meets an incredibly adorable bartender. 

The only problem is that the flirtatious cowboy bartender, Billy Cunningham, is a traditional man raised with traditional values. Fighting against his mother's wishes for a wife and a house full of babies is tough, but living the Southern straight man values is tougher, especially when a hot rocker is making it very hard for him to resist. 

Will Billy be able to give in to his heart before the chance to be with Ryder is lost forever?

Another Shot 

Ben's seemingly perfect life just went down the tubes. On the eve of his thirtieth birthday his boyfriend breaks it off and despite his better judgement he goes with his best friend to a strip club where he runs into the one that got away--or ran away, more accurately. 

When his ex, Ian, now a stripper, makes a move and promises things Ben had long given up on hoping for, Ben has a decision to make. Does he get the closure he so desperately wanted or does he trust Ian with his heart...again?

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Another Shot

Ben punched the stop button on the treadmill with a vengeance and wiped the sweat from his face. The run had done little to ease his misery. Really, it had only let him stew over everything that had happened today. On the day before his birthday of all days. He replayed the conversation he’d had this morning in his head again for at least the tenth time and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. Beside him, Sarah slowed to a walk before ending her work‐ out. She took a swig of water.

“I mean, I think you’re better of anyway,” Sarah said. “It’s not even like he’s that good-looking. And God was he boring.”

Ben shot her a look, eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“The worst.” Sarah nodded. She wiped down her treadmill and led the way to the locker rooms. “I was kind of dreading going out with him to celebrate your birthday.”

“You know, he never wanted to go out and said it was time I got more serious, started to grow up a little.”

Sarah giggled. “You’re still twenty-nine for a few more hours; you’re not supposed to get old and boring for another week or two at least.”

“Well, maybe that was his problem. He’s thirty-two.” He tried to smile, but it felt forced.

“See? Exactly!”

Ben shifted from one foot to the other. “I guess so. Doesn’t make it hurt any less though.” He should have known when Mike had started the morning by suggesting that they “talk” that his day wasn’t going to go well. He just hadn’t expected his boyfriend of six months to dump him for being too “wild” when he rarely went out more than once a week, if that. The worst part were the platitudes Mike offered, as if saying “It’s not you,” and “This doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” were going to do him any good. Or maybe the worst part was the timing. Right before his birthday. Tears welled up and threatened to spill from his eyes.

Sarah wrapped him in a sweaty hug. “Oh, honey, don’t let it bother you too much that an average-looking middle-aged man who wanted to change you decided your lives were ‘going in different directions.’ Fuck him. Actually, don’t. You know what I mean. Now,” she leaned in to peck his cheek, “go get changed so we can talk about tonight. This is going to be the best thirtieth birthday you’ll ever have.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of this thing. I’m depressed enough as it is without having to be reminded that I’ll be officially middle-aged by morning.”

“Nonsense.” Sarah disappeared into the changing room.

Ben knew she’d never take “no” for an answer, so his best bet was to make this as painless as possible. If he could convince Sarah to go to their usual bar, maybe he could avoid any of her attempts to find him a rebound guy. Then again, if Mike thought he was so wild, maybe that was just what Ben needed to do to take his mind of of things. He trudged into the locker room and found an empty shower stall for a quick rinse. Even if Mike had been boring, Ben had thought they’d loved each other. He had planned to surprise Mike with a trip to the beach for his birthday in two months. He hadn’t intended to get broken up with so suddenly, without warning. Stepping out, he dried of and tried to stop the loop of “What if?” that was playing in his head.

He dressed quickly in jeans and a black T-shirt then went out to meet Sarah, still stewing over what had happened. As he stood there waiting, Sarah bustled out of the women’s locker room, grinning from ear to ear.

“I have an idea.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Ben chuckled, but it was true— Sarah’s ideas always seemed to start some kind of trouble, even if it was the fun kind.

“No, really. This one is going to be fun. Remember that strip club I told you about? The one with the all-male revue?”

Ben groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. A strip club?”

“Yes! Come on, it’ll be so much fun.”

“A strip club isn’t exactly my idea of a fun night out.”

“But it’s all men. It’s just the thing for both of us. A perfect show.”

Ben shook his head. “Come on, Sarah. A strip club? Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

He wasn’t sure he was going to win this debate at all. “I was thinking we’d just go to the bar, like we usually do. Have a few drinks, maybe flirt with someone. No craziness, just a nice, quiet night out.”

Sarah sighed. “How on earth are you going to get over Mike by going to the same bar we always go to, having the same drink you always have, and smiling at the same boring guys you always smile at? It’s time for you to find a rebound guy.”

Hearing his thoughts echoed in her words made Ben smile. “A rebound, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re so predictable.”

“Sure, it won’t make Mr. Dull come back, but it’ll make you feel worlds better. And maybe it’ll show you what life is like without someone telling you that you’re too crazy and immature. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life, and what better place to find a hot guy who won’t stress about how much you go out than a strip club?”

“Strip clubs like that are usually full of women.”

Sarah cleared her throat. “Not the dancers.”

Ben could hardly believe what she was suggesting. “You think I should try to go home with a stripper?”

“No!” She paused. “I think you should bring a stripper home with you.”

Falling Apart

Ryder Sullivan pushed his way to the packed bar with feigned confidence. He forced a casual look, and managed to maneuver his lean frame, tight jeans and all, onto a high chrome and leather barstool. As he settled in, Ryder glanced around self-consciously, trying to get his bearings. Well, he thought, at least I’ll have an audience. Which Way was packed full of bodies, each one moving and bobbing to the pounding rock music blasting through the speakers to his right.

An adorable bartender, probably a few years older than him, tall, with a soft curve to his face, chuckled. He was as far away from Ryder as possible, making it difficult to get a drink. Every grinning, half-drunk patron seemed to know the guy and laughed along with his antics. Ryder’s breath hitched a little, but he wouldn’t allow himself to think too much about this man right before a show.

The bartender turned and fixed Ryder with sparkling green eyes. Ryder nodded and lifted his slender fingers in a small wave, indicating his growing need for a drink.

“What can I get for ya?” the bartender drawled as he leaned down and eyed Ryder as if he were the only person in the room.

Ryder’s stomach fluttered, and he reminded himself that just because he slept with men did not mean this bartender did. With soft brown curls, muscles bared beneath his honesttoGod plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and perfect ass clad in actual Wrangler jeans, the bartender seemed to be flirting with everyone who crossed his path. None of that meant the bartender would be interested in him. Ryder offered a smile, the guarded one he put on for the endless publicity shoots, and swallowed hard.

“Patrón. And a glass of water, too, I guess. Can’t get too drunk if I’m going to get up there and play, can I?” Ryder’s awkward chuckle escaped before he gestured vaguely towards the stage. He grinned, showing off his straight white teeth, and rubbed a hand over the stubble along his jaw.

“No shit, buddy? You’re our entertainment for the night?” The bartender’s grin took over his face as he turned to grab a bottle. He swiftly poured Ryder a large draft of the clear topshelf liquor in a highball glass. “On the house.” He pushed the drink towards Ryder. “You all right? You look a little outta your element.”

Ryder stared into the glass and fought to keep his defenses at bay. He leaned in a bit, letting a cocky smirk slowly cover his face as he locked eyes with the bartender. If he was just a bit closer, Ryder could have kissed the southern-grown man. The palpable heat between them sent chills down Ryder’s arms, even with the shiny black bar between them. “I could say the same about you, country boy bartending in a rock and roll bar.” He took a sip of the drink before adding, “I’m Ryder.” He took another swallow of the liquor, letting its burn slide down his throat. “Sullivan.”

“Pleased t’ meetcha, Ryder Sullivan. I’m Billy.” Billy placed a glass of water in front of Ryder. “Now I suppose I gotta go do my job before one of these good people jumps the bar, but you just holler if you need anything at all, okay? Good luck up there.” He winked at Ryder before turning away.

Ryder continued to sip his drink, enjoying the warmth as it worked its magic on his nerves, and watched the other patrons collected in clusters around the bar. This was one of his favorite ways to prepare for a show; he spun on his stool and surveyed the crowd to get a read on them firsthand. He felt someone’s gaze on him, and he turned to discover a pretty blonde girl standing a few feet behind him, eying him intently. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and came to rest a hand on Ryder’s arm.

“That bartender’s pretty hot, isn’t he?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Sure, I guess so.”

“Ah, don’t lie to me, boy. I could see you eye-fucking him from across the room.”

Ryder’s cheeks flushed; he had never been able to keep that heat from creeping across his high cheekbones when he’d been caught, and he ducked his head a little before he glanced up at her. “I’m just here for the show.”

The girl threw her head back and laughed, squeezing hard on Ryder’s arm. She had a head full of curls, cute, petite features, and eyes that showed an undercurrent of fierceness. “I’m Allison. The bartender, that’s Billy. He flirts with everything that moves, so don’t be too flattered. I’m the one he’ll be going home with though.” She flashed a smile that seemed more dangerous than friendly. She took a sip of her beer before she walked away.

Ryder was stunned, and wondered if he should regret his decision to haunt the bar before the show. Maybe he should have just had a drink in that supply closet-turned-dressing room and kept out of sight. As he finished the tequila, the familiar warmth coursed through his blood as if he had fire in his veins, leaving his head just a bit light. He downed his glass of water too, and caught Billy’s eye again to thank him for the drink.

“Anytime,” Billy offered, leaning in again and grinning in a way that made Ryder’s mouth go dry. “That’s what I’m here for, to take care of whatever you might need.”

A beat passed, heavy with meaning, and a blush flooded Ryder’s cheeks again. Billy chuckled and clapped Ryder on the bicep.

“Aw, I’m just fuckin’ with you, buddy. Shaking up the talent is one of the many things I’m good at.”

Ryder was speechless, not used to being tongue-tied. He nodded, feeling like a total idiot. He slipped off of the stool and wound his way through the mass of people. In the backstage hallway, Ryder rounded a corner and nearly crashed into Tyler, the bar’s owner, and the woman who was responsible for having him here tonight. They’d met weeks ago when she waited him out after a gig, and they’d become easy friends, though he’d never been here before tonight.

“Sorry about that, honey,” she said, pushing her long, dark hair behind her shoulders and embracing him. “I’m excited you’re here! I think they’re going to really love you tonight. I’m glad your manager could fit us in your schedule before the tour started. Nervous?”

Ryder realized he was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and stilled his hands. “About tonight?”

“Well, new bar…You worried about the crowd?”

He shrugged. “Nah, not really.” He wondered if she could tell he was…not lying exactly, but definitely overstating his calm.

“You’ve got talent, good music, you’re a good-lookin’ guy… they’re going to eat you up. And knowing you, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone to spend the night with once you leave the stage.”

“Hey now, you just happened to catch me on a really good night that night,” Ryder protested.

“Oh what, you don’t usually have a half dozen girls and a couple of guys waiting to ask you back to their place? Don’t even try to tell me a story, you and I both know that you don’t have any problems in that department.”

Billy stuck his head around the corner. “Hey, Ty, I need you up front. Jack isn’t here yet and it’s getting busy.” And then, in Ryder’s direction, “Good luck up there,” he said and winked.

Ryder felt his pulse quicken. This guy was not helping.

“Well, gotta get going, I guess,” Tyler said, cutting through his fog. “Seems like the help can’t function without me.”

Night Shift

It had been a particularly difficult night. Hell, it had been a particularly challenging week, month, year. Daniel was exhausted, so tired of it. He missed stability, he missed relationships, he missed not risking his life just getting up in the morning. He’d grown up in a family of police officers, and becoming a cop had seemed like a natural career choice. Then his father had been killed while on duty, so Daniel had easily decided to follow in his dad’s footsteps. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t. The job wore on him in ways he hadn’t anticipated, drained him, and left him feeling completely depleted. It was all he could do to show up for work some days. He never would have mentioned this to anyone though, especially not to his partner Mike. At least, he wouldn’t have until Mike confronted him while they were driving away from the scene. The backup they’d called was loading some lowlife with a death wish and a blowtorch into the cruiser, and Mike took the downtime as a chance to check on Daniel. There would be a mountain of paperwork waiting back at the station, but they were headed to the local hospital instead. The debrief could wait until tomorrow.

“You okay, Danny?” Michael’s voice cut through Daniel’s thoughts.

“Yeah. Nothing that a few drinks and a couple hours of sleep can’t fix.” Daniel rested his head against the window of the police cruiser, staring out of the glass to block out the things he knew he’d see when he closed his eyes. He ran his fingers through his short black hair and tried to forget about the world.

“No…I mean really okay. Your head isn’t in the game these days. You burning out on me?” Mike sounded almost afraid. Losing a partner was something that could really hurt a police officer, and although Daniel understood his fear, that didn’t mean he had to cater to it.

“What do you want from me, Mike? I show up, I do my job, I get things done.” He was too wiped out to have this conversation now. His lungs hurt from the smoke inhalation, and he just wanted to take a nap. Besides, Mike’s question hit closer to home than Daniel wanted to admit, and he wasn’t ready to tell Mike that maybe this career had been a mistake. Maybe he should go back to school and get a teaching degree like he’d always wanted. Maybe there was something better out there than following in his dead dad’s footsteps.

They made the rest of the trip to the hospital in silence, heading for their checkups, mandatory after any event involving a fire.

Cops were streamlined in the system, so the admissions nurse showed them back to a curtained space immediately,letting them wait in relative privacy to be triaged. They lounged in the room, Mike pacing the area while Daniel sat on the bed fiddling with his phone. He tried to ignore the tightness in his lungs, the way his breath was drawn at the cost of a little bit of effort. Finally, a nurse arrived to see them.

“My favorite officers of the law,” said the nurse as he parted the curtains.

“Oh fuck,” Mike muttered, sinking into a chair. Daniel couldn’t help but agree. The nurse was known for being a prankster and was often pulling out all the stops to keep them on guard. He did it because they were all best friends, but that didn’t make it any less annoying or troublesome.

“Well, well, good to see you too, Mikey.” The nurse tossed his head to clear the long brown strands of hair out of his eyes and walked over to the side of the bed to start checking Daniel’s vitals. “Go away, Angelo.”

“Now, Mike, I’m sure Danno here is happy to see me, aren’t you, Danny?” Angelo ran his fingers through Daniel’s hair, and Daniel jerked away, swatting at the nurse.

“Not especially,” Daniel lied. His head tingled a little from the touch. If he was honest with himself, he almost wanted more. With Angelo, he could never decide whether he craved his attention or wanted none of it.

Riley Long is a wife and mother living a quiet life in Virginia, with her husband, son, and very silly Pit Bull puppy. She passes her evenings writing, reading, and watching bad television (or not so bad television). For fun, Riley participates in NaNoWriMo, GISHWHES, and reads with her book club, the BAMFs. She likes things with silly acronyms. The craziest thing Riley has ever done involves lots of butter and a time lapsed video.

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