Better Have Heart (Harrison Campus 2)

It was a promise he couldn’t keep.

The next two acts were shorter and not as good as the quartet. Darren stood, and Isaiah’s gaze tracked him as he beelined for the bar.

“I need a refill. Can I get you something?” Isaiah said.

Nico frowned. “No, dear, you’re not twenty-one and I don’t want another overpriced, under-alcoholized drink. I’ll wait till we hit Studio 63 later.” He snagged Isaiah by the arm before he got away. “He’s on a date. Don’t interfere.”

“I won’t.” He slipped away before Nico could challenge his weak denial. Besides, what could he do? Darren was on a date; a date he’d told Isaiah about. Why the hell did it bug him?

Darren fronted the counter and was waiting for the bartender when Isaiah squeezed his way past a champagne-clutching couple. He tapped Darren on the shoulder. A nervous smile greeted him as Darren’s eyes washed up and down Isaiah.

“Hey, Isaiah. You look nice.” The smile accompanying the compliment gave Isaiah a twinge of giddiness. “I’m guessing this was the show you were talking about when you asked me to go with you?”

“You’re gay!” He dropped his head. “Sorry. I evidently have no filter. I should have mentioned what show when I asked you to come.”

The bartender arrived, and Darren ordered. Bourbon and Coke, and a plain Coke. “And whatever he and his guest are drinking.”

The bartender nodded and slunk off.

“You don’t need to do that,” Isaiah said.

“It’s done.” He shrugged and leaned closer. “It’s not a secret, by the way. I’m gay.”

“I maybe wondered.”

Darren’s gaze darted toward the stage. The lights were dim in here, but Isaiah suspected a blush climbed Darren’s cheeks. “I maybe wondered, too.”

Darren glanced at him.

Isaiah blinked and grinned. He thought he’d made it clear but, apparently, not clear enough. “Totally gay.”

They shared a tingly look and hurriedly looked away.

The bartender appeared and plunked two Cokes down.

“Are you enjoying the show?” Darren asked.

“Changing the topic much?” Isaiah smiled. His reward was a sheepish grin. Dressed up, Darren looked like the stylish rich guy he was. Grudgingly, he had to admit it was hot.

“Guilty.”

“Yeah, I’m enjoying the show so far. You?”

“I liked the first act best. Especially when they played The Hot Sardines. I can’t pronounce the name of the song, but I love it.”

“Okay, stop. You knew who that was?”

“You’re still surprised?”

“No . . . never mind.” Back on his heels a bit, he reached for the familiar. “So you like them?”

“The trumpet was sick, but I was a bit meh on the piano player.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Darren shook his head. “I’ll just embarrass myself.”

“No really, tell me why. I had issues, too, I just want to hear what you thought.”

“Too mechanical. I mean, it was pretty flawless, but it came across as stiff. Strictly technical. No passion, no soul.” He dug out his wallet when the waiter returned with the other drinks. Darren dropped a five in the giant brandy snifter. The guy rapped his knuckles on the bar before moving on to the next customer.

“I mean, the trumpet guy, he was great. She was just good. Kinda like . . .”

“Like what?” Isaiah locked his gaze on Darren and waited expectantly.

“You know. She plays music. He’s a musician.”

“That’s . . .” A thrill raced through him. “You need heart in everything you do. I mean play.”

Darren tore his eyes off Isaiah and looked over his shoulder toward his table. He laughed humorlessly. “You’re right. I should get back to Max.”

“Having a good time with your date?” Yep, Isaiah went there. He schooled his self-chastising wince.

“I’m having a surprisingly good time, just not with my date.”

Isaiah’s breath thinned. “Not with your date.”

Darren sighed. “Max doesn’t want to stay, and I’m not keen on going with him to Studio 63. I’m hoping he’ll just go without me.”

“That bad?”

Darren grabbed the second drink. “My own fault. I should’ve known better, since Mom fixed me up with him. Nice seeing you. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

“You too.” He followed Darren’s progress and saw the change three steps into his trek back to the table. Passion for the music allowed him to be himself. Max . . . Max got fake Darren. The face he showed the world.

Snagging the drinks from the counter, he returned to his table. “Here. Darren bought it for you.”

“He did, did he? Bought you one too?”

“Yeah.” Isaiah sipped and let an idea bubble up with the carbonation.

“Sooo . . . what’d he say?”

“He liked the music, doesn’t like his date.” He saw Nico’s eye roll and quickly added, “He said Max wanted to go to Studio 63, and he wished he’d go without him. Sounds like it’s not going so well.”

“Like the time my nonna set me up with a ‘nice Italian boy.’ God, he was a stiff. I think the problem is they don’t know many gay men, so any they hear about who are from the right group get the moniker ‘nice.’”