CockbertBigBang fic - "It's Me, O Lord"
Title: It's Me, O Lord
Author: banbury
Artist: qafmaniac
Type: friendship, romance, AU
Word Count: ~ 6300
Rating: PG-17
Characters/Pairings: Adam/Tommy - freindship, Adam/Sauli - romance
Warnings: none, a tiny bit of a strong language
Summary:One false step and there he was - left to contemplate his future, his life's passion, his connection to the people around. Becoming an immovable object with his compound fractured leg left Adam with nothing but pretty dark thoughts in his head and unstable future ahead. Luckily, he can always rely upon his best and oldest friend Tommy Joe to keep him on his toes and plunge in the new strange situations. What would his new ideas bring for Adam? New life? New career? World dominance?
My heartfelt gratitude to my artist qafmaniac and my beta Leela. Without them I'd never manage to finish this story. Qafmaniac made an inspirational art and for the first time ever my story has it's own soundtrack (Yay!) And she found me beta! Leela's thoughtful and throughout ideas on improving my story let me look it from the new perspective. Thank you very much!
And my deep gratitude to the mods for their work and their patience with me.
Link to art master post: amazing art by qafmaniac
It's me, O Lord
by Banbury
His back aching after eleven hours on a plane, Adam shifted his leg in its heavy cast, attempting to get more comfortable in the back seat and swore under his breath.
Tommy Joe turned to look at him. “Hey, man, are you in pain? Do you need…”
“No, no, Tommy, it’s okay. It’s not … just a long flight, not real pain. I can’t find a comfortable position.” Adam swore again and tried to elevate his leg on the seat.
“Stop it. I’ll help you.” Tommy Joe slid out of the car as he spoke and opened Adam’s door. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you very much. Not.” Adam actually felt like shit, not that he wanted to admit it.
Adam had suggested that he could meet his obligations for the two winter festivals. However both his agent and the doctor in the hospital in Munich, where he'd had to stay for a week, pointed out that the fracture was too complicated to take it lightly, and he shouldn't put too much pressure on his leg for at least the next two months.
“You’ll forget about your leg while singing, that’s for sure, and you'll do something stupid, like try one of your signature moves… I know you, Adam. Don’t try to put one past me.”
And Sebastian did know him. He had been Adam’s agent for the past six years, carefully guiding him through the Scylla and Charybdis of European Opera stage - from small productions and choruses to the leading roles in several renewed operas in Paris and Vienna. The new variation on a beautiful old opera had lots of opportunities to show off his voice and physical attraction, and it might’ve been the step he needed to be considered for leading roles in productions all over the world…
Adam worried his lower lip, looking through the side window at the semi-industrial LA sightings without seeing it.
“So, I heard it was your lucky competitor who put you out of commission?...”
Adam turned slowly and caught Tommy’s grin in the rearview mirror. It could’ve been funny if it hadn’t been sad.
He couldn't talk about it. Who would want to admit that the person who had accidentally pushed you off a ladder was not only your rival for the leading role, but had also been your on- and off-lover for the past couple of years? No one.
“You might say so.” Adam shrugged, not wanting to discuss that topic. He’d rather turn the tables on Tommy. “What about your new band? You were so hush-hush about it that I thought it had finally paid off, but you’re still here, driving a taxi…” Adam smirked, watching in the rear-view mirror as Tommy pursed his lips uncertainly.
They'd known each other for so long that Adam couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know Tommy. They had lived across the street from each other until they went to high school. They'd played in the same sandpit, had had countless sleepovers, and had helped each other at school. Tommy was the first person to preview all of Adam's performances, to help him with costumes, to try out new cosmetics. It was Adam who Tommy went to with his first guitar and it was Adam who encouraged him to form his first band. Tommy's 'next big deal' was a running joke between them, although it wasn’t much of a joke.
Adam knew Tommy was good - potentially very good, maybe even great, if he could get enough experience and opportunity to practice. He also knew that Tommy was a shy and sweet person, totally unlike the fierce image he showed on stage - with his leather pants, laced shirts and make-up. Adam was quite familiar with the entertainment industry, and from the point of view of an opera singer (sometimes the bitchier part of the singing world), it didn’t look pretty. Anyone who wanted to reach the top couldn’t worry about hurting people’s feelings and other such things. He had to make his way over 'corpses'. But that was so-o not Tommy’s cup of tea.
Adam thought about it lazily, listening to Tommy’s praises to his fellow band members with half an ear. He didn’t want to be rude to his friend, but he was so tired, disappointed with himself and his circumstances, uncertain about his future. All in all, not the best moment of his life.
“… say next week.” Tommy stopped at the traffic lights and looked at Adam through the rear-view mirror. “You'll do it, won't you?”
Adam was confused for a second and almost asked Tommy what it was all about. But Tommy’s gaze was so full of hope that he didn’t have a heart to do so instead he nodded. “Sure. Let’s get together next week and I…”
“Great!” Tommy was nearly jumping with excitement. “I’ll send you our schedule and some recordings. The best I managed to make - we recorded them during rehearsals, so… you know… but Barry sounds okay.” Tommy was bubbling. Adam let him do it trying to figure out what he’d signed up for. “He’s not the best, but he’s got potential, so your advice would be really appreciated. I’m sure he would be thrilled to…”
Adam tuned his friend out again and breathed freely. Advice he could do, advice was a-okay. He wasn’t sure he could’ve sung anything right then. Not even for a friend. He was just too raw.
He thought he heard somebody chuckling but was too tired to open his eyes and check it out. He was so comfortable - for the first time in months, there was almost nothing to be worried about, even his broken leg felt more like a good excuse for a vacation than a dramatic change in his life.
Adam slid easily into sleep under the power of the strange music from the front seat. He didn’t even remember who helped him from the car into his mom’s house and her guest room…
♪♪♪
Adam didn’t feel all that mellow couple of days later.
He was well rested. He'd been to the doctor and been given a free pass to do anything he wanted as long as he didn't put any strain on his healing leg.
His mom was driving Adam up the wall with her subtle help and not so subtle suggestions to look into a teaching job.
He’d had enough.
He knew his mom meant well. She had always been his biggest supporter, had helped him through ups and downs. That’s why Adam didn’t get her now - she knew he was good, that he could make it. He was only twenty-seven, fuck you very much, his voice was still maturing and it wasn’t like he was stuck in a choir or …
“Just get me outta here, Tommy Joe. I could use someplace quiet and peaceful…” Adam found himself pleading with his best friend long before their planned meeting. “I’m going crazy here. Take me somewhere. I'll even pretend to be a fly on the wall…”
Tommy snickered and instructed him not to move a toe; he’d be over with his bassist in twenty minutes tops. The bassist turned out to be even tinier girl with a half-shaved head and Adam was afraid for a second that they wouldn’t be able to help him to the car.
When the LA skyline loomed before his eyes, Adam felt his shoulders relax a little. He was glad to be out for a while. He didn’t listen to what Tommy and the girl were talking about. Adam didn’t remember her name, nor did he memorize names of Tommy’s drummer and keyboardist and for once he was not ashamed of his impoliteness.
He just didn’t have heart for it now. The last few days had been hard on him. He'd been in a bubble, sort of, while in Europe: all that theatrical stuff - new roles, rehearsals and performances, constant moving, faces replacing each other… The week in the hospital had been a revelation - the only person who'd visited him there was his agent. That alone should’ve told him something wasn’t right.
He'd refused to think about it then.
He didn’t have that luxury anymore .
But he was so tired. All he wanted was for other people just to leave him alone…
Adam was put on an old sunken couch at the back wall of the garage. It wasn't a very glamorous rehearsal space, but the band had made it quite cozy. Adam fished out his iPod, plugged in his big professional headphones to filter out and began to torment himself with the part he never got a chance to sing.
“… would you?”
Adam hadn’t realized he'd fallen asleep, and at first, it didn’t register that Tommy had removed his headphones and was talking to him. He shook his head and stretched.
“Sorry, baby. I fell asleep”. He smiled sheepishly at Tommy.
“That much I realized. Do you want a drink or something to eat?” Tommy had a bottle of diet coke and an apple with him. “I wanted to ask you something”.
“Sure…” Adam downed half the bottle in one go. He vaguely remembered their conversation on the way from the airport. “You want me to listen to your singer?” He glanced over at the makeshift stage and the tall, well-built but somehow unappealing figure of said singer. The guy was pretending not to look at them and Adam snickered to himself, apparently he saw Adam as the competitor that he wasn't .
“Sure. I’ll do it for you. What are you singing?”
“We have a gig on Saturday at a bar over in WeHo. They want us to sing some old rock covers and rat pack standards. It’s not very much but we need all the exposure we can get…”
Adam could tell that Tommy was trying to diminish a gig that was a big thing for his band, and he felt bad that Tommy had to find an excuse. All the attempts to make it relatively big over all these years seemed to be wearing Tommy out, and Adam hated the entertainment industry a little bit more for that.
“Sorry, I fell asleep on you. Help me to the stage, please?”
“Wait a minute, baby…” Tommy waved to the girl and she grabbed the big sturdy barstool in the corner and dragged it closer to the stage. Adam was delivered to it carefully. He fidgeted a little trying to find a better position for his poor leg all the while feeling hostile glares from the singer.
“I’m ready.”
“I need a couple of minutes.” The guy’s voice was a rather pleasant baritone but his intonation left much to be desired.
The set was solid and well thought out. It began with good old funky rock - for the customers to dance to - then a couple of rock classics for them to listen and relax to, followed by several rat pack songs for unwinding. Adam listened without giving any indication about what he thought, just motioning to ‘go on’ after each song.
He didn’t really know what to say at that point. The singer was… okay, good. He had some depth to his voice, could follow the melody well, didn’t sound pitchy or overly flat. He was just… unimaginative. Adam didn’t know how to explain that to him without sounding superior.
Tommy finally came to Adam and sat on the floor. “So?”
Adam made a vague gesture. “Let me think for a second.”
“What's to think?” The singer huffed in frustration. “It’s ridiculous to let an opera singer judge a rock performance!” He said ‘opera’ like it was something a bit obscene.
“I’m not judging.” Adam turned to Tommy and sighed. “It was okay. I think for a small venue like the bar, the sound is pretty solid. I can’t suggest anything.”
Tommy looked a bit disappointed; clearly he seemed to feel that something was missing but couldn’t pinpoint it.
The singer smiled sort of superficially. “You see, Tommy, nothing to worry about.”
That statement worried Adam a little - nobody who was creative should be so sure about his work. Every piece could use fine-tuning now and then. The more often, the better.
♪♪♪
Tommy took Adam to every rehearsal after that, and by the end of the week, Adam knew almost all the lyrics by heart and had started to hum along with Barry, the singer. He still hadn’t talk with Tommy about it. Adam wasn’t sure how to explain what he thought.
He wasn’t sure also what was the turning point for him to care about any explanations at all. Adam knew he was cranky, introspective, lonely lately. But Tommy’s people didn’t pay any attention to his mood and Adam found he didn’t felt that easy with anybody for a long time. It was so good to just be. He didn’t want them to lose confidence by saying something unflattering.
He insisted on going to the bar with them, and Ash brought along the Adam-chair. Isaac, the drummer, whined the whole way that she got the easiest task and promised Ash a whole lotta goodies to switch his drum set for the Adam-chair. Adam giggled at them, while subtly watching Barry. It bothered him that Barry only did a very cursory warm up, like he wanted to both show Tommy that he knew what to do, and on the other hand show Adam that he was confident in his abilities.
The owner of the bar looked at Adam strangely but didn’t say a word when he perched on the stool by the edge of the stage.
Adam tried to be useful. He had spare picks for Tommy and Ash with him, bottles of water, and handkerchiefs for Jamie, the keyboardist (he'd caught a head cold in the head the day before and was feeling a bit miserable).
Adam was excited. He hadn’t been to a gig in a bar for a very long time, not since his early Manhattan days. To take even a small part in it felt so good. He didn’t know he missed it - that relaxed bar atmosphere, unthinking flirting, good music.
Oh, that good old rock! At some point, Adam realized that he remembered a lot from when he was small and his dad had played record after record for him and his brother Neil.
The first part of the set went well. The audience liked dancing to live music; they didn’t really listen to Barry. Adam, however, couldn’t help but shudder when Barry went too low on some notes that just asked for him to sing high. He deliberately hadn’t listened to the original performances so as not to be disappointed, but as a person with professionally trained ear, he heard right away when something went wrong.
During the break, he saw Barry disappear into a little room backstage with his phone pressed to his ear . Tommy talked to the bar owner who seemed to be pleased with performance so far and then went after Barry. They didn’t reappear for some time after that. Adam thought he heard raised voice from behind the door but there was so much noise in the bar that he wasn’t sure.
Nobody paid attention when Tommy reappeared. He was just suddenly at the bar downing a martini vodka shot. It was so unprofessional for him that his fellow band members fell into uneasy silence.
“Barry’s leaving. He’s sorry, fucking asshole, but his other band needs him asap for the bigger gig. According to him, since it's just the bunch of old songs left, Jamie could sing it, no big deal.” Tommy sounded more defeated than angry. He looked over at Adam as if silently asking for help, but didn’t actually ask, and Adam suddenly felt grateful for that. He could’ve helped him, but it would felt wrong; he really wasn’t cut out to sing anything like this.
♪♪♪
Sebastian was an ass. Adam shut his phone off angrily and limped back into the garage, dragging his crutches heavily through the thick grass. He dropped into his designated chair and tried to relax.
“Did he find something for you?” Ash flopped onto the couch nearby. Adam was quickly becoming good friends with the band. At least with the playing part of the band.
Adam liked Ash’s wicked sense of humor. Isaac proved to be the most levelheaded person among them and a giver of thoughtful advice. Jamie was a joker among men, you needed to watch out for him every minute to be ahead. And Tommy was… well, Tommy was Tommy.
All in all Adam felt that he'd scored big, finally waking up from his lethargy of the last few months. The downside was the open hostility from Barry. Adam tried to talk to him but Barry's attitude was so royal-ish that Adam simply gave up. He didn’t have the heart for the Talk nor did he have the time, actually.
Adam had begun his physical therapy. It was so draining that, after each of his first set of half-hour sessions, he had to lie down for the rest of the day. He wanted to throw the ugly crutches away - they were so not his style - so he pushed and pushed his therapist to work more. She pushed back, slowing him down. Tommy went with him to a couple of sessions and laughed his butt off, listening to their shouting matches.
It was Adam’s turn to laugh at Tommy when he tried to ask his therapist, Annalisa, out for dinner after one of the sessions. She was still so worked up after her duel with Adam that she went after Tommy with the force of a steamroller, impressive in such a delicate lady.
She stopped suddenly, looked over at Adam, and he paused mid-giggle sensing that something was coming.
“Okay, rock star, I’m making a deal with you - if you can talk your friend out of his habit of not listening to an expert, that being me, in a week and he starts doing what I tell him to, I will go out with you next Saturday.” Annalisa grinned at Adam and he shuddered silently. He was never good at listening to the authorities, at least outside the rehearsal room. And even inside it from time to time.
That was when his second problem began to rear its ugly head. Sebastian wandered on his mother-hen path again. Their weekly phone calls began to sound like lines from some crazy modern play.
“There are no free openings in spring festivals either.”
“Please, Sebastian, you have connections in Japan, you know they usually like European singers. Look there, I think…”
“I went through all my connections in France and Germany. They have no open positions for singers of your range. There’s one performance in Prague which might need filling , but it’s too physically active for you even if it is at the end of February.”
“Okay, Seb, you told me there would be a new production in Edinburgh next spring?”
“And I’m sure it’d be better for you to stick closer to home. I heard they want to take ‘Traviata” to Broadway. That’s right up your alley.”
“But, Sebastian! I don’t want to go to Broadway!”
They repeated the same conversation repeated each weekend like clockwork. Adam was sick of it. He wanted to go to Sebastian’s Paris headquarters and shake the man out of that rut. He wanted to shout to the world, “I’m a fucking good opera singer, fuck you very much! There must be work for me out there!”
He knew he wouldn’t ever have a Cinderella-like story with the lead singer unable to perform somehow and him, the modest young artist, offering his help and becoming the savior of the performance. He was prepared to work hard for his dream. Though it was seemed like the harder he worked, the more out of reach his dream seemed to be. Moreover, lately he seemed to be entirely deprived of the opportunity to fight for it.
Adam felt pathetic.
Not to mention his mom’s sort of unobtrusive conversations about USC. “They have a great music department. I talked to the best friend of my aunt’s younger daughter’s husband and he said his elder sister’s ex-husband has worked there for the last five years and they’re looking for the vocal coaches to help with…”
At that part Adam usually tuned out and began to hum one of the songs he was listening to in Tommy’s garage. At least there nobody pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to. Apart from Tommy’s lectures to let his therapist does her job.
♪♪♪
The Saturday gigs at the bar in WeHo became regular. The owner didn’t even hold the sort of crappy second part of the first gig over them. Barry was getting increasingly too big for his shoes with every performance. Sometimes Adam had to hang back with great difficulty not to make Tommy’s life harder.
He watched as his friend spent most evenings bend over his guitar perfecting his new music. He revised it repeatedly, but each recording session clearly left him with a feeling of not being good enough. Tommy was changing subtle nuances to make it sound raw and powerful, like an old rock ballad or anthem. It might not be very modern, but Adam was sure that with right amount of energy, the music would sound sick.
“Stop it, Tommy. You're just making it worse. Leave this line and please, close the guitar case. Come back to it tomorrow and let’s go for a walk.” Adam was now using an elegant cane his mother had found at a garage sale. He still moved quite slowly, but on the bright side, he could actually put weight on his injured leg without falling over.
“Really, Tommy Joe, baby. Stop it. You're becoming paranoid…”
“I can’t help it, man. I know you hear it - something is missing. I hate to think that we'll always be wannabe’s, never become the real deal.”
Adam knew that feeling all too well. He didn’t want Tommy Joe to feel that way.
“In my opinion, you want - you need to find a new singer. Barry is just…” Adam didn’t know how to say it politely enough, “… he’s the one who will always be a wannabe. And don’t look at me like that. You hear it too. He lacks passion, he always sounds flat - just listen to him.” Adam fished out his iPhone, and hit the button so Tommy could hear the part of the last gig that he'd recorded.
“D’you hear it? D’you?”
Tommy nodded uncertainly.
“Oh, baby… Listen, it should’ve sounded something like this.” Adam stopped mid-step, straightened up, took a deep breath and sang the closing line from ‘Feeling good’.
His voice glided smoothly and powerfully from note to note, spiraling higher and higher until it nearly catapulted into stratosphere but at the last possible moment was captured by gravity and elegantly flew down scattering notes around like a thousand tiny silver bells.
The environment felt wrong, Adam hadn’t been prepared, could have strained his voice without doing a proper warm up and still somehow it was perfect - the ocean, the unbelievably beautiful sunset, the silence, and his voice.
Tommy stood, clearly wordless, and stared at Adam with an unreadable expression on his face.
“What? I just wanted to show you how it might’ve sound…” Adam looked back uncertainly. “… I don’t have the right voice for…”
“I haven't heard you sing since our school performances. That was how long… ten years ago?” Adam still couldn’t decipher Tommy’s expression. “I… I don’t remember you sounding so… magical. That was…”
Tommy shook his head and smiled uncertainly. “I don’t know how to feel right now.”
“Hey, baby, it’s me!” Adam took Tommy’s arm. “If you liked that, I can sing you something else.”
Tommy nodded, and Adam sang.
♪♪♪
Sauli felt himself out of place. He knew he was helping Katri out, but really, having to look in his notes every other minute and trip over unfamiliar names wasn’t his style at all. He liked to find new themes to work on, but classical music was not his field of a choice.
Sauli liked the man though. He was funny and didn’t mind his obvious luck of education. They were laughing over some operatic anecdote when the phone interrupted them.
Sauli saw as Sebastian sighed, glanced at him apologetically and answered with slightly pained expression. It was obviously not a pleasant conversation.
He went to the window to give his host a little privacy. The view was spectacular - he could easily see Eiffel Tower and Seine, people on the merry-go-round near the pier. Sauli loved Paris. He wished he could come here with a boyfriend someday; the problem was the lack of said boyfriend…
“…yes, darling!” Sebastian sounded a bit too cheerful not to sound fake, and Sauli wondered who was on the other end of the line and whether he was buying it.
For several minutes, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Sauli clearly heard people talking on the other side of the door and quiet murmur from the handset.
He turned to Sebastian and was taken aback with his bulging eyes.
“Uhm, Adam, honey, you really sure about it? It’s quite… I see… I don’t know, I never… okay, okay, honey, take deep breath and let’s stay cool. I… uhm, may I call you back?” Sebastian turned the phone off and exhaled.
“May I help you?” For Sauli it was the most natural thing to offer his help, but his words startled Sebastian.
“Awfully sorry, I really had to take that call…”
Sauli waved Sebastian’s apology off. Even one-sided the story sounded more interesting than their entire talk before. “May I ask you to tell me that story? It sounded interesting from this side.”
Sauli was afraid that his imperfect language stroke again, because Sebastian looked at him rather stupefied.
“Uhm… what did we talk about once again? I believe we ...”
Sauli shook his head, he was too good of a journalist to just let the good story slip between his fingers. “We talked about Finnish opera singers, but really it’s not… I mean, I’m doing this interview on behalf of my friend. I usually work in the field of more modern music news…” And he waited with bated breath.
“Are you?...” Sebastian sighed. “Okay… May we talk about it not as a potential story but… you know… I need advice.”
“I’ll try.” Sauli sat again on that big Louis XIV chair and fixed his eyes on Sebastian.
“I hope you know this world... I'm really out of my depth. I have a client, actually - a friend. He's one of my favourite clients, a young and very promising opera singer from California. He's been working in Europe for the past six years. About four months ago, he had an accident, broke his leg and went home to recuperate. And now he's suddenly decided to change his career or, more likely, to throw away everything we've worked for over the past six years.”
Sauli liked this guy already and couldn’t not to ask, “And what kind of career is he looking into?”
“Oh, I really can’t follow his train of thought, but apparently he wants to be a rock singer.”
Sauli felt his jaw dropped. “Is he for real?” And he burst out laughing.
Obviously, Sebastian felt a bit insulted. “Apparently, yes. He was pretty insistent over the phone and…”, he hesitated, “… Adam really is a very level-headed person. He’d never throw away a good thing. But he's been a bit restless lately, maybe he really needed a change of pace.”
Sauli nodded. “I… know modern music quite well, but I'm not really an expert. I have a friend in New York, he’s very knowledgeable in this field, an expert you might say. I can ask him to look into it. But I need to hear your friend first, so I don’t bring, you know, … some wannabe to him. I’m sorry, but I've heard some opera singers singing modern music. It’s usually just something curious, not worth much …” He shrugged apologetically. He really didn’t want to be an asshole.
“Would you… uhm, I'm really, really far from this field. I can ask around and find someone who can help, and I don’t know you, to be honest, but I hope I can trust you… The thing is - Adam said it’s somehow quite urgent. They have an offer or something, but they need to verify something or get expert advice…something… the thing is I can’t help him and even if I tried, it might take too much time… but if I promise you an exclusive story, will you consider helping us… him?”
Sauli looked at Sebastian thoughtfully for several minutes trying to weigh the pros and cons.
“Do you think your Adam will trust me?”
♪♪♪
Sauli looked at the address on the piece of paper in his hands and glanced over at the taxi that idled by the curb. Yes, it was the same building. The driver nodded and stepped on the accelerator.
Sauli picked his oversized duffel up off the ground and turned towards the entrance. He wouldn’t let this poor view ruin his hopeful mood. He just needed to meet this guy and to work from here.
He didn’t have time to open the door as it swung open and a tall dark-haired man in a black tee and snug jeans practically ran outside. The man took several deep breaths then turned around and all of a sudden hit the door with his fist. Then he opened the door one more time and shouted inside, “And don’t come back to me, Thomas Joseph, when your little project goes belly up on you.”
He shut the door with aplomb and nearly stumbled over Sauli on his way past.
“What are you smiling at, imbecile?”
Sauli didn’t utter a word. He opened the door much more quietly and went inside. There was a short silence and then he was drowning in the music that seemed to come from everywhere. He moved towards it. The room was bright and warm with affection and creative atmosphere despite the fact that it was a garage cluttered with thousands of might-be-necessities…
The beautiful guitar solo froze on a high note and a voice… no, the voice, joined it on that high note. Sauli stilled in anticipation and looked across the room.
On the first note, he saw the eyes - impossibly big blue-grey eyes glowing with excitement. Thick dark brows led his gaze higher to the perfect hair skyline, glittering a little in the artificial light of the garage. The next note though brought his attention lower to the mouth, a big mobile mouth with perfect (“what is the word?...”) pouting lips, rosy and shiny, spilling each sound in a perfectly rounded shape.
Sauli sighed happily. Sebastian was right. It was really "A Story" and the perfect place for him to be. And that guy…
Sauli sighed again.
A strange noise coming from the other side of the room drew his attention. There. More blue than grey, this time, the eyes looked at him with some kind of awe. The sounds flying from that perfect mouth were somehow now directed at him. Sauli smiled at the notes, that mouth, those eyes, and the amazingly tall and beautifully proportioned figure. He sort of saw other people behind the vision but didn’t see them really. He couldn’t turn his eyes away from him.
Sauli was vaguely aware that the music had stopped. Someone took his duffel away from him and pushed him forward a little. “Go to him.”
He took one step, then another. And by the next step he suddenly found himself directly before the singer. Sauli had to tilt back his head to look him in the face. Two large hands enveloped his face all of a sudden.
“Who are you, vision?”
“Sauli.”
“Saw-li.”
“No. S-a-u-l-i.”
“S-a-u-l-i. I’m Adam”
He felt more than saw as those perfect lips covered his own. They tasted like ocean and morning breeze and sweet raspberry. And Sauli’s world tilted on its axes for a second and then straightened itself out. It was as if suddenly the lost screw was found and fastened in its right place.
♪♪♪
“Stop thinking, baby. I can hear you from here.”
Startled out of his thoughts, Adam turned toward the bed. It was too early for him to get up, but the view was worth it. Adam had never seen their bedroom lit with that fairy morning light - deceptively soft, draping everything with dreams and tales. The huge bed in the middle seemed to be floating, and the lone figure lounging gracefully in the clouds of blankets radiated visible joy.
Adam hadn’t known that could actually be seen. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched Sauli’s skin - so smooth, pale, warm. His own little furnace.
“I’m not thinking, just…” It was difficult to put his mood into words. Instead he desperately caught Sauli’s lips with his mouth, breathed his insecurities into Sauli and inhaled Sauli’s joy.
It was so easy to replace the talking with frantic kisses, touches, little bites. Adam tried to reach every part of Sauli’s lithe beautiful body at once and at first, didn’t hear him say, “Easy, easy, sunshine. It’s all going to be good and… a-ahhh.”
Sauli stopped when Adam hit one of his sweet spots and he just panted, clearly trying to hang on for a little longer. Adam smiled wickedly, now, with Suali wriggling in his arms, all worries gone south and the main idea now to make Sauli come first. Adam liked to be wicked in bed.
“S-stop it, you meany, let me…” And suddenly Adam found himself on his back with Sauli sitting on his thighs and smiling down at him. “Stop it.”
Sauli ground their cocks together and Adam hardened even more, suddenly short of breath. He watched as Sauli leaned down and began nipping at his chest, murmuring something unintelligible in his native language. Adam sank into it, dissolved in the small bites and licks and the firm hot lips on his cock.
Afterwards, Sauli asked, “Why are you so edgy lately?”
Adam turned his head lazily to Sauli. They lay cocooned in blankets, feeling the chilly morning breeze from the open patio doors. He felt less moody, just aware of somewhat mixed ideas inside his head.
“They already love your album. Baby steps, baby, baby steps - you’ve read the reviews, they'll all come around eventually.” Sauli seemed to know what was bothering Adam and was clearly trying to steer him off that path.
“You know it’s not that.” Adam shrugged. “You pegged me right in your article - I’m a worrywart and perfectionist. The label told me not to improvise so much in our regular concerts. That’s leaving people more bewildered than excited, and we need to hook them. I just…”
“Fuck ‘em! You’re the voice. You need to soar or you'll forget how to fly. Fly, sunshine, fly higher!”
“That’s the problem, baby. What if I fly in the wrong direction?” Adam felt Sauli's disbelieving stare rather than saw it. That’s it - he'd finally put words to his fears, what if he went down the wrong path, just yielded Tommy’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, boy… Sing to me, sunshine. Sing to me and you’ll feel…”
♪♪♪
The house was full. They could all hear the low rumbling sound, like the rising tide, but the brightly lit stage prevented them from actually seeing the crowd. Everybody, even Sauli, who was sitting in the first row, was nervous.
It was strange. They’ve played on numerous stages and sold-out venues over the past year. Admittedly, they'd been smaller, but nonetheless enthusiastic. With Adam's first album had rocketed to the top-10 in the first weeks, which was exceptionally good for a new band. With that, Sauli’s article, a Rolling Stones write-up on them, even the album of Adam's opera performances hastily produced by a European label (Sebastian tried to stop that, unsuccessfully), they were now solid.
He was the real deal.
And still. This performance on an award ceremony, televised and about to be criticized in millions of homes made them all jittery and uncertain.
Adam caught the nervously pacing Tommy Joe by his shirt. “Do you remember the night we saw The Rolling Stones perform?”
“Y-yeah, I remember. And, what?”
“You remember you told me - I wanna stay on the stage with them?”
“Yeah?” - Tommy shook his head and looked at Adam strangely.
“Just imagine them here, channel and go.” Adam hugged his friend fiercely and then pushed him towards the stage. Tommy flipped him the bird without a backwards glance and tugged Jamie with him.
Adam straightened. He felt the energy from the audience, felt the beginning of the beat in his bones, felt the rush of being on stage washing through him. The edge of the stage became closer with each step.
He stopped before the microphone, smiled politely to the host. He was about to sing the first note when it hit him suddenly, “Here I am… It’s me… oh, my… it’s me! Here I’m standing before the Universe and it’s all me! Every big and small thing is me! Every note and every breath is me! It’s me!”
He beamed at the people in the hall and sang the first note.
The End
Author: banbury
Artist: qafmaniac
Type: friendship, romance, AU
Word Count: ~ 6300
Rating: PG-17
Characters/Pairings: Adam/Tommy - freindship, Adam/Sauli - romance
Warnings: none, a tiny bit of a strong language
Summary:One false step and there he was - left to contemplate his future, his life's passion, his connection to the people around. Becoming an immovable object with his compound fractured leg left Adam with nothing but pretty dark thoughts in his head and unstable future ahead. Luckily, he can always rely upon his best and oldest friend Tommy Joe to keep him on his toes and plunge in the new strange situations. What would his new ideas bring for Adam? New life? New career? World dominance?
My heartfelt gratitude to my artist qafmaniac and my beta Leela. Without them I'd never manage to finish this story. Qafmaniac made an inspirational art and for the first time ever my story has it's own soundtrack (Yay!) And she found me beta! Leela's thoughtful and throughout ideas on improving my story let me look it from the new perspective. Thank you very much!
And my deep gratitude to the mods for their work and their patience with me.
Link to art master post: amazing art by qafmaniac
It's me, O Lord
by Banbury
His back aching after eleven hours on a plane, Adam shifted his leg in its heavy cast, attempting to get more comfortable in the back seat and swore under his breath.
Tommy Joe turned to look at him. “Hey, man, are you in pain? Do you need…”
“No, no, Tommy, it’s okay. It’s not … just a long flight, not real pain. I can’t find a comfortable position.” Adam swore again and tried to elevate his leg on the seat.
“Stop it. I’ll help you.” Tommy Joe slid out of the car as he spoke and opened Adam’s door. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you very much. Not.” Adam actually felt like shit, not that he wanted to admit it.
Adam had suggested that he could meet his obligations for the two winter festivals. However both his agent and the doctor in the hospital in Munich, where he'd had to stay for a week, pointed out that the fracture was too complicated to take it lightly, and he shouldn't put too much pressure on his leg for at least the next two months.
“You’ll forget about your leg while singing, that’s for sure, and you'll do something stupid, like try one of your signature moves… I know you, Adam. Don’t try to put one past me.”
And Sebastian did know him. He had been Adam’s agent for the past six years, carefully guiding him through the Scylla and Charybdis of European Opera stage - from small productions and choruses to the leading roles in several renewed operas in Paris and Vienna. The new variation on a beautiful old opera had lots of opportunities to show off his voice and physical attraction, and it might’ve been the step he needed to be considered for leading roles in productions all over the world…
Adam worried his lower lip, looking through the side window at the semi-industrial LA sightings without seeing it.
“So, I heard it was your lucky competitor who put you out of commission?...”
Adam turned slowly and caught Tommy’s grin in the rearview mirror. It could’ve been funny if it hadn’t been sad.
He couldn't talk about it. Who would want to admit that the person who had accidentally pushed you off a ladder was not only your rival for the leading role, but had also been your on- and off-lover for the past couple of years? No one.
“You might say so.” Adam shrugged, not wanting to discuss that topic. He’d rather turn the tables on Tommy. “What about your new band? You were so hush-hush about it that I thought it had finally paid off, but you’re still here, driving a taxi…” Adam smirked, watching in the rear-view mirror as Tommy pursed his lips uncertainly.
They'd known each other for so long that Adam couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know Tommy. They had lived across the street from each other until they went to high school. They'd played in the same sandpit, had had countless sleepovers, and had helped each other at school. Tommy was the first person to preview all of Adam's performances, to help him with costumes, to try out new cosmetics. It was Adam who Tommy went to with his first guitar and it was Adam who encouraged him to form his first band. Tommy's 'next big deal' was a running joke between them, although it wasn’t much of a joke.
Adam knew Tommy was good - potentially very good, maybe even great, if he could get enough experience and opportunity to practice. He also knew that Tommy was a shy and sweet person, totally unlike the fierce image he showed on stage - with his leather pants, laced shirts and make-up. Adam was quite familiar with the entertainment industry, and from the point of view of an opera singer (sometimes the bitchier part of the singing world), it didn’t look pretty. Anyone who wanted to reach the top couldn’t worry about hurting people’s feelings and other such things. He had to make his way over 'corpses'. But that was so-o not Tommy’s cup of tea.
Adam thought about it lazily, listening to Tommy’s praises to his fellow band members with half an ear. He didn’t want to be rude to his friend, but he was so tired, disappointed with himself and his circumstances, uncertain about his future. All in all, not the best moment of his life.
“… say next week.” Tommy stopped at the traffic lights and looked at Adam through the rear-view mirror. “You'll do it, won't you?”
Adam was confused for a second and almost asked Tommy what it was all about. But Tommy’s gaze was so full of hope that he didn’t have a heart to do so instead he nodded. “Sure. Let’s get together next week and I…”
“Great!” Tommy was nearly jumping with excitement. “I’ll send you our schedule and some recordings. The best I managed to make - we recorded them during rehearsals, so… you know… but Barry sounds okay.” Tommy was bubbling. Adam let him do it trying to figure out what he’d signed up for. “He’s not the best, but he’s got potential, so your advice would be really appreciated. I’m sure he would be thrilled to…”
Adam tuned his friend out again and breathed freely. Advice he could do, advice was a-okay. He wasn’t sure he could’ve sung anything right then. Not even for a friend. He was just too raw.
He thought he heard somebody chuckling but was too tired to open his eyes and check it out. He was so comfortable - for the first time in months, there was almost nothing to be worried about, even his broken leg felt more like a good excuse for a vacation than a dramatic change in his life.
Adam slid easily into sleep under the power of the strange music from the front seat. He didn’t even remember who helped him from the car into his mom’s house and her guest room…
♪♪♪
Adam didn’t feel all that mellow couple of days later.
He was well rested. He'd been to the doctor and been given a free pass to do anything he wanted as long as he didn't put any strain on his healing leg.
His mom was driving Adam up the wall with her subtle help and not so subtle suggestions to look into a teaching job.
He’d had enough.
He knew his mom meant well. She had always been his biggest supporter, had helped him through ups and downs. That’s why Adam didn’t get her now - she knew he was good, that he could make it. He was only twenty-seven, fuck you very much, his voice was still maturing and it wasn’t like he was stuck in a choir or …
“Just get me outta here, Tommy Joe. I could use someplace quiet and peaceful…” Adam found himself pleading with his best friend long before their planned meeting. “I’m going crazy here. Take me somewhere. I'll even pretend to be a fly on the wall…”
Tommy snickered and instructed him not to move a toe; he’d be over with his bassist in twenty minutes tops. The bassist turned out to be even tinier girl with a half-shaved head and Adam was afraid for a second that they wouldn’t be able to help him to the car.
When the LA skyline loomed before his eyes, Adam felt his shoulders relax a little. He was glad to be out for a while. He didn’t listen to what Tommy and the girl were talking about. Adam didn’t remember her name, nor did he memorize names of Tommy’s drummer and keyboardist and for once he was not ashamed of his impoliteness.
He just didn’t have heart for it now. The last few days had been hard on him. He'd been in a bubble, sort of, while in Europe: all that theatrical stuff - new roles, rehearsals and performances, constant moving, faces replacing each other… The week in the hospital had been a revelation - the only person who'd visited him there was his agent. That alone should’ve told him something wasn’t right.
He'd refused to think about it then.
He didn’t have that luxury anymore .
But he was so tired. All he wanted was for other people just to leave him alone…
Adam was put on an old sunken couch at the back wall of the garage. It wasn't a very glamorous rehearsal space, but the band had made it quite cozy. Adam fished out his iPod, plugged in his big professional headphones to filter out and began to torment himself with the part he never got a chance to sing.
“… would you?”
Adam hadn’t realized he'd fallen asleep, and at first, it didn’t register that Tommy had removed his headphones and was talking to him. He shook his head and stretched.
“Sorry, baby. I fell asleep”. He smiled sheepishly at Tommy.
“That much I realized. Do you want a drink or something to eat?” Tommy had a bottle of diet coke and an apple with him. “I wanted to ask you something”.
“Sure…” Adam downed half the bottle in one go. He vaguely remembered their conversation on the way from the airport. “You want me to listen to your singer?” He glanced over at the makeshift stage and the tall, well-built but somehow unappealing figure of said singer. The guy was pretending not to look at them and Adam snickered to himself, apparently he saw Adam as the competitor that he wasn't .
“Sure. I’ll do it for you. What are you singing?”
“We have a gig on Saturday at a bar over in WeHo. They want us to sing some old rock covers and rat pack standards. It’s not very much but we need all the exposure we can get…”
Adam could tell that Tommy was trying to diminish a gig that was a big thing for his band, and he felt bad that Tommy had to find an excuse. All the attempts to make it relatively big over all these years seemed to be wearing Tommy out, and Adam hated the entertainment industry a little bit more for that.
“Sorry, I fell asleep on you. Help me to the stage, please?”
“Wait a minute, baby…” Tommy waved to the girl and she grabbed the big sturdy barstool in the corner and dragged it closer to the stage. Adam was delivered to it carefully. He fidgeted a little trying to find a better position for his poor leg all the while feeling hostile glares from the singer.
“I’m ready.”
“I need a couple of minutes.” The guy’s voice was a rather pleasant baritone but his intonation left much to be desired.
The set was solid and well thought out. It began with good old funky rock - for the customers to dance to - then a couple of rock classics for them to listen and relax to, followed by several rat pack songs for unwinding. Adam listened without giving any indication about what he thought, just motioning to ‘go on’ after each song.
He didn’t really know what to say at that point. The singer was… okay, good. He had some depth to his voice, could follow the melody well, didn’t sound pitchy or overly flat. He was just… unimaginative. Adam didn’t know how to explain that to him without sounding superior.
Tommy finally came to Adam and sat on the floor. “So?”
Adam made a vague gesture. “Let me think for a second.”
“What's to think?” The singer huffed in frustration. “It’s ridiculous to let an opera singer judge a rock performance!” He said ‘opera’ like it was something a bit obscene.
“I’m not judging.” Adam turned to Tommy and sighed. “It was okay. I think for a small venue like the bar, the sound is pretty solid. I can’t suggest anything.”
Tommy looked a bit disappointed; clearly he seemed to feel that something was missing but couldn’t pinpoint it.
The singer smiled sort of superficially. “You see, Tommy, nothing to worry about.”
That statement worried Adam a little - nobody who was creative should be so sure about his work. Every piece could use fine-tuning now and then. The more often, the better.
♪♪♪
Tommy took Adam to every rehearsal after that, and by the end of the week, Adam knew almost all the lyrics by heart and had started to hum along with Barry, the singer. He still hadn’t talk with Tommy about it. Adam wasn’t sure how to explain what he thought.
He wasn’t sure also what was the turning point for him to care about any explanations at all. Adam knew he was cranky, introspective, lonely lately. But Tommy’s people didn’t pay any attention to his mood and Adam found he didn’t felt that easy with anybody for a long time. It was so good to just be. He didn’t want them to lose confidence by saying something unflattering.
He insisted on going to the bar with them, and Ash brought along the Adam-chair. Isaac, the drummer, whined the whole way that she got the easiest task and promised Ash a whole lotta goodies to switch his drum set for the Adam-chair. Adam giggled at them, while subtly watching Barry. It bothered him that Barry only did a very cursory warm up, like he wanted to both show Tommy that he knew what to do, and on the other hand show Adam that he was confident in his abilities.
The owner of the bar looked at Adam strangely but didn’t say a word when he perched on the stool by the edge of the stage.
Adam tried to be useful. He had spare picks for Tommy and Ash with him, bottles of water, and handkerchiefs for Jamie, the keyboardist (he'd caught a head cold in the head the day before and was feeling a bit miserable).
Adam was excited. He hadn’t been to a gig in a bar for a very long time, not since his early Manhattan days. To take even a small part in it felt so good. He didn’t know he missed it - that relaxed bar atmosphere, unthinking flirting, good music.
Oh, that good old rock! At some point, Adam realized that he remembered a lot from when he was small and his dad had played record after record for him and his brother Neil.
The first part of the set went well. The audience liked dancing to live music; they didn’t really listen to Barry. Adam, however, couldn’t help but shudder when Barry went too low on some notes that just asked for him to sing high. He deliberately hadn’t listened to the original performances so as not to be disappointed, but as a person with professionally trained ear, he heard right away when something went wrong.
During the break, he saw Barry disappear into a little room backstage with his phone pressed to his ear . Tommy talked to the bar owner who seemed to be pleased with performance so far and then went after Barry. They didn’t reappear for some time after that. Adam thought he heard raised voice from behind the door but there was so much noise in the bar that he wasn’t sure.
Nobody paid attention when Tommy reappeared. He was just suddenly at the bar downing a martini vodka shot. It was so unprofessional for him that his fellow band members fell into uneasy silence.
“Barry’s leaving. He’s sorry, fucking asshole, but his other band needs him asap for the bigger gig. According to him, since it's just the bunch of old songs left, Jamie could sing it, no big deal.” Tommy sounded more defeated than angry. He looked over at Adam as if silently asking for help, but didn’t actually ask, and Adam suddenly felt grateful for that. He could’ve helped him, but it would felt wrong; he really wasn’t cut out to sing anything like this.
♪♪♪
Sebastian was an ass. Adam shut his phone off angrily and limped back into the garage, dragging his crutches heavily through the thick grass. He dropped into his designated chair and tried to relax.
“Did he find something for you?” Ash flopped onto the couch nearby. Adam was quickly becoming good friends with the band. At least with the playing part of the band.
Adam liked Ash’s wicked sense of humor. Isaac proved to be the most levelheaded person among them and a giver of thoughtful advice. Jamie was a joker among men, you needed to watch out for him every minute to be ahead. And Tommy was… well, Tommy was Tommy.
All in all Adam felt that he'd scored big, finally waking up from his lethargy of the last few months. The downside was the open hostility from Barry. Adam tried to talk to him but Barry's attitude was so royal-ish that Adam simply gave up. He didn’t have the heart for the Talk nor did he have the time, actually.
Adam had begun his physical therapy. It was so draining that, after each of his first set of half-hour sessions, he had to lie down for the rest of the day. He wanted to throw the ugly crutches away - they were so not his style - so he pushed and pushed his therapist to work more. She pushed back, slowing him down. Tommy went with him to a couple of sessions and laughed his butt off, listening to their shouting matches.
It was Adam’s turn to laugh at Tommy when he tried to ask his therapist, Annalisa, out for dinner after one of the sessions. She was still so worked up after her duel with Adam that she went after Tommy with the force of a steamroller, impressive in such a delicate lady.
She stopped suddenly, looked over at Adam, and he paused mid-giggle sensing that something was coming.
“Okay, rock star, I’m making a deal with you - if you can talk your friend out of his habit of not listening to an expert, that being me, in a week and he starts doing what I tell him to, I will go out with you next Saturday.” Annalisa grinned at Adam and he shuddered silently. He was never good at listening to the authorities, at least outside the rehearsal room. And even inside it from time to time.
That was when his second problem began to rear its ugly head. Sebastian wandered on his mother-hen path again. Their weekly phone calls began to sound like lines from some crazy modern play.
“There are no free openings in spring festivals either.”
“Please, Sebastian, you have connections in Japan, you know they usually like European singers. Look there, I think…”
“I went through all my connections in France and Germany. They have no open positions for singers of your range. There’s one performance in Prague which might need filling , but it’s too physically active for you even if it is at the end of February.”
“Okay, Seb, you told me there would be a new production in Edinburgh next spring?”
“And I’m sure it’d be better for you to stick closer to home. I heard they want to take ‘Traviata” to Broadway. That’s right up your alley.”
“But, Sebastian! I don’t want to go to Broadway!”
They repeated the same conversation repeated each weekend like clockwork. Adam was sick of it. He wanted to go to Sebastian’s Paris headquarters and shake the man out of that rut. He wanted to shout to the world, “I’m a fucking good opera singer, fuck you very much! There must be work for me out there!”
He knew he wouldn’t ever have a Cinderella-like story with the lead singer unable to perform somehow and him, the modest young artist, offering his help and becoming the savior of the performance. He was prepared to work hard for his dream. Though it was seemed like the harder he worked, the more out of reach his dream seemed to be. Moreover, lately he seemed to be entirely deprived of the opportunity to fight for it.
Adam felt pathetic.
Not to mention his mom’s sort of unobtrusive conversations about USC. “They have a great music department. I talked to the best friend of my aunt’s younger daughter’s husband and he said his elder sister’s ex-husband has worked there for the last five years and they’re looking for the vocal coaches to help with…”
At that part Adam usually tuned out and began to hum one of the songs he was listening to in Tommy’s garage. At least there nobody pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to. Apart from Tommy’s lectures to let his therapist does her job.
♪♪♪
The Saturday gigs at the bar in WeHo became regular. The owner didn’t even hold the sort of crappy second part of the first gig over them. Barry was getting increasingly too big for his shoes with every performance. Sometimes Adam had to hang back with great difficulty not to make Tommy’s life harder.
He watched as his friend spent most evenings bend over his guitar perfecting his new music. He revised it repeatedly, but each recording session clearly left him with a feeling of not being good enough. Tommy was changing subtle nuances to make it sound raw and powerful, like an old rock ballad or anthem. It might not be very modern, but Adam was sure that with right amount of energy, the music would sound sick.
“Stop it, Tommy. You're just making it worse. Leave this line and please, close the guitar case. Come back to it tomorrow and let’s go for a walk.” Adam was now using an elegant cane his mother had found at a garage sale. He still moved quite slowly, but on the bright side, he could actually put weight on his injured leg without falling over.
“Really, Tommy Joe, baby. Stop it. You're becoming paranoid…”
“I can’t help it, man. I know you hear it - something is missing. I hate to think that we'll always be wannabe’s, never become the real deal.”
Adam knew that feeling all too well. He didn’t want Tommy Joe to feel that way.
“In my opinion, you want - you need to find a new singer. Barry is just…” Adam didn’t know how to say it politely enough, “… he’s the one who will always be a wannabe. And don’t look at me like that. You hear it too. He lacks passion, he always sounds flat - just listen to him.” Adam fished out his iPhone, and hit the button so Tommy could hear the part of the last gig that he'd recorded.
“D’you hear it? D’you?”
Tommy nodded uncertainly.
“Oh, baby… Listen, it should’ve sounded something like this.” Adam stopped mid-step, straightened up, took a deep breath and sang the closing line from ‘Feeling good’.
His voice glided smoothly and powerfully from note to note, spiraling higher and higher until it nearly catapulted into stratosphere but at the last possible moment was captured by gravity and elegantly flew down scattering notes around like a thousand tiny silver bells.
The environment felt wrong, Adam hadn’t been prepared, could have strained his voice without doing a proper warm up and still somehow it was perfect - the ocean, the unbelievably beautiful sunset, the silence, and his voice.
Tommy stood, clearly wordless, and stared at Adam with an unreadable expression on his face.
“What? I just wanted to show you how it might’ve sound…” Adam looked back uncertainly. “… I don’t have the right voice for…”
“I haven't heard you sing since our school performances. That was how long… ten years ago?” Adam still couldn’t decipher Tommy’s expression. “I… I don’t remember you sounding so… magical. That was…”
Tommy shook his head and smiled uncertainly. “I don’t know how to feel right now.”
“Hey, baby, it’s me!” Adam took Tommy’s arm. “If you liked that, I can sing you something else.”
Tommy nodded, and Adam sang.
♪♪♪
Sauli felt himself out of place. He knew he was helping Katri out, but really, having to look in his notes every other minute and trip over unfamiliar names wasn’t his style at all. He liked to find new themes to work on, but classical music was not his field of a choice.
Sauli liked the man though. He was funny and didn’t mind his obvious luck of education. They were laughing over some operatic anecdote when the phone interrupted them.
Sauli saw as Sebastian sighed, glanced at him apologetically and answered with slightly pained expression. It was obviously not a pleasant conversation.
He went to the window to give his host a little privacy. The view was spectacular - he could easily see Eiffel Tower and Seine, people on the merry-go-round near the pier. Sauli loved Paris. He wished he could come here with a boyfriend someday; the problem was the lack of said boyfriend…
“…yes, darling!” Sebastian sounded a bit too cheerful not to sound fake, and Sauli wondered who was on the other end of the line and whether he was buying it.
For several minutes, there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Sauli clearly heard people talking on the other side of the door and quiet murmur from the handset.
He turned to Sebastian and was taken aback with his bulging eyes.
“Uhm, Adam, honey, you really sure about it? It’s quite… I see… I don’t know, I never… okay, okay, honey, take deep breath and let’s stay cool. I… uhm, may I call you back?” Sebastian turned the phone off and exhaled.
“May I help you?” For Sauli it was the most natural thing to offer his help, but his words startled Sebastian.
“Awfully sorry, I really had to take that call…”
Sauli waved Sebastian’s apology off. Even one-sided the story sounded more interesting than their entire talk before. “May I ask you to tell me that story? It sounded interesting from this side.”
Sauli was afraid that his imperfect language stroke again, because Sebastian looked at him rather stupefied.
“Uhm… what did we talk about once again? I believe we ...”
Sauli shook his head, he was too good of a journalist to just let the good story slip between his fingers. “We talked about Finnish opera singers, but really it’s not… I mean, I’m doing this interview on behalf of my friend. I usually work in the field of more modern music news…” And he waited with bated breath.
“Are you?...” Sebastian sighed. “Okay… May we talk about it not as a potential story but… you know… I need advice.”
“I’ll try.” Sauli sat again on that big Louis XIV chair and fixed his eyes on Sebastian.
“I hope you know this world... I'm really out of my depth. I have a client, actually - a friend. He's one of my favourite clients, a young and very promising opera singer from California. He's been working in Europe for the past six years. About four months ago, he had an accident, broke his leg and went home to recuperate. And now he's suddenly decided to change his career or, more likely, to throw away everything we've worked for over the past six years.”
Sauli liked this guy already and couldn’t not to ask, “And what kind of career is he looking into?”
“Oh, I really can’t follow his train of thought, but apparently he wants to be a rock singer.”
Sauli felt his jaw dropped. “Is he for real?” And he burst out laughing.
Obviously, Sebastian felt a bit insulted. “Apparently, yes. He was pretty insistent over the phone and…”, he hesitated, “… Adam really is a very level-headed person. He’d never throw away a good thing. But he's been a bit restless lately, maybe he really needed a change of pace.”
Sauli nodded. “I… know modern music quite well, but I'm not really an expert. I have a friend in New York, he’s very knowledgeable in this field, an expert you might say. I can ask him to look into it. But I need to hear your friend first, so I don’t bring, you know, … some wannabe to him. I’m sorry, but I've heard some opera singers singing modern music. It’s usually just something curious, not worth much …” He shrugged apologetically. He really didn’t want to be an asshole.
“Would you… uhm, I'm really, really far from this field. I can ask around and find someone who can help, and I don’t know you, to be honest, but I hope I can trust you… The thing is - Adam said it’s somehow quite urgent. They have an offer or something, but they need to verify something or get expert advice…something… the thing is I can’t help him and even if I tried, it might take too much time… but if I promise you an exclusive story, will you consider helping us… him?”
Sauli looked at Sebastian thoughtfully for several minutes trying to weigh the pros and cons.
“Do you think your Adam will trust me?”
♪♪♪
Sauli looked at the address on the piece of paper in his hands and glanced over at the taxi that idled by the curb. Yes, it was the same building. The driver nodded and stepped on the accelerator.
Sauli picked his oversized duffel up off the ground and turned towards the entrance. He wouldn’t let this poor view ruin his hopeful mood. He just needed to meet this guy and to work from here.
He didn’t have time to open the door as it swung open and a tall dark-haired man in a black tee and snug jeans practically ran outside. The man took several deep breaths then turned around and all of a sudden hit the door with his fist. Then he opened the door one more time and shouted inside, “And don’t come back to me, Thomas Joseph, when your little project goes belly up on you.”
He shut the door with aplomb and nearly stumbled over Sauli on his way past.
“What are you smiling at, imbecile?”
Sauli didn’t utter a word. He opened the door much more quietly and went inside. There was a short silence and then he was drowning in the music that seemed to come from everywhere. He moved towards it. The room was bright and warm with affection and creative atmosphere despite the fact that it was a garage cluttered with thousands of might-be-necessities…
The beautiful guitar solo froze on a high note and a voice… no, the voice, joined it on that high note. Sauli stilled in anticipation and looked across the room.
On the first note, he saw the eyes - impossibly big blue-grey eyes glowing with excitement. Thick dark brows led his gaze higher to the perfect hair skyline, glittering a little in the artificial light of the garage. The next note though brought his attention lower to the mouth, a big mobile mouth with perfect (“what is the word?...”) pouting lips, rosy and shiny, spilling each sound in a perfectly rounded shape.
Sauli sighed happily. Sebastian was right. It was really "A Story" and the perfect place for him to be. And that guy…
Sauli sighed again.
A strange noise coming from the other side of the room drew his attention. There. More blue than grey, this time, the eyes looked at him with some kind of awe. The sounds flying from that perfect mouth were somehow now directed at him. Sauli smiled at the notes, that mouth, those eyes, and the amazingly tall and beautifully proportioned figure. He sort of saw other people behind the vision but didn’t see them really. He couldn’t turn his eyes away from him.
Sauli was vaguely aware that the music had stopped. Someone took his duffel away from him and pushed him forward a little. “Go to him.”
He took one step, then another. And by the next step he suddenly found himself directly before the singer. Sauli had to tilt back his head to look him in the face. Two large hands enveloped his face all of a sudden.
“Who are you, vision?”
“Sauli.”
“Saw-li.”
“No. S-a-u-l-i.”
“S-a-u-l-i. I’m Adam”
He felt more than saw as those perfect lips covered his own. They tasted like ocean and morning breeze and sweet raspberry. And Sauli’s world tilted on its axes for a second and then straightened itself out. It was as if suddenly the lost screw was found and fastened in its right place.
♪♪♪
“Stop thinking, baby. I can hear you from here.”
Startled out of his thoughts, Adam turned toward the bed. It was too early for him to get up, but the view was worth it. Adam had never seen their bedroom lit with that fairy morning light - deceptively soft, draping everything with dreams and tales. The huge bed in the middle seemed to be floating, and the lone figure lounging gracefully in the clouds of blankets radiated visible joy.
Adam hadn’t known that could actually be seen. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched Sauli’s skin - so smooth, pale, warm. His own little furnace.
“I’m not thinking, just…” It was difficult to put his mood into words. Instead he desperately caught Sauli’s lips with his mouth, breathed his insecurities into Sauli and inhaled Sauli’s joy.
It was so easy to replace the talking with frantic kisses, touches, little bites. Adam tried to reach every part of Sauli’s lithe beautiful body at once and at first, didn’t hear him say, “Easy, easy, sunshine. It’s all going to be good and… a-ahhh.”
Sauli stopped when Adam hit one of his sweet spots and he just panted, clearly trying to hang on for a little longer. Adam smiled wickedly, now, with Suali wriggling in his arms, all worries gone south and the main idea now to make Sauli come first. Adam liked to be wicked in bed.
“S-stop it, you meany, let me…” And suddenly Adam found himself on his back with Sauli sitting on his thighs and smiling down at him. “Stop it.”
Sauli ground their cocks together and Adam hardened even more, suddenly short of breath. He watched as Sauli leaned down and began nipping at his chest, murmuring something unintelligible in his native language. Adam sank into it, dissolved in the small bites and licks and the firm hot lips on his cock.
Afterwards, Sauli asked, “Why are you so edgy lately?”
Adam turned his head lazily to Sauli. They lay cocooned in blankets, feeling the chilly morning breeze from the open patio doors. He felt less moody, just aware of somewhat mixed ideas inside his head.
“They already love your album. Baby steps, baby, baby steps - you’ve read the reviews, they'll all come around eventually.” Sauli seemed to know what was bothering Adam and was clearly trying to steer him off that path.
“You know it’s not that.” Adam shrugged. “You pegged me right in your article - I’m a worrywart and perfectionist. The label told me not to improvise so much in our regular concerts. That’s leaving people more bewildered than excited, and we need to hook them. I just…”
“Fuck ‘em! You’re the voice. You need to soar or you'll forget how to fly. Fly, sunshine, fly higher!”
“That’s the problem, baby. What if I fly in the wrong direction?” Adam felt Sauli's disbelieving stare rather than saw it. That’s it - he'd finally put words to his fears, what if he went down the wrong path, just yielded Tommy’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, boy… Sing to me, sunshine. Sing to me and you’ll feel…”
♪♪♪
The house was full. They could all hear the low rumbling sound, like the rising tide, but the brightly lit stage prevented them from actually seeing the crowd. Everybody, even Sauli, who was sitting in the first row, was nervous.
It was strange. They’ve played on numerous stages and sold-out venues over the past year. Admittedly, they'd been smaller, but nonetheless enthusiastic. With Adam's first album had rocketed to the top-10 in the first weeks, which was exceptionally good for a new band. With that, Sauli’s article, a Rolling Stones write-up on them, even the album of Adam's opera performances hastily produced by a European label (Sebastian tried to stop that, unsuccessfully), they were now solid.
He was the real deal.
And still. This performance on an award ceremony, televised and about to be criticized in millions of homes made them all jittery and uncertain.
Adam caught the nervously pacing Tommy Joe by his shirt. “Do you remember the night we saw The Rolling Stones perform?”
“Y-yeah, I remember. And, what?”
“You remember you told me - I wanna stay on the stage with them?”
“Yeah?” - Tommy shook his head and looked at Adam strangely.
“Just imagine them here, channel and go.” Adam hugged his friend fiercely and then pushed him towards the stage. Tommy flipped him the bird without a backwards glance and tugged Jamie with him.
Adam straightened. He felt the energy from the audience, felt the beginning of the beat in his bones, felt the rush of being on stage washing through him. The edge of the stage became closer with each step.
He stopped before the microphone, smiled politely to the host. He was about to sing the first note when it hit him suddenly, “Here I am… It’s me… oh, my… it’s me! Here I’m standing before the Universe and it’s all me! Every big and small thing is me! Every note and every breath is me! It’s me!”
He beamed at the people in the hall and sang the first note.
The End