Second Time Around Read online

  “Second Time Around”

  An M/M Gay Romance

  Max Hudson

  © 2020

  Max Hudson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.

  Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images and are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2020.09.02)

  http://www.maxhudsonauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: E.W. Gregg, Bob, RB, Big Kid, Jennie O., and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter On

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter On

  Bowie straightened the fingerless gloves that he wore with his stage costume. It always felt more like reality when he wore these clothes, so he wore them sometimes when he wasn’t performing. People had teased him about being a bit too far into the character, but the truth was that this character was who he was. It was how he felt the most comfortable and the most human. He couldn’t do much of that when he drove food deliveries as a side gig to make just enough to pay the bills.

  The music didn’t quite do that for him. It made most of his living, but not enough to live comfortably. Which was more than most musicians could hope for in reality. The punk band had never quite made it big enough to turn it into a living, but it was enough to give them some regional touring and getting some decent sized gigs. Nothing fancy, but enough to get them through the next day.

  His band had just over a hundred thousand subscribers on their streamed videos, some patrons through other sights, but most of that money went into maintaining the band and the small van that they used to transport themselves to shows.

  But he was about to go and speak to someone on his local morning news. A small interview that could give his band a little more of the publicity that they needed. And they were trying to break the ceiling that they had been fighting to for years now. They were good, had a small following, but it wasn’t enough to fully support themselves. And there had to be a better way other than just hoping that people spotted their advertisements on various websites, clicked through and liked their videos enough to keep watching the ads that help support the music videos.

  He was nervous. This was the first time he would be featured on the news, and it was exciting and terrifying all at once. He could feel his heart thudding in his ears. He had to do this right. He had to make the right choices.

  He couldn’t spend too long fussing over his appearance. He had to go and get to the set for his interview. Still, the mirror called to him. He checked his eyeliner and the way he had styled his hair, the careful effort he had put into making it look tousled.

  After a moment he checked his roots. He didn’t need to dye it again. That was good. He wasn’t expecting to need to do that, but it was something that bothered him suddenly. The fear of making a fool of himself on the screen. The bathroom of the one-bedroom apartment was small, so he couldn’t stand back and get a full-body view of himself so he walked into the bedroom to take a look at the whole picture.

  He looked good. He thought so at least. And his fans seemed to like this style. Which was a good thing because it was uniquely him. He had developed this all on his own, his image, something that he liked to wear with some upgrades.

  He didn’t play music in the car because he had a habit of dancing behind the wheel and he couldn’t risk messing up his hair.

  He shouldn’t have been so worried. There was a woman there who showed him into a hair and makeup room. Someone there to make sure he was in good shape before he went onto the air. He was there with both of the anchors.

  “You nervous?” The young blonde woman who looked like every other female news anchor in existence smiled at him. She seemed like a nice enough person on the screen. It was nice to see that translate to real life.

  “A little bit, yeah.” He nodded.

  “No need to worry about it.” The handsome dark-haired man smiled across the room as a woman powdered his nose. He seemed arrogant. It must have just been the way he carried himself because his words were nice enough. “Everyone’s a little nervous their first time. You’re going to do just fine.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot.”

  The woman nodded along. “Just act naturally and I’m sure everyone is going to love you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Bowie nodded and got tsked at by the make-up artist.

  “She can get a little testy, try not to cross her.”

  “I’m not testy.” The make-up artist frowned. “I’m just good at my job and I don’t want you guys to ruin it.”

  The blonde morning show anchor whispered in his direction, taking care not to move her mouth too much. “I just got your album. I loved it.”

  “Really?” Bowie was taken by surprise.

  “Yeah, I heard you guys a couple of years ago and I liked what you guys had to say.”

  He laughed a little. “Never pegged you for a listener.”

  “Guess I had a different style before I had to put on the television face.” He offered her a kind smile. “I hear you write all the songs for your band, is that true?”

  “Yeah, it is. Well most of them. We’ve got a couple of other members who have started to try their hand at writing now. So that’s a little different.”

  “Good kind of different, I hope?” The blonde leaned back in the makeup chair as the makeup artist started to work on blending the powder on the anchor’s face.

  “Yeah, I like working with them. Working in a group at this sort of thing is just so nice and refreshing.” Bowie smiled as the woman working on him started to work on his hair, getting it all put together so that he looked nice on camera. His head felt stiff from all the spray and other product that was caked in his hair. He usually used a lot, but this was a lot more than normal. He didn’t question it because this woman probably knew more than him about it. “They’re pretty solid guys.”

  “It’s sad that they couldn’t make it to this interview.” The anchor smiled at him.

  “Yeah, I guess so. They
just didn’t think they’d do very good in an interview, so I drew the short straw.”

  The blonde woman in the chair next to him laughed. “I guess that makes sense. Did you get picked because the lead singer is always the guy in the front anyway?”

  “Yeah, probably.” He shrugged. “Or I was just the last person to step back.”

  She laughed again and her make up person scolded her. “Watch it. Don’t smile too wide.”

  “Right, forgot about that.”

  The male anchor leaned over the arm of the chair he was in. “She always likes to chat and sometimes that gets her into trouble.”

  “It means I have to start again.” The makeup artist frowned. “And we only have so much time.”

  “Sorry.” The female anchor frowned.

  “Now she’s frowning.” The make-up artist rubbed her forehead.

  “It’s fine. I’m sure you’re damn good at your job.” Bowie looked over. “She looks great anyway.” He threw out the compliment. She wasn’t his type, but he could appreciate someone who had put a lot of work into being what was considered traditionally pretty, likely because it was what her job required.

  “The camera is different.” The make-up artist looked like she was more than a little grumpy. He wondered if this was normal operating procedure here. Glancing at the other two people in the room with them it felt like they were used to this by now.

  “Is that why everything is so heavy?” Bowie tested the makeup on his face, shifting his muscles, smiling then frowning. It felt heavy like he couldn’t fully emote with it all caked on. “I can’t believe you guys use so much.”

  “You don’t use a lot of make-up, do you?” The artist asked.

  “Not really, Nah. Why would I?”

  “Because stage lights can drown out your natural skin tone.”

  “What?” Bowie looked at the artist. “Really?”

  The woman with the palate of colored powders nodded while she worked on fixing the messed-up make-up on the female anchor’s face. “Yeah.”

  “Huh, maybe I should look into being able to do make-up.” He laughed. “Seems a little silly.”

  “Most people on stage or screen have make-up.” The artist shrugged.

  “Not sure we could swing an artist for all of our shows.”

  “There are plenty of tutorials that would help you do them yourself.” The female anchor added to the conversation.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Bowie nodded.

  The artist of the hour grumped at him once again. “Stay still. I’ll get to finish you up in just a second.”

  “Sorry.” Bowie winced in response.

  “It’s okay. You’re not used to it. These two have no excuses.” She pointed at the two anchors.

  Bowie laughed, but he tried to do it with his mouth as still as possible. It just ended up sounding ridiculous.

  A stagehand stuck his head into the room. “We’ve got five minutes till showtime.”

  “That’s not enough time.” The makeup woman frowned.

  “You say that every morning, but somehow you get it done.” The stagehand countered.

  “That’s a lot of faith that you have in me.” She shook her head and got herself to work on the product that would be seen by a couple of million people in the area.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You always come through.” The guy in the headset winked at the makeup artist. She blushed.

  Bowie fought back a smile. The two were a couple. And that was one of the sweetest things that he had seen in a while. He was more than impressed by it.

  But there wasn’t enough time to ponder over the romantic entanglements of others. He was being called to the stage soon and he would have to be ready. He had prepared for this. They had sent him the type of questions that they might ask him about his music and career.

  He was as ready as he could be. It was just time to wait for him to be called out. It wouldn’t be long. He was supposed to speak to the anchors for a bit then participate in some sort of cooking segment where he shared his mother’s recipe for mofongo. It was something that he had enjoyed as a child, a little piece of the home that he had never really lived in.

  He drew in a breath to steady his nerves. It was almost time for him to walk up on the stage and meet with the two anchors who were happy to have him on the show. He remained a local celebrity, but this was a local show, so the levels that they were at matched well enough.

  But it was still nerve-wracking. It was scary to face the cameras.

  He chided himself. He had been on camera before. He had done music videos, videos that they had produced for online audiences that they had made from the money that their band had gotten from various sources.

  It was getting easier to get paid for their art, various platforms had allowed their fans to directly donate to them and keep the band going. It had allowed them to quit their full-time jobs, and he was grateful for that.

  He twitched a little as he waited to be called.

  And there it was, his time to be called. He was waved to walk out to the third chair on the stage. It was his time to work his charisma and hope that it showed through the television as it was put into a bunch of living rooms in the area.

  “I’d like you all to welcome Bowie Fiske, lead singer of the local band Heavy Lead.”

  Bowie smiled. “Thank you for having me.”

  “Have a seat.” The blonde anchor waved him to his seat. “It’s nice to have you here. We don’t have musical guests often.”

  “Well, I’m not here to play music today, but I’m here to help cook something that my mother taught me how to cook.” Bowie offered a smile.

  “So, I heard, it’s a pleasure to see your cooking, it’s not something that most people would expect from you.”

  Bowie laughed. “Even rock and roll can have space to rock in the kitchen as much as we do on the stage.”

  The blonde anchor tittered in amusement to what he was saying. He had a sudden thought that perhaps she was flirting with him, at least slightly, but the thought hit him that it was her job to flatter the guests. The thought of that made him a little uncomfortable. Maybe he should have said something about that, but maybe this wasn’t the right time, right there on the airways.

  He frowned slightly, then recovered so that he could keep a happy look on his face. He had the chance to reach new fans, he could speak against the sexism in local news at a later date. When he had more of a platform to speak about it and had more people to hear what he had to say.

  The interview continued. The entire thing felt inane and he felt a little fake going through it. Like he couldn’t be real when he was there. Maybe it was just the nature of the format. But maybe the format was wrong for that. He couldn’t make that call at that moment, but he would ponder on it for a while, debate what was right and what was wrong with himself and his bandmates. They were all people who cared about stuff like that, it was one of the reasons they had come together and created the music that they had.

  Chapter Two

  “You know that they say that there’s a hero that can save us?” The woman smirked as she poked her head into the door to the small room in the back of the theatre.

  The man sitting there with ice on his knee rolled his eyes. She liked to make little puns like this. He hadn’t expected to “You’re kidding, right?”

  She laughed as she bounced into the room. The small woman looked incredibly happy with herself. He didn’t know how she could spend so much time pleased with herself. “Nope. How are you feeling?”

  “Well enough to perform. Just trying to rest it when I can.” Hero pulled the ice off of his knee and let the joint warm up so it would be less stiff when he got out there and had to haul people around the stage. “And stop making fun of my name.”

  “Ah, I think it’s cute.” She poked her fun at him, amusement sparkling in her eyes. They were old friends, having worked together since they were both very young and in the business. It’s tough to find someone like that
in the entertainment industry. And if you did, they often became like a brother or sister. And that’s how they felt about each other.

  Hero scoffed. “Cute?”

  “Yeah, cute.” She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m an old married woman. I’m allowed to call young men cute.”

  “I’m not much younger than you.”

  “I’m still too old for this lead.” She smirked. “You’re not.”

  Hero rolled his eyes. “You’re one of the best in the business. Idiots think you’re too old for this.”

  “Says the man that’s getting hurt more and more often.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” He shook his head.

  “You sure you’re going to be all right?” She had a trace of concern behind her eyes. It made him hate the sight of it. He didn’t like being pitied for the condition that he was in.

  “Yeah, I’ll make it just fine.” He forced a smile so she wouldn’t think it was worse than it was. But it still hurt. He could feel it. He knew what she was talking about, being old. He was starting to feel the wear and tear on his body the same as she was. This was a hard business that could destroy someone’s body.

  She nodded. “Good.”

  He sighed. “All right. I guess I need to get up and get moving now, right?”

  “Right, gotta get on those feet. We’ve got a show in a couple of minutes and you’re the male lead.”

  “I know what part I have.” The man grumped at her.

  She laughed. “Poor Hero.”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed a little bit. “Would be nice if I wasn’t called the hero in the show.”

  “But your name fits the role so well.” The young woman was pretty, the type of girl that could be easily lifted over his head. And that was definitely what he did with her. She was the female lead in the ballet that they were going to be performing in. She was strong, but she was also a female dancer, which meant most of the time she was lifted and he had to lift her safely.