Double Rolled Read online

  At this point, if the recording booth sunk into itself, I’d be completely fine with it. What kind of music did this room have to endure during the entire months that I was gone?

  Maybe I should ask Miguel if he needs therapy. This is torture. The poor guy.

  When we get to the sixth CD, we’re beyond exhausted. I’m not even willing to play another song. But this is the job. And I’ll regret it if one day I go through this pile of shit just to find out there was one gem amongst the trash that we just didn’t get to.

  I’m just hoping there’s something here that’s actually worth our time.

  The CD is ejected. Once. Twice. Miguel reaches for it and checks for scratches.

  “It’s clean. Should I just throw it away?”

  “No, maybe the system’s also giving up on the auditions.”

  This makes Miguel laugh, “Alright. One more try, but if it spits it out again I’m throwing it away.”

  “Maybe that’s for the better.” I chuckle.

  I insert it again, and this time, it starts playing. Miguel and I exchange looks.

  Are we dreaming or is this one actually not bad?

  Both of us sit up straight and listen closer. Her voice is amazing. Granted, the lyrics aren’t all that catchy but there’s something about how raw it is that draws you into it. I don’t even have to say anything because Miguel’s already checking the CD case for information on who sent it in.

  We might disagree on a lot of things, but this time I think we’re actually on the same wavelength. This is the one we’ve been looking for.

  Tristan

  “I don’t know about this place, Caleb. It’s trying too hard to be good that it’s really just tacky. I mean...are those velvet curtains? Really? Against lime green walls?” I mumble to Caleb as I take a seat.

  To this, he just shrugs. I hate it when he does that. Caleb’s the type of guy who actually trusts online reviews—especially from Yelp. You’d think after trying out bad restaurants with good reviews online he’d learn to ease a little bit on trusting them as a valid source, but you’d be wrong. In fact, it would seem like Caleb has made it his life’s mission to prove those stupid Yelp reviews to be the epitome of truth.

  And as luck would have it, he insists that I join him every single time he explores a new restaurant in the city—despite my protests.

  A waiter comes by swiftly and hands us each a copy of the menu. Caleb doesn’t even bother reading, he already knows what he wants. While the waiter pours wine into our glasses as I gloss over the menu.

  “I’ll have the lobster Thermidor,” Caleb tells the waiter.

  I sigh and hand the waiter my menu, “I’ll have the Caesar salad.”

  The waiter leans in with a grin, “with or without the knives?”

  Caleb laughs out loud at his pun while I glare at him. I turn my head to face the waiter and fake a smile, “try and give me a knife to see what happens.”

  The waiter’s smile quickly turns into a frown, he nods and takes Caleb’s menu before leaving.

  “Lighten up, Tristan,” Caleb says as he takes a sip of the wine, “Maybe if you stopped your diet you wouldn’t be so cranky all the time.”

  “I can’t just stop,” I cross my arms over my chest, “It’s my job to look good. I’m already out of shape because you keep taking me out to eat. Why don’t we do something else? Maybe stay at home and watch something?”

  “You’re not out of shape.”

  “Last night, I could only do fifty sit-ups. Fifty! That’s not enough to make a dent on these flabs!”

  He rolls his eyes, “Your flabs are non-existent. Besides, I like taking you out to these places. I want to show you off.”

  I can’t help but blush after he says that. Caleb is dense when it comes to other people’s feelings, but that just makes his compliments mean so much more. He’s not saying it to make people feel better, he says them because for him...it’s the truth.

  “So,” clearing my throat, I change the subject, “how was work?”

  Caleb makes a gesture with his hand, “So-so,” he sighs before continuing, “we were scouting for new talents. I mean, I say that...but we were really just going through audition CDs.”

  “I’m guessing from the way you said that that scouting for new artists did not go well.”

  He shrugs, “It was...disappointing. I mean, they were less than okay. But there was one that stood out—and not just because the others were so bad that a mediocre talent was a miracle. She was really good.”

  “Well, one is better than nothing,” As soon as I say this, the waiter comes to our table and places our meals in front of us.

  Caleb eats a forkful of the lobster before turning his attention back to me, “What about you? How was work?”

  I smirk and gulp down the entire glass of wine. Caleb almost chokes as I do. I don’t usually get drunk, but I figure today’s a good day for me.

  “Whew!” Setting down my glass on the table, I gesture for the waiter to pour me another one, “Today, I finally had that photoshoot with Tommy Hilfiger. I’ve been so nervous about it for such a long time. But when I was there...man, I just demolished that shoot!”

  “I told you so,” he says in between bites, “You’ve always been good at what you do. You just get too worried about things, Tristan. I wish you trusted yourself more.”

  Smiling, I take a sip of my second glass of wine. As we’re eating, piano music starts to flood the place. It’s a cover of ‘All of Me’ by John Legend. I didn’t even realize I had stopped eating until I heard the clinking of Caleb’s utensils. I blink several times, finally coming back to my senses. Caleb has put down his fork, clearly enamored by the singer.

  He opens his mouth to speak but closes it without saying anything a moment later.

  “It’s a tacky song, but…she’s good, isn’t she?” I smile and turn to find the source of this beautiful voice.

  Caleb merely nods in response. He looks like he’s discovered a new planet. I shake my head, chuckling.

  “She...sounds familiar,” he picks up his fork but doesn’t start eating just yet, “So eerily familiar. Maybe...she auditioned?”

  “Oh?” I turn to look at the pianist. She’s pretty cute. Something’s up with her though, I can’t place what it is exactly. I feel like I know her. Maybe she’s a part-time model?

  “Agh...I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just been too caught up with work that everything sounds the same,” he starts eating again, “Still, I should get her contact information, just in case. Or leave my business card on her piano before her shift ends.”

  “Isn’t that rude? She has a job, Caleb.” I say as I eat some of the lettuce off my salad. The dressing isn’t very good.

  He shrugs again. How many times has he shrugged tonight? Work must be really bad.

  When he doesn’t talk, I take the reins of the conversation.

  “I think she’s familiar too.”

  “Wait, what?”

  That caught his attention.

  “She looks like one of our ventures, if you know what I mean,” I catch a glimpse of her using my phone’s front camera, “Actually...she looks like that one odd encounter we had. The interesting case.”

  “You talk about it like it’s some sort of game,” he laughs.

  “What else could it be?” I lock my phone and put it on the table, “It’s not like we treat any of them seriously.”

  The song ends, and some people around the restaurant clap their hands before going back to their meal. Moments later, a new song begins. This time, it’s a Sam Smith song, I can only remember because it’s been on the radio for months now.

  That aside, it’s amazing how her voice sounds if there were an image to go with it, I’d go with honey trickling down from someone’s lips.

  Maybe I’m just horny.

  Now both of us are listening to her, but I bet it’s for different reasons.

  Caleb’s trying to assess whether or not she’s the one who sent in an audi
tion CD and I’m just trying to figure out if she is the woman we met back when we were having our escapades.

  I tug at the cuffs of my suit and stare at Caleb as he’s listening intently to her. His lobster thermidor is probably cold now. There’s a crease forming between his brows. I don’t think he knows how hot he looks when he’s focused—he probably won’t believe me even if I tell him.

  He leans into his chair and licks his soft, plump lips. This small, seemingly insignificant act leads me to get lost in the sight of him. If I could, I’d kiss him right now. I bet the press would just love that.

  It’d be in the headlines tomorrow. People love to spread around juicy gossip when it comes to politicians and their relatives so of course, they’d flock like flies towards a story like this.

  I can already imagine how my dad, a well-known conservative senator, will react to this. He’ll be fuming. Might even resort to killing me so he’ll get pity votes for the next election. I know he’s been dying to get up the ladder.

  A dead wife and a dead gay son? Hell, he’d win the presidency if he wished.

  If he knew I’d been sleeping with Caleb—more so, that we’ve been hiring women to sleep with us—he’d be the first to crucify and burn me.

  As far as my father knows, I’m a humble, straight man who occasionally sleeps with the models I work with. He already belittles me for my line of work, so I don’t think telling him that I sleep with men will do me any favors.

  Also, if you ask me, sleeping with other models is unhealthy and unprofessional. We’re all busy. No one has time to get to know each other. It’s better to look for someone to sleep with outside of our circle.

  But...that’s not what you wanted to know.

  I’m sure you’re more curious about what Caleb and I mean when we said that this pianist was someone we had met before.

  I’m right, aren’t I?

  And yes, I’m talking to you. The reader. Amazing how I can break the fourth wall like this. It’s like...what can’t I do?

  Very meta.

  You wish every book would do this, and that every character had a sense of being—like yours truly.

  I’m getting off-topic now. However, I do know that you’re interested in what I have to say.

  Anyway, this is cliché as hell...but here goes.

  I’m going to tell you the story of what happened many, many nights ago.

  This is the part where you turn the page and read the flashback.

  Caleb

  Neon lights illuminate the bar in an alluring blue glow. Around us, several people are hunched over the bar with their drinks in hand. Tristan and I have been in here for over an hour now, but we haven’t even finished the first pair of drinks that we ordered.

  My eyes travel to his hands, and I see that he’s peeling off the label of the beer he’s holding. I look at the drink in my own hand, sweat from the cold whiskey is trickling down the glass and onto the coaster.

  Two years ago, Tristan and I met at a charity benefit ball. I was into classical instruments at the time, so it just so happened that the college orchestra I was in was hired by Senator Quincy Crawford, who just so happens to be Tristan’s father.

  At that time, I thought Tristan was a snob. Our eyes made contact just once that night, and I was certain that he thought that I was lowly compared to him.

  It wasn’t until we met again, a week later, that my assumptions were proven wrong.

  Tristan Crawford stood in front of me in the library one morning, towering over me with his height of six foot six. The gleam from his sharp green eyes captivating my dull, almost black orbs; I could have sworn that he breathed new color into them.

  It was there that Tristan swept his platinum blond hair back and asked if I could move to the side, as I was in the way.

  Of course, I didn’t hesitate to make way. If someone like Tristan asks anyone if they want to jump into the dumpsters, they’d gladly do so. He has that kind of charm. He’s as irresistible as he is mysterious. The people in our year always talked about him while I paid no mind to it. I had no time for gossip. I simply wanted to pursue a career in music and make money off of it.

  But that night at the charity benefit ball sparked something in me that I didn’t even know existed. It was only made clearer when I bumped into him in the library. So when I bumped into him again on the way to my next class, I asked him out.

  I really didn’t expect him to say yes. All I wanted was to end my infatuation and for things to go back to how they were before.

  Tristan was causing panic in my brain. I had never felt anything that intense even with my previous relationships. The solution I came across was that I had to extinguish the fire before it burned more of myself out. Instead, Tristan agreed to date me.

  And now we’ve been together for two years. Surprisingly, there hasn’t been anything huge that we’ve fought about other than the fact that we don’t have a label.

  We agreed to have an open relationship, but I can’t deny that I have feelings for him that would suggest I’m not as keen towards the idea of sharing him with others as I’ve to lead him to believe.

  It’s just that...now that we’ve gone this far into the relationship, I’m not sure how to tell him I want more. Tristan seems to be content with the way things are. And I’m afraid he’ll view me as a nuisance if I try too hard to cling onto him.

  What if I tell him about all that I’ve been thinking about and then he starts to distance himself from me? I’m not even completely sure he’s seeing anyone else. We didn’t really specify if we’re free to date other people. Of course, an open relationship would imply that we are. Still, don’t people usually tell each other if they’re seeing other people? Even if it was an open relationship? Or did I just completely misunderstand how open relationships work?

  “—wrong? Caleb?”

  Tristan’s voice yanks me away from my thoughts. How long was I daydreaming?

  My eyes fall to my drink. I must have been blank for a long time since my drink is all watered down from the ice melting. Wiping some of the sweat off from the glass, I realize that I don’t even like whiskey all that much.

  “Hey,” I feel him place his hand on my shoulder, “I asked if anything was wrong. You’ve been pretty out of it tonight. Should we cancel?”

  I gulp down what’s left of my drink and make a face. Watered down alcohol is the worst.

  “No. I’m okay. I was just thinking of something.”

  “What is it? Work?” He folds his arms over his chest, frowning, “It better not be about work, Caleb. I swear, you always go on about work right before we do this. If you think it turns me on, you’re wrong. For your information, talking about work doesn’t turn anyone on.”

  I wave a hand off, “No. Not work. It doesn’t matter,” deciding to change the subject, I give a nod towards his phone, “Did she reply yet?”

  It works. Tristan lets the topic go almost immediately. I’m lucky he’s easy to distract.

  “Not yet. I was actually thinking if we should take her there.” A smile grows on his lips as he says this. He’s obviously invested quite a bit of interest in this girl.

  I blink twice, “There? Is she really interesting? We only bring the best of the best to the penthouse.”

  “I mean, we have all the fun toys there. It would be a waste if we didn’t make use of it,” he licks his lips, “our standards are surprisingly high, so we haven’t really utilized the place as much as I thought we would.”

  “What does this girl look like again?” I lean closer to him to see the picture on his phone, his musky smell fogs my mind. Sometimes, I wonder if he knows his effect on people.

  He probably does.

  Tristan tilts his phone so that the screen’s facing me. The woman looks sultry and fierce, exactly the type that Tristan likes. But there’s something about her that pulls me in. I just can’t place what it is.

  “Judging from your silence, I take it that you’re speechless at her beauty,” Trist
an remarks, when my eyes make contact with his, I notice that his lips have formed into a smirk.

  I roll my eyes and shrug, not wanting to admit he’s right, “She looks gorgeous, but is she really worth the penthouse? At most I’d just book a hotel room.”

  “Nonsense. We have to see her full potential, and the penthouse is the way to go.” He scrolls through her profile before asking me, “Do you not find her the least bit interesting? That’s a shock. On a normal night, you’d find even plywood interesting.”

  Her looks definitely call out to me. And there’s nothing bad about her profile. I guess I’m just too preoccupied with my thoughts earlier that I’m uninterested in the women whose profiles we’re going through. I force a smile.

  “Never said she wasn’t interesting. I just asked if she was interesting enough for the penthouse.”

  Tristan sighs before saying, “Caleb. If I say she’s good enough, then she is.”

  I can’t help but smile. He’s always been so confident in his skill of judging people. And since most of the time he’s right, I decide to just go with it. I mean, if she’s not interesting, then we waste just a night of our lives. It’s not like there are bigger stakes at risk.

  “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but if it’s work, then we could always reschedule. You’re seriously killing my mood here.” He adds.

  Biting my inner cheek, I force a bigger smile.

  “I’m fine. You’re right. Work is stupid, and tonight I should just have fun.”

  It’s not like I can ask him if the two of us could be enough for tonight. That’ll just ruin the mood even more.

  Tristan’s shoulders sag with relief, and he messages the location of the penthouse to the girl, “Atta boy! I knew you had it in you!” He leans in closer, “And later, to lift your spirits up, I’ll have something else inside of you.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks after he says this, “Oh really? I’m looking forward to it.”