Baby's on Fire by A. F. Henley

Author:A. F. Henley [Henley, A. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance, Contemporary
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2015-05-03T04:00:00+00:00

October 1974

The bedroom should have been silent, but the bass from below echoed through the floor, and the sounds of people never stopped. A particularly high shriek prefaced a round of laughter, and Gerry yanked the pillow from under him and shoved it over his head. He'd been there at the party, but how these people managed to work all day and party all night with what seemed to be mere moments of rest between was beyond him.

They'd spent the last four weeks touring, which in itself was a never-ending party, and Gerry was exhausted. Opportunities for sleep hadn't been easy to find since they'd landed in Santa Monica, either. Even for California, the weather was unseasonably warm, jumping from the normal range highs in the low seventies on their arrival to an unbearable ninety-two, where it sat at present. Even with both an overhead fan and another box fan beside the bed, Gerry was convinced he was going to simply melt away. And the music—the music he loved so very much, that he'd have sworn three months prior he could never get enough of—was driving him insane. Gerry was terrified that at any moment he was going to lose it, rush the stairs, and start ranting about "turning that crap down" and "giving him a damn moment of peace and quiet." Only four months on his own and he was turning into his father.

He sighed a long breath into the pillow and mentally kicked himself. He was being a baby—a whiny, pouty, cranky little infant. He didn't hate the music any more than he hated the people. He was just tired. It was hard to be 'on' all the time, and Mark was doing so damn well that there was no place they went where they could just fade into the background and enjoy a moment of peace. Literally: bathrooms, churches, government buildings. No place was free of journalists and photographers. Do something funny, do something cute; kiss, smile, show us some teeth. It was as exhausting as the traveling was.

A cork popped, shouts followed and then the sound of breaking glass, which was, apparently, hilarious to everyone present. Gerry growled his frustration and threw his pillow across the room. It wasn't like it was helping keep the noise at bay, anyway. It bounced off the wall at the same time that the door cracked open. Light spilled from the hallway, and Gerry flung his arm over his face and glared at the opening from underneath it.

Mark leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. He wore gold satin pants that matched the natural blond of his hair, and there was nothing but skin from the waist up. With the light haloing Mark's silhouette, Gerry couldn't help but think of the solar eclipse from one of the summers of his childhood. It had been July, in the early sixties, and the three of them—him, Angie and Cliff—had been up in Maine, visiting their grandparents and giving their parents what his grandmother had called "some much needed grownup time.

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