Photographing Memory: A Friends To Lovers Romance Read online

  Serving staff distributed champagne, took other drink orders, and passed hors d’oeuvres in their usual relaxed fashion. Jordan loved Zeppelin’s. They were a Cambridge institution, but they never got stale or old-fashioned.

  He’d dreamed of hosting an opening here ever since he’d been aware that art was something he could get paid for. It wasn’t the apex of his career, by any stretch of the imagination; he still wanted to see his work in the MFA, and in some of the big galleries downtown and in New York.

  All the same, Zeppelin’s was an important milestone for him, and he was happy to be here for it.

  One of the friends who showed up to help was his buddy Devon Pierce. Devon was a chef at one of the snootier restaurants downtown. Jordan always found it hilarious that Devon worked at a place like that, serving up elaborate meals for wealthy elitists, when he was working so hard in his off hours to try to even the playing field.

  As the evening wore on, Devon mingled with the less wealthy potential customers to make sales. He’d already sold ten pieces that way, three paintings and seven prints. Devon could be incredibly persuasive when he put his mind to it. Jordan would have to remember to give him a commission.

  Jordan’s whole job tonight was to be visible and accessible, and he tried to focus on doing exactly that. He answered questions from fans, customers, and reporters. He talked about his work and his influences.

  The questions all ran together after a while, but he kept a smile on his face and answered them for three straight hours. It wasn’t his favorite part of the game, but it was what he had to do to make it to his goal, and Jordan was damn good at it.

  He only knew it was over when restaurant staff gave the subtle hint of clearing the food and drink away. They helped move his inventory out to the car, too.

  Guests took the hint, moving downstairs to hit the bar or get full meals. Jordan and Devon did their part to help clean up, and that was it. They headed downstairs to get beer and dinner for themselves, and only then did everything catch up with Jordan.

  He was exhausted.

  He slumped in his chair and looked over at Devon. “I didn’t think my feet could hurt this much. Or my back. Why does my back hurt? I wasn’t lifting or carrying anything.”

  Devon chuckled. “You’re not used to being on your feet. And if you’d asked me ahead of time, I’d have told you the truth. You should have worn more comfortable shoes than that.”

  Jordan stuck his tongue out at his friend. “I’m on my feet all the time! Whenever we go to a protest or do more direct action, what do you think I’m doing? I’m not exactly sitting on my ass.”

  Devon smirked. “Except when it’s a sit-in. And when you do march or protest, you wear more sensible shoes. Fashion isn’t exactly important when you’re on your feet. Why do you think even TV chefs wear crocs?”

  “You don’t wear crocs, even on the job.” Jordan crossed his arms over his chest.

  “You’re right. I wear sneakers.” Devon gave him a look. “Because I’m on my feet for eight to twelve hours, or more. Trust me, you learn quickly. It’s different when you’re standing, or moving just a little bit, than when you’re marching around.” He raised his beer in a kind of toast. “So. Did you have fun?”

  Jordan’s cheeks blazed. “I did, actually. I had a lot of fun. And so far it looks like we did okay, too. We got plenty of people for the mailing list, which is good.”

  “Right?” Devon grinned and leaned back. Then he jumped a little and reached for his pocket. “Who the hell is emailing me?”

  He pulled out his phone and checked it, grinning at the screen. “Awesome news!”

  Their server delivered their food, a veggie burger for Jordan and a regular burger for Devon. “What’s going on?” Jordan said as he picked up his veggie burger. Not many places made them as good as they did here. A lot of places made them so crumbly they might as well just call them a dry bean stew and have done with it.

  “The City of Boston divested all of their assets from institutions with ties to the Dakota Access Pipeline!” Devon held up his hand for a high five. “This is incredible! I’m so excited!”

  Jordan slapped hands with his friend. “That’s amazing! When did we protest there — only a couple of days ago, right?”

  “Right! And the mayor cited our protest as a big part of the reason they decided to divest. We brought their attention to the problem, and to the spills that the company’s been having all the way down their pipelines.

  “If it weren’t for us, they’d never have pulled out. We did it — our work, our energy.” Devon’s smile was bright and inspiring. “I can’t believe how good this feels.”

  Jordan laughed out loud, joy bursting from inside of him like bubbles. “Are you kidding me? This is the most amazing news ever. First Boston, next the world.”

  Devon clapped his hands once. “Small steps, bro. Small steps. Next is Harvard. Their endowment has invested pretty heavily in the pipeline. I’ll throw it up in front of the committee — actually, why don’t you bring it up to them?”

  Jordan frowned and put his burger down. “Me? Why not you? It was your idea.”

  Devon shook his head. “I don’t want to get drawn too into that committee, you know? I’m a believer. You know I’m a believer. I’m just — I have a finite number of hours in a week, and my job is very demanding, physically.

  “I need to conserve my energy for the things that have more of an impact on me personally, you know? I believe in stopping the DAPL, but given a choice between stopping that, and fighting deportation of the guys I know and work with…”

  Jordan nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, I get it. There’s only so many hours in the day, and not all of us have flexible work schedules.”

  He could get why Devon couldn’t be at everything. For all the idealism of hoping everyone could make it to every organizing meeting and every planning session, for every action in Boston, Jordan understood how fortunate he was. His job was flexible, and he didn’t answer to anyone.

  He didn’t have to have a day job. He didn’t have to worry about being too sore, or too beat up, to show up to work the next day.

  “I’m still totally giving you credit,” he told Devon. “It was your idea, and you deserve recognition, man. I know there’s been some snobbery here and there, and it’s good for people to know you don’t have to have a PhD in public policy to have good ideas.”

  Devon smirked and sipped from his beer. “Yeah, well, if we had PhDs in public policy we’d probably have jobs that paid better, am I right?”

  Then he chuckled. “Who am I kidding? I’m so not cut out for academia.”

  He shook his head. “Books are fine for leisure, but as soon as someone tries to force me to read something and then test me on it, I break out in hives. No joke, you should have seen me during my Serv-Safe certification exam. I had to have a whole bottle of Benadryl right there.”

  “Cute.” Jordan snorted and went back to his burger. “So what’ve you got going on this weekend? Are you coming to the Abolish ICE rally?”

  “I’ll be there for a while early on, but weekends are kind of problematic for most of us in food service. It’s hard, you know? But I can’t imagine doing anything else.” He tossed a fry up into the air and caught it in his mouth. “Now you, on the other hand — you have no such excuse for sitting around all lonely.”

  Jordan’s face got hot, and he knew he had to be blushing as red as a fire truck. “Ah, come on, Dev. My schedule is so packed I don’t have time to date. I mean, it’s a nice enough thought, and it would be nice to have someone to share the highs and lows with and all that stuff.

  “But I can’t imagine the guy who’d willingly deal with me being too busy to meet up half the time. ‘Oooh, sorry, Bill, I have to bail on our date tonight. I just got arrested protesting outside Charles River Bank; can you maybe call my lawyer for me, since I only get one phone call?”

  Devon chortled at that. “Cute. But as it happens, I migh
t have found the perfect guy for you.”

  Jordan wrinkled his nose. Everyone thought they knew the “perfect guy” for someone else. “If he’s so perfect, why aren’t you dating him?”

  Devon huffed out a laugh. “Because he’s my roommate, doofus. That would just get weird, don’t you think? That’s just bad form.”

  “You have a point.” Jordan scratched his head. He hadn’t met any of Devon’s housemates yet, even though he’d been to the house plenty of times. Devon rented a room in a house in Allston.

  The landlord had designated the house to be rented out only to gay men, because he’d had so much trouble finding housing when he’d been a young gay man. Rent wasn’t bad, for the area, but Jordan still couldn’t imagine living with a bunch of strangers out in Party Central. “So what is it about this guy you think makes him so perfect for me?”

  “Well, for one thing, he’s not going to mind how busy you are. He’ll give you a run for your money in that department. He works all the hours God sends, and then he works some more.”

  Devon shook his head. “The guy’s not exactly a workaholic, but he lives like one. But it’s not like you’re any better, right?”

  “I’m not a workaholic.” Jordan scowled. “I’m responsible. I’m fighting to make the world a better place.”

  He squirmed in his chair and toyed with his napkin. “Okay, maybe I could afford to take a little more time away from organizing. I don’t know if I should, though, with the way the world is going these days.”

  “Trust me. The dumpster fire will keep raging without you.” Devon put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “You and Alex really are perfect for each other. What kind of world are you fighting for, if you’ve already forgotten what it’s like to enjoy a day or have a little fun? And he absolutely needs to spend some time enjoying life, instead of giving every minute to that damn company.”

  “Hm. You could be right.” Jordan scratched at his jaw. He still had the feeling like he was cheating on someone, but he was probably being ridiculous. He could have a few dates. His parents might look down their noses, but there was no shame in dating. It didn’t make him any less of an activist. “What’s he into?”

  “Work, mostly.” Devon laughed. “Sleeping when he’s not working. He’s got some books, but I haven’t been nosy.

  “I knew him when he was in college, and he studied a lot there, but he did some art here and there, too. Seriously, just meet him. I promise he’ll be just what you need.”

  Jordan still wasn’t sold. “What’s his name?”

  “Alex.”

  Jordan smiled softly at the name. “I used to know an Alex, once upon a time. He was a nice guy.”

  Jordan’s Alex had been more than nice, actually, but that had been approximately a billion years and three states ago. The likelihood that Devon’s Alex would be the Alex he’d known in middle school was less than zero, but the memory still made Jordan feel all soft inside.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll meet him. No promises, of course, but I’ll meet him.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll work with both of you to figure out a day and time that works, and we’ll take it from there.” Devon raised his beer again. “To new beginnings.”

  Jordan hardly thought it was a new beginning, but he joined in the toast anyway. He wondered what his Alex was doing now. Hopefully he was out there somewhere, doing something fabulous that made him happy. Alex deserved happiness.

  3

  Alex yawned and lurched into the house. Thank God, or whoever, for the weekend. Not that he’d had a weekend in a while, but these things were relative.

  He had Sunday off this week, and that was the important thing. He might even be able to pull off a half-day tomorrow, depending on how quickly he got through the reports he needed to run.

  All three of his housemates were hanging out in the living room when he stepped inside. Devon wore tight jeans and an even tighter shirt. Myles had dressed in all black, and had gone so far as to put on a little bit of lip gloss. And Jason was dressed in a button-down shirt so tailored it might have been painted on.

  “What the hell?” Alex rubbed his eyes.

  “It’s Friday.” Myles put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, while Devon just rolled his eyes and stalked off to the kitchen. “It’s Gay Night down at Buster’s.”

  “Yeah, come on.” Jason was all but bouncing in place as he spoke. “Let’s go already! It’s going to be epic. Think about it, Alex. Think about all the guys there, just looking for someone to meet.”

  Alex blinked at Jason as his vision blurred. God, he needed some sleep. “Yeah, you guys have fun. I’m sure it’ll be a blast.”

  Devon reappeared with a sandwich. Because it was Devon, the sandwich had to be artistically plated, with a parsley garnish and a pickle. It was still just turkey and cheese, but it looked like a million bucks.

  Alex’ stomach growled loudly, to tell him it was the best damn turkey sandwich in the history of Boston. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to find out just how much of a blast it will be, buddy,” Devon said. “You’re coming with us.”

  Alex paused in the middle of a bite. He started to reply, realized his words were too muffled by bread, cheese, and meat, and finished the bite before continuing. “Sorry. No, I can’t. Not tonight.”

  Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. “Told you.”

  Devon elbowed him. “Dude, quit it, would you?”

  He turned back to Alex. “Why can’t you come out tonight, man? I thought you admitted you were lonely. How do you think you’re going to solve this problem if you won’t get out there and meet someone?”

  Alex glowered at the ceiling. He’d get further by glaring at his friends, but they meant well. “The kind of guys you meet when you fall asleep in the corner of the club aren’t exactly keepers, Devon.”

  “Okay, valid.” Myles grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “But just toss back an energy drink and you’ll be good to go, man.

  “Come on, you’re only young once. Before you know it, you’ll be that creepy old guy hanging around in the back, with the too-short shorts and the bald head, grabbing at young guys’ butts because you’ve missed out on your chance to meet someone while you were young.”

  Jason gave Myles a sideways look. “Jeez. Ageist much?”

  He turned back to Alex. “I hate to admit it, but he’s got a small point. A very small one.

  “This is all time you can’t get back. I know you haven’t been dating much. Even in college, you were pretty focused — which I get, you had a scholarship and all that — but come on. Do you want to give all of your best years to a freaking bank?”

  “Especially that bank, man.” Devon sat down next to Alex and gave him a judgy look. “I mean, Charles River Bank is not going to appreciate the fact that you gave them your youth and your energy. They’re going to chew you up and spit you out, probably the day before your pension vests.”

  “Banks don’t offer pensions anymore,” Alex muttered, looking down at his sandwich. “They only really offer a 401K. But that’s not the important thing right now.

  “What’s important is the fact that this is all temporary, man. I just got this promotion. I can’t start slacking now, or I’ll be stuck at this level forever.

  “Worse, I’ll be the first one on the chopping block when it’s time for layoffs. I can’t afford that, especially not yet. When I’m more stable, when I have more savings built up, and more marketable experience and skills, then yeah, I can back off a little. Until then, I have to keep my nose to the grindstone.”

  Devon grimaced. “Have you ever seen a grindstone? Never mind used one?”

  “No. We don’t grind things in finance.” Alex took a bite of his sandwich.

  Devon patted his back. “Well, we do in culinary arts. It’s how we keep our knives sharp. Keep your face away from it. That’s just nasty.

  “Anyway, go upstairs and get changed. You don’t have to do much; just come out, have a good time, and remember you�
�re allowed to have some fun sometimes, would you?”

  Alex choked down the bit of sandwich he’d just taken. “Er, I really can’t go out tonight. It’s already after ten, and I have to go in tomorrow morning.”

  All three of Alex’s roommates gaped at him. “You have got to be kidding me,” Myles said, stepping back in disgust. “It’s a holiday weekend. Tomorrow is Saturday.

  “You’re not supposed to work on Saturday of Labor Day weekend. It’s … it’s Labor Day weekend, Alex. I know you’re from Texas and all, but there are some concepts that you just need to grasp.”

  Alex flipped him off. “Again with the Texas jokes. Cute. You’re the one with the cowboy hat.

  “Anyway, I was born in Ohio. And like I said, it’s not like I’m going to be working like this forever. It’s just until I’m in a position where a misstep won’t land me out on Comm Ave with my hand out.”

  Jason scoffed. “More like, it’s just until you collapse from a stroke at twenty-five.”

  “Then the bank has life insurance.” Alex tried not to show any concern. His mom had called to express concern about exactly that, but he hadn’t been able to say much then, either. She’d gotten him at work, and he’d been afraid someone might have been listening.

  “And my parents will be taken care of, so it won’t be a problem. Look, I appreciate the fact that you’re concerned, okay? But we’ve all got things we have to do.

  “And for me, the thing I have to do is work. I am planning to take Sunday off. Devon, you’ve already set me up with a blind date for Sunday, remember?”

  Jason did a double take and laughed. “You set Alex up with one of your buddies?” he said to Devon.

  “Yeah, so?” Devon glowered at Jason. “Jordan’s a nice guy. I think they’ll get along well.”

  “Oh, sure. They’ll get along just fine.” Jason laughed even harder. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Jordan’s going to take one look at his dress shirt and tie and reach for a lighter.”

  Alex sucked in his cheeks. Maybe letting Devon set him up with a blind date had been a bad idea. “Look. At least I’m trying, okay? That should take care of your worries about me being well-rounded enough.