Page 51 of Persuaded

Quinton waved the comment aside as he lit a cigarette. “Not profitably.” He blew out a satisfied ribbon of smoke. “I’m rather better at production than performance. But you... Wherehaveyou been hiding, Joshua?”

“In the past, mostly.” He gave a rueful smile. “But no more. New year—new start.”

Quinton inclined his head. “It won’t make you famous,” he said, “but you could earn decent money as a studio musician. You’ve got talent, I can see that, and if you’re willing to work your bollocks off you’ll get to play with some of the greatest musicians alive.”

“It definitely sounds interesting.” If he could earn a living as a session musician he’d be doing something he enjoyed and earning enough to pay his own way in the city. He didn’t want to camp at Ruth’s forever, even if she’d let him. “How would I start?”

“Think of me as your knight in shining armor—or fairy godmother, if you prefer.” Quinton leaned in a little too close and said, “Stop by the studio sometime, we’ll do lunch and talk.”

Joshua didn’t miss the overt interest in Quinton’s eyes and he didn’t know what he thought about it. He definitely didn’t want a relationship, but he doubted Quinton was offering one. “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’ll do that.”

Time for something new, after all.

* * *

Two days after New Year’s Joshua found himself standing with Ruth on the street outside his father’s—now Michael’s—apartment building. His aunt put a hand on his back and said, “Come on, you’re going to run into him eventually. You might as well get it over with.”

He gave her a rebellious look. “Why?”

“Because you’re not a child. And because your mother would want it.”

That was a low blow, but it wasn’t one he could withstand. Taking a deep breath he said, “Okay, let’s do it.”

Naturally, the Newtons owned the penthouse. It had only escaped the court order because his father had transferred it into Michael’s name when he saw the prosecution coming down the line. Joshua had always despised the place, all silver and chrome and about as welcoming as an operating theater.

One of the maids opened the door, neat in her black dress and crisp white apron. Ruth smiled and Joshua cringed, swallowing the urge to apologize as he handed her his coat. He hated this ridiculous pretention. He’d hated it growing up and hated it even more now that he’d lived in the real world. From further inside the apartment he could hear his brother’s braying laughter, the general chatter of a dinner party.

He thought, if he ran, he might make it out before Ruth caught him. As if guessing his plan, her fingers closed over his arm. “In we go.”

As they stepped into the dining room, Michael’s gaze swept over Joshua with cool appraisal. “Ah,” he said, “the black sheep. How are you, Joshua? Enjoying the bright lights?”

“As much as always.”

Isabelle, Michael’s wife, came over and kissed the air next to both his cheeks. “Darling, it’s been an age,” she said and flashed her capped teeth at him. “You lookwonderful.”

“So do you, as always.” In truth, she looked brittle and plasticized. Even if his taste had run to women, he doubted he’d have ever found Isabelle attractive.

Michael introduced him to some colleagues, men and women who worked for him, and they smiled with the curiosity of people thinking,Sothat’sJoshua Newton. He wondered what Michael had told them—the dropout, the teacher, the fag. He wasn’t sure which his brother would consider the most damning. He snagged a drink from the maid so he didn’t have to talk to anyone.

The conversation focused on work anyway, and he found himself glazing over, attention drifting out the window to the city lights below. At home, he’d be able to see the stars instead and hear the boom of the ocean instead of the city’s hum. God, he wished he could go back there. He’d have to at some point, of course, to hand in his notice and collect his stuff from the cottage. The thought brought both relief and regret, but he’d never be able to live there if Finn—

“...brings you to New York, Joshua?”

He blinked and found Michael’s eyes fixed on him—cool gray, like sharp steel. “I, uh...” He didn’t want to tell him anything.

“Joshua’s a musician,” Ruth explained to the rest of the group. “He’s going to be working with Quinton Jones—the music producer.”

Joshua flicked a look at her but didn’t deny the exaggeration.

“How exciting,” Isabelle said, without interest. “Are you making an album or something?”

“Well, you never know.” He supposed he might play on a couple, at least. “It’s early days. I’m meeting Quinton for lunch next week.”

“At least you’ve given up on the teaching, at last.” Michael took a sip of his Haut Brion. “Always knew you could do better, Joshua.”

“There’s—” He knew he shouldn’t rise to the bait, but he couldn’t let it go. “Teaching is incredibly rewarding. I think it’s one of the most honorable professions in the world. And I’m not giving up. I’m trying something different for a while, that’s all.”

Michael’s smirk, the sly look he shot one of his toadies, made Joshua want to throw a punch. Only the buzz of his phone saved him from disgracing himself. Gritting his teeth, he used the text as an excuse to turn away, even if the message was only from Lexa. Anything to escape Michael.

---