Being Home


It wasn't his kind of bar.  Not that he frequented bars, but this was his vacation and he wanted to try something new.  The crowd was decidedly rowdy and unwashed.  He certainly felt like the foreigner he was.  Actually, as several of the patrons eyed him, he felt more like an alien.  The only reason he had chosen this establishment was because he had seen a Canadian flag hanging in the window.  It was a little touch of home that he hadn't expected to find in Los Angeles.  

As he pondered its presence the bar patrons started milling around a small stage towards the back of the room.  Curious, Ren followed them.  The stage was low and had only a single stool.  Several amplifiers were grouped around facing the crowd.  Black cables snaked across the floor in a haphazard fashion.  Ren took position off to the side - his height easily allowed him a good view.  He thought he might as well watch, though he doubted that whatever musician they were waiting for played country.

After a few moments the lights dimmed and a man with a bar towel slung over his shoulder stepped up to the microphone.  He leaned into the mic with a small grin.

"All right!  I want everyone here to help me welcome to The Stepford Dog, Canada's own, Billy Tallent!"

The crowd voiced its approval as a wiry man made his way to the stage carrying a guitar.  It wasn't until the stage lights struck him that Ren gasped.  It was... no on closer inspection it wasn't.  The man onstage, plugging up to the amp, had lived a much harder life.  You could see it in the way he moved, the twist of his grin, and the glint in his eye.  Ren was mesmerized.  

The first note from the strings made him jump.  No, definitely not country here.  The crowd got louder as Mr. Tallent made the guitar scream.  After a few minutes, Ren moved back towards the bar.  He had been right before, this wasn't his kind of place.  Regardless, he sat down on a stool and the gentleman with the bar towel stepped up.

"What can I get you?"

"What do you have that isn't alcoholic?"

The bartender turned around for a moment, and Ren looked back toward the stage.  He could see the spiky hair of Billy Tallent glowing gold in the lights.  When he turned back to the bar a mug was sitting in front of him.

"Coffee," the bartender replied.

"Thank you kindly."

"You're not from around here."

"Actually, I'm Canadian, though I live in Chicago."

"No kidding, where from?  I'm from Ontario."

"Ah, I wondered about the flag in the window, that's why I came in.  I'm from Edmonton."

They shook hands, and Ren was unsurprised to feel calluses on the fingers of the man's hand.

"You play guitar, too?"

"A little.  That's how I know Billy.  He's from Vancouver, I think."

"He's very..." loud, Ren wanted to say, but he didn't think that it would be appropriate.

"Good? Yeah.  He's signed up with some big band, but every once in a while he comes down here and plays for the fun of it."

The two talked amicably while Mr. Tallent finished out his set, though they were forced to yell at a few points.  The music began to slow and soften as the show came to a close - Tallent was smart enough to calm his crowd before leaving the stage.  The bar burst into an all encompassing din when the guitarist took a bow.  He was surrounded by people wanting to touch him, talk to him, or just look at him up close.  Ryan, the bartender and owner, quickly slipped out onto the floor and started shooing away Mr. Tallent's excited fans, and the place slowly grew quieter as the bar cleared out.  A few stragglers vied for the musician's attention, but he shrugged them off and took a place at the bar near Ren and Ryan.  Last call was quickly dispensed, but Ryan asked Ren to stay put.

If he were quite honest with himself, Ren would have admitted that he hadn't planned on going any-where.  The chance to talk to a fellow Canadian who so closely resembled the feisty Chicago cop he saw nearly every day was too much to pass up.  Ryan closed up for the night, then he pulled a beer for himself and interestingly, poured a cup of coffee for Tallent.

"Hey, Billy, meet Ren.  He's from Edmonton."

Billy moved to the seat next to Ren and nodded at him.

"You play quite well, Mr. Tallent," Ren said quietly.

Billy's face split into a grin and he laughed.

"Mr. Tallent... shit.  It's just Billy, okay.  Not really your kind of music, was it?"

Ren didn't know how to respond, and his obvious discomfort caused Billy to chuckle at him.  Ren felt himself flush.  Though the face was the same, the guitarist's voice was very different from the Chicago drawl that Ren was used to.

Billy continued, "I saw you wince after the first note.  You do kind of stand out around here."

"I, um..."

"So what brings you to LA?" Billy asked, saving Ren from the embarrassment of more stuttering.

"I'm on vacation.  I usually go home for my yearly allowance, but I decided I wanted an adventure.  I picked Los Angeles randomly."

Ryan leaned across the bar to join the conversation.  "You said you live in Chicago.  What do you do?"

"I work at the Canadian Consulate.  I am the Temporary Assistant Interim Associate Deputy Liaison Officer."

The other two Canadians stared at him.

"I'm a glorified secretary."

The men made 'ah' gestures with their faces.  Ren sighed.

"All that rigorous training and I answer phones all day.  I'm a disgrace to Depot."

At this Billy choked on his coffee.  Ren patted him on the back as he coughed.  When he finally settled, Billy looked over at Ren in shock.

"You're a Mountie?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm a Constable with the RCMP."

"You don't act like a Mountie."

"Which might explain why I'm a glorified secretary."

"You're an awful big fucking secretary..."

Ren didn't know how to respond to Billy's observation so he simply kept quiet.  After a bit, Ryan was ready to close up the bar.  Ren shook the man's hand and thanked him for his kindness.  It was quite late when he finally found himself on the sidewalk.  Ren thought better of walking back to his hotel at night in a strange city.  But before he could knock on the door and ask Ryan if he could call a taxi, Billy stepped out holding a guitar case.

"Do you think Ryan would object to my calling a cab?"

"Nah, I can give you a lift."

"That's really not necessary, Billy.  I don't wish to put you out."

Billy shrugged.

"Maybe I just want to be nice to a Mountie.  Fuck knows I've pissed enough of them off in my day.  Come on, car's around here."

Ren bit his lip but followed the musician around the side of the building.  In the far corner of the parking lot was a bright red muscle car.  It gleamed under the streetlights.  Ren stared at it slack jawed.

"Nice isn't she?" Billy asked with obvious pride.

"That, if I'm not mistaken, is a 1967 GTO."

"You are mistaken.  It's a '66 GTO.  You like cars?"

"Not really, it's just, I have a friend with a 1967 GTO and I just assumed..."

Billy opened the trunk and set his guitar case inside.  As he closed the lid, he gave Ren a funny look.

"Why did you think I'd have the same car as your friend?"

"I suppose it's because you remind me of him," Ren said, not sure how bring up the uncanny resemblance.

Billy unlocked the passenger door and asked, "Really?  He a musician?"

Ren got in and waited for Billy to get into the driver's seat before replying.

"Oh heavens no.  He's a police officer with the Chicago PD."

Billy barked with laughter, but the whiskey smoke sound of it was drowned out as the engine roared to life.  Ren found he was rather upset at the interruption.

"He can't be too much like me if he's a cop."

"You'd be surprised, Mr. Tallent."

"Hey, I told you, it's Billy."

Ren nodded and told Billy where he was staying.  The trip was a short and quiet one.  Both of them seemed to be caught up in their own thoughts.  All too quickly they approached the lighted entrance to Ren's hotel.  Ren got out and bent down to thank Billy for the ride, but before he could speak his first word, Billy cut in.

"Hey, you're not sleepy yet are you?"

"Well no, despite the time difference, I'm rather—"

"Great.  Would you mind hanging out with me some?  It's funny, but talking to you reminds me of home.  I didn't realize I missed it so much.  Everybody in this town's always playing some fucking game."

"Are you hungry?  I'm sure we could find something adequate on the room service menu," Ren said quickly.

"Sounds good," Billy said with a smirk. "Now where's the fucking valet around here?"

Ren sat nervously on the end of his hotel bed.  Billy was using the facilities while they waited for the room service to appear.  He couldn't understand why he was so anxious.  Something was going on and he wasn't quite sure what.  It was just that there had been a charge in the air ever since he had seen Billy Tallent up on stage.  Having Billy in his hotel room had only made it worse.  

The man in question came out just as the food arrived.  They sat at the small table in the room and shared the meal.  The conversation was pretty one sided - Billy seemed more interested in hearing about Ren's life both back home and in Chicago than providing any information about himself.  

After the food was gone, Billy sat on the foot of Ren's bed with a sigh.  He patted the bedspread beside him, and Ren moved somewhat awkwardly to join him.  They sat facing the blank television for a bit before Billy turned to him.  Ren also turned, and then froze as the guitarist's face drew towards his.

The kiss was slow and full of promise, but it was over before Ren could fully process what was happening.  Billy drew back with a look of trepidation, as if he were waiting for Ren to thrash him soundly.  Instead, Ren ran a hand up the strong arm, pulled his face closer, and kissed him again.  Billy's rough stubble brushed against his face as he deepened the kiss.  Ren opened to him happily and their tongues danced.

When they finally pulled back for air, Billy leaned forward and nibbled his way up Ren's jaw to his ear.  The whiskey smoke voice whispered to him.

"I want to fuck you, Ren."

Ren gasped at the words and the voice, but mostly at the feel of the hands that had somehow managed to slip inside his shirt.  He hadn't even noticed the buttons being undone.

"Why?" Ren gasped again.  How could this dangerous and sexy creature want him?  It was too mind boggling to understand.

"I want to be home.  Take me home, Ren."

And then he understood.  In this beautiful world of the rich and famous, it was easy to get lost.  Billy was simply homesick.  Hours ago Ren would have turned down such an offer scornfully, but at that moment, in Billy's arms, staring into the familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, there was really only one answer he could give.

"Yes."

The following morning, Ren woke alone.  The day after that he got on a plane and returned to Chicago.  And if he had trouble looking Detective Vecchio in the eye for months afterwards, no one was the wiser.


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