Finding Beck

By Louise Lyons

Martin Lynch has spent the past few years following his best friend Graham’s example, dressing up to go out to their favorite rock club on Friday nights, and going through the motions with girls, always missing that spark everyone talks about.

One night in Jezebels nightclub on Martin's twentieth birthday, he meets Beck, an androgynous person he initially tries to tell himself is “Becky”. But eventually when Martin feels that excitement he’s never experienced before and the evidence becomes too much to ignore, he’s forced to admit to himself that Beck is a man and accept that he could be gay.

Martin fears the reactions of his best friend and his parents, but in his heart he knows that finding Beck has given him the one thing that’s always been missing, and he prepares to deal with the reactions of family and friends when their secret is discovered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Lyons
• Release date: Oct 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310082382

Louise Lyons

I'm a gay romance author from the UK, having started in my late teens writing Fanfiction with a number of different films/TV series for inspiration. My reviews prompted me to try publishing some works and my first book was released in 2014. Since then, I've published several novels and novellas, and a collection of short stories.Most of the books published through official publishing channels have now had the rights returned to me for various reasons, so I'm re-issuing them myself.

Book preview

Finding Beck

By

Louise Lyons

COPYRIGHT

Finding Beck © 2015 Louise Lyons

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

WARNING

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About the Author

Chapter One

MARTIN, HURRY up! My flatmate Graham banged on my bedroom door.

Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. I took a last look in the mirror and pulled the door open. I don’t know why you’re in such a rush to get there. I don’t particularly like spending the first hour listening to that thrash shit.

At least we’ll get a decent seat. Anyway, Tracy said she’s going early tonight.

"Oh, now I get it. You’re in lurve, I teased. You can’t wait to see her."

Fuck off. Graham made a face and flushed. We hardly know each other.

You must have got to know plenty about her last week, judging by the amount of time you spent in the toilet with her.

Graham flipped me the finger and went to the door. Take the piss all you like. I got more than you.

I’m not into blondes. The girl Graham liked usually had a friend with her; a petite blonde with blue eyes and skimpy clothes. She was too sweet and simpering and girly for me and I’d avoided getting into a situation with her when Tracy had introduced us.

Thanks. Graham ran a hand through his long blond hair and tossed it back over his shoulder. I’m wounded.

Twat.

Checking again that his wallet was in his pocket, Graham opened the door and gestured urgently. Are we going, or what?

Yes! I charged past him and trotted down the steps to the outer door of the building.

The weekly trips to Jezebels nightclub had begun to bore me during the past month. Every Friday without fail, Graham and I went to rock night. The club opened from nine until one thirty, sometimes with live bands, sometimes not. Graham insisted on being there for every minute possible, despite the fact that the first hour catered for those into the really heavy rock or thrash metal, that neither of us liked. Graham raved about the place, and I admitted I’d enjoyed it at first. But I knew Graham’s main love was the number of scantily-clad girls we came across in the club. We’d made it our mission to work our way through as many of them as would have us—at least Graham had. I’d done the same thing a few times, but I didn’t enjoy myself nearly as much as he did.

Graham loved himself and freely admitted it. He was blond, blue-eyed, tall, and slim, and the glam rock persona fit him perfectly. Clad in leather or spandex, cowboy boots, silk shirts and scarves, and plenty of makeup, he often had the girls falling over themselves to get a piece of him. Compared to him, I felt a little like a hanger-on, hoping for some of the action that he’d already seen. My brown hair was neither dirty-blond nor brunette, but somewhere in between. I’d considered dying it, but I knew the guys in the garage where I worked would never let me hear the end of it. It was bad enough, in their opinion, that I’d grown my hair long, but changing its color would have been a big no-no.

My build was similar to Graham’s—five feet eleven, slim, and toned—but somehow I managed to look lanky while he, an inch taller, was a god. Damn him.

Martin, don’t be such a grouch. It’s your birthday, Graham reminded me.

I’m not grouchy.

Anyone would think you don’t want a birthday shag. He elbowed me and grinned as we headed along the street. The distance to Jezebels from our flat was a little over two miles and we usually walked unless the weather was lousy.

Don’t you ever get bored doing this? A different girl every week? I shoved my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and strode along beside him.

Bored? Are you insane? What’s wrong with you, man?

Nothing, I just… I bit off the words and shrugged. I couldn’t tell him that ever since we’d left school, all the times we’d picked up girls together just didn’t do it for me. Graham crowed about everything he’d got up to and all the new positions he’d tried, but I’d always felt as if I was going through the motions. I enjoyed it—I liked fucking, of course I did—but there was never that spark people talked about. None of those girls had made me want to go back for seconds, and I couldn’t understand Graham getting so excited about seeing Tracy again. Maybe there was something wrong with me.

What? Graham prompted. I thought you liked Jezebels.

I do. I’m fine. I pinned a smile on my face and walked faster. "Don’t forget you’re buying the drinks tonight, since it’s my birthday."

Yeah, don’t remind me.

I checked my watch when we arrived at the club to find a queue of people waiting outside. It was exactly nine o’clock, but the doors weren’t open yet. We joined the end of the line and almost immediately the doors swung open and the people ahead began to shuffle forward. After we made our way into the foyer, Graham paid for both of us and led me to the bar. Most of the men who’d preceded us headed straight for the dancefloor. I recognized the deafening music as one of the usual songs played during the first hour—someone had once told me the band was called Sacred Reich. Not my thing at all. Like Graham I was into the glam rock music, although a couple of silk scarves and some eyeliner was about as far as I’d go. I didn’t think overdoing it suited me.

Graham passed me a pint of beer, picked up his own drink, and headed to the main seating area. We usually sat in the same place with the best view of the door, enabling Graham to pick out his prey for the night before anyone else could get to them. Only this time he was waiting for Tracy. And me… I supposed I would spend the evening trying to make conversation, as much as anyone could above the noise, with Tracy’s friend Joanne.

An hour passed and Megadeth gave way to Aerosmith. Immediately the head bangers left the dancefloor and were replaced by a mix of girls and guys. The girls danced, mostly in pairs, while the guys played air guitar and tossed their hair around, imagining they were their favorite guitar hero. I slid out of my jacket, laid it on the seat, and followed Graham into the crowd. I always enjoyed the dancing and lost myself in the music. Tonight was no exception. I picked up my air guitar, positioned myself with feet apart, knees slightly bent, and head back, and pictured myself on stage playing to thousands of fans.

They’re here! Graham interrupted me three songs later and I straightened up, looking in the direction he pointed. Immediately I saw Tracy and Joanne with two others, one brunette and one blonde, similarly dressed in spandex pants, long silk shirts, and heavy belts looped around their hips. You like brunettes, Graham continued. If Joanne’s not your cup of tea, what about her friend?

When I looked more closely, I liked the look of the other girl better, even though I claimed not to be into blondes. A white silk shirt draped her slim body, set off by a green fringed scarf around her neck. Her hair had been crimped and back-combed into a huge mane, and her red-painted lips pouted beneath a straight nose.

Trace! Hey, nice to see you, Graham shouted as we reached the group. He hadn’t arranged a date with her, but after their evening together the previous week it had been an assumption they’d meet up again. Tracy stepped closer to him, fluttering her eyelashes, and presented her cheek for him to kiss so he wouldn’t smudge her bright pink lips.

Hi, Tracy. I nodded at her. Joanne.

Joanne gave me a brief smile and looked away, much to my relief. She’d seemed pretty keen on me the week before, when I’d not been the slightest bit interested. I was, however, interested in her friend. I stared at her, waiting to be introduced. Tracy was too busy snuggling up to Graham to bother with introductions, and Joanne took off to the bar with the brunette. It was down to me to make myself known.

I’m Martin, I said loudly.

What? I couldn’t hear the word, but it was easy to lip-read.

Martin! I bellowed. She nodded and smiled, stepping closer to shout back. A screech of guitars came from the sound system and all I heard was Beck, but I guessed her name must be Becca or Becky. So, Rebecca. She didn’t look like a Rebecca, but what did I know? Do you want a drink? I asked, miming lifting a glass to my lips. She nodded and smiled again, revealing perfect white teeth. When I turned to go to the bar, she came with me.

As we stood waiting to be served I glanced down at her, estimating her to be somewhere around five feet eight. Her black cowboy boots were decorated with white stitching,