WHO: Ren Solitaire & Jamie Mayer WHEN: Early December, following this. WHERE: Ren's apartment. SUMMARY: Jamie offered to help Ren pick out a musical. They neither of them really know musicals, but they can talk art anyway. WARNINGS: None apply.
The Chinese food set on the table looking tantalizing, even though Ren hadn't yet opened any of it up. He'd gotten back about five minutes prior, and was currently wandering through the apartment making certain it didn't look too bad. The kitchen table was just an IKEA model with a couple of stackable chairs, the sofa in the living room, likewise. The living room itself, had a couple of wooden crates turned upside down which were being used as occasional tables, or ottomans depending on his mood. He'd moved up from the room at the motel in the past few months, but it wasn't really what anyone could call homey. Not yet.
Add onto that the fact that he'd hardly felt like doing much of anything the past month, and the area was cluttered-ish. He'd spent most of his free time on the play, which was fine, but on top of that when he'd been home, it hadn't really felt like he'd wanted to pick up or do anything to keep it feeling homey even with the small number of things he had. Truth was, he was depressed and he knew it, but he didn't really know what to do about it - he never had - so he just let things pile up. The only saving grace was that he just didn't have enough stuff to really allow anything to be super messy.
The doorbell interrupted his picking up of a couple of shirts he'd discarded earlier in the week and he grabbed them, stuffing them in the hall closet on the top shelf before he opened the door.
"Hey," he gave Jamie a smile and a nod. "Come in?"
Jamie had visited friends in the past, in tiny digs: studio apartments and cramped hotel rooms where you packed in on the couch or the bed and you sat knee to knee with someone else and ate instant noodles, or maybe eggs, and totally ignored the damp bubbling on the walls or the mould in the grouting in the bathroom. He hadn’t visited anyone since living in Repose, the house in the neighborhood made it better for hosting and there wasn’t anyone he had doorstepped. He’d gotten out of a few apartments in the Capital, but that wasn’t the same as ‘hey, come over and talk musicals’.
Which, FYI, Jamie could do. Not with the same skill as maybe a musical theater major but you lived in enough rehearsal rooms you picked up a little. He was dressed in the perennial red sneakers, and a shirt peeking underneath a red and black plaid shirt rolled at the sleeves under a navy peacoat, and a hunter-green wool cap pulled down over his ears. The door opened and there was a gust of warm air, light and the smell of Chinese food. Jamie’s stomach growled, he smiled and stepped over the threshold into Ren’s place.
The guy was nice, and Jamie was currently carrying around an uncashed check for guilt, given he hadn’t exactly known Ren was Louis’s not-so-romantic interest and from what he knew of the guy over the play and all, he was a good guy with a maybe dry sense of humor. Jamie was nervous energy across the threshold, mostly because of the Chinese food but that wasn’t a giveaway, and he looked around.
“Nice place. I have like, the contents of Pottery Barn in mine, but it’s not mine so it doesn’t count.”
Ren barked a warm laugh and closed the door and the cold air out of the room. “It’s - uh,” he turned to survey the sparsely furnished room. “It’s a work in progress but we don’t both have to sit on the bed while wondering if we’re being spied on through the hole in the wall behind the non-function television so I consider it a major step up.”
One of the benefits of the play had been getting to know people better that he’d really only seen in passing before, and of the things that had happened this fall, that was easily the best. “I hope you like Chinese?” He asked, and perhaps there was a little anxiety in that. Other than Hannah, before the semi-disastrous amusement park trip, he really hadn’t had anyone over. The invitation hasn’t been super well thought out, but he also believed that it might not be the worst idea. He had a place. Have people over, pretend he was capable of entertaining when he couldn’t cook to save his life, generally just try not to lock himself in his bedroom - even if that was what he wanted to do. “And I’ve got, beer and other stuff to drink, whatever you want.”
Jamie’s eyebrows jumped. “Was that a feature of the last place? Man, this town does creepy really well and also creepy,” ruefully, at the thought of seriously skeevy landlords and hotel owners and stuff. There was something about Repose, the thing that made it feel small and knowing that didn’t really inspire thoughts of creep standards suitable for major cities. It was kind of disappointing it was here.
He shrugged off the peacoat and folded it in half, slinging off his messenger bag and laying the coat on top without a scrap of shyness. Jamie wasn’t big on bedroom doors being locked, at least not when he was in need of upbeat. “Chinese is great,” easily, and without a shadow of anxiety in his voice, “And a beer would be good. Thanks, man.”
Ren headed for the small kitchen, which to be fair was a lot larger than the non-existing kitchen he’d had at the motel. He grabbed a couple of semi-artsy beers and the bag of Chinese and returned to the living room.
“I lived in the motel for an embarrassingly long time when I first moved here,” he shrugged, setting everything down on the crates and unpacking. “So yeah that was a feature. I could have asked for another room but I’m not sure It would have been any better. But it was alright. I met Hannah there,” he shrugged. “She was one of my first friends so the hotel brought some good things.”
He motioned towards the food. “Help yourself, whatever looks good. I like all of it.” He opened the beers for a pause.
“So I figure whatever we do, it ought to have a medium cast, and probably not too dance heavy since most of the town aren’t professionals, and nothing too insane set wise. And musicals just aren’t my typical genre.”
The semi-artsy beers were the kind that the Cat probably had and Jamie didn’t look at the label deliberately. He uncapped one and passed it to Ren before uncapping the second and taking a swig. “An embarrassingly long time needs details, man,” because if you could make a story out of it, it was probably less embarrassing. Right? Ren was definitely working the ‘just moved’ angle in the apartment but it was still way more adult and independent than Jamie had managed to work on.
“Hannah was at the motel?” He didn’t know why he was surprised by it. Hannah wasn’t like, put off by stuff other people were, and she was way less delicate and soft than she looked. They weren’t really past polite, like strangers instead of siblings, but he had still worked that much out. Jamie rubbed the back of his neck with his palm and okay, musicals. Musicals weren’t really his thing. The only guy he’d ever kissed in high school apart from the guy had been way into musicals, which was kind of a massive out without being out.
He dug his phone out from his pocket. “And the singing, do we think people in town can sing? Because the guy who lives in the house next to me tries, most mornings and I gotta say it’s not operatic. Musicals aren’t exactly my thing,” he confessed, with a swig of beer.
Ren shook his head. “I’ll have to get back to you on that story, mostly it involves me moving here for a few months and then kinda staying. I guess I’m still staying.” Technically there wasn’t a human reason to stay. There were friends sure, but that was different. “I’ve got this Repose Community Theatre thing going on now. But yeah, Hannah was there for a while. I helped her do laundry and we started talking about literature and got to be friends.”
Ren took a swig and sat down in one end of the sofa and a smile sprang to his face. “So pretty much we’re gonna get ourselves some Chinese food and search the internet for possible plays huh? I mean I can sing. I sang for a band for a while. I doubt I’m the only one but that’s a point. It might be a terrible idea.”
Jamie didn’t really question the long-term stay for himself. Weird, huh? He had been a city kid since he had been old enough to stop calling himself a ‘kid’ and his familiarity with subways and traffic lights and the best place to find noodles at two thirty in the morning was a set of life-skills that didn’t exactly apply in Repose. But like, with his knee fucked (and he had considered wishing that away, Christmas-style, but Jamie was kind of scared when you came down to it, of what his knee un-fucked would mean) he didn’t exactly have a reason to leave. Forget about staying, he had three reasons. Si, Hannah and Mars. Especially Mars, even if Mars didn’t want to be a reason.
But okay. Ren was uncertain and Jamie could get that, from one city dweller to another. “You guess? You haven’t put down enough roots or you still working out what you want to do or something?” Ren was good with coffee, he was good with theater, but Jamie was willing to bet which was more important to Ren. He smiled, when Ren talked about Hannah making friends over laundry and if anyone could do it, he figured it was probably Hannah.
“We’re totally searching for plausible musicals. You sang in a band? Tell me it’s on YouTube.” He was thumbing open the internet on his phone.
“Yeah, here,” Ren reached for his phone and typed in the name of the band, waiting for the connection to load properly before scrolling through a handful of not particularly great videos.
“I don’t know if it’s roots or…” he frowned. “I think I had sort of roots for a while, or thought maybe I did and now I don’t really, except this apartment but also the theatre thing worked and maybe I want to keep trying that.” Because if he did leave and go to LA and what if that didn’t work? Was it better to be a director of plays here in Repose versus failing completely in larger theatre circles? “I guess the play thing worked so maybe I should try another one and see how that works and then maybe I’ll make up my mind one way or another.”
He didn’t suck. It wasn’t good, which was Jamie’s honest assessment of the videos, but it didn’t suck outright. There was no wailing, which was a positive and he scrolled through videos, stop-starting a bunch before he passed the phone back. And Jamie wasn’t dumb. He could kind of figure what Ren meant by sort-of roots and he got it empathically, even if he wasn’t in the same spot.
“The theater thing definitely worked,” he swigged another mouthful of beer, “Nice band, man. You can sing, which means you’re probably singing lead in whatever you wind up doing. But theater can’t be the only reason you’re in town, you know? You need to like, decide you’re staying and then find reasons in everything you come across to stay.” Which was sort of Jamie’s MO.
Largely, Ren felt more as if he hadn't found a reason to leave, rather than feeling as if he had found reasons to stay everywhere he looked. Maybe that wasn't entirely true. He'd made friends. Hannah was definitely one. And working with everyone for the play had been really good. He'd made some additional friends there. It had felt the closest to what he'd enjoyed when he was in University and maybe that was a reason to stay.
"Thanks," Ren reached for one of the containers of Chinese and pulled some out for himself. "I've no illusions about being some sort of rock star, but it was fun, and I think every rebellious teen has some sort of band stage, right? Mine wasn't the most embarrassing, I don't think." It was where he'd come up with the name Ren Solitaire, and it had stuck and felt like him. "It's a little weird to be directing and give yourself lead, also - depends on how much dance there is." A beat. "I don't know if something like Rent, I've not really ever seen it on stage, but it occurred to me it might work."
Jamie hadn’t touched the cartons and he wasn’t planning on it, until he’d made inroads with the beer. Which was probably worse, but whatever. “My rebellious stage was so not about bands,” mostly it had been about trying to be a guy who wasn’t into guys and then it had been about a guy. Which was probably predictable, but neither stage had been band-centric.
“I guess it depends. Can you dance? Because if you can dance and sing, don’t feel bad, man, if you’re the one in the lead. People showed up, right? They’re not going to show up if the lead sucks.” He thought about Rent, which he’d seen on Netflix a while back, and sucked down another mouthful of beer.
“Rent’s sort of out there, you know? If you think you could do it. It’s a lot of people on stage,” something like Grease was kind of more Repose’s street, but maybe that wasn’t Ren’s thing. Still. “You could do Grease. Something easy, fewer drag queens.” Which was probably for the better, as much as he liked the cabaret in the city.
“I feel like drag queens might almost be normal for Repose,” Ren shrugged. But it was a lot of people. Grease felt as if it were bordering on ‘things he wouldn’t do’ but it wasn’t quite Sound of Music or Meet me in St. Louis so it was slightly more palatable. “The music on Grease is catchy. I don’t know if there’d be enough people in general. Maybe I should just do another regular play. No music.”
Although he felt as if there had been interest in a musical if he could find the right one. That was the question cause he was picky and then there was rather or not t was even doable. “Guess we could go way old school and do some Gilbert & Sullivan thing.”
Jamie laughed. It was around a mouthful of beer, so a little went up his nose which was, for the record, gross. Repose had a lot of gay men in it. It wasn’t that there was like, a mile radius of men who liked men but the proportions were like a central city town instead of middle America and a drag queen wouldn’t probably have the same shock value as the next town over. “Okay, but a drag queen willing to be directed in a play,” he suggested instead, after mopping up the mess with the hem of his tee-shirt. “You have officially nixed Grease my friend, catchy is like, the kiss of death.”
And it felt like kinda Ren didn’t know what he wanted but a straight play was not it. He pulled a face, “Gilbert and Sullivan is like, so old school they haven’t brought it back yet. You could do like, Avenue Q if the puppets thing wasn’t an issue. Last Five Years? Assassins, if you want to go Sondheim. I’m running out of stuff I know, man. I’m not that kind of gay.”
Ren laughed outright at this. "Me either apparently. There's probably someone in town who is, but it's not me." He tapped a finger on the edge of his beer bottle and tried to run through his repertoire of knowledge. There were the things that were too big and he couldn't possibly in a million years hope to begin to produce or direct in a small community theatre, and then there were all the things that were smaller, but that he couldn't quite stand. There had to be something in between.
"What do you think people would come and see? I mean, that's really the question isn't it? Part of it's what I want to do, but part of it too is what people would come out and see us do. And maybe if that's Meet me in St. Louis or whatever we do that." He really didn't want to do that. There had to be something else. Singing in the Rain. Some old school musical thing. Why not Grease if it came to that?
There probably was. If there was a type, Jamie didn’t know it. But Ren was thinking over there, tapping and considering and Jamie was kind of temporarily over the guilt of essentially advising the dude’s boyfriend to break up with him or at least, the guilt was on the back-burner. Ren wanted a show and he wanted a kind of show that wasn’t just indulgence. He got it, yeah? The thing about doing something other people invested in. It was why the adult classes were the set up they were.
“No, man.” He shook his head, emphatic. That wasn’t the point, exactly, if this was about an audience then they would be done. An audience was easy. “This is about something that means something to you. Figure out doubling up on parts or something. If you want to do Rent, do Rent. You might need to like, bring in college kids from the Capital or something. But it’s your art. Make your art.” Which was probably way more earnest than Jamie endeavored to be, but it was what it was.
Ren looked over, taking a sip of his beer as he did so. It was earnest, but it was maybe the kind of earnest that he needed. The sort of earnest that said do your thing. It hit more deeply than Jamie had probably intended for it to, because Ren had been struggling with precisely that. He'd come to Repose to be something different, to sort of remake himself into something or someone that could do a steady relationship and maybe a steady job for a while, and be liked. And his record felt a little spotty, he'd done the steady job thing with the coffee shop, and he thought he was probably liked enough, the steady relationship had been a flush. And it was hard to not wonder if his thing had been the problem.
"Yeah, I think, I like that idea." He gave a huff of laughter. "You think you can help me choreograph stuff whatever I end up with?"
Jamie was all about doing your thing. Being the you that you were, if you had the balls and the understanding of what your thing was about. And okay, he was super performative and he knew he was performative but that was kind of the thing, if you knew it at least you knew your limits. Or something. He had advocated doing your own thing for months and months, ever since letters written to strangers, and he sat with his beer and looked at Ren contemplate musicals harder than literally anyone Jamie had ever met.
“I will choreograph whatever you give me. If it’s a one-man-show with spoken-word to choreograph to,” Jamie promised.
Ren laughed at this. He didn't exactly expect it to be the one hundred percent truth, but there was something about the idea of it that was funny. And something almost nice about the willingness Jamie had to do so. "Good," he gave the other man a grin, and it was a warm and genuine smile. "I'll try to come up with at least some music along the way, but I appreciate the willingness regardless. Maybe what I should do, is just watch a bunch of things on Netflix and see if anything strikes as being a thing we could do." It was the beginning of a plan anyway, and enough of one to probably move on with.