Chapter 6
James and Regulus walked a few steps from each other, the quiet hum of the street filling the space between them. The air was warm, with the breeze carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a neighbor’s garden. James felt every step, like his feet barely touched the ground as they walked back toward his grandmother's house. He glanced over at Regulus, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment before both of them quickly looked away. James wanted to hold his hand, to feel the warmth of Regulus against him, but he knew he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
When they reached the front porch of the house, Regulus stopped, his car parked just a few feet away. James couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that this was where their walk ended. Regulus turned toward the car, but before he could open the door, the front door of the house swung open.
"James! Where you been? Food’s ready already," Lee’s voice echoed across the yard, his heavy southern drawl filling the air.
James froze, his heart skipping a beat. He turned to see Lee standing on the porch, a wide grin on his face, but it quickly faltered as his eyes landed on Regulus. Lee’s expression shifted to confusion, his gaze flicking between James and Regulus. “Reggie?” he asked, squinting slightly, sounding unsure. “What you doin’ here?”
Regulus stood a little straighter, clearly caught off guard. He fumbled for the right words, trying to make it sound casual. "Oh, uh… just wanted to talk to James 'bout another gig," he said, his words coming out too quickly, too easily.
Lee didn’t move, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the two, clearly not buying it. James could feel the tension thickening between them, but before Lee could press further, Euphemia appeared from behind him, stepping onto the porch with a pleasant smile.
“Well, look at you, Mr. Black. It’s been a while, huh? You wanna join us for dinner?” she asked with a warm tone, not sensing anything odd in the situation.
Regulus paused, clearly unsure of what to say, his gaze flicking to James. James could see the fear of getting caught in Regulus’s expression, but he didn’t want this moment to end, not yet.
James cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I think Regulus would like that,” he said, his voice steady. “He, uh, didn’t have dinner yet.”
Euphemia smiled at both of them and gestured toward the door. “Well, come on in then. Get inside before anyone notices you’re lingering. I’ll put an extra plate on the table.”
Regulus hesitated for a moment before nodding, stepping inside. As he passed James, their eyes met again, and James followed him in, glancing at Lee one last time. Lee seemed to be still processing the scene, his confusion written across his face. But before he could say anything, James shut the door softly, leaving the tension outside.
...
The dinner table was filled with laughter and the clinking of silverware. The smell of home-cooked food hung in the air, fried chicken, collard greens, cornbread, and mashed potatoes. The atmosphere was cozy, familiar, and yet... something felt different tonight.
James sat across from Regulus, watching him carefully as he reached for his glass. His eyes were warm, and he had that boyish grin on his face that made James's heart flip. Regulus had quickly become the perfect guest, the kind of person you’d want around your table. He smiled politely, complimenting the food, making small jokes to keep everyone laughing. He’d fit in so well, it almost felt like he belonged here, like he’d always been a part of the family.
Euphemia, always the welcoming type, leaned forward as she set the bowl of mashed potatoes down in front of Regulus. “You’re quite charming, Regulus. No reason at all you shouldn’t join us for dinner more often,” she said, beaming.
Regulus chuckled softly, his manners impeccable as he passed the bowl of potatoes around. "Well, ma’am, I don’t mind if I do. Your cooking’s somethin’ else, makes a man feel right at home."
James couldn’t help but smile at the way his mother beamed, her face lighting up at the compliment. She was proud of her cooking, always had been. And Regulus was only making it easier for her to like him.
"You’re too kind," Euphemia replied with a teasing smile, her voice light and warm. "Are you sure you don’t want a second helping? Looks like you’re already making quick work of that plate."
Regulus grinned and shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "I’ll have a little more, if you don’t mind. Can’t say no to good food like this."
Lee chuckled, his voice filling the space with warmth. “You better not fill up too fast, Aunt E’s gonna feed you three more times before the night's over,” he said, winking at Euphemia.
James watched the interaction with a soft smile on his face. Regulus was being so perfect. So charming. So... God, he was so beautiful. James couldn’t stop the thought from racing through his mind. Regulus was everything. The way he looked, the way he smiled, the way he made James’s family feel so at ease—it was almost too much. It felt strange, like something so right shouldn’t feel so possible. James kept his gaze on Regulus as he spoke with his grandmother, the sound of laughter filling the room like a symphony. In that moment, James could feel his heart racing in his throat.
“I tell you what,” Regulus said, his voice smooth as honey as he set down his fork. "I think you’ve got me beat with this cornbread, Mrs. Potter. This right here is a real treat. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anythin’ like it."
"Oh, stop," Euphemia laughed, her voice light and teasing. "If you keep making me blush, I might just end up feeding you all week!"
James watched, his chest tight, wishing he could somehow reach across the table and kiss him right then and there. He felt the pull in his gut, the need to pull Regulus close, to stop pretending this was just casual. But it wasn’t that simple. But as he watched Regulus include everyone with his jokes and stories, James couldn’t help but think—I want him. I need him. And I don’t care if the world says no.
Lee watched them, still with a smile, but James could feel the underlying tension in the way Lee’s eyes darted from Regulus to him. He felt it, the puzzle in Lee’s eyes. But he didn’t have the words to explain. Not yet.
"Look at y’all," his grandmother chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "I ain't never seen James smile like that, not since he was a little boy." She winked at him, but James couldn't return her gaze. Instead, he looked back at Regulus, whose easy charm made him feel like the world had stopped for just a moment.
After dinner, Regulus, stood up from the table, brushing his hands on his pants. "I’d best be getting home before my mother goes mad,” he said with a small chuckle, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.
James felt that pull in his chest, the desire to reach out and pull Regulus back into his arms. He wanted to kiss him again, just like they had behind those trees earlier, his lips aching for it. But instead, he just watched, standing a bit too still, as Regulus made his way toward the door.
Lee, who had been quietly watching the exchange from his spot at the table, glanced up just in time to catch James's longing gaze. A small smirk played on Lee’s lips, though he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. James knew his cousin had caught him staring at Regulus as he walked away.
Regulus turned back at the door, giving James a final, fleeting smile that sent a shiver through him. It was brief, but it was everything, just as perfect and maddening as their first kiss. Then, with a soft wave, he disappeared into the night.
James stood there a moment longer than he should have, frozen in place, as if the room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating. He wanted to run after Regulus, to pull him back and make things right. But he couldn’t. Instead, he turned, facing Lee, whose eyes were now firmly on him.
“What?” James asked, confused.
Lee just shook his head, a slight grin on his face. “You got it bad, huh?”
James ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, but couldn’t hide the truth in his smile. “Yeah… I reckon I do.”
Lee leaned back, crossing his arms, still looking at James with a knowing expression. "Well, just don’t do anything foolish. You know how it is around here.”
James nodded, the weight of those words settling heavily in his chest. He knew what Lee meant. It wasn’t just about love; it was about living in a world where what they were doing, what James felt for Regulus, wasn't just forbidden; it was dangerous. It could get him killed. But in this moment, all James wanted was Regulus. And that was something he couldn’t walk away from, no matter how hard he tried.
...
The week passed in a blur for James. He tried, with all his might, to act like everything was the same, that he wasn’t aching for Regulus in every waking moment. The gnawing desire that had taken root in him since their kiss lingered at the edges of his thoughts, but he did his best to push it aside, distracting himself with tasks at hand.
He spent his mornings helping his mother around the house, making sure she had everything she needed. His grandmother's health had been deteriorating more steadily over the past few weeks, and though she never complained, James could see it in the way she moved slower, her face drawn. He knew it weighed heavily on her heart that her health was worsening, but he could never bring himself to ask her directly. Instead, he helped her and his mother with what he could, staying close to her as much as possible, trying to fill the silence with his presence.
In the afternoons, he’d write letters to his father, letters that always felt far too formal, full of pleasantries that never quite captured the urgency he felt in his own life. He wanted to tell his father about Regulus, about the feelings stirring in him, but the words never came. The thought of explaining this part of himself to his father seemed impossible. How could he? His father, a white man, surely had never experienced the weight of being a black man in love with a white man in Memphis, Tennessee. He wouldn't understand the ache, wouldn't know what to do with such a truth. The idea of facing that kind of confrontation made James feel small, vulnerable. He wasn’t ready for it.
He did what he could to stay busy, even taking up a gig at a small black hotel during the lunch hour. It wasn’t much money, not nearly as much as he could make at the clubs, but it gave him a sense of purpose. The piano became his escape, the only place where he could pour his emotions into a melody without speaking a word. The hotel crowd was a quiet one, but James didn’t mind. He loved the simple joy of losing himself in the music.
But it was when he learned that Regulus’s birthday was approaching that things began to shift. James found himself obsessing over it. The desire to get Regulus something, something special, took over every other thought. Every spare penny he could save, he put aside, keeping it hidden in his room. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would be enough to show Regulus how much he meant to him.
On weekends James would rehearse with Regulus and the band during the day and play gigs at night. Music lived in his fingertips, pulsed through his veins, and every time he played, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. But if he was honest with himself, the best part wasn’t the music. It was Regulus.
Every night, after the last set was played and the crowd had thinned, they’d drive back to James’s grandmother’s house. And every night, before James slipped inside, they stole time for themselves in Regulus’s car.
Regulus would climb into his lap, his body warm and solid against James’s, and they would kiss until the world faded away. Slow, deep kisses that made James dizzy, that left them both breathless. Regulus’s hands would slide into James’s hair, tugging just enough to make him shiver, and James would hold him close, his fingers digging into Regulus’s waist like he was afraid to let go.
In those moments, James felt more alive than he ever had.
...
The sound of music filled the small rehearsal space, the steady rhythm of Evan’s drumming, the deep hum of the bass, and the sharp, soulful notes of Dorcas’s harmonica. James’s fingers danced across the keys of the upright piano, lost in the melody—but his eyes, his damn traitorous eyes, kept finding Regulus.
Regulus, leaning into the mic, voice smooth as honey and deep as the Mississippi. Regulus, fingers curled around the microphone stand, his foot tapping in time with the beat. Regulus, glancing at James every so often, eyes hooded, mouth sinful. James could barely think straight when he sang like that.
They ran through the song one last time before Evan stretched with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “That’s it for me, boys. I got an early shift tomorrow.” He drummed his sticks lightly against his thigh before tucking them into his back pocket. “Don’t wear yourselves out.”
Barty, who had been lounging nearby, watching Evan more than the rehearsal, clapped his hands together. “Well, if my darling is callin’ it a night, guess I will too.” He flashed a grin, throwing an arm around Evan’s waist. “See y’all later.”
Dorcas lingered, humming as she wiped down her harmonica. James caught her watching him, and for a second, he thought she might say something. Instead, she just adjusted the strap of her bag and sighed. “I’ll be off, then.”
Regulus gave her a small nod. “See you tomorrow, then.”
She arched a brow but didn’t comment, glancing between the two of them before heading out.
And then, it was just them.
James swallowed, his throat dry. The air felt different now, thicker, charged. Regulus sat on the edge of the piano bench, fingers drumming lightly against the wood. He wasn’t looking at James, but James could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself too carefully.
James leaned against the piano, watching him. “You always get quiet when it’s just the two of us.”
Regulus huffed, tilting his head. “That so?”
“Mhm.” James crossed his arms. “It's almost like you’re thinking too hard about something.”
Regulus’s fingers stilled. He exhaled through his nose, a quiet laugh. “Maybe I am.”
James arched a brow. “Are you going to let me in on it?”
Regulus finally met his eyes, and damn if James didn’t feel that look all the way down to his bones. “I think you already know.”
James’s breath hitched. He did. Lord, he did.
James needed a distraction—anything to stop himself from doing something reckless, something utterly foolish, like pulling Regulus into his lap and kissing him senseless. His gaze drifted to the piano, an idea sparking in his mind.
“Fancy learning something?” he asked, fingers hovering over the keys.
Regulus arched a brow but nodded. “Yeah, alright.”
James played a single, sweet note and looked at him. “That one’s yours. When I say, you play it.”
Regulus smirked, clearly amused. “Just the one?”
“For now.”
Regulus sighed but settled beside him, hands resting lightly on the piano. James took a breath, then let his fingers glide over the keys, coaxing out a soft, intricate lullaby. It was delicate yet full-bodied, the kind of melody that wrapped around them like something quiet and sacred.
James gave the signal, and Regulus pressed his note, hesitant at first, but he caught on quickly. Together, they played, James leading, Regulus following, their sounds intertwining as if they belonged together.
When the final note faded, Regulus stared at James, something unreadable in his expression. “I’ve never heard that before.”
James licked his lips, suddenly feeling rather exposed. “You wouldn’t have.”
Regulus tilted his head. “What’s it called?”
James hesitated, fingers idly tracing the keys. “I’ve been playing around with names… Thinking perhaps Regulus’ Symphony.”
Regulus’s eyes widened, breath catching. He turned fully to James, searching his face. “You—you wrote that? For me?”
James swallowed, heat creeping up his neck. “Yes.”
Regulus exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Then, softer, almost reverent, he murmured, “I want to kiss you right now.”
James grinned, warmth blooming in his chest. “Do you?”
Regulus nodded, gaze dark and intent.
James chuckled, tapping out a few lazy notes. “Well… perhaps after rehearsal isn’t the best time for that.”
James watched as Regulus dropped his gaze to the piano, cheeks tinged a faint pink, fingers ghosting over the keys like he was trying to commit the feeling to memory. And James, he didn’t know how to explain it, but somehow, he knew what Regulus was thinking.
If writing a simple lullaby could make Regulus look at him like that, could make him blush and smile soft and secretive, then James would write a whole damned album for him. He’d fill pages with melodies, play until his fingers ached, if it meant Regulus would feel even a fraction of what James felt for him.
Regulus had crashed into his life out of nowhere, uninvited and unstoppable, and yet James couldn’t imagine a world without him now. He was sinful, this boy, stealing James’s breath, his thoughts, his very sense. And James, God help him, wanted to do so many things to him. With him. He had to stop thinking about it, or else Regulus would see it, would feel it, and James wasn’t sure how much self-control he had left.
So, he forced himself to look Regulus in the eyes instead, desperate for a distraction.
Regulus met his gaze, something warm flickering behind his expression, and then, voice quiet and steady, he said, “You really are somethin’ else, James Potter.”
Regulus didn’t hesitate this time. He leaned in, pressing his lips against James’s, and James melted into it, hands threading into Regulus’s hair, pulling him closer. The kiss was deep and lingering at first, but then it turned urgent, like neither of them could get enough. James tilted his head, losing himself in the feel of Regulus—warm, wanting, his.
And then—
“The hell is this?”
Regulus froze. His whole body tensed, hands still gripping James’s shirt, breath stuck in his throat. James felt the warmth drain from his body as his stomach plummeted.
He turned toward the voice, already knowing who it was.
Lee stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, face like a brewing storm. His dark eyes burned with anger, disbelief, and something worse—fear.
James swallowed hard. “Lee—”
Lee let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You outta your damn mind?” His voice was low, tight. “‘Cause I know you ain’t fool enough to be sittin’ here kissin’ on no white boy, not here, not now.”
Regulus was stone still, like he’d stopped breathing.
James ran a hand down his face, trying to think, trying to breathe. “Lee, it’s not—”
Lee cut him off. “Don’t Lee me, James. You forget somethin’ today? Like maybe Grandma’s birthday?”
James felt like he’d been punched in the gut.
Shit.
Lee shook his head, his anger twisting into something sharper. “We was supposed to go get her a gift after rehearsal. But I guess you been too busy sneakin’ ‘round and kissin’ on folk you ain’t supposed to be kissin’ to remember that.”
James felt like the worst grandson alive. He had forgotten. But how was he supposed to think about anything else when Regulus was right there?
He turned to Regulus, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. He looked trapped, like a rabbit staring down a shotgun. James wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t, not with Lee standing there, eyes full of warning.
So instead, James exhaled, nodded once, and said softly, “I’ll see you soon.”
Regulus blinked at him, his face unreadable.
Then, without another word, James turned and followed Lee out into the night, leaving Regulus sitting there, silent, still, looking like he might never move again.
James hurried after Lee, his shoes hitting the pavement hard as he called out, “Lee, wait—”
Lee didn’t slow, not at first, but James was younger, faster, and determined. He caught up within a few strides, reaching out to grab Lee’s arm. “Just stop for a second, will you?”
Lee did stop, but not because James asked. He stopped because they’d made it far enough away from the club that no one was close enough to hear them. He turned on James, his face set, his eyes burning with something between fury and fear.
Lee cut his gaze around them, scanning the street, making sure there were no listening ears, no prying eyes. Then, when he was sure, he stepped in close, lowering his voice to a sharp, furious whisper.
“What part of don’t do nothin’ foolish did you not understand?”
James bristled. “I thought you’d be more open-minded.”
Lee gaped at him, then scoffed, shaking his head. “Boy, this ain’t about open-minded.” His voice was low, heavy with warning. “You think this the same as sneakin’ off with a girl your folks don’t approve of? This ain’t no love story, James."
James clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. “We were being careful.”
Lee narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? And what woulda happened if that weren’t me walkin’ through that door just now?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What if it was one of them club owners? Or somebody from Regulus’ side of town?” He leaned in closer, voice deadly serious. “What if it was a white man with a badge?”
James swallowed.
Lee nodded, satisfied that his point was sinking in. “You were lucky.”
James refused to back down. “But it wasn’t anyone else. It was you.”
Lee let out a sharp breath, looking at James like he was a damn fool. Maybe he was. Maybe love had made him one.
Lee exhaled, long and slow, rubbing a hand down his face before setting his jaw. “Aight,” he muttered. “Come on.”
James frowned. “What? Where?”
Lee had already started walking. “I need to show you somethin’.”
James hesitated for half a second, but then followed, his chest tight, his mind racing.
Whatever it was, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.
Lee walked in silence, the steady sound of his shoes echoing in the empty street, leading James further away from the bright lights of Beale Street. James followed, trying to keep pace with Lee's long strides, but confusion tugged at him. Four blocks out, and nothing seemed different, just another empty street corner.
Lee finally stopped, his eyes fixed on a small patch of sidewalk. James looked around, still puzzled. “Lee, what’s goin’ on? Why are we here?”
Lee didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed on the pavement, like he was looking for something only he could see. “You ever hear of a man named Terrance Jones?” he asked, his voice low, like he was speaking to the ground rather than to James.
James shook his head, genuinely confused. “No… I’ve never heard of him.”
Lee’s gaze didn’t leave the patch in the sidewalk. His voice didn’t crack, but there was something heavy in it as he continued. “Three years ago, on this very corner, a man named Terrance Jones died.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “You know how he died?”
James shook his head again. He was listening, but a sick feeling was starting to form in his gut.
Lee didn’t need to look at him to know James had no idea. He just kept staring down at that patch, like the answer was written in the cracks of the sidewalk. “Terrance, like you... he was friendly with a white girl. She was from the other side of town. Real proper-like. She told him she loved him, he said they could run away, get outta here, somewhere far, where they could be together without all this…” He motioned vaguely, like he was sweeping the whole world away with a single hand. “She was on board with it. Said she’d go with him.”
James stood still, his chest tightening. He knew where this was going, but he didn’t want to hear it.
Lee's voice lowered even further, becoming almost a whisper. “But then her parents found out. They found out about Terrance, about him talkin’ ‘bout runnin’ off with their daughter. You know what they thought?” Lee turned to James, his eyes dark but steady. “They thought he was tryin’ to kidnap her. They thought no good, proper white girl would ever look twice at a negro.” He said the word with a bitterness that tasted sour in his mouth.
James felt the air leave his chest. He could hardly breathe as he heard Lee’s words.
Lee’s voice was tight with something that sounded like grief, but there was no time to mourn. “They went to the police, James. Told ‘em Terrance was a threat, said he’d been manipu—” Lee stopped himself, and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away. “The Klan, they didn’t even get the chance to do what they usually do. You know what happened? That night, Terrance was leaving his shift at the factory, and a few police officer just walked up to him. One of the officers told him he had to answer some questions, but then they just… they just started beatin’ on him.”
James’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to picture it, but he couldn’t shake the image. The thought of it stuck to him like tar.
Lee’s jaw tightened, and he stared at the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “They beat him ‘til he was unconscious. Heard from a few folks who were around there that you could hear Terrance’s screams. Hear ‘im beggin’ for mercy, but no one could do a damn thing to stop it.”
James swallowed, his heart heavy in his chest. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say.
Lee looked over at him then, his face softening, but the weight of what he was about to say hung in the air like a storm cloud. “There’s one thing to be a sissy. You know, they’ll throw you in jail for that, throw the book at ya. But when it involves the son of a rich white man? The only outcome for someone like you, James, the only thing left is you in a casket, and folks won’t even bat an eye at it.”
James stared at Lee, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never felt the weight of it so sharply, not until now. Not like this. It wasn’t just a passing thought anymore. It was real. It was dangerous.
Lee didn't look angry anymore, just exhausted. “James,” he said, his voice rough, “you’re not Regulus.”
James looked at him, not sure what to say. His heart was still pounding from the conversation about Terrance. It was hard to focus on anything else. But Lee’s words cut through, and James felt his pulse quicken in his throat.
Lee took a slow breath, then asked, “You ever wonder why Regulus can do what he does? Why he can play in black clubs, come and go like he owns the place, drive around with a black man in his passenger seat? Why he can pull up to a black neighborhood and nobody raises an eyebrow?” His eyes held James’s, daring him to answer.
James stood there, caught in the weight of Lee’s gaze. He didn’t answer at first because the truth was, he’d never really thought about it like that. Not the way Lee was putting it.
Lee didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll tell you why,” he said, the edge in his voice sharper now. “Regulus’s late father, he owned half of Memphis. And most of the cotton fields in Tennessee. That boy, he’s got a whole damn world at his feet. The world’s his playground, James. Everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter, and he can bend the rules all he wants ‘cause no one’s gonna stop him.”
James opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say to that. It was hard to argue, when the truth felt so sharp and cruel.
Lee took a step closer to him, his gaze unwavering. “But you, James, you’re not Regulus. It doesn't matter how much money your father has back in England, not here. Not in this country. You’re a black man. And you gotta remember that every single day you step outside that door.”
The weight of those words hit James harder than anything else. His chest tightened. He’d known this, of course, but hearing it out loud, hearing it from Lee, made it feel like a punch to the gut.
Lee’s expression softened, just a little, but his words were still heavy. “All the money in the world ain’t gonna save you, James. Not from the Klan. Not from the cops. You need to be careful. You can’t live like Regulus. You can’t just run around like you own the damn place, ‘cause you don’t. And you’re not gonna win by pretending that you can.”
James didn’t know how to respond to that. He wanted to argue, to say that he could make it work, that love and passion should mean something, should matter more than all the hate in the world. But in the pit of his stomach, he knew Lee was right.
He felt small suddenly. Vulnerable. His world, his reality, was different from Regulus’s. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t escape it.
Lee studied him for a moment, then shook his head and let out a long, tired breath. “You think about that, James. Think about what it really means to be out here. It ain’t all music and dreams. Not for you. Not in this place.”
James didn’t say anything. He just stood there, the weight of Lee’s words pressing on him harder than he could bear. Lee turned back around and started walking again, his shoulders heavy but his steps sure.
James stayed where he was for a moment longer, staring at the patch of sidewalk where Terrance Jones had died, trying to make sense of it all. But the truth was, he couldn’t.
Not yet.
Lee turned and started walking back toward Beale Street, the silence between them thick, heavier than it had ever been.