Blue Suede Shoes
The morning light filtered through the curtains, and James lay in bed for a moment, still basking in the memories of the night before. His body hummed with contentment, his heart was full in a way it had never been before. He wanted to shout from the rooftops, to tell the world about Regulus, about the feel of his body pressed against his, the taste of him on his tongue, the way he had become something he could no longer live without. He craved the opportunity to tell everyone about the way Regulus's body made him feel, about everything his tongue had done to him. But as much as he longed to speak of it, to share it with someone, he knew the consequences of doing so. Their relationship, their connection, it wasn’t something the world could know. Not yet. Not like this.
So, instead, he stayed silent, burying the joy deep inside, letting it warm him from the inside out.
When he finally made his way downstairs, his grandmother noticed the change instantly. She sat at the table with her cup of coffee, knitting needles clicking softly as she worked, but her eyes never left him.
“You’re looking like a man with a full heart, James,” she said with a knowing smile, her voice warm and gentle. “I’m happy for you. Whatever it is that’s bringing that light to your eyes, I hope it stays.”
James smiled, his heart fluttering at the kind words, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded, thankful for her understanding. He didn’t need to speak the words, his grandmother knew, as she always did.
He sat down beside her, his gaze flicking toward the kitchen where his mother was preparing breakfast. She looked over her shoulder at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “What’s got you so happy this morning, James?”
His mind raced, but he quickly masked it with a smile. He couldn’t tell her the truth, not yet, not ever if it put Regulus at risk. So, he settled for something simpler.
“I missed playing with the band,” he said, the words flowing easily, even as his thoughts wandered back to Regulus. The river. The way their bodies had intertwined by the riverbank, the feeling of being inside Regulus.
His mother smiled, not pressing any further. “Well, it’s good to see you so happy, son.”
James nodded, his mind still swirling with thoughts of Regulus, when his grandmother’s voice broke through his reverie.
"They’re holdin’ a party for the young folks at the church, with music an’ all," she said, her tone warm and familiar. "Might be a good chance for you to play with your band." Her eyes twinkled as she added with a sly grin, "Perfect opportunity for you to see Clara again, don’t you think?"
James felt his throat tighten at the mention of Clara. He hadn’t given her much thought in the recent days, but now, with Regulus filling his every waking moment, the thought of Clara brought a wave of discomfort. He forced a smile and spoke carefully, "I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Grandma."
She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unconvinced. "Oh? Why not, James? What’s the trouble?"
He hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t raise suspicion. “Well, you see, the thing is... my band’s got Regulus singing for us, and, well, we’ve also got a white drummer. I don’t think the community would be too keen on that, especially with a white bloke singing blues.”
His grandmother chuckled softly, clearly unimpressed with his attempt at a reason. "James, that’s just foolishness. Regulus is your friend, ain’t he? A good boy, too. Been here at this table eating with us. And he's Lee's friend ain't he? Well, that boy’s got the respect of this whole neighborhood. Ain’t nobody gonna say nothin’ 'bout a white man if Lee’s got his back, you hear me?"
James opened his mouth to protest, but his mother chimed in, backing his grandmother’s point. "She’s right, James. Regulus is a family friend. People’ll understand."
James sighed, his protests slipping away. Regulus’s status, his family’s wealth, he knew it would keep him safe. He couldn’t argue with that, no matter how much he wanted to protect what they had in private. "Alright," he finally muttered, "I’ll do it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you."
His grandmother’s smile widened, pleased by his reluctant acceptance. "That’s my boy," she said with a satisfied nod.
...
Over the following days, James grandmother had been persistent about the youth group party, and it seemed she had made up her mind about getting the band to play. James had tried to explain his concerns about Regulus, about the community’s potential reaction, but his grandmother had insisted that the pastor would be the one to help.
James had no choice but to agree, and before long, the pastor arrived at their house. He was a tall, dignified man, with a gentle but commanding presence. He sat down with James on the porch, the warm southern air brushing against them.
"James," he began, his voice calm but filled with purpose, "I’ve heard a lot about your band, and I believe it could do something important for this community. Music, after all, is the language that speaks louder than any words ever can." He paused, giving James a thoughtful look before continuing. "I want to offer you a payment for your band to play at the youth group party. But more than that, I believe this is an opportunity for something even bigger."
James looked at the pastor, confused. “What do you mean, sir?”
The pastor leaned forward slightly, his eyes serious but filled with hope. "This church, this place, it’s for all of us, black and white. Music is a gift from God, and it doesn’t care about skin color. It transcends all the walls we build between each other. I believe that if our community sees a mixed band playing together, side by side, they’ll be reminded that the laws of this world are man-made and not Christ-made." He smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing with sincerity. "Sometimes, it takes a little light to show people the way."
James swallowed hard. He hadn’t thought about it like that. The pastor was right, in a way. Music had always been a bridge, even when people tried to burn it down.
“I’ll talk to my band,” James said after a long pause. “But... it might not be easy.” He wasn’t sure if Regulus, especially, would be willing to play at an event that was so public. But the thought of bringing something good to the community, of showing them the possibility of unity, filled him with a sense of purpose.
The pastor nodded, his smile unwavering. “I have faith you’ll make the right decision. This is bigger than us. It’s bigger than anything any of us can understand.”
James stood, offering the pastor a firm handshake. “Thank you, sir,” he said, feeling the weight of the responsibility now resting on his shoulders.
As the pastor left, James lingered on the porch, looking out at the sun setting over Memphis. He didn’t know if Regulus would agree. He didn’t know how their friends would react either. But for the first time in a long while, James felt like he might be part of something bigger than himself.
...
When Thursday rolls around, James gathers the band to talk about the church gig. As soon as he brings it up, Regulus’s face lights up with excitement.
“A church gig? That sounds brilliant,” Regulus says, already imagining the music echoing through the old wooden halls.
But before anyone else can chime in, Evan is the first to shake his head. “No,” he says firmly.
Regulus blinks, taken aback. “What? Why not?”
Evan sighs and exchanges a glance with Barty before muttering, “Mate, I can’t step in a church, let alone play at one.”
Regulus frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Evan hesitates, then huffs a laugh. “After everything I do with Barty when we’re alone? If I step inside a church, I’ll go up in flames.”
Dorcas bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. Barty smirks, throwing an arm around Evan’s shoulders. “He’s got a point,” he says.
Regulus rolls his eyes before turning to Dorcas. “What about you? What do you think?”
Dorcas shrugs. “I don’t mind. I actually grew up going to church. Loved the dances. That’s where I met Marlene, y’know.”
Barty lets out a dramatic gasp. “Dorcas? Church? What’s next? Me leading the choir?”
Regulus ignores him. “Well, that settles it, then.”
Barty raises an eyebrow. “Settles it? How?”
Regulus gives him a pointed look. “It’s two against one. That’s a majority.”
Barty scoffs. “That’s ridiculous! I haven’t even cast my vote yet.”
Regulus tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Vote? You’re not even part of the band.”
Barty gasps again, clutching his chest. “Au contraire, mon cher,” he says dramatically. “I am very much part of the band.”
Regulus folds his arms. “Oh, excuse moi. I must’ve forgotten—what instrument do you play again?”
Barty grins. Barty grins. “Ain’t got no instrument, but I sure as hell play Evan.” He winks, then adds, “Plus, I carry all y’all’s shit ‘round. That counts.”
Regulus scoffs. “That does not count.”
Dorcas, still chuckling, shrugs. “He kinda has a point.”
Regulus groans. “Fine, then. What’s your official opinion?”
Barty leans back against the table. “I say we shouldn’t do it. It’s risky. Someone could call the cops on you, Reg. Or Evan. Or me.”
Regulus waves a dismissive hand. “That’s ridiculous. James said we were invited to play, didn’t he?” He turns to James, who nods hesitantly. “See? That says it all. They’re not gonna call the cops on us.”
Dorcas crosses her arms. “Well, we’re tied then. Which means James is the deciding vote.”
James freezes. He wants to say no. He doesn’t want Clara and Regulus in the same place, doesn’t want to deal with whatever disaster might unfold. But at the same time, he can’t say no to Regulus, not when he’s looking at him like that, eyes bright with anticipation.
So, against his better judgment, he nods. “Alright. We’ll do it.”
Regulus grins at him, that breathtaking, heart-stopping kind of smile.
Barty smirks. “Well, since that’s settled, y’all can kiss now.”
James’s eyes widen.“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, come on,” Barty drawls. “Y'all are safe with us. Y’all ain’t gotta pretend.”
Regulus’s grin widens. He steps forward, grabbing James by the tie and pulling him in for a kiss. And just like that, James forgets about everything else—the church, Clara, the risk.
Because in that moment, there’s only Regulus.
...
James stood near the front of the church, listening to his mother and grandmother chat with the pastor. He was only half paying attention, still riding the high of the night before, when the heavy wooden doors creaked open.
Regulus stepped in first, and James had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. A pink suit. Not just any pink, a flashy, damn-near electric shade that somehow worked on him like it was stitched by angels themselves. Regulus wore it like it was the most natural thing in the world, chin high, confident as ever.
James caught the way the pastor’s brows lifted just slightly. The older man let out a hum before muttering, “Some white folks sure do have peculiar taste.”
James chuckled, but his eyes never left Regulus. Peculiar or not, he’d never seen anything, or anyone, more dazzling.
Behind Regulus, Dorcas strolled in, smirking at something Evan whispered in her ear. Evan and Barty followed, lugging in pieces of the drum set between them, grumbling about why they always got stuck with the heavy lifting.
James straightened as they reached him. “Pastor, this is the band.” He gestured to each of them. “This is Regulus, Dorcas, Evan, and—”
Before he could finish, Barty cut in, nodding seriously. “Nice to meet ya, Your Holiness.”
A beat of silence. Then, the pastor let out a hearty laugh, clapping Barty on the shoulder. “Son, I ain’t the Pope.”
The tension in the room melted, and even James had to shake his head with a grin. Barty just shrugged, grinning wide like he meant to say it all along.
James glanced at Regulus again, who was already looking at him, smirking like he knew exactly what was running through James’s mind. And Lord help him, but James just wanted to grab him by that ridiculous tie and kiss the life out of him.
...
The band was set up, the instruments tuned, and the drum kit finally in place after Barty nearly dropped one of the cymbals on his foot. The church hall was buzzing with energy, people filling the space, laughter and conversation rising as the evening picked up.
James stood with Regulus and the band in a corner, discussing the setlist.
“I’m thinkin’ we start off upbeat,” Regulus said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. The pink fabric caught the warm glow of the overhead lights, making him stand out even more than usual.
“Can’t go wrong with a lil’ gospel blues,” Dorcas mused, twirling a harmonica in her fingers.
“You would say that,” Evan muttered. “Bet you’re plannin’ to have us do that church song from back home, huh?”
“Maybe,” she grinned. “Got a problem with that?”
Evan just shook his head, muttering something about how she always got her way, while James glanced at Regulus, who was still messing with his cuffs like he had something on his mind. But before James could ask what, a voice called his name.
“James.”
He turned to see Clara approaching, the crowd parting just slightly as she moved through. She looked… put together. Always did. But tonight, she was wearing a sleeveless pink dress, cinched at the waist, flaring at the hips. It was a striking shade, bright, bold. James caught the way Regulus straightened beside him, but when he glanced over, his face gave nothing away.Clara stopped just a fraction too close, the scent of her perfume, something sweet, peach-like,lingering between them.
“I heard you were playin’ tonight,” she said, her voice warm, lilting in that unmistakable Southern way.
James inclined his head. “That’s right. We’ve got a little set planned.”
Clara’s eyes flicked briefly to the others, and James, remembering his manners, gestured between them.
“This is the band—Dorcas, Evan, Barty, and Regulus.”
Regulus, ever polite, offered a small, tight smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Clara barely acknowledged him. If she had heard him at all, she gave no indication. Instead, her attention settled back on James, her expression softening into something that felt just a touch too familiar. Then, with a practiced ease, she clapped her hands behind her back, elbows jutting out just slightly as her shoulders pulled back. The movement sent her chest forward, making the curve of it more pronounced beneath the fitted bodice of her dress. It wasn’t obvious, not enough to call attention to itself outright, but James noticed. Of course he did.
Regulus did, too.
Clara beamed at James, her smile bright and wide. “I’ve heard so much about your piano playing," she said, her voice warm with excitement. "I’m really looking forward to hearing you tonight.”
James gave a tight smile, unsure how to respond to the enthusiasm. “Yeah, well, I hope it lives up to the hype.”
Clara leaned in slightly, her eyes glimmering with interest. “People around here have been talkin’ about you for a while now. They say you’ve got real talent.”
James rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll do my best.”
Clara nodded, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I’m sure you will. You look like you're destined for something big.”
James felt Regulus shift next to him. It was subtle, barely anything, but James knew him well enough to recognize it. James swallowed, resisting the urge to glance at Regulus. He knew better.
Clara’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes glinting. "I’m sure you’ll blow everyone away. You taught yourself how to play the piano, didn’t you?"
The compliment lingered, and James chuckled awkwardly, feeling his face flush slightly. "Well, let’s hope the piano’s in the mood tonight."
Clara’s fingers brushed against the front of her dress, her posture shifting as she subtly straightened her chest. "I’m sure it will be. I’ll be watching closely," she added, her voice low and flirtatious. "Can't wait to hear it all come together."
James opened his mouth, unsure of how to respond, but before he could say anything, Barty, damn Barty, grinned, his sharp eyes darting between Clara and Regulus.
“Well, now, ain’t this somethin’,” he drawled, arms crossed.
James frowned. “What?”
Barty jerked his chin between them, grinning like the devil himself. “Y’all match.”
James blinked, confused for a moment before he followed Barty’s gaze—first to Clara’s dress, then to Regulus’s suit.
And oh.
Clara’s pink dress. Regulus’s pink suit.
James hadn’t noticed at first, but standing side by side, the similarity was there. Maybe not exact, but close enough. Regulus turned to Barty slow, real slow, his expression unreadable, but there was something sharp in his gaze.
“Thank you for pointing that out, Barty,” he said, voice smooth as silk, but laced with something darker underneath.
Barty, entirely unbothered, beamed. “You’re welcome.”
Clara ignored the comment completely again. Regulus, though, was done with this conversation.
“We should get ready to play,” he said, straightening his jacket, his voice even, smooth, like nothing in the world was bothering him.
James cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah, let’s—”
Before he could turn away, Clara reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his wrist.
“Promise me a dance later?” she asked, her voice sweet, casual, but there was something else underneath.
James hesitated.
He felt Regulus standing just a foot away, silent.
He didn’t want to say yes, didn’t want to give Clara the wrong idea, but saying no felt too pointed, too much. He didn’t know what to do, so he glanced at Dorcas, who gave the subtlest shake of her head.
“I’ll see,” James said finally, keeping his voice light.
Clara smiled like that was good enough. “I’ll hold you to that.”
With that, she turned and disappeared back into the crowd.
James exhaled, rubbing his jaw, but before he could say anything, Regulus turned on his heel and strode toward the microphone without so much as a glance in his direction. James followed Regulus, stepping back on the stage. He called out to him, but Regulus didn’t acknowledge him, not even a glance over his shoulder. The rest of the band started moving toward the instruments, taking their places for their set. James was about to say something again when Dorcas caught his eye. She gave him a look, a subtle shake of her head. “Talk to him later,” she mouthed.
James bit his lip, holding back the urge to follow Regulus right now. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Instead, he took his place behind the piano and adjusted his hands, trying to focus on the next performance.
Regulus stood at the front of the stage, eyes sweeping over the band. He wasn’t looking at James, but his voice rang out as he turned to them. “Alright, we’ll start with Blue Suede Shoes,” he said flatly, almost as though he was reciting the words by rote.
James couldn’t shake the weight of the tension hanging between them as Regulus began to sing. His voice was on point, smooth and full of soul, but there was something biting in the way he delivered the lyrics. It was as if the song had a different edge to it tonight, every note carrying some hidden frustration. Regulus didn’t spare him a single glance the whole time, his eyes trained on the crowd, never landing on James.
James stayed focused on his piano, pushing his emotions aside, keeping his hands moving in sync with the music. The band flowed seamlessly together, but there was an unmistakable distance, a divide, that James couldn’t ignore. The whole performance felt charged, but not in the way he wanted it to.
They finished Blue Suede Shoes and moved on to the next four songs, the rhythm picking up, the energy rising in the room. People were dancing, clapping along with the music. James couldn’t help but notice Clara, closer to the stage than before, her eyes locked onto him. Every now and then, their gazes met, and he quickly looked away, feeling that strange tension building again. He tried to ignore her, focusing on the music, but it was difficult with the way her attention seemed to linger on him.
After they finished the set, Regulus took the microphone again. He didn’t look at the band, his tone still distant, like he was just going through the motions.
"It’s been a pleasure singin’ for y’all tonight. Now, next up, let’s give a big hand for Lee ‘Cool Hands’ Johnson, the best sax player in all of Memphis.
The crowd clapped and cheered as they made their exit, Lee coming on stage with his saxophone in hand, ready to take over. James could hear the audience’s appreciative laughter as Lee made a joke about Regulus being the best soul singer in Tennessee, even though he was “as white as a sheet.” The crowd laughed, and the applause rang out again, but James couldn’t bring himself to join in.
He followed the rest of the band off the stage, but Regulus wasn’t slowing down. He was already heading toward the back exit, walking with that determined, almost angry stride. James quickened his pace, calling out to him once more.
“Reg, wait up.”
But Regulus didn’t respond, his shoulders stiff as he pushed through the door to the outside. “I need air,” he muttered, the words sharp and clipped.
James hesitated for a moment but then followed, trailing behind just a few steps. He didn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t just let Regulus walk off like this.
James’s fingers wrapped around Regulus’s wrist, pulling him to a stop just as they reached the outside. Regulus’s head snapped around, his face a mix of anger and something more vulnerable that James could read easily, even in the dim light.
“What?” Regulus’s voice was low and tight, the words sharp. “Don't you got somethin’ else to do? Maybe a girl in a pretty pink dress you’d rather dance with?”
James could hear the hurt beneath the words, and for a second, he almost let go of Regulus’s wrist. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to back off. Not now. Not like this.
James let his grip loosen and then dropped his voice, lowering it so only Regulus could hear. “I don’t. I’d rather be out here with you.”
Regulus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes shifted toward the entrance, scanning the space behind them as if trying to find something or someone to focus on. He finally spoke, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air.
“You’re wastin’ your time. Ain’t no one out here with pretty tits.” His words felt like a punch.
James looked at him, studying his expression, trying to figure out how much of that was a defense mechanism. “Are you jealous?”
Regulus scoffed and looked away, almost as if the idea was beneath him. “Jealous? That’s ridiculous.”
But James didn’t let it go. He leaned in a little, voice teasing, “I like your nipples.”
Regulus’s eyes went wide in disbelief, as if James had just told him the most absurd thing in the world. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s true,” James said, his grin softening as he looked at Regulus with affection. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know how I got lucky enough for you to give me a chance. You’re perfect just the way you are, Regulus. You’re not just beautiful, you’re you. And that’s exactly who I want. Not anyone else, not a woman, not anyone else’s idea of what’s desirable. It’s you. Every part of you. And if I could, I’d kiss you right now, right here. And if you’d let me, I’d take you right there behind that church, I'd take you over and over again."
Regulus chuckled then, the tension easing slightly, but James could still feel the uncertainty lingering between them. He wasn’t finished yet. He leaned a little closer, his tone softer now. “It doesn’t matter what Clara says or does. I’m dating you, not her.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, looking a little skeptical. “Are we dating?”
“Of course we are,” James replied without hesitation, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
Regulus sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I feel insecure,” he admitted, the confession a rare glimpse of vulnerability. “She’s gorgeous. And she’s... well, she's a Black girl. You could be seen with her. You wouldn’t have to hide.”
James nodded, understanding, but he wasn’t going to let Regulus go down that road. He stepped closer, meeting his gaze firmly. “She’s pretty. One day, she’ll make some man very happy. But that man won’t be me.”
For a long moment, they just stared at each other. James could feel the weight of everything he wanted to say pressing on his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Not yet. Not until he knew for sure that Regulus felt the same.
Instead, he pushed the words down and asked, his voice softer now, “Do you want to go home? Or do you want to go back inside?”
Regulus hesitated for a beat before giving a small nod. “I want to go back inside.”
James smiled, just a little, his heart lightening as they turned back toward the entrance.
Regulus and James walked back into the church, the energy in the air a bit lighter as they rejoined the crowd. The tension had softened, replaced by the easy rhythm of the night. Regulus gave James a quick, mischievous smile.
"You wanna learn somethin’ fun, sugar?" Regulus asked, his voice teasing.
James raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the suggestion. “What’s that, then?” he asked, his voice still holding a touch of reserve.
Regulus grinned and slid into position, his movements flowing effortlessly. “This here’s a hand jive, you see? Ain’t nothin’ to it, just gotta get your hands quick, real smooth, like this.” He demonstrated the fluid motion with a laugh, his hands moving like they were born to dance.
James watched intently, leaning in to catch every detail. “I don’t know if I’ve got the rhythm for that, Regulus,” he said with a soft laugh, still feeling a bit out of place in the lively atmosphere.
“Oh, you got it, Sugar,” Regulus said with a wink, his voice warm, coaxing. “You just gotta loosen up a bit. Here, I’ll show you again.”
James fumbled a little at first, his movements less graceful, but Regulus was patient, guiding him with a laugh. "Look at you, all stiff," Regulus teased, his Southern twang dancing in the words. “You gotta feel the music. Like when you played the piano."
James chuckled, trying again, a little more in tune this time. “You make it look easy.”
“It is easy when you’re as talented as I am,” Regulus said, giving a cheeky grin and puffing out his chest in mock pride.
James let out a laugh, feeling more at ease, until he caught sight of Clara walking into the room. Regulus instantly straightened, his playful grin vanishing, and his eyes narrowed as he pretended not to see her. He stuck out his chest even more, standing straighter, his body blocking Clara from view as if she weren’t even there.
James felt a thrill watching Regulus’s subtle defiance, his protective nature coming through. He was ignoring Clara entirely, and James couldn't help but admire how effortlessly Regulus turned all his attention on him instead.
"Don’t worry about her," James said quietly, a smile tugging at his lips as he caught Regulus’s gaze. “Let’s just enjoy this.”
Regulus didn’t respond right away, but his eyes softened as he focused on James. “I like that,” he drawled, his voice quiet and warm. "Just you and me, huh?"
James felt his heart swell at the sound of Regulus's voice, so soft, so full of that warmth that could melt any hesitation James had. He wanted nothing more than to kiss him then and there, to show Regulus just how much he cared. But he kept it in check, savoring this moment where nothing mattered except the two of them.
“Alright, then," Regulus said, his smile turning playful again. "Let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”
James smiled back, feeling a lightness in his chest, as they continued to jive. There, in that moment, with Regulus's attention fixed solely on him, James knew he had everything he’d ever wanted.