Page 12 of Diva Pop

“No,” Jett gritted through his teeth. “Couldn’t be better.”

Silas gave him a quick nod, and with that, Jett realized he was once again being dismissed. Unable to march off in disgust since his knee actually was killing him, Jett employed the most sensual gait he could manage. Jett might be putting on a show of being onboard with the latest band developments, but Silas wasn’t fooling him for a second. The man wanted to break off a piece of him, and if that’s what it took to make everything go Jett’s way, then so be it.

By the time he’d made it to the dressing room, Jett had come up with the vague outline of a plan. Maybe he could use his knee troubles to his advantage. He’d have to be careful, though. Playing up the issue too much could get him sidelined, but a damsel in distress was too hard for most men to resist.

He grinned to himself. Especially when the target was already hard for him.

Jett grabbed his knee wrap then made his way back to the rehearsal room, displaying just a hint of a limp as he approached Silas. The stares of the other guys were boring into him, but they weren’t of concern. Silas was all that mattered.

“Gosh, here I am bothering you again, but I’m having trouble getting this wrap to stay on securely. I was wondering if you could give me a hand?”

Jett perched on the chair next to Silas then propped his leg across Silas’ thighs. “Thanks so much, I really appreciate it.” He offered the handful of stretchy fabric to him. “Here you go.”

Silas regarded him with the vacant stare he seemed to be unusually proficient in, then after a moment, gently lowered Jett’s leg off his lap. The zing to Jett’s dick from the soft, but assured touch of Silas’ strong fingers threatened to scramble his brains. However, he needed to focus and stay on task.

“Surely a dancer of your experience who performed the lead in Swan Lake three years running, and is currently the star of the biggest pop dance band in the world, is well-schooled in wrapping his own knee?”

A rush of heat filled Jett’s cheeks. Flirt fail alert. Why was this sanctimonious bastard not taking the bait Jett was tossing at him right and left? Maybe the guy wasn’t gay after all and Jett was making an even bigger ass of himself than he realized.

“Well, uh, of course.” Jett chuckled as if it were no big deal. “I’m just having a bit of trouble today, because…”

He had nothing.

Jett combed his fingers through his hair. It was time to call attention to his face. Men always said they loved the combination of his green eyes with the almost black hair, and Jett was running out of ideas to snare his prey.

Silas regarded him for another beat then called out, “Tory? Could you come here for a minute, please?”

Jett covered his eyes with one hand then glanced up to catch Tory happily jogging over with a big, goofy smile on his face. When he reached them both, he glanced at Jett, his eyebrows pinched together before turning to Silas.

“Did you need something?”

“Yes. Would you mind helping Jett wrap his knee? For some odd reason he can’t seem to do it himself.”

Tory tilted his head then regarded Jett with a furrowed brow. “How come? You’ve never had a problem before.”

Oh my God. Tory was crap at picking up on cues. “One of those days, I guess.” Jett smirked.

“One of what days?”

“For fuck sakes…” Jett muttered under his breath. “Never mind. Come on, follow me to the dressing room.”

“That’s okay, I can do it --”

“Now.”

With as much dignity as Jett could muster, he grabbed Tory’s wrist and gave him a tug. At this point, he wasn’t above dragging him face down across the shiny floorboards if that's what it took to get out from under the watchful eye of Silas.

They’d barely crossed the threshold of the dressing room before Tory started peppering him with questions.

“What happened? I told you that not wrapping your knee was a bad idea. Did you hurt it? Why can’t you wrap it yourself?”

Jett whirled around. “Because, I was trying to lure the fly into my honey trap. I figured if I could get Silas to fondle my leg, I’d be one step closer to getting him on my side.”

Tory groaned and shook his head. “You didn’t honestly think he’d fall for that, did you? He seems way smarter than Bob ever was. More professional, too. I don’t think you should try and play him, Jett. I truly believe he’s sincere about wanting to help the band.”

Jett grunted. “Yeah, great. What if helping the band means dumping me? Huh?”

Tory rubbed Jett’s shoulder, which annoyed the fuck out of him. He did it all the time and it made Jett feel as if he were a cat being placated. And anyway, being touched with all that affection didn’t sit right, made him jumpy as though he didn’t fit in his skin.

---