Page 81 of Syncopation
Carl stared at them. Mish was trying not to laugh, and Dom had his nose in a book.
“This isn’t a joke.” Carl tucked the tablet under his arm. “What the hell were you two doing?”
“Talking.” Zavier crossed his arms. “Funny thing. We’d just finished a killer concert as a headlining act, one that had fans on their feet the wholenight and which was critically acclaimed by the press—” he held up his own tablet to an article by a well-respected music critic “—and yet, someone read Ray the riot act for not being good enough. Weird, huh?”
Carl stared at him. “Demos, you better remember that you’re not part of this band.”
A cold chill wormed through Zavier’s chest. “It’s true. I’m an outsider who knows music at anechelon most people don’t even know exists. And I rather agree with her.” He tapped the case of his tablet, still open to the music critic. “Even if I was also in the middle of that amazing moment.”
“Carl.” Ray’s voice was soft. “Can we please cut the crap? What do you want from us, from me? I checked the charts, and we’re on them. Spotify’s featuring us. We’re charting on iTunes.” He shookhis head. “If you just want to see me bleed, there’s a knife in a drawer over there. You’re welcome to go at me with it.”
Well, that wasn’t Ray’s style at all. Zavier rocked on the balls of his feet. It was fucking fantastic, and about time, but he worried about the sudden shift.
“Or me,” Dom said. “I’m quiet and all, but I bleed just the same.”
Mish snorted. “Me? I’ll tear your armoff.”
Zavier clicked his tongue. “Mish, violence is not the answer.”
Carl’s face turned red, then white. Oh, there was rage—but also fear peeking out from behind. Uncertainty. He didn’t know how to handle this united, outspoken front. “Yeah, well. I don’t want to see anymore headlines about fighting.” He paused, and a little curl of distaste took up residence in his voice. “Or being lovers.”
“But the fans love that part!” Mish stood and looked down at Carl. “Two beautiful men eying each other? Gets the blood moving.”
Carl shook his head. “There’s DJs from the local radio station here. You’re scheduled for a live interview in an hour. Hope you’re better behaved with them.” Carl spun and fled the bus.
Silence descended for a minute or two, then Mish blew out a breath. “Fuckin’A, that felt good.”
It had. Zavier eyed Ray. Small smile and a bright look. “Yeah. But I’m sure he’ll make us pay. It’s just a matter of when.”
“But now maybe he’ll fuck with all of us, and not you.” Dom tossed his book aside. “Did he really slam you down after the concert yesterday?” The smile fell away, and Ray nodded. “That man’s an asshole.”
“Which is more or less what Zav said.”Ray rose and grabbed his notebook. “Let’s go find donuts and hammer out the set list before we have to go answer embarrassing questions from radio personalities.”
They found the donuts in a well-appointed lounge. Their crew was already unloading equipment and shit, and the catering coffee for both the band and the crew was top-notch.
Once they got their sugar fix, Ray cleaned his fingersof cinnamon sugar and locked eyes with Zavier. “You suggested shaking things up.”
“I did.” His pulse beat a little faster. What did Ray have up his sleeve? Hell, Mish and Dom leaned in, too.
“What if we open with ‘White Hot Midnight’?” Ray’s grin was toothy and excited andstunning. Somehow, Zavier would get a piece of that tonight. He wasn’t sure how, given the close quarters they shared,but he’d figure it out.
“And close with?” Mish asked. “Gotta be something damn good.”
“Let’s figure it out,” Ray said.
They tossed song ideas around until they came up with a lineup that was different but still as exciting. “Lightning” became an encore and “Bleeding Roses,” a slower, ballad-like song got thrown into their little acoustic set.
“We should do some covers.” Dom rubbedhis chin. “Like that punk version of ‘Born in the USA’ we played around with a couple years ago.”
“Hmm. A homage to the Boss and home.” Zavier peered at Mish. “Well, maybe for three of us at least?” He had no idea where Mish had grown up, but he, Dom, and Ray were all from New Jersey.
“Oh, I’m a heathen from the other side of the river in Pennsylvania, from around Windgap.” She leanedback. “We kinda love Springsteen, too, you know.”
Zavier laughed. Of course. “Bet you even went to the Shore, huh?”
“Don’t make me hit you with a donut, Zavier, honey.” Her words were as sweet as her smile.
He held up his hands in surrender. Because Mish? She had good aim. He’d seen her nail Dom with a sock, and bop Ray in the back with an empty water bottle. He had no desire to getpowdered sugar all over him...unless it was so he could order Ray to lick it off. He added that to his mental checklist, then shoved all those thoughts away.
