Page 41 of Syncopation
Chapter Eleven
Life was chaos, and Ray knew that for a fact. He’d always lived in the whirlwind. The only thing that changed was how fast things moved at any given time. Push one way and things flew off in another direction. He received a copy of their contract from the record label and in return, Carl shoved reporter after shitty reporter at the band in St. Louis. None of them wantedto talk about Twisted Wishes’s sound or the tour or any of that—they all wanted to know about Kevin and about Ray’s “drinking problem.”
By the third reporter, he snapped and slapped a hand down on his thigh. “I don’t have a fucking drinking problem!” He rose from his chair in the green room. “I have a fucking dirt-digging-rats-who-are-only-interested-in-controversy problem.”
“Ray.” Zavier’svoice, low and either soothing or condescending, Ray couldn’t tell anymore.
“Back off, Demos.” He hadn’t known what had happened between them, only that one moment Zavier had been sharing a couch with him all friendly like, and the next, he was giving Ray the cold shoulder and curling up in his berth to play fucking games on that goddamned tablet of his. “Here, a parting gift for each of you.”He flipped both Zavier and the reporter the finger and marched out of the room, his heart in his throat and his stomach a mess.
He shouldn’t let any of it get to him. But everything was chip, chip, chipping away at him, and he was done. When he made it to the dressing room, he looked at himself in the mirror. The face of a fool.
He’d spent too many hours overnight reading and rereadingtheir contract, then searching terms on the internet. Panic clawed its way into his soul. He didn’t understand everything he’d read, but he did suss out enough to know that the label had them over a barrel. Maybe not in the way Carl had said, but they were beholden to them.
And Carl, who was supposed to be their biggest asset, connection, and promoter to the label,hatedhim. Ray didn’t understandany of it, and between the lack of sleep, the fear, the fucking reporters, and Zavier Demos, he couldn’t think straight.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Ray braced himself for whoever it was. He expected Carl or Zavier, but it was Mish who appeared in the reflection of the vanity. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Everything. He shook his head.
She sighed and walked into the room. “I haven’tseen you this upset since Kevin...”
There was the other part he hadn’t wanted to think about, but the reporters kept dragging it up. “How do you feel about Kevin Schmidt being destitute while you’re touring the US with your new drummer?”
Like fucking shit. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Did you know about Kevin?” He hadn’t heard a damn thing from anyone, and as far as he knew, noone else had, either.
Mish turned him around and pulled him into a hug. “He’s not out on the street or anything. He’s living with his mom while he gets back on his feet.”
Ray tried to keep the anger in, tried to keep the pain from spilling out of his mouth. “Youknewwhat happened to Kevin!”
She didn’t let him go. Not that he wanted that anyway. Someone caring about him felt nice,and Mish always had his back. She rocked him slightly. “He emailed me back when we were getting ready for the tour. Wanted me to know he was okay and getting help and that he appreciated your letter.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” His head and heart hurt. Couldn’t he trust anyone anymore?
A sigh. “He asked me not to. Knew it would upset you. Wanted you to focus on the band, not him.”
He muttered his words into Mish’s shoulder. “I’m supposed to be protecting you guys, not the other way around.”
A soft chuckle. “Hon, we’re here for each other.”
Typical wonderful Mish, always watching out for them. When Ray had started fucking members of the crew, Mish had pulled him aside.“Be good to them, Ray, ’cause they’re giving you a lot by saying yes. And for god’s sake, tell meyou’re on PrEP and using condoms.”He was and did, and he had taken her advice to heart.
She opened space between them. “You gotta let this shit roll off you.”
He wanted to. Desperately. But every time his head cleared a bit and he could breathe and see, something else came to shove him back into the chaos surrounding him. Too bad the crew was totally different this tour—and as far ashe could tell, not a single guy was even the least bit interested in him, or he’d have the stress relief he needed and stop taking it out on everyone else. “That reporter’s gonna have quite a story.”
“Maybe.” There was resignation in her tone. “I’m not worried about the reporter.”
He hadn’t just flipped off that asshole. Ray leaned his ass against the vanity. “I take it Zavier is pissed.”
Mish pulled a chair out and sat down. “Don’t know. Sometimes he’s hard to read.”
Too hard, lately. “What happened after I left?”
She filled him in. His outburst had ended the interview, and the reporter packed up his shit and left. Zavier had sat for a while, then stood and walked out of the room without saying a word.
“He didn’t look angry. More...concerned, I guess.” She paused.“Is there something going on between you two?”
Other than years of resentment and desire? “No.”
