Page 44 of Syncopation
Chapter Twelve
After the intensity of that night’s show, Zavier was glad the band was staying at a hotel tonight. Sleeping on a tour bus had been all right, but the cramped conditions were wearing very thin on him. After yet another incredible concert full of energetic fans and Ray outdoing himself, Zavier was more wired than ever. Yet exhaustion had seeped deep into his bones, alongwith a growing frustration with the very man making each and every Twisted Wishes concert better than the last.
He hoped a bed that didn’t vibrate and shake with the movements of a bus and some downtime off the road would help them all,especiallyRay. The more Ray pushed himself, the more volatile his emotions became. He was either sullen, an anxious mess, a glorious rock god, or angry asfuck. Zavier missed those few moments when Ray had been relaxed and hopeful andtherewith the rest of the band.
Tonight Ray wasn’t there. He’d been moody on the bus, quiet before the concert, astounding on stage, and then snappish after a short conversation with Carl.
Since they’d all opened up about the manager and what they knew, Ray hadn’t filled anyone in on what the fuck Carl wassaying to him. Zavier saw that wear on both Mish and Dom, and gritted his teeth.
The trip from the outdoor arena to the hotel was uneventful, thank goodness, though Ray fidgeted in the limo, probably still burning off some of the energy that coursed through them all. Tonight’s concert had one-upped all the rest. Each time they played, they outdid themselves. Hell, at this rate they’d be headliningby the time they reached California.
Zavier knew his playing was part of that. The band could trust that he’d be there and blend, that they could improvise and still stay together—all the musicality that had fallen by the wayside with Kevin. Twisted Wishes flowed and built on the strengths of each musician.
Wasn’tallZavier—far from it. Like with the symphony, a band was a team. He’dreplaced a member who hadn’t functioned well, and they’d all taken it up a notch in response.EspeciallyRay. God, over the past few concerts, he’d become a firebrand on stage, his voice clearer and sharper, his interactions with the crowd energetic and stunning. Ray was a beautiful sight to behold, half naked by the end, and covered in sweat.
They were all coming down from the high now, butwhen Ray dropped, he hit bottom fast, as if the concerts were the only time he wasn’t full of anxiety and worry.
What had happened? He still didn’t know why Ray had flipped him off—was it only a few days ago? Didn’t matter. That and Ray’s behavior afterward had been for the best. He’d enjoyed Ray’s company and the tenuous friendship they’d built. He still admired Ray and thought the man beautiful,but he couldn’t become wrapped up in the tumult that was Ray Van Zeller, no matter how temping that thought was.
He’d dealt with Dimitri’s violent moods. No more.
When the limo pulled into the hotel, they were each given their own rooms—nice ones, too. An entire floor was dedicated to the band and the crew, though Carl had vanished like he normally did. Zavier didn’t know for sure, buthe had a suspicion that managers usually stuck with their band. Carl came and went when it served him. Usually after he’d had a word with Ray and crushed his spirits even more.
You know he lies, Ray. Why are you listening to him? Why aren’t you talking to us?
Zavier carded himself into his room and tucked the card into his pocket. There was everything he needed—a big-ass bed, a bunch ofbottles of water, and a room-service menu. The only thing it lacked was ice; he liked his water cold, not tepid.
Well, that was why there were ice machines in hotels, after all. He grabbed the bucket and headed out to find where they’d stuffed the icemaker in this place. It was, of course, as far away from their rooms as humanly possible. A positive, since he wouldn’t hear the contraptiondumping ice all night, but he couldn’t help being a bit grumpy about the distance. He wanted to toe off his shoes and lie down on that huge bed.
On the way to the machine, he walked by a kid in a hoodie and jean jacket slouching past in the way only youth and attitude could manage. The guy gave him a glance, then folded into himself deeper.
Ah, the righteousness of the young. He’d beenthere once and had been a complete brat, too.
It wasn’t until Zavier was holding a bucket full of ice that his brain pondered what a kid like that would be doing on this floor—the one that was entirely occupied by Twisted Wishes’s band and crew.
“Shit.” Groupie. Or stalker. Looking a little young, too.
Every muscle tensed. This could be bad—especially if the guy was heading to theobvious place. Mish had her head on straight. Dom was too damn scared of not being Domino. Zavier was too new to the group to have picked upthatbold a fan and besides, the kid would have stopped.
That left only one person.
Zavier picked up his pace back to his room—he, Mish, Dom, and Ray all had rooms near one another, separate from the crew, who all had rooms on this side of the floor.
When he turned the corner of the hall, the guy was gone.
Damn it, Ray. Don’t be doing what I think you’re doing.Stress relief or no, this was not the time to be fucking groupies, especially ones who looked too damn young. Even if the guy was of age, the thought of Ray with anyone twisted Zavier’s insides. Which said something about his own wants. He tried to ignore that.
Decision time.Zavier knocked on Mish’s door. When she answered she glanced at the ice bucket in his hands and gave him a look. “You lost?”
“No. I passed a kid in the hall. Groupie-type, but way too young.”
“Well, he ain’t here, sunshine.”
“Didn’t think he would be.”
Mish’s gaze shifted to Ray’s door. “Oh,hell.”
Okay, yeah, Zavier probably was right.Shit. He shoved the ice bucket into Mish’shands and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
