Page 4 of Syncopation
Zavier stilled. Maybe it was time to find out. He’d kept his hand in drumming on a rock kit, and he did so love the beats underneath Ray’s songs. He could do worse than a tour around the country with an up-and-coming rock band, and that would solve both his problem and Ray’s.
So. Submit his CV. Type up a statement of intent. And click.
The tumble in his soul was the sheer opposite of regret—giddy anticipation.
They’d call, he knew. They had no choice. Wouldn’t find a better drummer, mostly because there weren’t any. He leaned back and tabbed to the apology. Above it was a photo as haunting as that little melody all those years ago. Ray, his lovely brownhair all cut and jagged. He didn’t wear eyeliner like Domino did—didn’t need it. Not with those wide golden eyes of his, like the whiskey he’d thrown at the drummer. His full lips were pressed into a line, and the tension was so bitter and sweet in the set of his shoulders.
No longer the gangly sophomore. Had Ray been older back then—well. Maybe Zavier would have joined the band, at leastfor the summer. Same amount of years lay between them now, but back then, Ray had been barely sixteen to Zavier’s well past eighteen. Too young to fool around with, even for a summer fling.
Once more Zavier’s fingers itched, but for very different reasons. Except now he knew better than to lose control and fuck where he worked.
He had no doubt he’d be working with Ray very soon.
