Page 33 of Reverb
“You cut Mish off now, she’ll blame herself for the whole thing, even more than she already has been.” Adrian waved at the path in front of them. “I love every single one of them, but they’re all primed to shoulder blame and misfortune onto their backs, even Zavier, and he’s level-headed.”
“Thatguy’s got a sore spot?”
“You wanna see Zavier flip his shit? Hurt Ray. You wanna hurt Ray? Hurtanyone elsein the band.” Adrian let out a breath. “Just...don’t back away. Not like I know you want to.”
“I got distracted.” By Mish. By the band, the excitement of the concert, and the love the fans poured out onto Twisted Wishes. He wanted to be a part of that.
“You can’t see everyone in a crowd,” Adrian countered. “I mean, I was standing right by that guy and I didn’t see him, either.”
“It’s notyour job.” But it was David’s. He looked up at the bus and stopped. “I don’t know if I should go in or not.”
Adrian clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’m kinda wondering that myself, and I’monthat bus.” He gave David’s shoulder a squeeze. “Let me see what’s going on.”
The litany of curses wound its way through David’s brain. He needed to step away at the same time the band needed him to remain exactly where he was. Adrian was right—Mish would blame herself if he gave her the cold shoulder.
His shoes crunched on the gravel as he turned to gaze back at the venue. The concert had been astounding, Mish’s singing transcendent. A wild crowd, singing and dancing to every one of Twisted Wishes’s songs—and open with who they were, too. Rainbow flags in the audience. A multitude of queer people in the crews.
He didn’t want to turn his back on that, or freeze out the people who’d made that dream come to life for so many of the fans—a dream he’d have loved to have back when he’d been younger.
He rubbed his forehead, anger finally abating. Yeah, this wasn’t going to be an easy job. Was rapidly starting to feel like more than a job, too.
Behind him the thud and crunch of gravel sounded as someone exited the bus. David turned to see Ray Van Zeller heading his direction, exhaustion draped over him like a cloak.
David swallowed. “How’s Mish?”
“Shattered. Though if you asked her, she’d say she’s fine.” Ray scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’d be tempted to believe her, if she hadn’t spent a half hour crying in my arms.”
David couldn’t help the wince or the deep, deep stab of guilt. “Sorry. This is my fault.”
“Adrian said you’d say that.” Ray waved the words away. “It’s bullshit.”
“I—” But the shrewd look he gave David stopped the words in his throat.
“The only people responsible for the theft of Mish’s ring are the guy who took it and the stalker.”
So Adrian had told them that much. “The thief said that the guy’s name was Stan, but I doubt that’s a real name, especially considering the fan meaning.” He paused. “I should have noticed the thief, though.”
Another hand wave from Ray, but no words.
“And I didn’t get her ring back.” He regretted that so much. “Police are gonna want to know if she wants to press charges against the dude who stole it.”
“She won’t want to.” Despite the large parking lot lights that illuminated the area, Ray’s eyes were weirdly shadowed and unreadable. “That’s not the part that broke her down, you know, losing the ring.” He kicked a piece of gravel and sent it flying toward the grass at the edge of the lot. “The ring was important to her, don’t get me wrong. But what tore her heart out was the fans giving hertheirrings. Like—she’s got dozens now. Maybe even a hundred.” He tipped his head up, and now David saw the sadness there. “We don’t deserve the fans we have,” he whispered.
“Now, that’s bullshit,” David said.
Ray huffed. “Stalemate.”
Maybe. But not really. “We should talk about all of this tomorrow, when we’re not so tired.”
Ray gripped David by both arms and gave him a little shake. “Don’t you dare think of leaving us now. You’re too important.”
“But not good enough to protect you.”
An odd smile lifted Ray’s lips for a moment before it vanished. “There’s all kinds of protection.” He let him go, then nodded. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
David could only answer one way. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
“Night, David. Try to get some sleep.”
