Page 87 of Reverb
“There’s no doubt that they’re together, is there?” David spoke the words close to Mish’s ear.
She shook her head, a wide smile lighting up her face. Then she pointed over at Adrian and Domino, and holy shit, Adrian could dance. And keep up with Domino as they careered around the floor in movements that looked like ballroom crossed with thrash.
“I think you’re gonna find me a piss-poor dancer after that.”
“You’re gonna be fine. I’ve seen you move.” Mish’s voice was sultry and hot in his ear. Before he could think otherwise, he pulled her out onto the floor. They fell in together, turning, twisting, Mish twirling in a move he recognized, and he caught her hand. They flowed together, stepping in time with each other and the thudding pulse.
“You sly shit! You ballroom dance.” Her eyes sparkled in the ever-changing lights.
His answer was to swing her around in the tiny space they’d carved out on the floor. “Might as well give the cameras something to love.”
“I’ll give you something to love...” It came off as a challenge. The music changed and picked up the pace—and so did she.
He let her lead because his heart and soul ached. She’d given him someone he could love if he let himself. If the circumstances were a little different.
If he wanted to take that leap of faith.
God, dancing with Mish was like heaven and hell all rolled into one. She moved like magic and his body responded to her, the beat that thrummed through his bones, and the need that sang in his veins. He didn’t know how long they were out—long enough that they swapped who was leading several times—before Domino broke between them. “Ray wants to catch his breath, get a drink, then hear David sing.”
“Well—” Mish spun Domino around. “Who are we to keep Ray Van Zeller waiting?”
Dom led them to the bar where some of the club patrons were belting out a rendition of “Love Shack.” Wasn’t bad as far as karaoke went. Adrian, Ray, and Zavier had already acquired drinks. Both he and Mish opted for beer.
“I’d do shots,” Mish said. “But we need to be on the bus later.”
Ray closed his eyes and leaned against Zavier. “Don’t remind me.”
Whatever Zavier whispered into Ray’s ear earned him a groan. “You’re fucking evil, Zav.”
“It’s why you married me,” Zavier said.
“I thought we got married for tax purposes.”
Zavier laughed, a rare, uninhibited bubbly sound.
“There’s a story there,” David said.
Mish huffed. “Oh yeah. But part of that is true, even if they’re gonna grow old together and end up bitching about the weather while sitting in rocking chairs on some porch somewhere in sixty years.”
Ray still had his eyes closed but was smiling. “That’ll be fun.”
“It’s not much of a story, really.” Zavier tucked his hand into Ray’s pocket. “I’m aromantic, that’s all. But yeah, Mish is close. Ray and I will probably argue about using the peanut butter knife in the jelly jar more than the weather.”
“I hate dirtying a second knife.” Ray’s smile hadn’t faded.
“And I hate picking peanut butter out of my jelly.”
Ray opened his eyes and met Zavier’s gaze. “Iknow.” He grinned from ear to ear.
Zavier’s lips twitched up. “Oh. Isee.”
David absorbed the information and the banter. “So do I.” Everything he’d observed fell into place with Zavier’s statement. Queer band, indeed.
“You gonna sing me a song?” Mish’s breath warmed David’s ear.
Yeah, he was. In front of the rest of Twisted Wishes. Someone else was waiting their turn, which gave David time to compose himself and pick a song. He’d already half a mind as to what to sing, figured they’d never have it, and was both pleased and a little shocked when he found it in their database.
Yeah, maybe it was somewhat on the nose, but what the heck. After a rendition of “Carry on Wayward Son” by the person in front of him, David took the stage. Of course Twisted Wishes whistled and clapped, which intrigued the crowd, and there were the cell phones being held up.
