Page 92 of Reverb
Oh yeah, this man was one giant bundle of angst. She beckoned him forward, and he gave a kind of frustrated grunt before stepping into her arms. “He’s gonna be fine, sweetheart. It’s a cold. He’ll dose up on lemon tea, pantomime things for a couple of hours, scribble in that journal of his, and we’ll do some longer solos. It’s happened before. He says he doesn’t get sick, but that boy has a short memory.”
“He hasn’t been sick while I’ve been here.” His voice was muffled against her shoulder.
“I’m sure he’s gotten a cold.”
“Sure. At home. Where I can take care of him.” Zavier pulled back. “It’s foolish, but I—don’t do well when he’s ill.”
No shit. “It’s not foolish, not after what we went through, whatyouwent through.”
That elicited a painful smile. “He’s right to be mad at me. I can’t protect him from everything.”
“If you could keep people from getting a cold, we could make a lot more money bottling you up and selling you on the open market.”
That got her an actual laugh.
She patted his shoulder. “And yeah, he’s right to be annoyed, but he says he has a plan. Wanna go see what your husband’s got up his sleeve?”
“All right. Just—I worry so much about him, you know?”
“You two are the most important people in each other’s lives, Zav. Ofcourseyou worry. Ray knows that. But he’s right about being the leader. And we do have a concert tonight. He needs your support.”
Zavier scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck. Okay.”
When they returned to the front of the bus, Ray was typing away on Adrian’s tablet. David rose, and Zavier took his seat next to Ray. “Apologies,” he said.
A smile tugged at Ray’s lips, and he stopped typing. He took Zavier’s hand in his own and pressed his lips to Zavier’s knuckles. That seemed to unlock the tension in Zav.
Mish’s own tension ebbed, even more so when David wrapped an arm around her waist. “They’re adorable together,” he said close to her head.
“Heard that,” Zavier muttered.
Ray blew out a breath and thrust Adrian’s tablet into Zavier’s hands.
Zavier read what Ray’d typed. “Well, that’ll work.”
“What?” The word out of Mish’s lips was echoed by Dom. Zavier handed her the tablet first.
She read Ray’s missive. Then a second time. Her heart and head both warred with a reaction, though her stomach had settled for gymnastics.
“You want me to sing? Like...all the songs?” Her voice pitched strangely, which she hated. David gave her a squeeze. Supportive. Warm. She was so thankful that he was here with them. The fear inside her, the little voice from her past and that big fucking annoying one from the present whispered that girls—women—like her couldn’t do what Ray asked. One song was one thing. An entire show?
“Technically, Ray suggested most of them,” Zavier said.
That wasn’t better. She leaned on David. “Most, then.”
“Um, guys?” Dom held out his hand.
“Sorry.” Mish handed the tablet over. “Little shocked here.”
Didn’t take Dom long to read. “Yeah, I can see why. But Ray’s right. This is gonna work.”
Beneath the initial shock bubbled something else: excitement. Pride. Confidence that shattered and hushed the words in the back of her head. Raywasright. The fans would love it.
She could do what Ray asked—fill in as lead singer.
They hashed out the rest of the plan. Ray’d rest his voice—dose up on lemon tea and honey—and he’d sing a few of the songs. The rest would be Mish’s. They worked up a set list with songs her range could handle well—and ones for Ray that wouldn’t shred his voice.
Luckily, they had a small break between this show and the next. Hopefully that would give Ray enough time to recover.
