Page 11 of Sycopation
“...only have three more days of studio time.” Carl shrugged. “You figure out how to make it work. It’s not my problem.” He glanced at his phone. “I have somewhere to be,” he said, then marched away.
Ray said nothing, but once the studio door banged shut, he put his palms on the table. “Fuck.”
Zavier schooled his expression. “Did he just tell you we only have this space for three more days?”
Ray’s anger was palpable, and entirely appropriate. “That’s about the size of it,” he ground out. “We can’t—” He straightened and turned. Fear. Panic and doubt. So many emotions flickered across that face. “I mean, you’redamngood. But we can’t get it all done in that time. There’s too many songs and?—”
They needed to run through every one of them. Hard enough in two months. Impossible in three days. “Maybe I can change his mind.”
A glance at the door. “I don’t think any of us can. Just—don’t get yourself fired?”
Zavier chuckled. “Oh, I won’t. I have a really good contract lawyer.” The record company would be in some pain if they let him go without due cause—and pissing off a self-important shitty manager wasn’t due cause.
He headed out the door and down the stairs. By the time he got to the parking lot, Carl’s car was pulling out onto the street.
“Fuck.” There went that plan.
He needed more information. Probably should have gotten it before he stepped into this gig—but it wasRay’sband; Zavier couldn’t stop himself from auditioning and saying yes. Grown-up Ray was something else, like his music and band. All three plowed through Zavier in a unique way, but none of that helped the Carl situation.
Zavier pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hit Call before he had second thoughts.
Three rings, then a familiar lilting voice answered. “My darling Zavier, what can I do for you?”
AlwaysdarlingZavier. Anyone else, he’d have been mad, but she was older, wiser, and one of the very few to have ever put him in his place without reservation and rightly so. “Hello, Nadia. I’ve called to ask a favor.”
She clicked her tongue. “Your little stint at rock-and-roll not working out?”
Ofcourseshe’d known about that. Ties everywhere in the music industry. “Yet to be determined, though the band is quite good.”
“Rumor says the lead singer has a drinking problem.”
That’d been all over the internet. “Pretty certain that rumor is false.”
A chuckle. “Darling, ofcourseit is.” He could almost envision her waving her hand. “A different rumor says it was the old drummer who drank too much.”
Which would account for Kevin’s downhill playing. “More plausible.”
“Mmm. I can’t wait until they seeyou. Those rumors should be delicious. Dark, handsome classically-trained drummer with tattoos that make you weak in the knees...if you’re lucky.”
He couldn’t help the laugh. “I’m benign.” Though he wouldn’t mind seeing Ray kneeling.
“Says the man who can’t get a position in any orchestra in North America because he was fucking and flogging his conductor, then didn’t have the decency to be a kept boy like aproperyoung musician.”
Fuck.Fuck. Zavier swallowed a breath, counted to three, then exhaled. “Oh, is that what they’re saying?” He shivered, despite the heat of the day, but didn’t let an ounce of fear or anger slip into his voice. “How droll.”
“He would have showered you with gifts and flowers.”
“You know exactly how much that means to me.” Not a damn thing. He didn’t comprehend that kind of love—or the trappings of it. So much of romance seemed downrightsilly.
Though, had it just been Dimitri falling for him, that wouldn’t have been as bad. No, Dimitri had wanted Zavier onhisknees with declarations of love. Zavier had been so clear about that the first time they’d fucked. Sex without attachments. They hadn’t even been friends.
“Oh yes. You’re every submissive’s dream and every romantic’s nightmare.” Nadia’s laugh was light. “You didn’t call to hear about yourself.”
No. He hated when she told him the gossip about himself. Ignorance was bliss, and all that. She, of course, told him anyway. A bur under his skin to remind him that he was young and still had much to master. “I was wondering what you could tell me about Carl Roberts. He’s Twisted Wishes’s band manager.”
There was a pause—one that was long enough to mean he’d surprised her. “The band manager? Interesting. Your impressions?”
“I’ll keep those to myself for the time being.” He’d rather have the information unbiased by his opinion. While Carl seemed to be an unmitigated asshole, Zavier couldn’t be certain that Ray hadn’t done something to make the situation worse. Though, Ray was tooopenin his pain to be hiding anything.
