Page 17 of Sycopation
Zavier huffed a laugh. “You’re really fucking good at what you do when you put your mind to it.”
“And you’re a complete asshole, Zav.” Anger there. “Fucking shithead.”
“Shithead me or Shithead Carl?” Because there wasn’t anyone else he thought Ray would pin that on.
He was quiet for a while, eyes open now. He met Zavier’s gaze. “Me. I’m the shithead.”
Now there was something Zavier liked: Ray’s self-awareness when he calmed down. “Mish thinks we should work on ‘Dark Dreams.’ We have today and tomorrow.” If they got that song worked up, they’d be free to pick and choose from the other albums.
“I guess I could put together a playlist for the festival.” Ray took a breath. “They’re usually shorter sets, aren’t they?”
“I have no idea.” Conventional wisdom from having attended a few said yes, but fuck if Zavier’d claim something he didn’t know.
Ray rubbed his face. “I’ll have to ask Carl.”
Ah, now maybe he could help there. “Or I could. Parlay my ignorance into usefulness.”
The look Ray gave him seeped into Zavier’s bones. A man with that kind of expression deserved to be turned over a knee.
“I wouldn’t call you ignorant. Full of yourself? A grade-A fuckwad? Sure.” Ray smiled.
Zavier laughed. Couldn’t help it. Ray wasn’t the first to use him to playPin the Tail on the Jerk. Wasn’t wrong, either. He rolled over on his lounge chair and dropped into his mostseductive voice. “Why, Ray, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you like me!” If only hecouldspank that smirk off his face.
The shudder that ran through Ray was a thing of delight, like a sip of fine liquor, and warmed Zavier the same way.
Ray’s arousal was painfully obvious from his sudden flush, the way he licked his lips, and the impressive bulge in his shorts. “I—should go downstairs.” With that he rose and tried in vain to get up in such a way as not to show Zavier his hard-on. Failed.
A moment later, Ray was thumping down the stairs and Zavier was alone. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. Ray lusted after him. Probably had for years, but seeing it so close—that was temptation incarnate. Zavier pressed a palm against his hardening shaft. Yeah, he’d be indulging in that fantasy tonight, once he was alone and could jack off in private.
But for now? The band had work to do. Physical lust could be satiated. Musicality took time and energy. Zavier hauled himself up from the chair and headed back down to join the band.
CHAPTER
SIX
Man,if there were any day Ray could’ve used a beer, today was that day. It had been a little less than two months since they’d started practicing with Zavier, and tonight, they were performing. Ray hadn’t touched any alcohol since Kevin left, and he wasn’t about to go near a tall cool one with Carl milling around the band wherever they were in upstate New York.
Plus, it’d fuck up his voice. Instead, he sipped his lemon-honey tea and looked out over the venue. A band was playing on the stage and people were scattered all over the place. Some in the pavilion seating, others on blankets spread out over the lawn. Not too long from now, Twisted Wishes would play right before Five Asylum, the headlining act.
Quite an honor, Carl told them. He’d been all smiles and kindness, kind of like he had been after they’d signed, back when Ray trusted him. One of the bigwigs from the label had shown up, too, and Ray had to admit, it was gratifying to hear praise from the suit. “Carl says you’ve been working really well with the new drummer. That you’re sounding better than ever.”
Ray put on his charm and smiled. “Yes, sir. Zavier’s incredibly talented and we’re lucky to have him.” Mr. Perfect wasstanding right there, of course, along with the rest of the band. Yeah, they’d come amazingly far.
Zavier shook the suit’s hand. “I’m the lucky one. This has been an incredible experience.”
Ray almost believed him. Zavier’s face was so sincere.
The suit did one of those clapping things bigwigs did when they’ve run out of things to say to peons. “Well, I should let you gentlemen—” he paused and glanced at Mish “—and lady get ready.”
“Of course,” Zavier murmured.
They were all smiles until Carl and the suit left. Mish snorted. “Women have been in the music industry how long? Played guitar how long?”
“Since the ’30s,” Dom said. “Or before.” He was dressed as Domino, all makeup, leather, tats, and boots, hair spiked to within an inch of its life. How he got that shit out afterward, Ray never knew. Not enough hot water in the world.
“I should have stomped on his foot for you,” Ray said.
Mish rolled her eyes. “Honey, I can take care of myself when it comes to men.”
