Page 19 of Sycopation
“Good,” Zavier murmured. “Very good.” He slid his hand away from Ray. “I need to stretch out my back.”
Ray lifted his now-tepid tea. “I should finish this.”
Zavier nodded. “And remember what I said, Ray.”
He couldn’t forget. “I will.”
Like walking on a live wire. Every second with Zavier was that. Ray should have been turned on—and he was, in a way. Heat surged through him and yeah, he was hard, but more than anything he wanted to get on stage and do what Zavier had said.
Blow them away.
He finished the tea and hurried backstage to start his vocal warm-ups.
Zavier had beenon stage at Carnegie Hall in New York City. He’d played in Geneva, Rome, London, and Berlin. None of those concerts had ever made him as nervous as this one. None of those had been as important.
The festival crowd gave off a strange energy—both excited and apathetic. They weren’t headlining, but there were still fans here. He’d seen the T-shirts, heard the cries of Ray’s, Domino’s, and Mish’s names.
He wasn’t Kevin. Better? Yes. But not the drummer those fans had known and loved. If Zavier screwed up tonight, he’d take the whole band down with him.
That woulddestroyRay. Cement in his mind that all those fears were true, that Carl’s asshattery was correct.
Zavier wouldn’t let that happen. They’d worked too hard in the past two months. Lived on top of one another. Played more music in that time than he’d ever played at once, even at Julliard, even on tour with the symphony. He closed his eyes and focusedhis breath. Remembered the songs, the rhythms. Ray moving to the music. Yes.There. They’d be fine.
When cued, they headed out onto the stage, Domino and Mish first. He followed, climbing onto the platform and behind the kit. Everything was set exactly as he liked. Thank god for competent roadies following instructions.
Domino started, ripping out a low chord and working it upward. Bathed in red light, with his spiked hair, leather pants, and tattooed glory, he looked entirely a rock god. The crowd nearest to the stage cheered and clapped. Then Mish joined in. A sultry and low bass line, blending in with Domino’s jamming, lights shining on her now, too. Tall, proud, unbeatable. Their combined notes screamed through the air and floated high, then dropped down and faded as the crowd got louder.
Electricity raced through Zavier. This was it. His turn, his time. One, two, three...
He hit the kit hard and fast, pulsing out the opening to “Diamond Fever.” Not their usual opener, but Ray wanted to mix it up.I want to start with your drumming, if you’re up to that, he’d said.Let the fans know you’re here and good, and that we’re back.
Of course he’d said yes. Now he surged out those rhythms and Domino replied. Mish fell in, complementing perfectly. Glorious. Achingly wonderful. The song was missing one thing.
Ray.
Then he was there, leaping out onto the stage, mic in hand, and his voice soared over them all. Every word, every note like a firework of sound that went on and on andonover the crowd. The air changed, the vibe shifted. Zavier couldn’t see much beyond the edge of the stage, but energy charged the air and when they finished, the eruption of noise ripped through him like a standing ovation at the end of a concert. Only they’d just started.
Fuck, if he’d knownthiswas how it felt, he’d have said yes to Ray all those years ago. The thrill in his body as the music poured through him, the sheer joy of watching Ray sing.
“Hey, Syracuse! How you doing tonight?” Ray’s voice boomed out across the amphitheater, and the crowd responded. “Well, we’re glad to be here, too. Wanna hear something else?”
More yelling.Holy shit, this was wild. Zavier’d been on the other side, but being the focus? His heart slammed against his chest. He grabbed a sip of water from a bottle he’d stashed near his stool. Gotta stay in control.
“I can’t hear you!”
They screamed louder.
“All right. Here’s a song from our first album...” Ray turned and nodded, a cue to start.
Zavier counted out the beats, this time tapping his sticks so Mish and Domino could hear—and they were off again. The songs seemed to go on and on, some bleeding into one another, some ending on a fucking high that had Zavier panting.
He’d ripped off his shirt after the third song, as had Ray and Domino. Mish was down to a sports bra. Even though the evening was cool, the lights blazed down like fire, and the energy of the crowd... He’d never felt anything like it. Not in the symphony. Not even at the kink parties or clubs. Not when he was wielding a flogger.
Nothingfelt better than playing with Twisted Wishes. His back burned and his heart cracked apart from joy. Domino was insane. Mish, an avenging goddess.
Ray wasperfection. Hips that moved like sin, a voice that never quit, and thatbody.
They were nearing the end of their list. They’d saved two songs for encores: “Dark Dreams” and “White Hot Midnight.” So they ended on another fan favorite, “River of Pain.” By the time the notes died down and they exited the stage, night haddescended fully, and the crowd was stomping and cheering and screaming.
