Page 20 of Sycopation
Off to the side of the stage stood Gregor Daye, the lead guitarist and front man for Five Asylum. “You guys are killing it out there. Going to be a hard act to follow.”
Ray took a long drag of water and smiled like he was high—which he likely was. They all were. Adrenaline. Joy. Fatigue. “They’re here to see you, not us.”
Gregor laughed. “Maybe before. But right now?” He paused, and the stomping and cheering vibrated across the stage. “They want you guys.” He nodded. “Go give ’em what they want.”
When they headed back on stage, the screaming was physically palpable, shearing through the air. Zavier climbed back behind the kit. Ray spoke while Mish and Domino claimed their instruments. “Thank you guys so much. You know we haven’t played in a while, and you’ve been amazing tonight.” Whoops and clapping. Over it, Mish started playing out a deep and throbbing line. “On bass, we have the ever-amazing Mish Sullivan. And on guitar, Domino Grinder.” Dom played out a riff that was somehow both over the top and utterly him. Cheers and shouts followed. “I’m Ray Van Zeller.” Screams this time, going on and on. Ray laughed and held up his hands. “Wait, I’m not done. I want to introduce our drummer!”
Zavier tapped out a simple beat, his heart in his throat. They hadn’t talked at all about intros, but he knew that was pretty normal for bands to do.
“You like him?” More shouts and applause. “Yeah, he’s pretty fucking awesome. Zavier Demos!” Ray pointed, the pavilion thundered with cheers, and Zavier hit the skins. He had no idea what he was going to play, hadn’t planned on a drum solo, but it came as effortlessly as breathing or sex or—drumming. Took the kit, made each piece his, and threw it out into the audience—and to Ray, who danced and shouted and worked the crowd until they were all on their feet.
Slowly, Zavier reined the solo in, Domino and Mish picked up the beat, and they slid into the opening of “Dark Dreams,” to the utter delight of the crowd.
Despite all that happened, the reception they’d gotten, Zavier was entirely unprepared for the explosion of screams when they segued into “White Hot Midnight.”
He nearly lost it when Ray started singing. That audition, those practices had been nothing compared to now. The words wrapped themselves around Zavier, each verse a reminder of their past, each somehow imbued with a new layer of desire and passion. On the musical bridge, Ray jumped up on the edge of the drum platform and danced and twirled and leveled a stare at Zavier that set off every nerve.
Tease. Fucking sultry little... God, he wanted to kiss that grin off Ray’s face and turn those lovely notes into moans. Zavier kept playing, embellishing where he could, adding twists and turns under Domino and Mish’s playing until Ray’s voice took over again.
When the song ended, Zavier threw back his head and drank in the pounding cheers and screams. He grabbed the sticks he’d used and headed down to join the band. Ray clapped him on the back. “A little payback for your song choice at the audition.”
Oh, so that’s what it had been about? Heat shot through Zavier—he didn’t think it was possible given how much his body burned already. Rather than grab Ray and kiss him to wipe that smirk off, Zavier stepped forward and tossed a drumstick to a girl screaming at him in the front row. Another went a few rows back. The last two he flung as far out as he could manage.
None of that helped quell his desire. When he turned around, Ray still had that devilish grin, so Zavier gave in to half his need and cupped the back of Ray’s neck, drawing him close enoughto speak into his ear. His thumb pressed gently against Ray’s throat, enough to feel him swallow. “You did exactly what I told you to do. I’m very pleased.” He pulled away and gave Ray his own evil smile.
Ray’s expression was glorious and Zavier’s every wet dream. Lust and joy and elation. Ray licked his lips, waved to the crowd, and brought the mic back up. “We’re Twisted Wishes. Thank you, Syracuse, and good night!”
They strutted off stage into a pile of high fives from the crew, a ton of water, and the event staff hurrying them out of the way as the lights went up. A moment later, crews streamed onto the stage to tear down their equipment and set up for Five Asylum.
Back in the green room, Zavier finished his water and shoved a hand through his hair. “Is it always like that?”
“Honey,” Mish said. “It’sneverbeen like that!”
He didn’t know whether he should be glad or terrified. Maybe a mix of both. He found Ray watching him, wary now. Probably wise, given everything. Zavier winked at him. “So, I did all right for my first time out?”
“Fucking hell,” Ray said. “You really are an asshole, you know?” There wasn’t any heat behind the words, only that cocky twist to his lips. “Yeah, you did fine. Just fine.”
Domino looked more like Dominic. “Holy shit, did that actually happen?”
“Looks like the new drummer made all the difference.” Carl’s voice cut through their joy like nails scraping across sheet metal. Domino’s amazement fell and Ray flinched like an abused man.
Ice descended where heat had been. Zavier straightened. “No.”
The room hushed and Zavier rounded on Carl. He and the label executive stood in the doorway. “What made a difference was all those hours of practice, a shit-ton of hard work, and Rayknowing his songs inside and out. He led us to the sound we needed.”
He might as well have slapped Carl from that expression. Good. Didn’t know what Nadia would dig up, but that man was an absolute fuck.
Ray’s chuckle was mild. “You had a huge part in that, Zav.” His face was more flushed than before.
He wasn’t going to let either man pin the success of the evening on him. “I know who I am. I know what I brought to the table.” He shrugged. “But no drummer, no matter how good, will lift a performance like that.” He gestured back at the stage. “Takes hard work from everyone. Together.”
Mish nodded. “He’s good. And smart.” She looked at Ray. “I think we should keep him.”
The suit coughed and something like humor flickered around his lips and eyes. “We’d be very happy if you’d continue to work with Mr. Demos.”
There was nothing Zavier wanted more than to play another show with Twisted Wishes. His gaze strayed to Ray. Well, that wasn’t quite true, but tangling with that bundle of nerves and anxiety was asking for trouble, even if Ray was tempting beyond rational thought.
The clockin Ray’s room read 3:57. He closed his eyes against the red glow. Fuckinghell. He should be dead asleep. He’d burned so much energy, his body ached from dancing, jumping, and singing. He’d been higher than a kite after the show.
