Page 23 of Sycopation
The coffeemaker had brewed a perfect pot. Even Dom had been pleased, and so had Ray when he’d emerged from behind the berth curtain, blinking and bleary-eyed, some two hours later.
Looked like someone had actually napped and not just slipped away to get off.
Ray clutched his mug and drank, and Zavier watched him in the reflection of the window. While Ray had been out, Dom had claimed the bunk above Mish, which left the one under Ray for Zavier, and didn’t that do wicked things to his lust.
He closed his eyes and swallowed the snort. He had more control than this, but Ray was so delightful in so many ways. Even when Ray was at his most stressed and grumpy, there were these buttons Zavier could push, and did. Mostly to direct Ray away from the anger eating at him, but Zavier wasn’t entirely altruistic—he got too much of a rush from playing with Ray’s obvious submissive side—but at least he could use his own lust to help.
He studied the scenery and then Ray’s reflection—and caught Ray watching him. Wasn’t unpleasant, that inspection. A littlewonder, a little calculation. Ray shook himself, and finished his coffee. When he rose, Zavier readjusted himself on the couch so he could peer across the aisle at him when he settled back with a notebook.
Mish wandered up from the back and scooped Zavier’s legs off the couch. “You’re like a freaking cat, taking up all the space.”
Accurate. He just smiled and sat back, feet firmly on the bus floor.
Dom put away his book, and that was what keyed Zavier in that something was up. “Is this a meeting?”
“Yes,” Ray said.
“More like a ritual.” That from Dom.
Mish rolled her eyes. “Ray’s gonna figure out the playlist for tomorrow night. He likes our input.”
The journal Ray held was worn and scuffed, meaning it probably held all of Twisted Wishes’s song lists. Maybe more besides. A little wash of sparks ran up Zavier’s back. Hewaspart of this band. Playing the festival had been one thing. Rehearsals another. But this...was Ray sharing himself.
Ray slipped the cord off the notebook and flipped through the pages. From what Zavier spied, some had sparse writing on them, others were packed with text. The page Ray stopped at already had writing on it. “I was thinking about a similar list to the festival, though we’ll need to add songs, since we’ll have about thirty more minutes to play.”
They also had several more tracks from the third album down well enough to perform. And wouldn’t you know, Dom suggested adding two of them to the middle of the show. “We’ll be warmed up, and they’ll be expecting newer stuff about then.”
Ray nodded.
“Encores?” Mish asked.
“I really liked the way ‘Dark Dreams’ and ‘White Hot Midnight’ worked. I say we leave them at the end,” Ray said.Both Dom and Mish nodded and he leveled those whiskey eyes at Zavier. “What about you?”
“I wouldn’t mess with perfection.”
Ray’s whole face darkened, his anger sharpening his words. “I’m being serious here.”
“So am I.” Zavier leaned forward. “They wereperfect, Ray.”
As quickly as Ray’s storm came, it lifted and his shoulders relaxed. “You mean that.”
Zavier lifted his head. “Yes.” He spoke it like a command, and it had the same effect on Ray as it would’ve had on any of the subs he’d played with. A flush and a melting, that little hint of subspace.
Ah, hell. He shouldn’t have done that, because now he wanted more.
Ray shook himself. “Okay, so we’ll leave those for the encore.” He wrote something down. “And slot those two songs Dom suggested in the middle.”
They hashed out bits and pieces of the set, moving songs around and mixing their best known with edgier but fun pieces until they had a good list.
Except Ray had a little frown. Mish must have noticed it too, because she tilted her head. “Honey, what’s up?”
“Just—I’m not sure I like ‘Diamond Fever’ as the opening song.”
“Fans loved it,” Dom said.
They had. But that didn’t change Ray’s expression, even though he nodded. “I know. But I think we could do better.”
Both Mish and Dom threw out a few other songs they hadn’t already listed as openers, but Ray just frowned into his journal. “They’re all good options, but...”
