Page 43 of Sycopation
“Fucking freak,” the guy muttered. He wrenched his jacket off the bed—and a baggie went flying. It landed not two feet from Zavier.
Drugs. Pills and stamp bags and smaller bags of powder. A syringe. A spoon.
“What the fuck?” Ray stared at the bag like it was an alien creature.
Zavier’s gut lurched. Ray couldn’t possibly be doing drugs. No signs of that at all. Still... “You like to party, Ray?”
The guy grabbed the baggie. “You better turn your pasty ass around and get the fuck out.”
Zavier ignored the jerk and stared at Ray. Still pale, still angry, but there was a laser-like clarity when he looked up. “I don’t do drugs. Never have. I’m not the fucker Carl keeps saying I am.”
Some of the tension in Zavier bled away. “Ray?—”
“Get out.” Ray’s soft voice cut through the room. “Just—get out. Both of you.”
The man grabbed his shirt, hoodie, and jacket. “Fuck the both of you.”
“Hey.” Zavier held up his phone so the guy could see the recording icon. “Don’t get any ideas about blabbing to the press.”
“Recording someone’s illegal.” The guy glowered at him.
“So’s possession with intent to distribute. You gonna go to the cops?” Guy froze, then shook his head, anger clearly etched into his features. “Neither will I if you get your ass out of here.”
Guy did, but not before throwing a snarling look at Ray. “Bet you can’t even get it up.”
Once the door clicked closed, Zavier stopped the recording. By the bed, Ray stood, his back to Zavier, but hunched over, as if he’d been kicked in the gut.
“What thefuckwere you thinking?” Zavier ground out the words, anger bubbling up. All those hours andweeksof work, all the years Mish and Dom had put in, the progress they’d made each concert. Ray had nearly blown it all up—most of his own fucking life—for what? A moment of oblivion with some drugged up groupie? Alcohol was one thing, weed might be waved away, but harder stuff? Not in a million years.
Ray stiffened. “I wasn’t, obviously.” He turned, and Zavier read the shame and dread underneath the hard lines of rage. “Get out of my room.”
Zavier snorted. “God, is this why Kevin started drinking?” It was cruel thing to say, but Ray was doing everything in his power to be a shitbag. Yes, they were all on edge. Yes, they all needed relief. But withthatguy? Without even thinking?
“You don’t knowanythingabout that!” Wild eyes. Clenched hands. “You never evenmetKevin! He was a fucking good drummer!”
“This isn’t about Kevin. It’s aboutyou. Are you really willing to throw away howmany years, for a hole to fuck and something to snort?” And yeah, his voice rose, and he waved his arms in frustration. “Jesus, Ray, I know you’re smarter than that!”
“Maybe I’m not. I guess I’m the fucking idiot that Carl thinks I am. Thatyouthink I am.” He cast a glance all around the room, then slapped his hands on this thighs. “Fucking hell, maybe you all should just replace me!”
Zavier let silence settle between them. Ray was close to tears of frustration, and not just because of the groupie.
The concert had gone well.Alltheir concerts had gone well; even if they were being held over a barrel, the labelhadto like what the band was doing. Yes, Carl was an asshole and a liar, but Ray knew that, didn’t he? They’d talked about it. But here he was, stressed beyond belief, dying to slip into nothingness.
When the moment stretched out, Ray turned away again. “I didn’t know he had drugs.” Soft words. “Shit.”
“Weren’t looking for a high?” Zavier sure hoped not.
“No!” Ray practically shouted the word. “I said I don’t do that shit. I just wanted—” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Jesus, you wouldn’t understand. You can have anyone you want.” He waved at the door. “Dom would do you in a heartbeat.”
Not exactly what he’d expected to come from Ray’s mouth, especially given their interactions. “This isn’t about Dom or me.” Even if he liked Ray. Maybe too much.
“Yeah, it’s about me and I’m a fuckup, if you haven’t figured that out yet.” Ray twitched and paced in a small patch of carpet. “Go ask Carl. He’ll tell you all about it.” That came with a snarl.
Always back to Carl. Zavier had seen him talking with Ray earlier, but Ray hadn’t looked any worse than normal. “You’re not a fuckup. You know you’re not a fuckup.”
“Oh? Who flipped you off the other day?” Ray’s bark of laughter was bitter as hell and he gestured to the door. “And thenthat?”
Yeah, sneaking in a random groupie was the wrong tactic for stress relief, especially given the situation. “Okay, the groupiething was pretty foolish. The rest of us make do with our hand.” He mimicked jacking off. Crude, but it would get the point across.
