Page 26 of Sycopation
The whole room erupted into an argument, Mish and Dom trying to be heard over Carl as Ray agreed with every shit-talking thing that poured from that asshole’s mouth.
“Stop.” Zavier’s voice thundered over them all. And fuck, there was anger in it. Ray’s heart ticked up several notches, but Zav wasn’t focused on him. No, he was staring daggers at Carl. The room fell silent. “Ray knows music. You even said that.”
Carl stammered out something unintelligible.
Zavier shook his head once. “The band agreed on the set. We talked it over. Yes, it’s unconventional, but that’s what gets people noticed. Ray’s idea is a good one.”
“You wanna bet on that?” Carl folded his arms.
Zavier laughed. “Yes. But you wouldn’t like my price.” There was that smoldering, sexy glare again, one that turned the whole conversation into something entirely inappropriate.
Carl paled. “I’m not gay. I’m not touching your dick.”
Wow, way for Carl to jump to a conclusion and be the panicked hetero guy. Though even thinking about Carl on his knees in front of Zavier turned Ray’s stomach, enough that he looked away. He ended up meeting Dom’s wide-eyed gaze.
“You don’t need to be gay.” Zavier’s voice was velvet smooth. “Just heteroflexible enough.”
Too much for Carl, apparently. When Ray looked back, he was glowering at Zavier, fists clenched. “Fine. Start with that song, but when it blows up in your face, don’t come crying to me.” He stormed out.
“Would you really fuck that asshole?” Mish took another swig of water. “I mean?—”
Zavier snorted. “No. I have standards.”
“Since when?” Ray didn’t even know why he said it. Maybe the memory of Zavier face-fucking that quarterback.
“Ray.” There was a softness to Zavier’s voice. Ray stared back at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
For a moment, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room, and the years fell away, leaving Ray young and vulnerable. “Yeah, well.” He didn’t know what was going through the mind behind those blue eyes, but he hated the thought of Zavier fucking Carl or Presspass oranyone, because it drove home how little Zavier wantedhim. “Try to keep your dick in your pants and your mind out of the gutter.”
Lo and behold, that earned him a blush, and Zavier actually looked hurt. Would wonders never cease?
“Hey, guys. Let’s not snipe at each other.” Mish settled down on a couch. “Gotta stick together.” Dom nodded and plopped down next to her.
Ray pushed his hands through his hair. Last thing he needed was to alienate Zavier and lose another drummer. Heat rose to his face. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get on your case.”
Zavier waved his words away. “Part of that was my fault.” He focused on the direction Carl and Presspass had gone. “I shouldn’t cause you guys trouble with my mouth.”
Ray wanted Zavier’s mouth...and that was trouble too. “Do you think we should change the set list?”
“No.” All three of them answered almost in harmony. That teased happiness from Ray. They might get on each other’s nerves, but at least they were on the same page.
Ray sprawled down on another couch, content to relax—until Zavier sat down next to him.
He’d been in the berth above Zavier for hours. In the middle of the night, when Ray had inevitably woken because he couldnotsleep soundly on the road, he’d strained to hear Zavier over the sounds of the road. His breathing, a movement, anything to feel the closeness he’d been denied all those years ago. Now here he was, inches away.
“So what happened with the orchestra?”
Zavier shifted, brushing his leg against Ray’s in the process. “Personality differences with the conductor.”
“And you walked before he could fire you?”
An affirmative grunt. “Yes. Though, in reality, he couldn’t have fired me. He’s as much a member of the orchestra as anyone else, even if he’s more famous and better paid.”
Silence settled between them as the obvious question nagged at Ray’s mind—but he’d already told Zavier to get out of the gutter, so he shouldn’t be asking about Zavier’s sex life. “Why not another orchestra?”
A soft chuckle, one he felt through the shaking of the couch rather than heard. “I was wondering when you’d ask that,” Zavier murmured. “Dimitri has better connections than I do, and there are only so many timpanist positions available at any given time.”
Dimitri. Ray’s turn to shift uncomfortably on the couch. First-name basis. “So you’re slumming it with us.”
