Page 58 of Sycopation
“It’s only been ten weeks,” Zavier murmured.
“You were always a rock god,” Ray shot back. They’d been living nonstop with each other since the audition. He damn well knew how good Zavier looked and played. He handed the tablet back, glad that his hands weren’t trembling like his heart was. “You willing to dig into the bad, too?”
Zavier nodded. “Paradoxically, it’s easier for me to read than the good.”
“Why?” The question came from Mish, but Ray had been about to ask it.
“Because I can ignore the bullshit, especially when I know it’s bullshit.” Zavier laid the tablet between the back of the couch and his legs. “With the good, I can’t tell if it’s smoke or fire.”
Ray didn’t say a word. Because when it came to Zavier, it was most certainlyalwaysfire.
The drivebetween Houston and Dallas was short, which Zavier found to be both a relief and an annoyance. He enjoyed not moving, but he also was getting very fond of the way Ray stretched out with him on the couch. Two cats, Mish called them.
As they traveled, Ray plucked out notes on Dom’s guitar—snatches of intriguing melodies and phrases—and jotted notes down in his journal. Not musical ones, but cryptic symbols nonetheless. Shapes. Letters. His own system.
Zavier itched to learn more about that, but Ray was absorbed, so he didn’t ask. He did tap out rhythms as Ray played, though. Simple and complex ones, which Ray took and wove into the melody.
“That gonna be something when it grows up?” Dom glanced up from his book. “Sounds damn good.”
“Maybe.”
Despite his cagey reply, Zavier felt the true answer. Ray was composing. Couldn’t be anything else. “Does the song have a name?”
“Not that I want to say yet.” Ray shifted on the seat, and put the guitar away. “But yes.” Amber eyes met Zavier’s, but no more words. Just a smile.
That was enough. Their little session of submission, as bad an idea as it had been, also seemed to have unlocked something in Ray. Or maybe taking the day off had. Hard to say.Whatever the reason, the outcome was a move back toward the rough-hewn friendship they’d carved. As an added bonus, Ray was regaining control of himself and shedding his anger and annoyance.
Though Zavier wanted to throat-punch Carl, especially after having skimmed through the good—and the bad—about the band on the internet. Generally, the press was as he’d seen in the articles Nadia had sent: positive, even glowing in places. Their shows were seen as rising to or even surpassing Five Asylum’s. They were becoming one of the season’s hottest, must-see groups. There were comments speculating about how an album with Zavier behind the drums might sound, how he’d elevated Twisted Wishes, and there was also praise for Ray’s energetic and outstanding vocals. Accolades rained down for Mish and Domino, too.
The photos wereamazingand Nadia was going to have a field day, because Zavier had become a new sexy catch, or something like that. The press dug back into the past and pulled out photos of him in a tux. Black tie and tails or nearly naked, Zavier Demos cut a stunning figure. He’d rolled his eyes at that.
The bad was—interesting. Mostly it revolved, as everyone knew, around Kevin and that one night where Ray had lobbed a bottle at him. There was an article about Ray’s “violent” outburst in St. Louis, including how Ray had flipped off Zavier. Perhaps offstage Van Zeller and Demos are not as in sync as on, but that didn’t mar their performance, nor their onstage chemistry.
Onstage chemistry.Those were powerful words.
No one had dirt on Domino, thanks to Dom’s night and day personas. For Mish, they speculated about her sexuality—gay or straight? As if those were the only choices. As if it were anyone’s business buthers. The press was horrid in that respect.
The dirt around Zavier focused on his departure from Silverton, but since he seemed to be enjoying the rock-and-rolllife, no one had really dug any deeper than Dimitri throwing a tantrum. There was also quite a bit of speculation about his sexuality, too, which also made him roll his eyes.
The questions people wanted Ray to answer, though, did all revolve around Kevin. Had they been lovers? Did Ray regret drinking? Was he doing a twelve-step or some other program? Had he talked to Kevin? On and on.
Zavier started a list. Any of the questions were bound to bother Ray, but all of them would put him over the edge. There was also the question of whether Ray and Zavier were fucking—and that one hit a little too close for comfort.
He’d rubbed his eyes and turned off his tablet after about two hours of that nonsense.
An hour later, they arrived in Dallas. Zavier had to hand it to Ray—he always seemed to know what city they were near. To Zavier, all the venues were blending together. One outdoor amphitheater looked a lot like another. The accommodations, while slightly different, were similar enough. Déjà vu wasn’t just a feeling—it was a piece of his life now.
They’d huddled in the bus before they’d arrived and had changed up a few things, but left the show pretty much the same as they’d played in Houston, since that still buzzed in their veins. Good thing, too.
When they stepped off the bus in Dallas, it wasn’t just Carl waiting for them, but one of the label bigwigs, as well. Carl wore his usual twisted and displeased look, deeper than normal.
But the exec, he was downright excited. “Here’s the band everyone’s talking about!” A corporate smile followed.
For his part, Ray stepped forward and offered a hand. “Not bad for an opening act, huh?”
Zavier flinched internally. They were more than an opening act and Ray needed to believe that.
“Not tonight.” Where the exec’s grin widened, Carl’s mouth only became more pinched. “You’re headlining this concert.”
