Chapter 6
Posters were great; band members who showed up on time, ready to play, were even better. After two months on tour, Bennett had more than a few of the former, Gino gifting him one every Saturday night. Reliable band members, however, had become scarce the past week.
The wheels had begun to come off last week in Chicago. Roscoe had gone to a hockey game the night before the show and had missed the morning band meeting. Ellery had taken that as his cue to flake out of the press call and sound check for the midweek show in Madison. And then the twins had gotten so drunk in downtown Pittsburgh after the show last night that Gino had had to leave their bed at two in the morning to sweet talk a local bar owner out of pressing charges. No doubt that had cost an arm and a leg, between paying off the bar owner and anyone who’d witnessed Miles and Mason’s shenanigans.
Which Bennett still didn’t know the full extent of. Gino had given him minimal details—They’re idiots, they’re fine—when he’d returned to bed just before dawn, wrapped an arm around his waist, and drifted back to sleep. There were no salacious news stories this morning either. Nothing in the local press or in the usual gossip rags about two of Middle Cut’s band members causing a scene. In fact, there hadn’t been a single bad behavior story all week, no web alerts other than for rave reviews of their shows, and come to think of it, Bennett hadn’t received any SOS texts lately either.
He darkened his phone screen and set the device face down on the mattress beside him. “How have you kept everything out of the press this week?”
He raised his voice so Gino in the hotel bathroom could hear him.
“Been working with Gavin and the extra handler we hired for this tour.”
“We hired a what?”
He briefly ran through the roadies on tour with them in his head, landing on the newest member of the crew. “You mean Erica? The blond in the SF Giants gear who’s always directing us which way to go after the show?”
“That’s her. She’s a junior publicist in Gavin’s shop. Damn good.”
Gino emerged from the bathroom, travel kits in hand. He’d insisted they get the hell out of Steel City and on to Boston before any more trouble found them; Bennett hadn’t disagreed. Sure, there was a restaurant in town they’d planned to try tonight, but hush money only went so far. He dropped their kits into their luggage, redirecting Bennett’s mind from where it had wandered. “It’s not your job to babysit the band,”
Gino said. “It was wearing you down. You didn’t need that.”
Bennett snagged his nearest wrist and drew him closer, between his spread knees. “It’s not your job either.”
He tugged Gino down to kneeling on his level so Bennett could get a good look at his face. In the morning sun, the bags under his eyes were dark and that little vein at the edge of his hairline was bulging with tension. Bennett gently coasted his fingers over it, then into Gino’s hair, carding through it softly, causing Gino’s hitched shoulders to lower and his eyelids to flutter closed. A couple of deep breaths later, Bennett asked, “Did you tell them to text you and not me?”
Gino’s silence was answer enough. Bennett pulled him into his arms. “Thank you for sparing me that, but you don’t get to make my life better by making yours hell. We share the load.”
“I can take a little more if it means improving your mental health. You’re enjoying yourself and this tour. You’ve been remarkable on stage, B. You’ve seemed better offstage too. I don’t want to risk that. I can’t risk you.”
He was rambling, his voice escalating like Bennett’s had that day months ago, and every muscle under Bennett’s hands had gone tight again. He needed to rest, he needed to relax, he’d needed that dinner out tonight, more than Bennett had realized when he’d agreed to forgo it. But maybe they could have dinner someplace else even more special.
He drew back and cupped Gino’s face with both hands, thumbs swiping over his cheeks. “We have an extra day now, right? Before the show in Boston?”
Gino nodded.
“Get Gavin and the handler on the phone. You’re taking the night off.”
“But—”
Bennett covered Gino’s mouth with his, shoved his tongue between his husband’s lips, and only came up for air again when Gino surrendered. “You get to enjoy this tour too. And tonight, I’m taking care of you.”