Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Wynter
I’m not a doctor, and I’m certainly no expert in anything to do with vocal chords, but Kingston’s throat looks red and inflamed. Without tests it’s impossible to know what’s wrong, but there’s no doubt something is going on. He said he feels okay, except for the sore throat.
“I think you should go to an urgent care,” I tell him after I’ve given him a cursory examination. “If nothing else, to rule out strep. Because if that’s what it is, you’ll infect the whole crew.”
“Agreed.” Devyn gives him a look as she pulls out her phone. “I’m Googling now, looking for one nearby.”
Devyn is the band’s new bass player, and she and Kingston have become a couple.
She was hired after the death of their original bassist—Carter, whom I loved dearly—and I worried about how she would fit in.
However, she’s an incredible musician and she and Kingston are adorable together.
I’ve known Kingston for years and could never picture him settling down, so it makes sense that when he did it’s with another musician.
“I really don’t want to go to an urgent care,” Kingston mutters, making a face.
“If you have strep, you’ll need antibiotics,” I say.
“It could be something worse,” Devyn adds, still scrolling on her phone. “And there’s a place about two miles from here. Go get dressed. We need to get this over with.”
Kingston gets up with a grimace. “Yes, dear.”
“I’m calling for an Uber, so don’t mess around!” she calls after him as he pads into the bathroom.
“Christ.” Ross has his hands on his hips. “What do we do if it’s strep or laryngitis or some other throat thing? This right here is why I wanted a back-up band. Depending on what they say, we may have to cancel the show.”
“Let’s not stress until we have to,” I say quietly. “It might be okay. A lemon juice, brandy, and honey concoction could help too. Not to mention hot tea and a bunch of other things that could get him through the show.”
“The rest of us could do extended solos,” Devyn adds. “He could also let the crowd sing the choruses on the bigger hits, which limits how long he has to sing for each song. We have options.”
“Those things aren’t going to fill a ninety-minute set,” Ross says blandly.
“Maybe we cut the set shorter tonight,” Kingston says, coming out of the bathroom and putting an LA Dodgers baseball cap on his head. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Go find out what’s going on first,” I suggest. “Then we can come up with a backup plan.”
Ross and I follow Kingston and Devyn into the elevator and down to the lobby.
“Let me know!” Ross calls after them as they head outside.
“What happens if you cancel the show?” I ask curiously.
He makes a face. “Honestly, it’s not the end of the world, but fans dislike it, and we have to either refund everyone’s money or reschedule at the end, which we all hate to do.
It can be a scheduling nightmare, you know?
That’s why I like to have an opening act.
We’ve had injuries and illnesses before, and had someone from the opening act fill in.
Crimson Edge is joining us in Salt Lake City, but their guitarist had a death in the family, so they’re delayed for another week.
” He pauses. “It’s weird because King never gets sick.
I think he had the flu once about six years ago and he did the show on stool, with a hundred-and-three fever.
He’s hardcore. But when his voice is impacted, it’s a whole different thing. ”
“Well, I’m sure you know the lyrics,” I suggest lightly. “You could sing.”
He stares at me, those gorgeous gray eyes of his narrowing into slits. “I thought we already had this conversation?” he asks quietly.
“We did, but this is different.”
“It’s not. The last fucking thing I’d ever want to do is get up in front of an Onyx Knight crowd. Can you imagine the headlines? It would be a disaster.”
“Why? I understand that what happened to your band and fiancée was horrible, but hiding away your talent and the man you are doesn’t make that tragedy go away. Why are you hiding the man beneath a facade?”
“This is the man I am,” he says, irritation lacing his voice. “There’s no facade, Wynter. I’m not twenty-one anymore. I’m not a rock star. And I’m definitely not up to filling in for Kingston Knight. I’m just a guy approaching middle age with a job to do.”
“How will you know if you’re up to it if you don’t try?”
“So I can humiliate myself in front of twenty thousand people? That’s a hard no.”
“But—” I try again but he cuts me off.
“You need to let this go, Wynter. Seriously.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I say the words even though they frustrate me.
“I’ve got things to do. See you later.” He turns on his heel and practically speed-walks back toward the elevators.
I’m a jerk for pushing him so hard.
I don’t even know what my end game was.
It doesn’t change anything in my life if he ever performs as Ross Rockit again, so it shouldn’t matter so much.
But it does and I’m trying to understand why.
Maybe it’s because it seems like he still has so much to offer, both personally and professionally, yet he seems determined to hide his talent.
The truth is that it’s none of my business.
And I have a feeling that any chance I had with him just walked away.