Chapter 10 #3
“Ah, that’s an interesting thing, too. No.
What I heard—and this is from a friend of a friend—is that Carl had been reasonably successful in the marketing department.
Someone over there had the brilliant idea that if the label used a marketing manager as a band manager—rather than the band hiring one themselves—they’d have much less friction with bands.
Yours is a trial run on that, since Carl had some practical experience. ”
Carl was a marketing manager? That explained some things, but not others. “Thank you, Nadia.” He headed back toward the bus, at a slightly slower pace than normal.
“You care about him, your Ray.”
Not a question, which meant Nadia already had an answer. The question was why. Zavier snorted. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, darling, those photos show the way you look at him, too.”
Zavier stopped walking. He was still far enough away from the bus to speak without being overheard. “That’s called lust.”
“Mmmhmm. I’ve seen you in lust, dear. This is something other than that.”
Zavier sighed. “I’ve known him since high school and admire his skills and tenacity. They’re all good people, Nadia, not just Ray.”
“So your heart’s getting all tangled up with them.” She chuckled.
He had to laugh. “If you know me as well as you think you do, you’d know my heart never gets tangled up in anything.”
Nadia’s voice was velvet. “Darling boy, I know you better than you know yourself.”
No, no she didn’t. Because he’d kept one thing secret from her. “I suppose we’ll see.”
Ray appeared in the doorway of the bus. “You coming? ’Cause we gotta move and I’d hate to leave your sorry ass behind.”
“Time’s up,” he said into the phone. “Thank you for your help, Nadia.”
“Do keep wearing those pants, Zavier. And I’ll be sending you lots of links very shortly.”
Wonderful. He pulled the phone away from his ear, disconnected, then bounded up into the bus.
“Talking to your mom?” Ray was nestled back against the couch, exactly as he had been before.
A strange sense of euphoria made Zavier lightheaded. He could stretch out again. Have that fine sense of presence against his skin. It clashed with the absurdity that Nadia could be anything like a mother. He swung down onto the couch as the bus shuddered forward. “No. A mentor.”
Ray raised an eyebrow, obviously expecting more.
Zavier toed off his shoes and slid his legs next to Ray’s, with delightful effect. A shiver, both eyebrows into his hairline, and Ray repositioned himself.
But not to move away.
Dom snorted. “You need a mentor?”
He shrugged. “I did. And the connection is useful.” The others stared at him and he remembered Ray’s words. You’re part of the band. “She has a lot of ties in the entertainment world. I’m trying to find out what makes Carl tick.”
“You mean other than his hatred of me?” Ray’s words were thick.
“Sweetheart,” Mish murmured. There was tenderness there. Caring.
Such a contrast from his conversation with Nadia, from her affected “darlings” that were meant to irritate, not soothe.
Jealousy was a strange, strange thing, because he rarely got the gut-churning envy that swept through him.
So many lovers, not enough friends. Nadia hadn’t been a lover—but he wouldn’t call her a friend, either.
Ray exhaled and pressed his foot against the outside of Zavier’s leg. “You know it’s true. You all know it’s true.”
None of them spoke. Zavier’s mind danced around the information he’d been given by Nadia and whether he should share it. Ray’s legs were warm against his own. “Carl was in a band.” He recounted the rest of what Nadia had told him, and watched their shifting expressions.
Ray closed his eyes. “None of this is on the internet.”
That had been another tidbit Nadia had shared with Zavier. “He used the name Clay Rodham while singing.”
“And to be fair,” Dom said, “the part about him having been in marketing was there, too.”
“Yes, but not that he had no experience as a band manager!” Ray rubbed his face. “Fuck.”
Mish had pulled her red curls back at some point, but now she tugged the clip free and set about pulling her hair back again. “There’s nothing wrong with marketing. I was in marketing. It can be a successful jumping-off point for a lot of careers. You learn people skills.”
All true. “Depends on how good he was. And what his goal is now,” Zavier said.
“That’s easy. Keeping me under his thumb.” Ray opened his eyes. “I do appreciate you digging for intel, though.”
Zavier poked him with his toes. “It’s the why I’m interested in. Jealousy seems so—” he waved his hand “—banal.”
“Seems human to me.” Ray shrugged, but there was an edge to it. “I want it to stop.”
So did Zavier. But how to get Carl to ease up greatly depended on his motivation. However, he knew better than to keep this conversation going, so he let that part drop.
Still, he was curious about Carl’s former band. Didn’t take that much searching to pull up some videos of Tenacious Dreams in concert. Fuck if the younger version of Carl didn’t look slightly like Ray. Long-limbed and blond. Torn jeans with an edge of punk. Ray wore it so much better, though.
“Well, would you look at this?” He held up his tablet. A moment later, they were all crowded around, and he tapped Play.
The clip was almost embarrassing to watch. Yeah, there was a reason Carl’s band never made it past one song. The fire, the flare, wasn’t there.
When the video ended, Dom leaned back and scratched his head. “That was...okay. I guess.”
That pretty much summed it up. Band wasn’t horrible. Rhythms were serviceable and they hit most of the notes right. But even in the good videos, there was a tinny quality to Carl’s singing, a strain that scraped against the melody he tried to belt out.
They played a few others, and they were the same. Their one song was catchy enough, but in concert it fell flat.
Ray kept staring at the tablet screen. “I’m not... I don’t look like that, do I?”
Mish’s bark of laughter rang out loud and joyful. “Oh, Ray, honey.” She ruffled his hair. “You look nothing like that. Night and day, kiddo.”
That seemed to appease Ray, given his chuckle and red cheeks.
After they passed the tablet around again to get their fill of the spectacle, they all settled back down into quiet pursuits, but nothing on his tablet interested Zavier until an email from Nadia appeared in his inbox.
Here you go, darling boy.
Links. Many links that took him to an article about Twisted Wishes and their recent concerts. How there’d been such a huge turnaround in sound. Many people speculated it was Ray sobering up, but many also pointed to the hot new drummer.
Zavier’s cheeks warmed. He was well aware of his looks and often used them to his advantage, including to bed people who caught his attention. But praise of those same attributes in the press made him squirm, as if he were walking naked in public.
There was, of course, various speculations about his sexuality, including a mention of his alleged “closeness” with Maestro Ferbran from Gabriel McGinness, the reporter they’d met at the festival. Dimitri, for what it was worth, had no comment about Zavier.
Then again, he had begged and pleaded, then screamed and yelled enough to last Zavier a lifetime.
When he got to the photos of the concerts, they were everything that Nadia had said they were. Tantalizing. Sexy. Almost erotic. The camera seemed to capture every line and passionate expression—and expose expressions he thought were subtle as anything but.
Oh yes, there was no mistaking how he looked at Ray Van Zeller. Nor anything hidden about how Ray watched him.
Damn. Lust trickled down his body and settled in his core, with predictable results. Luckily his clothes were loose and his underwear tight. He could hide his hard-on well enough.
It wasn’t just lust—and that made his arousal fade, because he could see it in the photos of himself when he bottled up his emotional reaction.
What Nadia had read as more than lust was adoration.
Ray’s talent. His voice and body and movements.
He’d admired Ray’s career for a while. It was breathtaking to see it up close and personal.
Maybe he needed to admit he was more into Ray than he’d thought, which was highly problematic, given how much he’d like to press against more than Ray’s legs. So rather than remain where he felt comfortable and content, he slung his legs out and rose. “Anyone interested in coffee?”
Zavier didn’t wait for an answer before fixing a pot. He needed a little more distance from Ray Van Zeller—or they’d both be in a world of hurt.