Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Ray was still high as a kite after the autograph lines.
They’d headlined their very own show and had their first VIP encounter.
Those had been in the works for a while, though Carl had neglected to tell them.
Still, the whole thing had been an unbelievable experience, so he couldn’t even be mad about that, especially since the VIP packages would continue.
The label executive had praised the band afterward for their energetic and fan-inspiring performance and complimented them for stepping up when Five Asylum had to back out.
They were heading to the buses—band and crew—for a little celebration when Ray stopped in his tracks, the realization hitting him like a hammer in the head. Zavier bumped his shoulder and gave him a questioning look.
“I left my notebook in the dressing room.” He had to get it. Its potential loss was like a punch to his chest.
Zavier nodded. “Want company?”
“Nah. Should only take a second.” With that, he turned and jogged back into the building.
Thankfully, the Moleskine was exactly where he’d left it, sitting on the vanity. The rest of the things in the room—the clothes and makeup and other items—were packed up.
One of the crew, Sasha, smiled at him. “Thought you might be back for that,” she said.
He gave a laugh. “Yeah. It’s like my security blanket.” He gave the crew a wave.
“Hey,” she said. “You joining us for movie night?”
The whole band had been invited. Mish thought it was a great idea, and so did Dom. They’re working their asses off, too, he’d said.
Ray agreed, except he didn’t know if he’d make it to the party. “Really depends on when I start to crash.” He bounced up and down. “Right now I’m fine, but—”
Sasha gave him a little look he interpreted as interest. “Well, I hope to see you, if you don’t crash.”
Oh, honey. You’d be better off trying that on Mish than me. He smiled and headed out—and ran straight into Carl. Almost literally.
“What the fuck, Ray?”
“I—” He held up the notebook, but the rest of the sentence died in his mouth. Carl was furious, red-faced and glaring. Ray took a step back.
“I’ve been all over this fucking venue looking for you.” Carl pointed down the hall, like a schoolmaster, and the bottom dropped out of Ray’s life.
What had he done? Why was Carl so mad? Jesus, the label guy had loved them!
Still, he went the way Carl pointed. Don’t make waves.
Stay calm. Stay collected. Controlled. Like he should be.
Like Zavier wanted. God, he should have stayed with the band.
Or taken Zavier up on his offer to come with him.
His head swam like he was drowning in the booze Carl always accused him of drinking.
At the end of the hall was a tiny room, a closet of an office. He followed Carl inside and flinched when he closed the door. Ray swallowed a breath and turned.
Carl shook his head. “That—” he pointed in the vague direction of the stage “—was not good enough.”
Ray gripped his notebook, the cover biting into his palm. “But—everyone loved it.” His voice wavered. Hold it together.
“Is that what you think?” Carl’s lips curled into a smile that was anything but kind.
“The label—”
“Mr. Collinger was being kind. Reality is that your performance out there was barely adequate as a headlining band. It was mediocre, and barely up to an opening act’s form.” He shook his head. “You’re lucky you have such enthusiastic fans. They pulled the weight for you tonight.”
That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right...could it? Ray played the night over in his head again. Tried to remember exactly what the exec had said, what he’d looked like. Had his smile been too wide? Shit, shit.
He wanted to slam past Carl, tell him he was full of it, and flee back to the bus. But that was the act of the fool Carl said he was. Probably what the asshole thought he’d do. Instead, he took another breath. “Okay, what do we need to do better?”
Carl blinked at him, and for a moment looked dumbfounded. Then he snorted.
“No, I’m serious. If there’s a problem, how do we fix it?”
“Stop being so goddamned condescending.” Carl turned away.
Condesc—“I’m not!” Ray’s voice rose, along with his anger. Both he tried to catch and tamp down. He would not explode. Not here, not tonight. “I’m not trying to cause trouble, Carl. I’m asking for your opinion as our manager. What are we doing wrong?”
“More like what are you doing wrong, Ray.”
“Me?” His voice crept up. He was giving each and every night all that he had.
“You’ve got to be better. Get more vocal training. Stop hitting the notes sharp. You’re not giving your all out there. It’s lucky your bandmates have talent.”
Oh. Ray’s heart turned to stone. Had he sung sharp?
He couldn’t really remember the night clearly now.
It all came in bits and pieces—visions of light and sound and tastes.
He tried to piece together what he could, but his heart rammed in his chest. The video of Carl’s singing flitted through his mind.
So much easier to critique a performance from the outside.
Maybe he had been off tune. Probably. Yeah.
“I—” He met Carl’s cold gaze.
“Get your fucking act together, Ray, That’s your only choice.” Carl spun, wrenched open the door, and walked out.
All the while, Ray struggled to breathe, to think, to not throw his notebook—the one possession he cared about—against the wall.
Screaming would feel good, but probably fuck up his voice even more.
They’d just headlined their first show, and it wasn’t fucking good enough for Carl.
He could track down the exec, but what would that look like? A sniveling kid looking for approval?
What good was a notebook full of songs if the singer was crap? Was he fucking up?
He didn’t know. Shit. What was he going to do?
Zavier was standing outside the crew bus, listening with one ear, but paying attention to the walkway from the venue.
Ray had been gone too fucking long. A few more minutes and he’d grab one of the security staff that still hung out by the gates, and go hunting for him.
It didn’t take that long to grab a notebook.
So far, the only people coming down that path had been the crew with the last of their things, along with Carl, who’d stalked off to his hired car.
Zavier’s blood chilled as watched him leave.
Finally, a lone figure appeared, silhouetted by the lights, moving slowly, as if the world had crashed down on their shoulders.
Fuck. When the person came closer, he knew it was Ray. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered to no one in particular.
As he hurried up the path, Ray stopped. He was still too backlit by the venues lights to make out his features, but the way he held his body made Zavier’s chest ache. It was all wrong and so different from before. Where Ray had been tall and energetic, he was now slumped and curled into himself.
Oh, he had a very good idea why—and man, did he want to wrap his fingers around Carl’s throat and squeeze so tight.
When he finally reached Ray, those once lively amber eyes were staring at the ground. “You didn’t need to come up here. I was gonna go to the bus.”
But he did need to come. Every movement Ray made skated across Zavier’s nerves like metal on glass. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” He spoke softly, and buried the urge to reach out to Ray. He had to give Ray room to move or stay or reach out—whatever he needed.
Ray’s barked-out laugh contained so much pain, Zavier’s lungs ached in sympathy. “I don’t think I’m gonna make the movie night. I’m—done.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“That’s okay.”
Ray shook his head. “It’s not okay. I should be there for people, but—” He finally looked up at Zavier. Shattered. Ray was shattered. The only way to describe it.
Zavier took a step forward.
“I’m tired and a mess and out of control.” Ray’s voice wavered. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s fun.”
Zavier flinched a little. Because there was the seed of doubt he’d sewn, with intent even. “You’re not out of control.”
Ray’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Maybe not now, but I’m hanging by a thread, Zav. Give me ten minutes and—” fear and humiliation cascaded through Ray’s voice “—call a reporter. I’m sure Carl would love that.”
God, he wanted to pull Ray to him. Or put him on his knees. Zavier studied Ray’s bleak face. “I’m not calling anyone. You know that.”
Ray nodded. “You’re a good friend, even if I’m a shitty one.”
Friend. The word blazed through Zavier. Finally. “Maybe I can help you.”
“What, be a better friend?”
“You’re a fine friend, Ray. I like you the way you are. I was thinking more along the lines of me taking control for a time.” He watched Ray’s expression shift from confusion to understanding and back to confusion. “If that’s something you’re interested in.”
Ray wavered on the path, looking past Zavier, then focusing on him like a laser beam. “You—I—” He licked his lips. “You’re talking sex. With me.”
“Yes. But I’m also asking you to trust me and listen to me and obey me, for a little while.”
Ray shivered. But he’d also straightened, and the weight that had pressed him down wasn’t evident anymore. “I—are you sure?” Shock there.
Zavier chuckled. “Oh, Ray. I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”
His shoulders relaxed. And after a few swallows, he whispered two words. “Yes, please.”
Desire, need, and elation chased through Zavier. He shoved his hands in his pockets, lest he put Ray on his knees right there, out in the open. “Why don’t you go to the bus and wait for me, and I’ll tell the others you’ve hit the wall and are crashing. We’ll have a few hours to ourselves.”
Ray shuffled his feet. “What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“What are you gonna tell them?” Ray rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, and Zavier bet if the light were better, he’d see a nice blush on Ray’s neck and cheeks.