Page 36 of The Battle of Maddox
Maddox looked up from his stool and smiled at me.
I felt dizzy at that. His smile was just handsome. Like all of him, he was just a beautiful man. I’d always had a crush on him. Hell, seventeen year old me had pictures of him on the wall in the room I rented.
But seeing him in person, talking to him, getting to know him,being part of the bandjust added a whole new layer to everything. I realized that my crush was growing intomore.
This could be a problem.
“You okay back there?” he asked.
“Quite,” I answered. “It’s just still surreal.”
“You have no idea how happy we are we found you.” He put the guitar down and wandered over. “You’re going to be amazing, and just so good for our sound.”
“You fired Grig?” I asked.
Maddox nodded. “For personal reasons. You saw the interview, right after?”
“I did. I was just double checking. Sometimes the public reasons are different than the private.”
He sat on the floor next to me. “Grig was Holland’s best friend when we started to form the band. He actually learned the drums to join. He was adequate, and stuck it out. But he only just learned the drums. You, when you played for us on the audition, put layers in the sound that we had never realized could be put there—by virtue of you being competent and skilled.
“None of us even remotely regret letting him go. Uriah is one of my best friends, and has been for years. He and Austin belong together, and Grig is not open to the LGBTQ community. We knew that, and that was why he and Holland had a serious falling out about three years ago. Holland’s sibling, Rene, came out as genderfluid and they had a loud and rowdy fight about it. After that, we didn’t mention our personal lives around him at all.
“While we were all learning to do more with our instruments and music, he was just content to keep the beat. The stuff you asked about? We had no idea those were options with the sound. Truth is, we chatted about all this and if we had realized how shitty he was, we would have probably replaced him after the Rene incident.”
“He’s really that bad?”
“He’s from Russia. He moved here at fifteen, at least as I understand it. He was probably indoctrinated about the Evils of The Gays as a kid.”
My heart plunged into my stomach. “Doxx,” I whispered. “We’re going to Moscow.”
“I know.”
“I’m gay.”
“I know.” He patted my knee. “It’s fine. You’re not a Russian citizen. As long as you aren’t waving your dick at people, screamingI’m gayand trying to mac on them, you’ll be fine.”
“Is that what you think gay men do?”
“No, I think they wave their dicks at their partners like a helicopter like every other red-blooded male in the world.” He paused. “Wait. Do you both helicopter your dicks at each other at the same time?”
“And screamwoo! woo!while doing it,” I answered.
We collapsed into a fit of laughter that was so hard, had our sides hurting so bad that we came to a few minutes later with Rand, Ora, and Holland staring at us.
“Are you two okay?” Holland asked
“Woo woo!” Doxx called, and we laughed again.
I managed to collect myself enough to answer him, eventually. “We’re fine.”
“Just taking part in some male bondage.”
I choked. “Bonding. Male bonding! Oh my God, Doxx.”
Rand and Holland were clearly trying not to laugh, and Ora just looked distinctly uncomfortable. Doxx stood from his seat on the ground, and dusted off his wonderful, tight butt and walked back to where his guitar was waiting.
“Are we all ready for some practice?”
