Page 10 of Syncopation
Both Mish and Dom picked up their instruments, and Zavier settledin behind the kit. For a couple of minutes, the three of them tuned, jammed, and warmed up. Ray had given his voice a workout before leaving the house and on the ride over. After the first few times Carl had snickered at him when he went through vowels and pushed his range—well, better to do that shit in private.
“Let’s start with ‘Haze’ and see how that sounds,” Ray said. It was the easiestof their repertoire and one of the first pieces they played at shows, partly to get into a grove with each other. He glanced at them all, stopping when he got to Zavier.
A flick of a drumstick and a nod. Felt more like approval than an indication he knew the song. Warmth flared in Ray’s belly, but not from embarrassment. Zavier seemed to understand what he intended with this practice.
“Let’s see how we sound,” Ray said.
Zavier counted out the beat, and they were off. The intro sounded good, and fuck, did Zavier look stunning behind the kit. When Ray threw his voice in, it blended well in and out of Dom’s riffs, like it always did. They soundeddamngood for not playing for several weeks, especially considering Zavier had played exactly one song with them before now.
But something niggled at Ray when they finished. “Mind doing that again without me singing?”
No objections from the band. Carl’s chair squeaked and Ray gritted his teeth. But a moment passed without any comment, so he nodded to Zavier, who set the beat again.
This time, Ray closed his eyes. He needed to see the music, not the performers, and especially not Zavier. The notes and beats washedover him and set bursts of color off in his head. Shapes. Lines. Exactly what he’d seen when he’d written the piece. Good. Very good. Mish’s bass sounded exactly right and Dom was his usual controlled chaos. Zavier was perfect. Utterly. When the change-up after the second verse happened—a tricky little twist in the beat he’d written in so long ago—that was when he saw it. A slip in Dom and inMish—but not in Zavier. A little clash of hues.
He opened his eyes and waved them to stop. “Can you play the transition again?”
“It sounded fine,” Carl grumbled.
Everything in Ray tightened. Thank god he had his back to the asshole. He spoke more slowly. “Can you play the transition again?”
“Yes, of course.” That from Zavier. “As many times as you need.”
Dom nodded.
“There’ssomething hinky going on, isn’t there?” Mish ran her fingers over the strings of her bass.
There was, and Ray thought he knew why, but he wanted to make sure. He waved his hand for them to start.
That same clash was there again, and the next time they played, too. Ray blew out a breath and scrubbed the back of his head. “You’re too good.”
Zavier’s sticks clattered as he gripped themin one hand. He grunted, but his smile was back. Approval. Understanding. Every time, it tumbled something deep inside Ray.
Dom stared at Ray like he’d grown two heads, but Mish was laughing. “Oh my god. Of course.”
“What the hell are you going on about, Van Zeller?” The chair creaked again.
Ray turned to find Carl standing, hands on his hips. “I’m doing my job, Carl. What do you think?”
“You asinine little—”
Zavier’s voice boomed out over the room. “With all due respect, Carl—” His tone said the exact opposite. “Sit down, be quiet, and you might learn a thing or two.”
A deep, dark place in Ray’s heart flared to life at Carl’s shocked expression, at the blush that crept up his neck to his face, and the step backward he took that had him tumbling into the chair.
Maybe he could stand Zavier Demos after all.
Ray put his back to Carl. “It’s not that there’s a problem,” he said. “It’s the lack of one.”
Mish nodded. “Kevin never got the beat right at the change-up. He always flubbed it.”
“And you and Dom covered for that, so it didn’t matter.” Ray eyed Zavier. “You can’t mimic Kevin’s mistake.”
Zavier took a breath. “I couldtry. But no, notconsistently. Not for a performance. I know how the line should sound. I fix it in my head every time I hear the song.” He gave Ray a sly grin. “Most people wouldn’t have noticed.”
Ray straightened, the nerves along his arms tingling. Maybe he hadn’t gone to Juilliard or been a fucking prodigy like Zavier. Yeah, he only had an associate’s degree in accounting, but these werehissongs. Everyword, note, and beat. “I’m not most people.”
“I know.” Zavier’s sincerity knocked the air from Ray’s lungs.
