Page 36 of Syncopation
Zavier leaned forward. “It’sfun. And frivolous. And there’s so many interesting things you could do with it.” He tapped out the bass rhythm. Then another rhythm, then another that wasn’t at all 4/4 that somehowworked. Then a couple more. “Or slow it down and put a kind of swing beat to it.” He hummed the melody to a new timesignature. “Would be a fun acoustical piece.”
Ray stared at Zavier, his brain already whirling. The fog he’d been carrying around all day lifted, but caution niggled at his wild heart. “We haven’t practiced it.”
Dom had set aside his book. “That’s what sound checks are for.” Yeah, he was eager and all smiles. Mish, too.
He could see the notes and the beats Zavier still tapped out likea pulse, or the swing and rhythm of bodies moving together. Dancing. Fucking.
Yeah, he wanted this, but for one problem. “Carl will have a fit.”
“Does he need to know?” God, Zavier’s voice could make stone do his bidding. “We can put down TBD for one of the acoustical songs, fuck around at sound check, and go for it.”
Carl would still have a fit. It was so not walking the line he wantedRay to walk. Instinct told Ray that, but his soul told him Zavier’s idea would be a fucking massive hit.
“Okay. Let’s do it.” He’d take the lumps that came with his decision. Guess it had been meeting time after all. He jotted down some notes and the proposed set list—and the wordsZavier Demos is too fucking perfect.Felt a little like high school. He’d probably written something similarin a spiral-bound notebook back in the day, not his pretentious but well-loved Moleskin.
Zavier stretched out his legs and bumped Ray’s thigh with his toes. “I believe in you,” he murmured.
Fuck, the sparks and light went up his spine and down into his dick. Nothing like that ever happened back in school, mostly because Zavier was hardly ever within ten feet of Ray, let alone sharing acouch.
Whatever else, it did push away the fear. He pulled out his phone and typed an email to send to the record label requesting a copy of his contract.
Yeah, maybe they’d been screwed by Carl, but contracts went two ways. Perhaps the band could do some screwing of their own—if they had more leverage. If they made a name for themselves and more money for the label, Carl would have lesshold over them.
Ray drew a little picture of an ice cream cone with sprinkles right under Zavier’s name, then closed his book. Maybe it was also time to open up to everyone, not just Zavier. “I’m sorry I was so out of it last night. Zavier was right—it was Carl, and I want to tell you what he said.”
They all looked at him. Mish and Dom wore worry, but Zavier was nodding in encouragement.Well, okay then. Ray took a breath and started talking.
* * *
Zavier couldn’t help watching Ray’s lips as he explained the run-in he’d had with Carl. The news that the band might owe the label a shit-ton of royalties wasn’t the most upbeat thing, and both Mish and Dom reacted as Zavier expected them to. They were dismayed, then angry, then skeptical that Carl was even telling the truth.They both reminded Ray that they’d signed too, so he couldn’t take all the blame. Of course, Ray did anyway.
“I emailed the label to ask for a copy of our contract.” Ray leaned back. “Maybe if we put our heads together, we can figure this out.”
Heads. Bodies. His and Ray’s. Zavier indulged in those thoughts before setting them aside. No more crawling into bed on the job, even when thejob didn’t feel like one.
Ray’s mouth showed the emotions he so desperately tried to hide. There was a quiver of fear and the angry press of his lips and the way his jaw rocked back and forth when he wasn’t talking.
Oh, to take those lips and soothe them with his own. Ray reacted to touch. To heartfelt praise. Most of all, Ray reacted to friendship and trust and that was, admittedly, catnipto Zavier.
There was a bond between Ray, Dom, and Mish. They were a family, that was easy enough to see. They’d embraced Zavier, too—at least Dom and Mish had. Sometimes he wondered if Ray would ever consider him a friend or if he’d always be on his guard against Zavier.
The three of them talked strategy and ideas for a while until Ray looked over. “Your contract’s different, isn’t it?”
Zavier nodded. “I’m here for the tour, as a session musician. I’m not actually a part of Twisted Wishes.”
“Like hell you aren’t,” Dom muttered.
“Not contractually.” Zavier was improving the drumming, but he hadn’t contributed artistically to the group. But he wasn’t going to argue with Dom.
“You’re part of the band,” Ray said. “End of story.”
Heat and joy danced along Zavier’snerves. He certainly wasn’t going to argue with Ray, either. “Thank you.”
Ray clapped him on the leg, and that touch was far too enjoyable. Zavier had been missing that sharp, lovely contact that came with having sex. He didn’t particularly understand holding hands or staring dreamily into someone’s eyes or whatever people in love were supposed to do. But he liked touching. Holding another.Being held. Curling up on a couch. Watching someone sleep.
Living as close as he had with these three for the weeks of practice and now crammed into a bus—it made him itch for those things again. He craved skin-to-skin contact.
In the end, he even got some. After their meeting, Ray put his journal away and pulled an ereader out of his bag. He shifted again and again on the couch whileZavier had his legs stretched out, his toes occasionally brushing Ray’s thighs. Eventually, Ray sighed. “Do you mind if I stretch out?” He waved at the section of couch Zavier’s legs occupied.
