Page 39 of Syncopation
He had to laugh. “If you know me as well as you think you do, you’d knowmy 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 youfor 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 repositionedhimself.
But not to move away.
Dom snorted. “Youneed 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,” Mishmurmured. 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 exhaledand 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 hiseyes. “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 hadnoexperience as a band manager!” Ray rubbed his face. “Fuck.”
Mish had pulled her red curls back at some point, but nowshe tugged the clip free and set about pulling her hair back again. “There’s nothing wrong with marketing.Iwas 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 diggingfor intel, though.”
Zavier poked him with his toes. “It’s thewhyI’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.
