Page 80 of Counterpoint
All the time, that cover photo of Twisted Wishes—and of Dominic—sat in the bag on his desk, taunting him, daring him to look to see what he didn’t know and everyone else did. Finally, after yet another attempt to fix his damn code, he fired off an email to William, copied their boss, and sat back hard against his chair, rocking it in frustration. Any other day, he could probably untangle the mess William had made, but his own head was tattered and shredded.
He reached over and slid out the rock magazine, and there was his Dominic again, except not his Dominic at all. Leather and makeup and a freaking studded collar.
And he’d been so amazed when Adrian had wrapped leather around his wrists. Tied him down. Had that been a lie? Acting innocent to get what he wanted? Moisture pricked at Adrian’s eyes again, along with a fury that stoked up a headache.
None of this made any sense!
He took a breath, then another, and pushed his emotions aside—as much as he could—and studied the other band members. Jackson had been right. They were all beautiful in their own way.
Their names were inscribed under their photos. Ray Van Zeller, dark blond hair with wide golden eyes, ripped blue jeans and a tank top that could easily be stripped off. He looked like he might walk right through the page into the room. Behind him must have been Ray’s drummer husband, given the sticks in his hands. He, like Dominic, was covered in ink. Brown leather pants, no shirt. Muscular arms, black hair, and eyes that couldn’t possibly be that blue. Zavier Demos.
Why did that name sound familiar? Looked a little familiar, too. Adrian shook his head, and turned his attention past Dominic to Mish, the red-haired woman on the far right. She stood taller than the guys and wore tight jeans and a top that clung to her perfectly. She had a smile that tingled Adrian’s nerves, as if she could stare through the page and read his mind. God, thepresencein that look.
At last, he came back to Dominic. The name readDomino Grinderand Adrian swallowed a chuckle. It sounded—well—made up. Which, obviously, it had been.
They all wore makeup to some degree, though Domino’s was so much more evident than any of his bandmates. In this photo, he had black lips, and eyeliner, starkly different from the cover of the magazine. The eye shadow was gold and his hair had been spiked and teased up, rather than the soft feathery mess Adrian was used to.
No bowties. No button-downs.
Same eyes, though. Dark and strong. And that smirk—he’d seenthata few dozen times. He touched Dominic’s face on the magazine, then flipped it open to find the article.
The text swam in his vision. Right, so he wasn’t going to be able to read it. Not yet. The photos, though, he could look at. Most were studio shots, obviously staged, and they all looked perfect and utterly untouchable. Still, there was something about Dominic that was fierce and full of energy, despite the white backdrop.
There were also some shots from concerts, and those Adrian stared at. Because they were real and visceral and he could almost feel, hear, and taste the crowd, the music.
And he wouldn’t have known a Twisted Wishes song if it hit him in the head.
In the heat of the concert, they all looked magnificent. Drenched in sweat, but so full of passion and life that, either by movement or a trick of the camera, they were streaked at the edges.
There was Dominic in the center of it all, flesh and leather and metal, with a flame-red guitar, makeup still perfect despite the dots of perspiration on his face. His fingers were blurred on the guitar strings, and he looked like he’d been caught in a moment of dancing.
Despite the outfit and the hair and how different he looked at first glance, Adrian would have known that look of sheer bliss anywhere. Same grin he’d seen at the museum when playing that old instrument. Same blissed-out expression Adrian had seen in his bed—only ramped up about one thousand percent.
The utter joy and passion and fire. He’d seen those, too.
Adrian shivered, then closed the magazine. Here was Dominic’s secret life, the one he hadn’t been willing to share, not with the man he’d been sharing everything else with.
The hollow feeling in Adrian’s gut turned to burning. He hadn’t asked for every piece of Dominic. That would have been unfair and toxic. But this side—this Dominic had shared with the world. His utter passion, his life’s work. And he’d kept it from Adrian, like a dirty, scandalous secret.
Or, a horrible voice whispered in the back of his mind,maybe you’re the secret he keeps from the world. Adrian swallowed against that thought.
Well, one way or another, tonight the truth would come out.
He set the magazine aside again, and tried desperately to lose himself in coding.
* * *
Friday rocked, literally. The band was a few weeks away from their concert and working up the set list, discussing which songs, new and old, they’d play. There were a couple different options, and they worked through a few combos to see how songs sounded, how they could transition and blend into the new ones.
Felt so fucking right, for all of them. Ray pranced around the studio, and Mish was a ball of energy. Even Zavier—often a rock—was full of grins and playfulness. He’d even drawn Ray close and whispered something into his ear before kissing him. A rare display of affection for Zavier, and one that seemed to push Ray even higher in energy levels.
When they played, the room filled with sound, vibrating through Dom, setting his soul right.
To add to all of that...tonight he’d tell Adrian about Twisted Wishes, about Domino, and he’d ask Adrian to come to a practice and maybe be there at the concert to watch Dom play. To be a part of this life, too—one that was public for everyone else, but secret to Adrian.
He’d worked hard to keep the resolve to open up to Adrian tonight, despite the fear and the voice in the back of his head telling him how foolish the idea was. Talking to Mish, Zavier, and Ray at their practices helped, too, even if he had fucked up on Wednesday. He could have said something then, but he hadn’t been ready yet.
He was now. He hoped.
