Page 111 of Sycopation
“You, too.”
And that was that. Ray put the phone on the bed and walked back and forth to burn off energy and anxiety.
Breathe. There was Zavier’s voice again. He obeyed, too. Because it helped. Those little tricks and the leather around his ankle. Being naked at Zavier’s feet.
Yeah, that wasn’t happening, not now. He wasn’t ready. But he could do something similar. Ray stopped pacing and pulled his T-shirt off. Everything else followed. Then he knelt on the floor, in front of the chair Zavier would have sat in, and folded himself into child’s pose.
In an instant, he was alive and so aware of himself, of how naked he was, how vulnerable. And yeah, he got hard. But he also let go. Let all of the shit vanish and slip away, except for his heartbeat and his breath. He even let Zavier go—and the fleeting wonder if he’d be proud of Ray right now. Inhale, exhale, melt.
The noise in his head softened and vanished, and he melted, letting the floor support him. Letting himself be. Just as slowly, a quiet voice spoke, the assured one in the back of his head, the one so often drowned out by worry and the world.What do you want?
If he could have anything, if the world were fair, the best option for the band would be to cancel the contract with their label without penalty. He had no trust in them; he doubted anyone in the band did. Their playing and his composition would suffer if they stayed. He didn’t want to give the label any more—especially since he’d nearly given his life because of their ineptitude. Carl worked for the label and fought against Twisted Wishes and Ray at every turn.
Twisted Wishes would be better off elsewhere, either on their own or with another label—they could figure out which later.
Ray wanted Carl in jail. A deeply vindictive part really wanted him behind barsandsuffering. More than anything, he wanted to know the reason behind all the shit he’d been through.
If the band was truly in debt to the label, he wanted that gone. Erased. And then some, because the label didn’t get to putthem all through hell only to walk away with clean hands and no damage.
Yeah. That was a decent start. Ray pushed himself up to sitting and peered around the room. Everything seemed a little brighter and the tumult in his head was gone.
He dressed, grabbed his phone again, and made another call.
It went straight to the lawyer’s voicemail. He left a coherent message, and not five minutes later, got a call back.
“Mr. Van Zeller.” Ms. Gonfaus’s voice was clear, with a faint accent he couldn’t place. “I’m pleased you’ve reached out and I do hope we can help you.”
They spoke for quite some time, long enough that both Mish and Dom poked their heads in, and he waved them off. He took three pages of notes and gave the contact information for the police and the case number to her.
“I don’t think your wishes are unreasonable,” Ms. Gonfaus said. “Though I don’t think we’ll see Mr. Roberts in jail, given what we discussed.”
Yes, attempted murder was a serious charge, but the best they could hope for was attempted manslaughter, given the fact that Carl hadn’t meant to kill him. That severe an allergy to what had turned out to be a common sleep medication was pretty rare. No, Carl had wanted to embarrass Ray and destroy his career—not kill him. Plea bargaining would likely take that down more, especially since Ray didn’t want to be dragged through a long and protracted court case.
“More’s the pity.”
She grunted. “Your bandmate is correct, as well. Someone from your legal team should be there when you speak to the police, even though you’re the victim.”
God, he hated that word, even if it was true. “I think Zav talked to the police that night.”
“Very likely.” She sighed. “We’ll also want to talk to your partner and the rest of the band if we’re to represent Twisted Wishes as a whole.”
“We can set something up.” He paused. “I haven’t even looked at the press.”
“Don’t if you don’t want to. Do if you do. Butdo notrespond to any of it. There are two words you need to start using: no comment.”
He repeated them back to her, tasting them in his mouth. Yeah. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Something in Ms. Gonfaus’s voice softened. “You’ve been through quite a time, Mr. Van Zeller. Let us take it from here. I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.”
They said professional goodbyes and hung up. Ray stared at the time on the phone: 8:22. Holy shit. He wondered if lawyers charged time and a half. But then, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be the one paying for Ms. Gonfaus’s services once all this was over.
He shuffled to the adjoining room and found both Mish and Dom there. “Hey.”
Both of them wore worry in their own way. Dom stood. “Hey, man.” His voice was a mess.
God. Ray was a fool to think he was the only one affected by all this. He crossed the room and pulled his oldest friend into a hug. “Dude, I’m fine.”
“Obviously.” That came out broken. “But you weren’t. Yesterday, you weren’t.”
