Page 116 of Sycopation
He killed some time with a long, hot shower to ease away his aches, both from stress and from his activities last night.
After Ray had hung up with Zavier, he’d done exactly what Zavier had requested. He’d gone into Zav’s bag and pulled out a dildo—one Zavier hadn’t used on him yet—a condom and lube. Then he’d fucked himself to exhaustion. And yeah, he’d cried out Zavier’s name while shooting his load.
Intense and primal, the orgasm had left him both fulfilled and gutted. He wanted Zavier, wanted his touch and his hands. He was so fucking in love with Zav that ithurtwhen he thought about him. There were times when he absolutely wanted to fall at Zav’s feet and blather on about what Zav meant to him. ExceptZavier would be confused and perplexed at best. At worst, he’d be horrified at Ray and his over-the-top emotions.
He couldn’t fault Zavier. From a certain point of view, falling in love did seem like a kind of temporary madness that either evened out into something solid, steady, and calm. Or it shattered, leaving behind a trail of pain and pieces to gather and start again.
But he couldn’t help what he felt any more than Zavier could. It was absolutely enough that Zavier cared about him and wanted to be with him. Theywerefriends, and the sex, with the added bonus of Ray’s newfound kink, was incredible. Plus, he got to see Zavier play drums all the damn time, and that was its own glory.
Content, Zav had said at one point. Yeah, that summed it up nicely. Maybe more than content. Happy. He’d let Zavier set the pace. After all, helikedZavier in charge—at least in some circumstances.
He appreciated the headspace Zavier had given him with the kink and the sex and the friendship, but in the end, Twisted Wishes was his to lead. He’d built the band from high school. It was only fitting that he take them into whatever lay in the future. He’d also taken the brunt of Carl’s shit. Yes, he’d consult Dom, Mish, and Zav, but he would be the leader—and a better one than before.
Sadly, showering, dressing, and ruminating didn’t takethatmuch time, even when done leisurely. Still no sign of Mish or Dom, and he wasn’t about to text either of them. They deserved their sleep. None of this, especially his medical crisis, had been kind to them, and he’d be a fool to think that it hadn’t affected or stressed them out.
Which left him alone in two big rooms with very little to do. He glanced around his room until his gaze lingered on his tablet. Shit, well, he was kind of curious about how the mediawas spinning this. Hell, he had no idea if Zav had managed to slink out of town unnoticed, and if he hadn’t, how wasthatbeing talked about?
With trepidation in his soul, he approached the device and picked it up. Only one way to know for sure. Ray flopped down in the nearest chair, turned the thing on, and started the rounds on the usual sites.
In the end, the press wasn’t that bad. Interesting in places, too. Lots of confusion and speculation. No mention of Zavier leaving, so he must have managed to avoid the reporters and the paparazzi.
Ray was gonna grill Zav about how to do that. Fuckingmagical. He wanted that skill.
Of course, there were the awful photos of him unconscious on a stretcher being worked on and moved to the ambulance, and ones of Domino climbing in, in his full persona. Speculation as to why it wasn’t Zavier, ranging from them having broken up—which very few people believed—to Zavier being held for questioning by the police—which was closer to the truth.
There were also photos of Zavier, from when he left the club to head to the hospital. Fuck, he looked tired in those. And grim, his mouth pulled into a tight line. Worry carving deep fissures around his eyes. Anger when he spotted the press photographing him.
But he hadn’t said a thing, only gotten into a cab bound for the hospital.
The pictures of Carl getting hauled away in handcuffs were somethingelse. Ray was glad he hadn’t put anything in his stomach yet because his gut fucking rebelled. Sick and hot and angry—it hit him all at once, leaving him breathless and heaving.
There was the man who’d nearly killed him. The man who’d been supposedly shepherding them through stardom, and working for their best interests. Carl looked wild and desperateand utterly guilty in those photos, and once the initial shock had worn off, the only thing in Ray’s heart for that bastard was contempt.
The speculation about why Carl was arrested was all over the map, everything from gay-bashing to being enamored with Ray or Zavier or both, to being some kind of spy for another band.
What bothered Ray the most was thathe still didn’t knowthe reasons behind Carl’s actions. He shook his head and searched on. And rammed up against pages upon pages of text and photos and tweets that made his eyes water and his throat tighten. He set the tablet down and got up to pace.
Get-well messages. Outpourings of love and concern. Photos of signs and cards and little vigils with candles and lights, entire Instagrams worth of messages. It waseverythingand far more than he deserved.
I’m just a guy who sings.
He could almost hear Zavier’s laugh and the words he’d probably say.You’resomuch more than that, Ray.
On the one hand, his lawyer said to lay low. On the other hand, he probably should say something to the fans. They did have an official Twitter account for the band, but Dom managed that. Ray headed back to the tablet and called it up.
Nope. No statement at all.
Well, something to talk to Ms. Gonfaus about. He was about to flip over to his personal email when his phone buzzed with a text. He scrambled for it. Could be Mish or Dom, but it could be Zavier, too, now that he had Ray’s number.
Dom’s name was blazoned across the top of the phone.
Yo. You up?
Ray let out a sigh of disappointment.
Yeah, come on over.
He sent the message, then headed into the adjoining room.
