Page 7 of Sycopation
“That’s pretty cool,” Mish said. “Are you a fan, or can you just—” she waved a hand “—pick shit up?”
“A little of both. I have your albums, watched a bunch of tour videos people snuck onto YouTube, but I also have a knack for learning by ear.”
“Musical prodigy,” Domino said.
That comment, the nod, and something about the timbre of Domino’s voice made Zavier take a closer look. He peered behind the eyeliner and makeup. “Do I know you?”
A laugh and Domino looked down, his smile timid and hauntingly familiar. “I doubt you would remember me. I was pretty invisible at school.”
Then it clicked. The talent show in high school. That beautiful song. There’d been a guitarist with Ray, the shy nerdy kid. What the hell was his name? “Dominic. Dominic Bradley.”
Brown eyes, clever thin lips. Yes. Older now, but weren’t they all?
Domino nodded, awe evident. “It’s a bit of a secret.”
Understanding washed over Zavier. Domino—the persona—was armor. “Safe with me.”
That shy smile again. “Thanks.”
He was about to say something more when the door banged open. A blond man—trim and built, with a round face that might have been lovely had he not been scowling—strode in. Behind him sulked Ray, a bundle of tension.
The blond stuck out his hand. “You must be Zavier Demos. I’m Carl Roberts, the band manager.”
His shake was slightly too firm against Zavier’s hand, a sure sign of someone desperate to be in charge. “Nice to meet you,” Zavier lied.
“I don’t know why someone of your caliber wants to play with this lot. But we appreciate you stepping in.”
That comment raised Zavier’s hackles. A manager putting down the band? Though he focused on Carl, Zavier spotted Ray’stwitch and frown. “I needed a change of pace.” He paused. “Do you want to hear me play?”
Carl waved the suggestion away. “Ray said you’re the best. He might not know much, but he does know music.”
Ouch. Zavier schooled his face. This man was a completedick. “I take it there will be paperwork to sign?”
“Of course.” He gestured to the door. “Why don’t we go talk about it elsewhere?”
Zavier nodded, but when Carl turned, he stole a glance at Ray. Pale. Shaking. Obviously furious. This wasn’t good. He caught Ray’s attention and gave a wave he hoped was assuring.
Sign with the prick, then sit down with the band and find out what the deal was. Perhaps he could lend a hand with whatever friction lay between Ray and the manager. He followed Carl out of the room.
Maybe he could help in another way, other than being the replacement drummer. He couldn’t be anything more, even if Ray’s desire was so obvious Zavier wanted to drink it right in. Wasn’t going to happen, which was an astounding pity.
But the debacle with Dimitri had burned too many scars into Zavier’s soul. Last thing he wanted was another mistake like that one. Better no sex at all or one-night stands than anything that involved expectations.
Well, at least he’d be able to watch Ray make love to his music. That would be treat enough.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Ray guessedthe record company signing Zavier hadn’t taken too long, because the very next day, Carl ordered them back at the same studio space to practice. They were all dressed casually, thank goodness. Dom tended to put away the stage persona for rehearsals. It was weird to play when he was all up in Domino and the rest of them were in ratty T-shirts and jeans. Threw Ray off to see Dom ready for stage when they weren’t performing.
Apparently, Dom had told Zavier who he was—or rather Dom claimed Zavier guessed. Of course Mr. Perfect had figured it out. Ray resisted the urge to roll his eyes on the ride over from the hotel when Dom recounted the story.
Mish watched the streets go by out the window. “He’s way better than Kevin.”
Ray grunted. Yeah, he was. Always had been, even in high school. With any luck, Zavier’s playing would get them on the road again, and make the record company happy. Kevin’s departure and the aftermath still ate at him—they’d be watching closely. He owed it to Dom and Mish to get the band on track and Carl off their backs.
She leaned back and fixed her gaze on him. “You don’t like him.”
