Page 8 of Sycopation
Dom squirmed on the seat next to Ray, but he ignored that. “It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s...” He waved his hand, because really, he had no reason to hate Zavier Demos.
He just couldn’t stand the guy.
Zavier was everything Ray had both wanted and wanted to be back in high school. Beautiful, outgoing, talented, sexy, and smart. Zavier could have had and, if the rumor mill had been anything to go by, did have anyone he wanted back then.
Not that he’d wanted Ray, though. Not as a bandmate or anything else.
Later, when Ray was getting his associate’s degree at the local community college and struggling with his music, Zavier was off becoming a professional musician and the toast of the fucking wine, cheese, and tux set.
What galled Ray was that Zavier truly wasthatgood. His playing during the audition yesterday had set that in stone—and that was without any rehearsals. With some time practicing together? They’d have a killer sound.
The worst, though, was when they walked into the studio and Zavier was already there, in a tank top and jeans, idly twirling a drumstick. He met Ray’s stare and smiled.
Back in high school, Zavier had sported one tattoo—a scene like one from a Greek vase with meandering patterns and a figure of a woman with an owl, but in brilliant colors—on his forearm. Ray had committed every line, color, and swirl to memory. Later, he’d realized the woman had to have been Athena.
Now? Zavier was covered in ink. Sleeves up both arms, and more that disappeared beneath the fabric of the tank. Ray bit down on his tongue to keep from licking his lips. Last thing he wanted was to be caught ogling Zavier, especially with Carl in the room. He headed over to a table where bottles of water had been set out.
Carl, standing over by the door, coughed in that fake way he did whenever he wanted their attention. Ray didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open. Only when Carl coughed again did he turn.
“Glad to see you’re able to be on time for once.” Carl’s smile was knife-sharp. “Though I bet that has more to do with your bandmates.”
Dom flinched and Mish straightened. Ray spoke before they could. “Yeah, everyone knows I’m the slacker.” He took a swig of his water, and shrugged. “Drummer’s early.”
Zavier stilled the stick he’d been twirling. “They say traffic in Los Angeles is horrible, so I gave myself extra time from the hotel.”
“You could learn something from him, Ray.” Carl tapped his forehead with his finger. “Plan ahead.”
Ray shrugged again. “Well, we’re all here, aren’t we?” They’d even been about five minutes early. Would have been earlier if Dom hadn’t forgotten where he’d put his phone. But slip-ups were always Ray’s fault. Bandleader, after all.
Honestly, he’d rather Carl pick on him than anyone else.
Ray stole another glance at Zavier to drink in his tattoo-covered glory, and caught Zavier watching him with a furrowed brow. No malice, though. Not like Carl’s twisted smirk and glare. At least with Carl, Ray knew exactly where he stood.
He met Zavier’s stare. “We should get to work.”
“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said in weeks,” Carl muttered. “Guess getting you out of the bottle worked.”
This time Dom straightened and Mish stepped forward, her voice ringing out. “Hey, you f?—”
Ray spoke first. “How long do we have ’til we’re back on the road?”
“Five Asylum starts their tour in less than two months.” Carl strode over to the table Ray had grabbed water, pulled out aswivel chair, and sat his snarky ass down. “You’re getting almost equal billing and play time with them, so you damn well better be ready.”
Jesus. Five Asylum was a huge band, chart-topping for more than a decade. And Twisted Wishes had six weeks, maybe seven? Brand-new drummer. No pressure there.
Ray swallowed his fear along with a gulp of water. “Let’s go, then.”
Both Mish and Dom picked up their instruments, and Zavier settled in behind the kit. For a couple of minutes, the three of them tuned, jammed, and warmed up. Ray had given his voice a workout before leaving the house and on the ride over. After the first few times Carl had snickered at him when he went through vowels and pushed his range—well, better to do that shit in private.
“Let’s start with ‘Haze’ and see how that sounds,” Ray said. It was the easiest of their repertoire and one of the first pieces they played at shows, partly to get into a grove with each other. He glanced at them all, stopping when he got to Zavier.
A flick of a drumstick and a nod. Felt more like approval than an indication he knew the song. Warmth flared in Ray’s belly, but not from embarrassment. Zavier seemed to understand what he intended with this practice.
“Let’s see how we sound,” Ray said.
Zavier counted out the beat, and they were off. The intro sounded good, and fuck, did Zavier look stunning behind the kit. When Ray threw his voice in, it blended well in and out of Dom’s riffs, like it always did. They soundeddamngood for not playing for several weeks, especially considering Zavier had played exactly one song with them before now.
But something niggled at Ray when they finished. “Mind doing that again without me singing?”
