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Counterpoint

Page 28

by Anna Zabo


  He didn’t get another reply, so he strode down to the water. Halfway there, he was sweating too much and vaguely sick to his stomach. He tore off his suit jacket and swallowed the worry. Dominic was with his friends—his family.

  Adrian should be there, too. Except—except he wasn’t. He was in Battery Park walking with enough force that tourists parted to make way. When he reached the water, there still wasn’t a reply from Dominic. He loosened his tie, sat down on a bench, and started rolling up his sleeves.

  How much would it cost to walk up there? How angry would Dominic be?

  His phone buzzed.

  It’s not gonna blow over. Ever.

  A second later another text.

  I’m sorry, Adrian.

  Adrian stared at the screen, and the heat of the day vanished. His fingers flew across the screen. We’ll work something out. Together.

  There wasn’t a reply. Not even after Adrian wrenched himself up and stormed up the promenade, then back down to near the subway entrance.

  He tried again. Babe, talk to me.

  He took the walk back to the office slower than he’d come, mostly because his heart was beating too fast to power through the other pedestrians.

  Not a word from Dominic. He cursed under his breath, and tried calling.

  Come on. Pick up. But no, it clicked right over to an automated voice intoning Dominic’s number. After the beep sounded, Adrian spoke. “Babe, don’t do this to me. Not like this. Not now. Not after everything.” He struggled to find other words, and failed. “Please call me back.” There wasn’t anything else he could do but hang up.

  On the way back to his cube, he ducked into the bathroom to straighten out his suit and tie. Go back to looking corporate and cool and calm, even as his insides twisted and pinched and threatened to strangle every part of him.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of code and meetings. If he was quieter than normal, no one remarked on it, thank god. William was probably pleased. Jackson, though, gave him one or two worried looks. Adrian rode the train back to Brooklyn, clutching his phone in his hand, just in case it vibrated, but there was nothing—nothing.

  At home, he stripped off his suit and replaced it with a T-shirt and shorts. Normal summer clothes for a day that was anything but normal.

  Dominic was leaving him. Dumping him.

  Fuck that. He was out the door and heading toward Dominic’s place before he could even think. Didn’t take him too long, given his pace, but he came to a halt a block away.

  Because the sidewalk in front of Dominic’s was crammed with a horde of people, and a whole bunch of them had cameras. Well, shit.

  At least in his shorts and tee, he looked like any other gawking neighbor and not...not Dominic Bradley’s boyfriend come to ream him a new one for trying to dump him. Adrian pushed out air and rolled his shoulders. He needed to calm down. Being an ass wasn’t going to fix the situation. Last time, it had only caused Dominic pain.

  Right. Maybe a beer might be a plan.

  He swung back down the street and headed for Poet and Whiskey. Rather than take a table, he seated himself at the bar. Wasn’t too crowded—Monday evening and all—but there were still a bunch of folks Adrian recognized as locals. The bartender, the self-same Greg who had served him and Dominic a few times, was behind the bar.

  He lifted his eyebrows when he spotted Adrian and slid a coaster out. “What can I get you?” His gaze darted behind Adrian—probably checking out the crowd—then back to Adrian. “Beer, cocktail, wine?”

  He’d ordered all of those at one point or another. Part of him wanted to slug back whiskey, but the more prudent part reminded him he had to work tomorrow, so he ordered one of the local microbrews they had on tap.

  When Greg placed the glass on Adrian’s coaster, he leaned in. “All alone tonight?”

  There was something about the question that gave Adrian pause, because it wasn’t quite flirting, but damned if he could put a finger on it. He shrugged his shoulders and kept an eye on Greg. “My boyfriend’s busy. I’m just here for a beer.” If Greg was feeling him out somehow, that should put an end to it.

  Thankfully, Greg just nodded and moved off to serve someone else.

  Granted, he might not be dating Dominic much longer. That thought felt like an ice pick to his spine. Adrian gritted his jaw, peered at his beer, then forced himself to take one sip, then another.

  The cool liquid slid down his throat and loosened the knot there. Dominic was spooked, and rightly so. But Adrian wasn’t about to give up on him without a fight.

  He took his phone out and typed in a text message.

  Tried stopping by your place. It’s crawling with reporters. Or press. Or whatever they are.

  Finally, finally, a response came. They’re sharks. I’m not home. I’m in a hotel.

  A second text came on the heels of that one. Ray says I’m being a fool and I should talk to you.

  Adrian huffed a laugh and took another draw on his beer. Give Ray my thanks.

  I don’t know if I should. This is a nightmare, Adrian.

  He chewed on his lip, then drank. He could almost hear the panic in Dominic’s voice. See the haunted expression in those wide brown eyes. I should call you, but I’m in a bar, so I can’t. When I get home, I’ll call. But Dominic, I’m serious. I want to make this work. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you say...

  He looked up at the TV while he waited for the reply to come. His beer was half gone, and the alcohol had done the trick of relaxing him a bit. The news was on, but it was all about the government or sports or some latest crime or another in the city.

  Yeah, Dominic was famous, sure. But it wasn’t like the world revolved around Twisted Wishes.

  Greg the bartender came into view. “You need another?” He was still eyeing Adrian with curiosity.

  This wasn’t flirting, because it made his skin want to creep away. “Nah. One’s enough. Just the check.”

  Greg nodded and moved away. The sooner Adrian got out of here, the sooner he could actually talk to Dominic.

  A text had come back. I know you think I’m exaggerating, but I’ve seen what the others have gone through. Adrian, I love you. I love you too much to put you through that.

  He didn’t even think as his fingers typed the reply. Don’t you think I should be the one to choose what I go through?

  He finished his beer and stared at the screen. Dominic’s reply was both heartening and gut-wrenching. Fuck. I can’t do this over text. Call me when you can.

  Just as soon as he paid for his beer and got out of the bar. It was too hot and too loud, even though it was hardly packed. He had to give Dominic some due, though. He was right—this whole thing was a nightmare, but not in the way Dominic meant.

  Give me a few. I’ll call.

  Greg came back with the slip and slid it to Adrian. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” He didn’t lift his fingers from the paper.

  Adrian met the man’s stare. “What?”

  “What’s it like?” Greg smiled a bit and his eyes widened.

  “What’s what like?” He couldn’t help the irritation slipping in. This dude was weird.

  “Being Domino Grinder’s lover.”

  Adrian’s breath caught and his mind stuttered for a moment. Oh god. Of course. Of course someone would remember. Would know. He and Dominic came here all the damn time. People would recognize the Domino-as-Dominic now.

  Holy shit.

  “I mean,” Greg said, and his voice took on a low tone. “You two are practically fucking by the time you leave here. Must be pretty hot.”

  Heat—the painful, burning kind—flared in Adrian and he fought the instinct to curl his hands into fists. Those nights had been theirs. His and Dominic’s. Yes, they’d been pretty blatant, but he’d seen other couples that into each other. Fuck this guy. He pulled
the slip out from under Greg’s hand and checked the total before he drew out his wallet and placed cash on the bartop. “That’s none of your damn business.”

  He stood and turned to head out the door.

  “I know your name,” Greg said. “Adrian Doran.”

  Fire and ice tangled in Adrian, and he rotated in place. Slowly, he stalked back over to the bar. He should just leave—walk away. But the unfairness of the day was finally burning through his body.

  He and Dominic had been perfect. Had been.

  “What are you going to do with it?” He returned Greg’s stare, not flinching, not threatening. Steady breathing.

  Greg lowered his voice. “Depends on what you’re willing to give me.”

  Blackmail? Adrian barked out a laugh that had other people turning toward them.

  The guy leaned in. “Those tabloids will pay a lot to know who you are.”

  Adrian followed suit, and his forehead nearly brushed Greg’s. If he hadn’t wanted to strangle the dude so much, it might have looked like a move. “I’m sure they will,” Adrian said. He took back the dollar tip he left and straightened up. “Hope the money keeps your soul warm.”

  Greg’s eyes widened, but that’s all Adrian saw before he pushed through the bar and out the door into the warm summer evening.

  Fuck. Fucking hell. Yeah, they had his name. And with that, they’d have his address and his place of work and...well, everything. He’d never really hidden much of his life. Sure, the bondage parties he’d gone to were discreet—kinda had to be when doctors and lawyers took part. But hell, these people could probably uncover his whole family history, back to immigration if they wanted to.

  Maybe Dominic hadn’t been so wrong after all. Only time would tell.

  He did make it back to his place unscathed, though. And seemingly unnoticed, too. Good. He closed and locked the front door and drew all the blinds on every floor. Even the library. Finally, he sprawled out on the reading nook—near where he’d first tormented and teased Dominic—and eyed his cell phone.

  He really did want to hear Dominic’s voice. And a part of him still believed this would all blow over and they could go back to normal. Except there’d never been a normal—Dominic had always been Domino Grinder and would always be. That, too, was a part Adrian loved.

  Greg’s slimy question flitted through Adrian’s mind. Truth was, being Domino Grinder’s lover was a fucking joy because Dominic Bradley was an amazing, passionate, intelligent man, and so very compatible with Adrian’s every need. He didn’t want to imagine a future where he wasn’t by Dominic’s side.

  Except neither of them really wanted their lives to be public spectacles. However, that hope seemed to be over now, so he’d manage whatever came. He indulged in a sigh, then called Dominic.

  * * *

  Dom fucking hated hotels now. Maybe that was from the awful episode when Ray had nearly died on their last tour. They’d ended up stuck in a hotel for days, and they’d all been worried to the ends of the Earth about Ray.

  This one was fine. A reasonably priced chain—well, reasonable for Manhattan. They’d stayed in some very sketchy places in their early days. But the white sheets and tidy room grated on Dom.

  He shouldn’t be here. He should either be home, bitching in his head about his own damn house, or with Adrian in the place that felt like home. But now the world had come crashing down around him.

  God, when Marcella had walked in, her movements stiff and with a frown so worried that even Mish had gone still, they’d all wondered what was up. Then she’d shown them the photos.

  Him. As him, not Domino. Walking around Brooklyn. The article went on to list his legal name, that he went to high school at the same time Ray and Zavier did, his college degree, and the neighborhood in which he now lived.

  Including the price that his house had sold for, and a comment about how that settlement with Twisted Wishes’s old label must have been quite good.

  Fuck.

  Everyone knew who Domino Grinder was. Now everyone knew who Dominic Bradley was, too. He still shook and his stomach churned at the thought of his private life being torn open for all to see. How the hell was he going to walk onstage after that?

  How many “I fucked Domino Grinder’s ass and he liked it!” articles would now come out? Certainly some of his past one-night stands would be glad for the money a tell-all would bring in.

  Ray, Zavier, and Mish had all kept him calm and they’d left the studio together, braving the sea of cameras and phones. They’d gotten into a private car Marcella had called for them, which had taken Dom to this hotel. Ray’d absconded with Dom’s house keys with a promise he’d grab clothes and toiletries.

  “They’ll find me here,” Dom had said.

  “It’ll take ’em a bit. You’re under the name Jason Forester.”

  Not Domino. Not Dominic. He didn’t want a third person to be. Two was one too many.

  Shit. Dom rose from the bed and broke open the five-dollar bottle of water. His gut was a mess. His hands shook. All he wanted was to crawl under the covers and hope that this madness went away.

  They had a concert in a couple of weeks. He didn’t even know if he could get up on that stage.

  Worse, he had no idea what to say to Adrian.

  It wouldn’t be long before the press found Adrian and hounded him. Cameras and phones and recorders would be shoved into Adrian’s face while he tried to get to work.

  Fuck. Adrian wouldn’t want to live like that. Bet his bank job wouldn’t even tolerate paparazzi floating around. Or Adrian being big news. Wasn’t that some kind of security issue, or at least a PR nightmare?

  Hell, he didn’t want Adrian to be dragged into that awful place. The best thing would be for a clean break. Adrian would be a blip on the radar, soon eclipsed by some tell-all piece from a former lover.

  Tears slid down Dom’s cheeks. Fuck. He wiped them away. He was not crying. He was not.

  Of course, that’s exactly when Adrian finally called.

  Dom attempted to school his voice, then answered. “Hey.” No such luck—he sounded like a wreck.

  “Hi, babe.” Adrian’s voice was strained, too. And soft. Sounded so far away. Dom sank to the bed again and closed his eyes. Adrian continued, “I’m not going to ask you how you’re doing. Pretty good idea of that.”

  Dom could only grunt out a strangled half-laugh.

  There was silence on the other end of the line. “I went to the Poet and Whiskey tonight after I swung by your place. Got a beer.”

  “Sounds nice and normal.” Bitterness crept into his voice. He’d love to go sit in a bar for a few hours and lose himself with a beer and the murmur of other people, rather than the weird smell and quiet hum of this room.

  This time, it was Adrian who croaked a laugh. “Except for the part where the bartender asked what it was like to be Domino Grinder’s lover.”

  Oh shit. Everything in Dom’s stomach churned. “I—Be right back.” He dropped the phone on the bed and stumbled into the bathroom just in time to disgorge everything from his gut into the toilet.

  He couldn’t do this to Adrian. Didn’t know how he was going to do this to himself. Damn, the panic hadn’t been this bad in ages. Though he did feel a lot better now.

  He flushed the toilet, gave his teeth a quick rinse and brush, and headed back into the room. Phone said the call was still connected.

  “Adrian?”

  “I’m here.” His voice was paper-thin. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Knew you’d say that.”

  “I don’t want to fuck up your life. This is gonna fuck it up so hard, Adrian. You have no idea.”

  A hollow laugh. “I’m learning.” A pause. “Still don’t want us to end.”

  “I don’t want us to end, either.” The words
ripped up his throat more than chucking up his lunch. “But I can’t protect you.”

  There was a sharp breath on the other end, then Adrian’s clear voice. “You don’t have to.”

  “But—”

  “Dominic Bradley.” His full name, said by Adrian in the voice that always stilled him, calmed him. “You don’t need to protect me.”

  Maybe...maybe he didn’t. A tiny weight lifted from his shoulders. “I don’t know what to do about Domino.”

  Another pause, and Dom could almost see Adrian’s confusion and the head tilt. “What do you mean?”

  “Now that everyone knows who Domino really is, how am I gonna go onstage and play? I mean, I’m—” Even though he was alone in the room, he waved his hand around. “Kinda a nerd.”

  “You’re also kind of a hard-ass rock star who plays wicked guitar and looks like a punk sex god onstage.”

  Oh. “That clashes rather hard with my non-Domino life.”

  “So?” A huff of laughter. “Before today, before all this came out, when was the last time you worried about stepping out onstage?”

  God, it had been years and years. “Um. Probably sometime before Mish joined the band.”

  “What was it like on your last tour?”

  Dom closed his eyes. The pulse of the crowd, the energy that vibrated through every venue. The thudding of his heart and the absolute certainty he had each night that they’d blow their fans away. “We were on fire. Felt like I could take over the world.”

  “I bet that was as much Dominic Bradley as it was Domino Grinder.” Adrian’s voice was as beautiful as it was soothing. “I know you. You’re made of steel, babe.”

  The tears were back. Dom opened his eyes. “You’re still not my fucking therapist.”

  “No. I’m still just a man who loves you with all his heart.”

  He took a shuddering breath. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

  “Well, I want to learn. I want you to tell me. But for that to happen, we need to have more time together.” The slyness slipped into Adrian’s voice.

  Dom really hated this hotel room now. Wanted to be with Adrian in his house and in his arms. Or kneeling at his feet. “Okay. Fuck you, but okay.”

 

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