by Sean Michael
They were holed up in Jeff’s room after the last fucking public appearance before the tour. Jeff had been right; it had been a quick “show his face, spew blood, and leave” event.
There were apparently lots of rumors going around that January was dying and the tour would be cancelled, because he hadn’t been available to the public the way he used to be, but time would bear that out as wrong, and frankly, Rye didn’t give a shit. Jeff came first.
He’d brought a tray of food and the ubiquitous milkshake up and was trying to coax food into Jeff.
“I’m not hungry, Rye. Thank you.” Jeff was sitting in the center of the bed, staring at the chaos. Everything was being packed to go: makeup, costumes, guitars.
“We could make it a game,” Rye suggested. He was getting desperate. Jeff had to eat. Had to.
“A game?”
Oh.
Eye contact.
Bingo.
“Uh-huh. Like Truth or Dare, only with hummus and milkshakes.” Okay, so that wasn’t the greatest comparison, though he’d answer questions or do dumb stuff if it got Jeff to eat.
“Truth or Dare with hummus….” Jeff grinned at him, then started chuckling. “You are desperate to get that into me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I totally am.” Man, could someone misinterpret that sentence.
“I’ll have a sip of the shake, just to ease the worry.”
“Then we’ll play something for more.” A sip was only a step in the right direction.
“Okay. I like games.” Jeff took a tiny sip, then another.
“I know. You want to do a board game, a card game, or some variation of Truth or Dare?”
“Let’s play cards. Something simple.” Jeff pulled out a deck.
“Stuffed poker!”
“Stuffed poker? Is that strip poker backward?”
“It’s strip poker with eating food instead of taking off clothes. I can see you naked anytime.” He waggled his eyebrows at Jeff.
“Oh, the romance is gone!”
The little joke, the tease, made Rye want to applaud. He simply chuckled instead, grabbing his cards up when Jeff dealt them. He looked at his cards. Two pair, not bad.
Rye pursed his lips. “I bet a carrot dipped in hummus and two sips of milkshake.”
“What…. Do I bid the same stuff and you eat if I win?”
“If you want. Or we can come up with something else.”
“Well, you don’t need my clothes.”
“They would be a bit on the small side.”
Jeff giggled, the sound charming as fuck. “You think so?”
He held his hand out, two fingers almost touching. “Just a little.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” The words were careful, gentle. “Okay, one carrot and two sips.”
He was more pleased than he could say. “Me too. You gonna fold?”
“No. No, I need a card.”
He handed the card over, watching closely.
“Okay. I’m going to stay. You?”
“I’m good.” He had two pair. He’d bet Jeff would have to eat.
Jeff had a pair of aces, so he dipped the carrot and held it to Jeff’s lips. They brushed against his fingertips, leaving tingles behind. Rye was beginning to worry that his soul was lost to this gentle, amazing, lost man.
Licking his lips, he grabbed the glass and waited until Jeff had finished chewing, then held it up to Jeff’s lips as well.
“Strawberry?”
“Of course.” Tempting worked better if it was one of Jeff’s favorite flavors.
“Thank you.” One good sip and one tiny one was taken.
“Okay, next hand.”
“Okay.”
They played four hands, and he won three. He usually wasn’t quite this lucky playing games against Jeff. Looked like fate wanted Jeff taken care of too.
“I’m done playing, Rye.”
“Finish the shake? For me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” He touched Jeff’s cheek and smiled.
Jeff leaned into his touch, swallowing hard like he was fighting tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He’d die first.
“But we both know I’ll fail. The drugs will be there, everywhere, and I’ll be so tired, I’ll need it so much. All I’ll have to do is let Roach know I need.”
“Then I won’t let you be alone with Roach. I won’t let you be alone, period.” Rye was clear on his mission. No drugs for Jeff. None.
“If it’s not Roach, it’ll be someone else. The fans have stuff. Some of them are pushers. I’ll wind up getting my hands on them somehow.”
Rye shook his head. “I’m not going to let you have them. I’ll call the tour off first.”
“You can’t. That’s bigger than us.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that. This should be the last one, though, Jeff. You can’t keep doing this.”
“What else would I do? What else am I? I’m nothing. LJ is the money, the power, the talent.”
“No. I’ve heard you sing, I’ve heard the songs you’ve written. LJ is just a part you play. You’re the real talent.”
“One more drink, right?”
“No, you’re supposed to drink the whole thing.”
“Damn.” Jeff quirked a half smile, obviously trying to play.
Rye grinned and reached out, squeezing Jeff’s hand.
Jeff managed the shake and then handed him the glass. “Stay with me tonight?” Every night Jeff asked.
And every night Rye said yes.
Stripping down to his skivvies, he climbed into bed and held his arm out for Jeff.
Jeff curled right in, hand on his belly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Rye.”
“Let’s make sure you never find out, okay?” He rubbed Jeff’s shoulders. Jeff needed some coping mechanisms on his own. Maybe not during the tour—that was probably too much to ask of anyone—but after, when he gave it up, there would still be stressors.
“Okay.” He thought Jeff cried a little again, but then Jeff was asleep. The man was depressed, worried, stressed out. Wasn’t this touring and performing shit supposed to be good? Exciting?
Instead of doing it for himself, Jeff was doing it for everyone else now. People who would find other jobs if this one disappeared. Jeff had to stop taking the weight of the whole thing on his shoulders. No, he needed to stop, period.
What would Donna do if he called her and asked her about relaunching Jeff as an indie artist?
Rye’s big worry was that she’d fire him if he rocked the boat too much, and he couldn’t lose access to Jeff. The man needed him.
More than that, he was beginning to believe, more each day, that he needed Jeff.
JEFF WANDERED in his tour bus, going from space to space, exploring. This ride was new, shiny, and sort of unbelievably gorgeous.
Donna grinned at him. “Suitable?”
“It’s amazing. Did you see the bed?”
It was good-sized, taking up a large portion of the space. She’d stocked the place with guitars, movies, and games. He was actually tickled.
She smiled fondly at him. “It’s all state of the art, and I’ve been told the hydraulics are amazing—you won’t even be able to tell you’re on the road.”
“Cool. I like all the creams and golds. There’s a blender?”
“There is. Rye was pretty clear about what needed to be stocked in the kitchenette and fridge.”
“He does clear really well.”
Donna snickered and patted his cheek. “You’re happy with him, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he’s good. He doesn’t hate me, talks to me, plays backgammon.”
“Oh, plays backgammon, that’s a keeper.” She gave him a hug. “I worry about you, honey.”
“I worry about me too.”
She chuckled softly. “I guess that’s a good sign.”
<
br /> “I worry about Jeff too.” Rye came up behind Donna, gave them both a smile. “So he’s going to be just fine on this tour….” Rye looked like he was going to continue, but he closed his mouth instead.
“Of course he is. It’s only, what? Thirty weeks?”
Thirty weeks.
Fifty shows.
God.
“What do you think about—” Rye shook his head, clearly holding himself back. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to check the bus out again.”
She arched an eyebrow. “What’s he got to check?”
“Zombie garden gnomes? Stray tour bus gremlins? I don’t know. I think life on the road unnerves him a little.”
“His job is to keep you clean, so yeah, I bet it does.” Donna took his hands. “You scared me to death, honey. You died. I can’t do that again.”
“Well, it’s a little inevitable that I will, at some point, die again.”
“Hush. Not for a long, long time, and not until I’m long gone myself.”
“That’s the plan.” Jeff hugged her tight. “I love you.” He needed to sit with Harry, the tour manager, make sure everything was working, was right.
“I love you too, honey. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will. Have… have you heard from Jim? From rehab? I tried calling, and his phone isn’t working.” Jeff had been calling once a week, mostly, just to say hi.
“No, honey. I haven’t.”
“Huh. I guess I could call the hospital, huh? He worked for them.”
“Are you sure you should be worrying about this, honey?”
“He was good to me.” He looked at Donna. “He went back, didn’t he? He slid.”
“I honestly don’t know, Jeff.”
Rye joined them again. “We’ll find out.”
“Okay. Okay. I just… I don’t have too many friends.” If Rye said he’d find out, Rye would find out.
“You have me and Rye, honey.” Donna hugged him again. “Okay, I have to go. You guys need to get on the road. Can’t be late for your first gig.”
“Woohoo.” He nodded and waved. “I’ll call.”
“Good luck, honey.”
Rye came and stood with him as they waved Donna off.
Barney, his driver since forever, got on and closed the door. “We ready to go, Mr. January?”
“If the other buses are ready, I am.”
“Okay, let’s get on the road.” Barney talked into his Bluetooth, and a few moments later, they were off, the ride as smooth as Donna had promised.
“So we’ve got, what, a couple days before we’re at the first venue?” Rye asked.
“It’s Tuesday. The first show is Friday. We’ll get there late-late Wednesday, and Thursday we’ll check out the stage and stuff.” Jeff was pretty sure Rye knew this already; still, it was nice to feel like the one who knew what was going on.
“So we have two days on this beast, huh?”
“Yeah. Basically. Barney will stop as he needs to.”
“So, you want a game of backgammon and a milkshake?” Rye asked.
Jeff sat on the couch and shook his head. “No. You want to talk? Do you like the bus?”
Rye sat with him and looked around, nodding. “I do. It’s homier than I thought it would be.”
“It’s nice. Luxe. Roach and Scooter share a bus, and then Brandy and Bri. Everyone else has another.”
“I’m glad. Feels kind of like we’re back at the house.”
“Yeah. More mobile, but home sweet bus.”
Chuckling, Rye tugged him to lean back against the strong chest.
“We have access to all our movies and stuff, just not our pool.” Jeff was going to miss the pool.
“We’ll have to swim at the hotel stops.”
“If they have a quiet one, maybe.” He sighed softly, shook his head. “Just think, we’re on the road again.” It was a weird thought, a bit of a mind fuck.
“I want this to be your last tour, Jeff. I want you to retire Lord January.”
“You know I can’t. I have responsibilities.”
“You have a responsibility to yourself as well, you know.”
“I’m replaceable.” Hell, he’d been a replacement. And why were they having this conversation?
“Then let yourself be replaced. Let someone else play Lord January, so you can have a real life again.”
“I….” Jeff stood up, started pacing. “Stop it. A real life? I don’t have one of those! You forget who makes all the money! No one wants me!”
“I want you, Jeff. Just as you are. And if someone else plays Lord January, then you don’t have to worry about anyone else. I bet you have money saved up until you’re on your feet, and if you don’t, you can sell that big house. You can stay with me.” Rye sat forward. “You have a beautiful voice and could use it, be your own person. I just wanted to float the idea.”
“Don’t. Don’t make me have ideas. It’ll just lead to disappointment.”
“I want you to have ideas. I want you to think about it, because we can make it happen.”
“I….” He paced, back and forth, feeling the bus move beneath him.
“Seriously, Jeff. You could let someone else wear January. That way everyone keeps working, keeps making the money, and you get your life back, your hopes and dreams.”
“Hush. Hush. I can’t… I can’t think right now.” He wrapped his arms around himself, anxiety flooding him.
“Hey.” Rye stood and stopped his pacing, wrapping those strong arms around him. “You don’t have to make any kind of decision right now. I just wanted to float it.”
“I…. I need a Xanax. Those are approved, right? One Xanax, from the doctor?”
“You don’t need a Xanax.” Rye sat and tugged him down to sit between Rye’s legs. The big hands dropped onto his shoulders. “Just close your eyes and relax.”
“I need one. It’s not an up—” Oh. Oh God. Good.
Those huge hands surrounded his shoulders, squeezing. “Close your eyes,” murmured Rye.
Jeff let his eyes drift shut, let himself lean. Humming, Rye kept working his shoulders, the warmth and relaxation sinking into him. He found himself melting and floating, breathing with Rye. Rye always made him so warm, and he could feel each breath against his neck. The touches were perfect.
Delicious.
“I want you to have something good to hold on to on this tour.”
“That’s you.”
“Okay.” Rye squeezed him tight. The hug felt good, and Jeff leaned into it, enjoying it. Rye leaned his cheek on top of Jeff’s head.
“Tell me a story? About you?” Jeff asked.
“Well, when I was little, my family was the crazy one in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah?” He loved stories, and he wanted to know Rye.
“Yeah. We had goats and chickens in the backyard, and my mom was rabid about pesticides and healthy eating.” Rye chuckled. “We were vegan until I was fifteen, and she just couldn’t keep me fed.”
“I haven’t eaten meat in a long time.” Little vegan Rye baby. God, the cuteness of that image.
“No? I have a lot of mass to feed. And I’ll admit that I like my red meat a lot.”
“Sometimes I wish I could just not eat, ever again.”
“When you’re tired, I bet.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Rye knew him.
“Ironically, that’s when you need it the most.”
“Do you…. Do you get tired of me? I do, sometimes. I was more fun, on the uppers.”
“You were out of your mind on the uppers. I don’t need you to entertain me, Jeff. And I like you just how you are.”
God, he was a loser, but Jeff held on to the words like a drowning man.
A soft kiss was pressed to the side of his head. “This is the best job I ever took.”
“I kind of love you, man. Really.” Stupid, but true.
“Me too.”
“We’re a little stupid, you and me.”
&n
bsp; “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the smartest thing either of us has ever done.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” He didn’t think it would really matter.
“So we’ll hold on to each other, and you’ll make it through this tour.”
“I hope so.” Jeff hoped a lot of things.
“You will.” Rye sounded so sure. He hoped Rye was right.
CHAPTER SIX
RYE GRABBED hold of Jeff as he came off the stage after the second encore. Looming over Jeff, he then pushed through the people assembled there, going straight to the dressing room.
The place was lousy with groupies, and he put his mouth next to Jeff’s ear. “You need the toilet or anything before we go to the car?”
“Go.” Jeff was pouring with sweat, dripping with fake blood, and smelled like rot.
Grabbing hold of one shoulder, he loomed over Jeff again, getting them back out into the hallway and making the trip down the corridor to the back doors.
“Package on its way,” Rye told Big T, who was driving.
“Mailbox ready for package, boss.”
The crowd was still roaring in the stadium above, stomping and screaming. It was insane.
They hit the back door, and Big T opened it for them. He hustled Jeff in, the door slamming behind them. Seconds later they were on their way, Big T getting them out onto the road with a minimum of fuss.
“Here.” Rye put his hand in front of Jeff’s chin. “Spit out your teeth.”
Jeff nodded, pushing them out. Next were the fucking contacts. Rye had the containers for both with him. He slid the containers in his pockets and grabbed a couple of baby wipes, trying to deal with some of the blood smeared on Jeff’s face.
“How was the show? Did you enjoy it?” Jeff asked.
It had been… insane.
Blood and screaming guitars and smoke and props and Jeff flying on wires. “You know how I feel about Lord January, babe.” He wasn’t going to lie to Jeff.
“I know, but… at least say I was impressive.”
“Oh, you were very impressive. It was rather… amazing in a terrifying way.”
“That’s my job. Big, spooky vampire lord.”
“I think Jeff is far more compelling.”
“You’re biased.” Jeff leaned back, eyes closed, as he started to shiver, sweat drying.
“I am. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Rye hit the controls, heat blasting from the vents.