“Fuck,” she said, lifting her hand to run it through her hair, making sure the top of her head was still attached.
“Yeah.” He panted heavily, fresh sweat bedewing his body. “Shower, but we’ve got to be fast.”
He got them in the shower, tight against each other in the small space in double-quick time.
“I want the operation,” she said suddenly.
Chapter Six
Hunter stared at her in silence for a full minute. Only when the shower abruptly turned cold did he move. On Sabina’s shocked squeal, he scooped her up and exited the cubicle, grabbing the nearest towel to tuck around her. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. I want it. I couldn’t hear you properly tonight and it drove me mad.”
He stroked her wet hair back off her face. The shower here was a basic model, the head fixed in one position, so what with that and the vigorous fucking, they were soaked from head to foot. He reached for the only other towel and wrapped it around her hair. Immediately she took the one from her body away and gave it to him. “Share,” she said with a smile.
When she turned away to dry her hair, he scrubbed the towel over her back, then swiped it over her body before attending to his own needs. He usually brought a bag to gigs that contained a towel, toiletries and something to read, but with his agitation over her presence, he’d forgotten it. And his spare clothing. At least Chick had provided a spare pair of pants, and he could leave off the T-shirt. They dressed in silence, without signing or speaking.
Someone knocked on the door. Chick entered without waiting for a response. “Press conference? Or had you forgotten?”
Hunter nodded to Sabina. “She had something important to tell me.”
Chick glanced at Sabina, his expression coldly stern. Before Hunter could say anything, Sabina faced him. Fortunately, she’d dressed faster than he had. Leather pants could be a bitch to get on over damp skin.
“My mother is planning to hijack the conference. She’s started a new political party for deaf separatists and she is announcing the launch tonight.”
Chick groaned. “Shit, I should have guessed when I looked her up. She’s a quick worker, your mother.”
Sabina gave a grim nod. She tied back her hair while Chick frowned at her abstractedly. Hunter suspected nervousness, but he instinctively knew she wanted to deal with this situation herself. “I’ll handle it,” Chick said.
“I wanted to tell Hunter that I’ve decided to have the operation to restore my hearing. It’s experimental, it might not work, but I want to do it. They’ve given me a date and a firm offer, and I’m going to say yes.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
Hunter suppressed his groan. If he’d never spent much time around the deaf, he wouldn’t understand either. He let Sabina enlighten Chick.
“I’ll lose my job. Emmelie is an important activist in the deaf separatist movement. They want the deaf to have a world of their own, rather than being forced to integrate with the hearing. She can’t employ a hearing assistant. And something else made me think harder too. I have some residual sound that helps me talk. I could lose that.”
Chick listened, took it all in. His eyes, seemingly so vacant, were in reality watching, registering and analyzing. “Not so clear-cut, then. Sorry.” He stared at a spot just over her head for a few seconds. “What do you want me to make public? Do you mind if I mention the operation?”
She frowned. “No. Uppsala University is doing good work. It deserves the publicity and I’m not ashamed.”
Hunter knew how brave she was, doing that. Making a public announcement that she wanted to join the world of the hearing. Even if the operation failed it would make her persona non grata in some circles. The ones she currently moved in, for instance. She could lose her clients, and Emmelie would have nothing more to do with her.
Hunter took her hand and she turned her head to smile back at him. “I’ll be okay.”
He saw perception and something else in her eyes—a settled look he hadn’t noticed before. He hadn’t realized how badly the decision would affect her, how profoundly her life would change. Nothing would remain for her except her family in Iceland. Nothing. Castigating himself as a complete fucking idiot for not realizing the full implications before, he swore to support her all he could. Everything she wanted he’d give to her, if he could possibly do it. The problem was getting past her fiercely independent nature. But that was what friends did, wasn’t it?
Another landmark in his life loomed. A press conference in his own country, facing the press that had ignored him in favor of his mother. Until now. And if she had anything to do with it, they’d continue to ignore him. He was looking forward to the battle between Emmelie and Chick, who ran press conferences with an iron fist.
They followed Chick to the press room. Hunter could have closed his eyes and gone on sound because the hubbub told him how full it was. The rest of the band were sitting at a long table set on a pedestal. Not too high, so the assembled multitude could get good pictures. His mother was already there, standing at the side of the room, and he made a point of crossing to her and kissing her cheek before he went to take his seat. He could do that much for her. Sabina took her place next to Emmelie, and a burly security man came to stand close by.
Hunter sat on the platform at the end next to Riku, who muttered, “Some people get all the luck.” So at least one person here realized what had delayed him.
Riku had found time to change too. Instead of the pink shirt that had almost blinded Hunter onstage, he wore his ankle-length coat with the complex silver fastenings, the top ones left undone to show an expanse of tanned chest. Hunter grinned. “You could have, if you weren’t so obsessed about your clothes.”
Riku snapped his fingers. “Image man, image.”
Hunter grinned. “Like fuck. You’d do it anyway.”
Riku stretched his lanky six-foot-three frame in his wooden chair and examined his pink-and-black manicure. “Possibly, but I wouldn’t have as much money to do it with.” Like he cared. Under all the flash and dash Riku was as much a musician as the rest of them.
As usual, Chick announced the start of the questions. Hunter exchanged a glance with the others and the interrogation began.
Yes, they were enjoying the tour. No, the music still came first. Yes, they were working on the new album. So far, so predictable. Occasionally Hunter exchanged a glance with Sabina, who was standing to one side, his mother by her side. Ready to bolt, he thought. Not that he could do anything about it right now.
She must find this situation unnerving. People shouted for the band’s attention, cameras constantly flashing, worse than strobe lighting, with no focus apart from Chick indicating who should ask the next question. The members of the press wore ID badges, but Chick also had a clipboard with a list attached to it, and occasionally called a name. No democracy here.
“I want to ask Hunter a question.” A woman gave him a charming smile. Hunter went on alert. Riku nudged him, grinning, and then leaned back, hands behind his head. Hunter rarely fielded many questions and when he did, he tended to reinforce the stereotypes about drummers. It made it easier for them to underestimate him.
“Go ahead. Sorry, you are…?”
She gave the name of a big rock magazine. A welcome change from the usual nerdy types that particular magazine sent. It meant the woman—Janice—had to be tough and she knew her subject. “I have deaf relatives, so I recognize sign language, even though you used ASL and not SSL. Who was the message for?”
Hunter stared at her, then deliberately at Sabina. And smiled. Emmelie lifted her chin and smiled back. Sure enough, people aimed cameras in their direction and a plethora of flashes followed. Sabina must be seeing nothing but flashes in front of her eyes. He knew that sensation only too well and he’d learned not to look directly into a lens so he wouldn’t go temporarily blind or spend the next half hour with green spots dancing in front of his eyes. He hated that. The experience reached a part deep in
side that he spent too much time pushing away. Losing his senses, any of them, scared him beyond reason.
Sabina blinked but Emmelie didn’t. He expected nothing else of his superbly self-controlled mother. So self-controlled that he’d rarely seen her without her hair dressed back in its smooth chignon and her face in its daily coating of discreet makeup.
He dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter now and he trusted Chick to handle the situation. A movement on the other side of the room caught his eye, separate from the media, who were seated or standing and moving plenty, but not walking calmly forward. One of his mother’s staff, no doubt. He wasn’t familiar with her publicity people these days, but this one had the look of one of hers. Neatly but not ostentatiously dressed in a suit and tie, which did seem unusual in this place, hair cut short and smoothed back from his face, clean, shiny features and the perceptive gaze of the profoundly deaf. He kept his hands by his side, a faint smile on his features, and he was clean-shaven.
Before the next questioner could get in, Chick said something. “Hunter has reconnected with a friend from a long time ago.” He glanced at Sabina, who gave a barely there nod. Good.
Hunter got to his feet and held out his hand, smiling. They’d gone in this evening hands linked, so better to end the speculation than to face the constant “Who is she?” comments, and then the inevitable intrusion. His mother would use all that for her own cause. Not that he objected to it, just that— Aw, shit, he was going around in circles now. Give it up, Hunter.
Slowly, Sabina moved. She glanced at Emmelie, who made a move too, but somehow, one of Chick’s heavies was standing in front of her, ostensibly ready to escort Sabina to the platform. Hunter suppressed his smile. He might have known Chick would manage this. Emmelie would get her chance, but not yet.
With the muscle clearing the way, a gesture not really needed in this room but demonstrating a show of power, Sabina made her way to Hunter’s side. When she got there, he secured her hand in his and kissed her. He meant to kiss her cheek, affectionate rather than sexy, but he missed and the kiss landed on her mouth. Automatically, she opened to him. He touched his tongue to her lips, got a hint of the taste of her, and then forced himself to stop.
Breaking away, he gave her a smile before he turned back to the press. Chick caught his attention by the breadth of his grin. Headlines were set for the next morning. The conniving bastard. “This is Sabina Laugasdottir. We’ve known each other for some time, but on this visit, we connected.” Cue raucous laughter from the crowd and a gorgeous flush rising to mantle Sabina’s cheeks. A strong desire to protect her, hide her from the crowd that was making her so uncomfortable possessed him. As it was, he tugged her closer so she stood in the shelter of his body.
Reporters shouted questions and Sabina stared at them. Time to take a hand. “Sabina is deaf, so you’ll have to let me interpret for you. She lip-reads, but you’re all too much and too far away. One at a time, please.” He wouldn’t let her speak. He adored her voice, but he wouldn’t let them make fun of or confuse her. The signing would give her time to think, although he was now aware that some people in the audience could read ASL. So no secrets.
“Do you intend to travel with Hunter on his world tour?”
Hunter’s fingers flew. Sabina replied and he answered for her. “I can’t. I have to go into the hospital soon. Uppsala University Hospital has offered me a new procedure to restore my hearing.”
Explosions. The tenor of the interview changed, and the reporters asked about the operation. The band had more or less answered the questions they wanted to, and if not for this intervention, Chick would have drawn the conference to a halt. But he’d manipulated matters so that the operation had the focus, not Emmelie’s new party. And this was Chick’s conference all the way. Sabina briefly explained, and Chick let her answer a question or two before calling a halt to that line of questioning. “Any more questions for the band, people?”
A few. Someone gave Sabina a chair so she could sit next to Hunter, and they answered a few more questions. To Riku about his clothes, and to Zazz about his father, who’d been a renowned jazz musician but now lived in retirement. After someone asked Jace about his chord structure, Chick stopped the conference. “Thanks for coming, guys. Now I believe some of you know Hunter’s mother, Ms. Emmelie Ostrander. She has an interesting announcement to make, so if you’ll give the band a minute to leave, we’ll hand over the stage to her.”
Even Hunter left the platform, but remained in the room, still holding Sabina’s hand. He wanted her to stay right there by his side, but he knew she couldn’t. She had a life, so did he, and they weren’t together. Didn’t converge except for now, so they’d better make the most of it. And fuck, he would.
Half the journalists left too, and the ones that remained probably did so out of curiosity. Emmelie, accompanied by two of her people, took her place right at center and made her announcement through her interpreter, the man Hunter had noticed earlier. The man spoke to the press, a small concession on Emmelie’s part, but sometimes she had to speak to the unwashed masses, the hearing majority. A few of the Swedish journalists were very interested, which helped the flow of the questions.
“You prefer deaf people to work with you, even interpreters?” one asked.
“Yes,” Emmelie signed and the man spoke. “Our party is campaigning for the rights of deaf people. It makes sense to use only deaf people.”
Much more staid than the last one. Until someone said, “How do you feel about your son having a hearing-impaired girlfriend?”
Hunter waited for the explosion. The silent explosion, but nonetheless impactful for all that. She slapped her hands against each other as she signed, hard and unforgiving, and her interpreter spoke to the press. “I’m deaf. I am not impaired in any way.”
The journalist offered a stammered apology and several people took pictures. The sound bite, the headline. Hunter had learned to spot them when they appeared. Whatever she said now wouldn’t be as important.
But Emmelie didn’t develop her argument. Instead, she started to calmly explain the way her party worked and that she hoped to be the first deaf prime minister of the country one day. Hunter didn’t doubt it, but Emmelie had to employ a good publicity manager or learn to pick her chances when she could. That one sentence embodied her cause and everything she fought for, and she should have built on it, not gone on to something else.
When the conference had concluded, with a whimper rather than a bang, he offered to escort his mother to the private refreshments room. One of Chick’s assistants informed the press they were welcome to stay for a while, and they left.
Hunter kept hold of Sabina’s hand. She didn’t speak, and from the way she stayed with him and didn’t venture any opinions, he thought she might be tired. The release from the tension of making the decision probably hadn’t helped. But when he suggested they just get a cab to the hotel, she shook her head. “This is fascinating,” she said. “What chance will I ever have of experiencing this again?”
If he had anything to do with it, she’d do it repeatedly, until she was as sick of it as he was sometimes. He loved the music, the creation, the camaraderie of the band and the stage performances. It was the other stuff—the draggy travel, the hotel living, good though the hotels were these days, the fucking conferences and the recognition. Fuck, he hated the recognition, the way people stared at him. What was he, weird or something? Wasn’t he supposed to enjoy that part?
They reached the private room occupied by the band and their immediate staff. Nobody from the venue, none of the press, no photos allowed. He didn’t have to tell Sabina how privileged that made her. She knew. Not that he saw it that way, but when he turned to smile at her and introduce her to the band, he saw the expression of awed recognition that he’d seen so many times with other people. He hadn’t wanted to see it in hers. “They’re only people,” he signed, his back to the room.
“I know,” she signed back. “I’m fine.”
<
br /> The guys looked exhausted, even more than usual. It had been a particularly intense performance tonight. He wasn’t sure why, but he appreciated it. Zazz grinned broadly, an expression he rarely used in public. “So how’s it feel to come home in triumph?”
“You’ll know soon enough.” They were playing Zazz’s hometown later in the tour. “It feels fuckin’ brilliant.”
“It’s good to meet you, Sabina.” Jace had his arm around Beverley, who wasn’t only Chick’s right-hand man, so to speak, but the love of Jace’s life. Jace declared it often, amused by Beverley’s reticence.
Sabina answered for herself. “Thank you.”
Those within earshot froze. “I didn’t realize you could talk,” Jace said. Hunter would have paid to see the expression of shock on his face. Laid-back Jace, who nothing fazed, was now officially surprised. Even better, he grew flustered. A pink tinge edged his cheekbones. “Sorry, I mean, you know, talk with your mouth, not your hands.”
“You’re fine. I know.” Unlike Jace, Sabina wasn’t in the least surprised. She must have faced this situation or variations on it many times. A pity she couldn’t hear Donovan’s shout of laughter.
“Jace, man, she got you.”
Jace gave a rueful grin. “She did. You did. It’s a very pretty voice.”
“Thanks.”
After that, the band accepted her, relaxed around her, and they could get on with the post-mortem, most of which came from Chick. “Fucking-A tonight,” he said. “Keep it up.” Chick rarely interfered with what happened onstage. He left the artistic side entirely up to the band and the rest of the team—sound, lighting, the techies who kept the electronic equipment up and so on. And the band controlled it all. Sometimes Hunter pined for the days when the band could carry their equipment in the back of a van. Sometimes the others did too, and they’d play a small surprise gig somewhere. Not tonight. He had other plans for tonight.
He motioned to the table piled high with food and drink. “Anybody want to party?” When Jace shook his head and Donovan looked at his girlfriend, who had a modest sandwich or two, Chick roared with laughter. “You’ll have kids and a mortgage soon. Well, not the mortgage, maybe.”
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