Off Stage

by Jaime Samms

  She heaved a sigh and crossed her arms. “Just don’t come begging me to fix this if you screw it up. There is no buyout this time. If you’ll excuse me, I have other clients. It’s been an absolute pleasure.” She held out her hand to Stanley and he took the hint.

  “I can appreciate your candor, Ms. Chatham. It will be a pleasure working with you.”

  She offered him a sly smile. “I’m pretty sure the pleasure will be all mine.”

  He walked her to the door and out into the reception area.

  “Look,” she said, stopping when the office door had swung shut behind them. “I know I sounded harsh in there, but he’s a loose cannon.”

  “You really don’t have a lot of confidence in him.”

  “He’s got buttloads of talent, Mr. Krane, and about a thimbleful of common sense. He thinks with his dick too much of the time and with his ego the rest. He loves Lenny to death, and he is completely dedicated to those people in there, but he doesn’t think. Someday, he’s going to do the thing they can’t forgive. If I was your lawyer, I would have tried to renegotiate that clause too. You may have just signed yourself out of a fortune if he can’t hold his shit together.”

  “Well, then let us hope he’s learned his lesson and is motivated enough to do better, shall we? He managed to find a way out of Kelly’s contracts when sufficiently encouraged.”

  “You really are a manipulative bastard,” she said.

  “I’ve had quite a lot of practice getting what I want,” he agreed.

  “So it seems. Well, they are yours now. My best advice to you is to keep them working. If he’s too busy to breathe, he might be too busy to get himself into trouble.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  She nodded. “Good.” She actually smiled, and Stanley could appreciate what the drummer saw in the severe lawyer. “It’ll be nice to see them really working for a change. Kelly was not challenging them. They had no direction, and it was beginning to show. Too much spare time on their hands is just annoying.”

  “For them?” He returned her smile. “Or for you?”

  “For me, of course, considering their practice space is my garage.”

  “I appreciate the advice. As far as their practice space, I’ll talk to them about packing their gear. Our first order of business, I think, will be to move them to some proper studio space, and see what they can really do.”

  “That, Mr. Krane, would be lovely. I look forward to the peace and quiet, and the cessation of that endless stream of starving musicians through my kitchen.”

  “Another note taken: easy access to food required.”

  She smiled and some of the tension seemed to ease out of her. “You could probably write the book on the care and feeding of fledgling rock stars. I’m sure you don’t need my advice.”

  “But these particular fledglings were yours first. You’ve been taking care of them far better than Kelly Granger ever did, and for that, I thank you. If she’d had her way, this group would have splintered long ago, and I would have one spoiled, selfish, rather broken singer to rescue. Because of you, I at least have him and his whole band.”

  That brought forth an inelegant snort from Alice. “Well, I’m glad you see that as a bonus. You’re quite welcome to the lot of them.”

  Stanley offered her a smart, shallow bow. “I will be sure to send Clive home none the worse for wear.”

  “A damn sight better than I’m handing him over, I hope. He’s no better than the rest of them when he’s not playing.”

  “A situation that will be remedied soon, I assure you.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Shall I see you out?”

  Straightening her purse strap and firmly tucking her portfolio under one arm, Alice shook her head and made for the door. “No need. You have my number if you need anything.”

  Once she was gone, Stanley returned to the band. They didn’t have any argument to moving out of Alice and Clive’s drafty garage into a proper studio and were pleased to go back there one last time to pack everything up.

  “Damian,” Stanley addressed the singer as the others filed out of his office. “If I could have a word with you, please.”

  “You want us to wait?” Lenny asked, hanging back, hovering close to Damian’s side.

  “Don’t know.” Damian turned to Stanley. “Is this going to take long?”

  “I was hoping to entice you to a late lunch, actually.”

  “I should help the guys.”

  “No worries,” Clive called from the far door. “We can handle it.”

  “You just don’t trust him with your set,” Jethro joked.

  “You saw what he did to the cymbals the last time he tried to move them. I don’t want him anywhere near my shit.”

  “Fellas, this is the last time you’ll have to move them yourselves, I promise,” Stanley told them. “You’ll have people for that from now on. Can you spare Damian?”

  Lenny glanced from Stanley to Damian uncertainly. The others were mostly out the door.

  “I’m not going to be late,” Damian said as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “And see? Got my cell. Full battery. I’ll be home for dinner.”

  “Yeah, honey!” Jethro called from the hallway. “He’ll be home for din-din and snuggling on the couch!”

  Lenny flushed pink, nodded curtly, and stalked from the office.

  “Len!” Damian called. “Ignore that jerk-off!”

  Lenny tossed him a crooked smile and disappeared after the others.

  “So, are the two of you…?”

  Damian laughed. “Lenny and me? No. God, no. We go way back. Third grade or something. We share an apartment, that’s all. He likes to know where I am. It’s a… thing with him. He likes to keep track of people.”

  “Especially you.”

  Damian shrugged as he shouldered into his trench coat. “I guess. I mean we live together, right? You like to know what’s going on with the people you live with. You feel responsible.” A smile flitted across his face. “Like family. You keep track. Pay attention.”

  “He certainly does pay attention to you.” Stanley studied the younger man as they headed out of the office. Damian was far less tense than he had been the last time he’d been in Stanley’s presence. He was cheerful today. He’d gambled and won. Anyone would be pleased with the jackpot, despite how nerve-racking the risk had been at the time.

  “Somebody probably should,” Damian said. “I can be a little haywire sometimes, I guess.”

  “So I’ve been informed,” Stanley said softly.

  If Damian heard the comment, he ignored it.

  THE RESTAURANT Krane took him to was about ten times the level of posh he was used to. Despite the fact he’d been more than flush up to a few days ago, Damian had never been much for this type of stuffy, expensive show of wealth. Considering his currently empty bank account, however, he wasn’t going to turn down a free meal.

  They were shown to a nice table away from the busier sections of the restaurant.

  “Your usual, Mr. Krane?” the waiter asked as he handed over menus.

  “Yes, please, Jack, that would be perfect.”

  “Regular?” Damian took another glance around the moodily lit room. “You come here often, then?”

  “Often enough.” Krane nodded to a raised dais in one corner next to a shining black grand piano. “They often have some very lovely entertainment.” He tilted his head. “Maybe not what you’re used to in places like the Evangeline, but worth the price of admittance. Were you going to order a drink?”

  Damian turned to the waiter. “Guess I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

  “Very good, Mr. Damian.”

  Damian raised both eyebrows. In some places, he expected people might know who he was. Not so much in a place like this. He glanced at Krane, but the manager only smiled faintly and thanked the waiter, who left them in peace.

  “How does he know who I am?”

  “Get us
ed to it, Mr. Learner.”

  “Are you going to keep calling me that? Because it’s weird. I keep wanting to look around for my dad. Which is just a little bit creepy, because he’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Damian shrugged. “There’s seven years between me and my older brother, and they were a lot closer than he was with me. People die. It happens.”

  “Was it recent?”

  Damian shifted in his seat. “No. Long time ago. High school. Can we not talk about this?”

  “You miss him?” Krane sat back in his chair. The dim lighting made it hard to read anything in the depth of his dark eyes.

  “Are your parents still alive?”

  “My father is. We were never that close, and he has very little ability to connect with reality anymore. I was also in high school when my mother died. My father never remarried. He had a couple of very close friends over the years, and I do my best to make sure the last man he shared his life with gets every chance to see him, but it’s difficult on both of them. The age gap.” Stanley shook his head. “I don’t ask a lot of questions. They seemed content enough until my father began to lose bits and pieces of his life. Now it’s just hard for Steven to see him, feel connected to him, and who am I to dictate he not move on when there is clearly nothing left for him with my father? He’s not that much older than I am. He deserves to find someone new.”

  Damian frowned, working through all that in his head. “So. Your father was—is—gay, but you don’t get along?”

  “He lived a lie for most of his life, Mr. Learner. And when I found out, after Mom died, I was… angry with him. He’d hidden that from me, made it impossible for me to come out, and then I discovered he was hiding the same secret.”

  “It should have brought you together.”

  “He lied to my mother their entire marriage. He lied to me. It didn’t bring us together.”

  The waiter reappeared and left two glasses of something on ice. Damian sniffed his drink. “What did I order?”

  “It’s not on the menu. A mixture of celery and fruit juices.”

  “More migraine medication?” He took a small sip through the straw.

  “Some people outgrow them.” Krane sipped from his glass. “Some people don’t. I like to take measures to prevent them.”

  Damian took a larger sip, grateful this drink wasn’t as tongue-blistering as the last one Krane had offered him. “This one’s less… vibrant than that one you gave me in your office.”

  “No cayenne pepper in this one.”

  Damian risked another sip. “So you’re a health nut?”

  “I like to keep in shape. I like to not be in pain. So yeah, I guess, if that qualifies.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Here comes the waiter. You haven’t even looked at your menu.”

  Gently, Damian pushed the menu toward Krane. “You know what’s good here. As long as there’s no cooked spinach, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  STANLEY STUDIED him a moment, surprised at the easy capitulation. He’d expected his guest to show a deeper streak of diva, but he wasn’t going to complain. He ordered them both steaks, cooked medium rare with rice and grilled veggies, and they sat back to wait.

  “So. You haven’t actually told me why you wanted me here,” Damian pointed out after a while. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t to”—he lifted his glass and made a mock salute with it—“wine and dine me just for fun.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Call it a hunch.”

  Stanley nodded. “All right. I would like to pick your brain a bit, learn something about your band.”

  “Like?”

  “Jethro’s father.” Stanley set his glass down. “Beks’s parents.” He adjusted his jacket and leaned forward. “Is she trans? Clive and Alice. Married? Thinking about kids? And Lenny, of course. His story.” He leaned an elbow on the table. “I like to know what I’m dealing with.”

  Damian shook his head. “Jethro doesn’t talk about his dad. Beks never talks to her folks, so there’s nothing to tell, there, and we don’t ask about her personal shit. She’ll tell us what she wants us to know if there’s anything she wants us to know when she’s ready to tell us. Clive and Alice don’t need a piece of paper, and how would I know what they talk about over their pillows?”

  Stanley nodded and waited, keeping his gaze patient. He was impressed at Damian’s circumspection. He didn’t like to gossip. He protected his people. That was good.

  “What?” Damian asked after a few minutes of watching the other diners and trying to be nonchalant.

  “Lenny?” The omission was conspicuous, even if the singer thought he was being subtle.

  Damian shook his head. “He’s had a shitty life. I told you that. Crappy parents, mean fosters. It scars a guy, but he does all right. Now.”

  He watched Stanley, his gaze intent, and Stanley let the frown creep into his features. Damian was holding back, and normally he’d let it go. But he’d seen the way Vance looked at Lenny. He’d been in the room when his friend had practically jumped on the opportunity to get involved with Firefly. He wanted to make sure there wasn’t a disaster brewing between his musicians.

  Finally Damian broke and let out a long sigh. “Fine. He had an asshole of a boyfriend a while back. They were together a few years, off and on. Ace, that was the guy’s name, he hurt Lenny.” Just the memory clearly made him seethe. He leaned on the table and clenched his hands in front of him, pressing forward to get and keep Stanley’s attention. “The guy was an addict and a violent bastard. He OD’d two years ago and broke Lenny’s heart, dying that way. I’m telling you because you need to know and because Lenny never talks about it, but it happened, and we look out for him, but you never need to say anything to him about it. It’s in the past, and it needs to stay there. He’s getting better. That’s what matters.”

  Stanley nodded. “You care a great deal about him.”

  “’Course I do.” Damian watched him intently, looking for the real reason Stanley had brought him here. “You want me to dish about my bandmates? Really?”

  “Or I want to get to know you.” He settled back in his chair and picked up his drink and dropped the subject of Lenny. It was obviously a thorny issue.

  Damian picked up the cue and his own glass, and sipped and smiled at Stanley wickedly. His eyes gleamed in the dim light.

  Deflection. Obvious and unashamed deflection using exactly the same charm he used to weave his spell over his fans. And damn the little brat if it wasn’t just exactly as effective as Damian hoped too.

  Stanley carefully focused on his juice and the fact they were in a relatively crowded, public place. This singer was dangerously addictive.

  A triumphant look passed like lightening through those sparkling eyes and Damian sneered. “Let’s get something straight right now, okay?” Damian asked.

  Stanley nodded and waited.

  “I’m grateful that everything has worked out. I’m grateful for your friend Vance helping me, and thankful he isn’t trying to skin me in the process. What I don’t need right now is anything more complicated than good gigs, enough studio time to make a new album, and a manager that can focus on helping me pay my debt.”

  Stanley nodded. “Good.”

  Damian blinked, dark lashes flickering tantalizingly. “Good?”

  Stanley smiled and nodded. “Yes. Good. I like your focus. We have a lot of work to do. Firefly can only make it big if everyone is on the same page, and I’m pleased to hear you have your priorities straight.”

  “Good.” Damian sat back and eyed Stanley, still looking dubious. “So… this is why you brought me here? To talk about my priorities?”

  “You’re very used to there always being an ulterior motive, aren’t you?”

  Damian grinned a perfectly feral grin. “You’re the one who slept with my last manager and half of your own clients, so you tell me.”

  Stanley couldn’t help a chuckle. “Touché.”
He held up his glass in salute and Damian reciprocated. It was good to know he was dealing with a man who seemed to understand how the industry worked, even if first impressions had belied that. He wasn’t as naïve as he looked. Yet Stanley had the very distinct impression he was also less worldly than he wanted everyone around him to think. There was something wildly exhilarating and untamed about him, and that made him vulnerable in very unpredictable ways. He had a tough exterior, but it shielded something fey and bright and easily damaged. Something Damian didn’t want anyone to know was there.

  12

  DAMIAN DECIDED he’d never known tired. Or hard work. Or deflated ego. The past months had taught him all three. Hours upon hours in the studio had left him exhausted and too busy to get into any kind of position that would piss Lenny off.

  His guitarist kept him close anyway. Lenny had two eyes on him at all times, though their physical relationship had calmed considerably. There were no more steamy kisses. No more groping, and no more wrestling matches that left them panting and hard. Damian never thought he’d miss that aspect, since every sexual encounter inevitably landed him on the wrong side of a locked door with a raging boner. But he did miss it.

  Sure, Lenny allowed cuddle time, and a kind of innocent physical proximity that was nice. It left Damian feeling guilty, though, because he wanted more, needed some sort of release, and couldn’t get it from Lenny. So he searched for it elsewhere, found it occasionally, and felt like a lying, cheating shit afterward.

  When the tour finally started, he was grateful for the hours spent on the bus. He could sleep and get some peace from Lenny’s constant nearness. With the entire band living on top of one another, Lenny saved the flirting for the stage, and that, at least, was something of a relief.

  New cities also brought new opportunities. He loved the chances to get away from them all and find new dance floors, new dance partners. New adventures that Jethro and Beks and Clive often shared. It was nothing like the way they’d partied before Krane picked them up. They didn’t have the time or energy for that kind of dedicated destruction anymore. But the dancing was fun, when he could get away with it, and it let off a lot of Damian’s pent-up steam. At least for a while.