Treble Maker

by Annabeth Albert

  “Probably not.” He looked around, thinking he might catch sight of Dane, but only the production assistants in red polo shirts lingered. That was what he needed tonight—a little play. Something uncomplicated. “You have fun, though, hon,” he told Ash. “You earned it. Killer opening note.”

  Moving through backstage space, he shrugged away from several random hugs and let congrats roll off him. The overly friendly a cappella community still freaked him out a little. The we’re-happy-for-you crowd wouldn’t be all smiles tomorrow when they filmed the sudden death reveals.

  We’ll see who’s hugging who then. He escaped the backstage area to the long corridor with dressing rooms and storage. He spotted Keith sitting at the bottom of a staircase heading to the basement, phone pressed to his ear. Hell. This was why it didn’t pay to have friends in this industry. He’d thought Keith was a friend once. Bile rose in Cody’s throat as he pictured Keith’s betrayed eye tomorrow when Cody and the rest of the group pitched him under the bus marked winners.

  He was hesitating at the top of the stairs, wondering what, if anything, he should say to Keith when he saw Dane coming out of one of the production rooms. Oh, thank fuck. Adrenaline replaced the pity party in his chest, making his breath speed up. He needed to get laid. Get out of his head for a while.

  Putting a little swing in his walk, he brushed the hair from his face, giving Dane the look that never failed to bring guys to his side. They were out of view of the stairway, and the rest of the corridor was deserted. Not that Dane had seemed to let the rules stop him before, so Cody felt plenty free to turn on the charm.

  “Hey, Dane. What’s up?”

  “Oh, hi, sexy.” Dane raked him over with hot eyes. Cody stretched, making sure he saw all the goods on offer. “You sounded great tonight. Fabulous tone. Best performance of the night.”

  “Too bad the judges didn’t agree.” He shrugged off the praise. “Better luck next week, eh?”

  “Oh, the order they announced the finalists wasn’t important. More theater for the cameras.” He smiled indulgently. “We’ll take care of you.”

  Pompous shit. Cody had heard the we’ll-take-care-of-you line a time or thirty, and it rarely resulted in more than sore knees. It wasn’t like he’d bend over for the guy or anything, but he liked getting blown. Returning the favor with industry types was basically a twofer: getting off with a side of networking.

  “What are you up to?” He nodded at the room behind them. He wasn’t feeling picky. Weird antsiness made him want to get this over with. Get to the part with orgasms.

  “Oh.” Dane frowned, his fake tan fingers playing with a heavy silver watch. “On my way to pick up my boyfriend from LAX. He’s coming in for the weekend.”

  “Darn.” If the boyfriend was in the picture, that changed things. Another time he might have offered to be the welcome-home present, but his lips stayed shut. Wasn’t in the mood to watch Dane get fucked by his movie studio exec boyfriend—threesomes were far more work than he was willing to put into getting off tonight.

  “Sorry.” Dane looked away, seeming more distracted than apologetic. “I’ll catch you next week, okay?”

  Cody wondered if the boyfriend knew about the slutty things Dane got into, if he actually expected an exclusive commitment from the guy. But why the hell should Cody care? Any form of monogamy was a bitch Cody had every intention of avoiding.

  “Sure.” Cody walked away, heading for the heavy metal exit doors at the end of the hall. As he pushed through the doors, he was bummed to see the parking lot teeming with bodies, stragglers from the studio audience along with the contestants. The buses the show used for transport were lined up in the fire lane, ready to shuttle folks to the after party.

  “You changed your mind!” Ashley bounded up beside him.

  “Uh, not—”A swell of people swallowed both of them up and his words, too, and before he knew it, he was jammed into the backseat of a bus, Ashley practically in his lap.

  Chapter Six

  One grilled chicken salad with ranch dressing and a rum and Coke later, Cody’s mood still hadn’t improved any. He was supposed to be amped about surviving elimination, but instead a weird restlessness plagued him. And discussing who they should pick tomorrow wasn’t helping any.

  “I still say we pick up Derek from the Refrains.” Ashley gestured with her fork. She and the rest of Embellish were crowded around a table in the bar area, but she pointed to a table out in the main restaurant area, where a number of groups, including Lucas’s, were drowning their sorrows in fries and root beer. Nice try. Jägermeister would be far more effective.

  “Remind me which one is Derek again?” Raven asked.

  “The tall one with black hair and glasses. Sitting next to the clumsy bass Cody knows?”

  Cody shot a glance toward the gawky dude with a cheap haircut, but after a half second he found his gaze settling on the M&Ms. Hard to look away from their drama for some reason. Their ferret-faced leader was in heated conversation with his friends at the far end of the table. Lucas and his short tenor sidekick appeared to have been exiled, chatting with the guys from the Refrains. Cody wondered if the group would keep Lucas when they got back to Iowa.

  “Derek? No way,” Jeff said. “He’s not even a true bass.”

  “He’s a big part of the low end the judges praised.” Ashley pouted, her lips curving up in a way he would have found sexy if he was wired for that. Instead, Cody found her put-out look annoying. “And he’s versatile.”

  “You mean he bottoms, too?” Cody raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Don’t be crude. He’d add some depth.”

  “Not enough,” Cody told her. “I think we should pick up Lucas.”

  “What?” Her chin jutted out. “So you can do him?”

  “No, so we can win. We need a bass who can add VP skills when we need them, not another baritone stretching to go lower.”

  “Lucas can’t dance.” Raven finally spoke up. “I agree he’s one of the best basses in the competition—”

  “Thank you.”

  “But he’ll hold us back on choreography. And when he tries to move and vocalize at the same time, his voice gets all pitchy,” Raven finished.

  “I can train that out of him.” Cody sounded far more confident than he felt.

  “I agree with Cody.” Jeff shot an apologetic look at Raven. “I can’t provide all the power we need. We need surround sound, not good harmony and cute dancing.”

  Their debate dragged on, Jeff and Ashley butting heads over different possibilities while Cody’s head started to throb in a way the rum and Coke couldn’t cut.

  “How about we give it a rest for tonight?” He rubbed his temples.

  “Yeah. After all, we have to see who’s actually available when it’s our turn,” Raven said.

  “Fine. We’ll talk in the morning.” Ashley grabbed her drink. “I’m keeping my list. We’re going to vote on this, right?”

  “Yeah.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t want to vote. This was his group. And he could call his agent, pull rank, and probably get Jeff and Raven to agree quickly. But if he did that, he’d piss everyone off and lose Ashley’s friendship. Finding a friend in the biz was a rarity, and even though the show might end in an ugly way that generated hate and jealousy instead of happy-good-friendly feelings, he’d rather put it off as long as possible. Things always ended ugly—it was just a matter of when.

  After they’d finished their food, Raven and Jeff wanted to socialize with some of the other groups, but Cody wasn’t in the mood. He said a quick good-bye and headed outside. He got lucky when he saw one of the show’s buses getting ready to head out.

  As he lined up for a seat, someone bumped his arm and said, “Hey.” He swiveled around. Lucas.

  “Hey.” Cody hung back, waiting for the others to load up.

  Neither of them seemed to know what to say to each other, but somehow he and Lucas ended up in the backseat together. The small bus was mos
tly empty—two girls were in deep conversation in the front row, and toward the middle, there was a boy-girl couple who looked like they’d be lucky to make it to a room before they tore each other’s clothes off. They didn’t even wait for the driver to buckle up before they were making out.

  “Ugh.” Lucas made a low, uncomfortable noise and looked out the window. The tinted glass softened the flash of streetlights and cast the bus’s interior into the sort of anonymous darkness that never failed to make Cody’s dick twitch.

  “You against everyone getting some?” Cody leaned toward Lucas, lowering his voice. “Or just grossed out by hetero sex?”

  “Um.” Lucas shifted in the seat. “Neither.”

  “Liar.” Cody pressed his thigh against Lucas’s. “Unless . . .” He dropped his hand to Lucas’s knee. “It turns you on?”

  “Not into girls.” Lucas leaned in, his words a warm rumble against Cody’s ear. Goose bumps broke out on Cody’s neck and he pressed closer, vinyl seat crackling under him.

  “Didn’t say you were. I’ve never gone there with a chick, but the kitchen scene in Love & Other Drugs still makes me wanna go find someone and throw down.” Moving his hand north, he waited for Lucas to flinch away. He squeezed Lucas’s quad, feeling the bunch of solid muscle. “No shame in that. Sex is sexy.”

  “Eh.” Lucas couldn’t seem to find words, but he wasn’t pulling away. Cody pressed his advantage, tugging Lucas’s thigh closer until their knees overlapped and their ankles tangled. All the unsaid stuff about the way things had ended the other night hung between them, but there was something else, too. A crackly kind of anticipation that sent shivers running up his legs.

  In front of them, the couple was still going at it, the guy pushing the girl against the window. She didn’t seem to mind, burying her hands in his hair. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed. Revising his original estimate, Cody gave the couple until the elevator door shut before they were fucking. The way they were so desperate to crawl inside each other made his pulse speed up, made him remember making out like that, not giving a fuck who was watching. Dark corners and semipublic groping always did it for him.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Lucas whispered, covering Cody’s hand with his own, stopping any more northward movement.

  Lucas was right of course. There was a reason why Cody had avoided him most of the week, and why he was hoping like heck some other group picked him. He didn’t need the temptation or the risk of emotional involvement. But talking to Lucas—teasing him and pushing him and simply being near him—made Cody’s usually frantic brain go strangely calm. Like the pleasant feeling after a big meal, when people lingered and no one rushed for the door. Being around Lucas satisfied something Cody couldn’t name.

  “Come on. You did band all four years of high school, right?” Cody asked. Lucas’s hand remained on top of his. Knowing Lucas was in to this, too, made Cody’s blood hum, made the pleasantly full feeling in his chest grow.

  “Yeah.” Lucas nodded. “What’s that got to do with—?”

  “You really telling me you didn’t get up to anything on the trips? Not even holding hands where no one could see?”

  “You really telling me you’ve ever just held hands?” Lucas snorted, but his tone was light. “And knowing I’d get beat up and probably kicked out of band was enough of a deterrent.” He said deterrent all prissy and formal, and Cody had to laugh.

  “What?” Lucas prodded. “Weren’t you afraid of that?”

  “Nah,” Cody lied. “What’s fun without a little risk?” He stroked upward, stopping just short of Lucas’s groin, dragging Lucas’s hand with him. Outside, cars and trucks rushed past, taillights creating a kaleidoscope of colors across Lucas’s face.

  “That’s not holding hands.” Lucas squirmed, but his hand stayed put.

  Cody rolled his hand so his palm met Lucas’s, both of their hands resting against the bulge of Lucas’s dick. He laced their fingers together, stroking along Lucas’s fingers. “Now we are.”

  “Ohh.” Lucas’s breath rushed out, warm and heady against Cody’s cheek. God, he could get addicted to forcing little noises from Lucas, pushing him up against that edge where indignation met arousal.

  And there was no doubt Lucas was turned on—his dick jumped against Cody’s hand. He could feel it straining even through the thick khaki fabric. Oh, yeah. Lucas was thick all over. Needing to discover more, he ran his knuckles against Lucas’s zipper.

  “Please.”

  But before Cody could discover whether that was a please stop or a please touch me, the bus pulled up in front of the hotel, parking in the semicircle drive outside the main lobby. The girls sitting up front threw open the door, and unwelcome light ended whatever Lucas had been about to say. He pulled away, looking out the window.

  Cody mirrored him, taking several deep breaths to get his own dick under control before he got out of the bus.

  “Come on.” The driver sighed heavily. “I’ve got to get back for another load.”

  “We’re coming.” Cody sent Lucas a long look laced with double meaning.

  After exiting the bus, Cody hung back from the big glass entryway, not in any hurry to get inside the hotel. Lucas lingered as well. Cody resisted the urge to look down to see if he was still hard.

  He wasn’t ready to say good night to Lucas and trek up to his room, where Keith was most likely sulking. Or packing. God. This business sucked sometimes.

  Cody made his way to a small courtyard area adjacent to the entrance, his skin prickling pleasantly when he realized Lucas was following. The hotel had a vaguely southwestern exterior, looking like some seventies architect’s version of a Mexican resort. Leaning tense shoulders against a rough stucco wall, he gazed at a group of smokers sitting on the courtyard’s low benches, their laughter echoing on the soft breeze. It was the sort of perfect LA evening weather that made all the BS of trying to scrape out a living here worth it.

  “I should have drunk more at the restaurant,” he muttered.

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” Lucas slouched next to him, their shoulders touching. He didn’t seem to be in any more of a hurry to go anywhere than Cody was.

  “Hey, why’d you leave so early?” A breeze ruffled Cody’s hair. “You’re missing your chance to sell yourself to the other groups. Don’t you want to get picked tomorrow?”

  “Hah.” Lucas’s shoulder shook against Cody’s as he let out a bitter laugh. “No chance of that. Figured I might as well come back, call my folks, start packing.”

  “Don’t let the idiots pin losing on you, man.” Cody squeezed Lucas’s shoulder. “You were terrific tonight. Sounded better than you have all week. They screwed up, not you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Lucas pushed away from the wall, his facial features drooping, utter resignation in his eyes. “Better get inside.”

  Cody’s skin prickled and itched, like a fresh tattoo. He knew that look, had seen it in the mirror every day the last two years of high school. It was the look of being rejected and blamed by people you cared about. And Cody had quickly learned not to give a fuck and grow a thick skin, but Lucas was soft. He had the air of a puppy who’d been yelled at for the first time. Lucas hadn’t figured out yet how the world worked. And hell if that didn’t stir something protective in Cody, something that made him tug Lucas closer.

  “Wait. I need to ask you something.”

  Lucas leaned in toward Cody, smelling his hair gel and something earthier that made his pulse speed up. Cody met him partway, the hand on Lucas’s shoulder snaking out to become an arm around him. It wasn’t exactly a hug, but Cody’s hand rubbing and squeezing his shoulder, undoing hours’ worth of knots, comforted the ache in Lucas’s gut. Tomorrow he’d board a plane, go home, explain to his dad and the school why the M&Ms hadn’t advanced, go back to figuring out what to do after graduation, go back to walking a tightrope of expectations.

  “Will you stay?” Cody’s breath smelled faintly of alcohol. “If another group pic
ks you tomorrow?”

  “Told you. Not gonna happen.” Lucas’s blood hummed like he’d been drinking, too.

  “If one of the groups calls your name tomorrow, will you be happy?” Cody carefully pronounced each word like Lucas was an idiot.

  His thumb continued its soothing slide, but Lucas wasn’t entirely stupid—he got it now. Cody was working some ulterior motive. Lucas should have known all Cody’s flirting wasn’t real, that he wasn’t really interested in making Lucas feel better. He shrugged away from Cody’s touch.

  “Not my choice.” He looked away, studying the Dumpsters across the parking lot. “Contract we signed says we stay if we’re picked.”

  “Gee, could you sound more excited?” Cody stepped away. The loss of his heat and smell made the night air feel cooler. “Turns out our group needs a better bass—”

  “Yeah. I saw Keith earlier. He looked wrecked.” Lucas huffed out a long breath as he turned back toward Cody. Keith’s red eyes and puffy nose had twisted Lucas’s heart—even if the guy was a bit of a jerk.

  Something flashed in Cody’s eyes—anger? Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, it was gone in a shrug.

  “It’s just part of the business, you know? Got to play the show’s game.”

  “Maybe, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

  “Oh, look at you, using bad words and everything.” Cody’s eyes went wide. “You have no idea how much I want this win. Which is why Embellish needs you.”

  “Me? Seriously?” He had a hard time believing he’d be an asset to anyone.

  “You’re the best bass here, and one of the best VPs.” Cody nodded, then smiled slyly. “’Course, we’re going to have to work more on the dancing thing.”

  “I won’t sleep with you.” Lucas kicked a rock that had escaped the neatly manicured landscaping. There had to be a catch: either Cody was asking out of misguided pity or he wanted in Lucas’s pants. And he wasn’t sure which was worse.