by Victoria Sue
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Gray didn’t look convinced, and Seb mentally shook himself free of his memories. He was having a good day, he told himself sternly. Gray was here. He smiled deliberately. “I just get nervous around a lot of people.”
“There won’t be many here today. My friend is an audio technician. I want him to look at the pictures I took of the equipment they were using at the clinic.” Gray nudged him playfully. “Maybe you could get a chance to practice your song.” He grinned and pulled Seb along when Seb’s knees threatened to give out at Gray’s words. Gray was fooling around, right?
Seb still hadn’t recovered when they walked into the auditorium, and for the first time in a lot of years, he wished he could hear.
Ethan Devlin, Ethan freaking Devlin was onstage. Seb was going to scream, pass out, spontaneously combust. He felt the tug on his sleeve and dragged his eyes from the stage and looked into Gray’s amused ones. They had come in the back. The space looked huge to him. Standing room in front of the stage and then stands of red vinyl chairs arranged in a semicircle that seemed to go up for miles. Gray gestured to a seat, and Seb dropped into one, completely riveted to what he was seeing. “Going Home.” Seb knew that song like the back of his hand. It had taken him seeing Devlin only sing one line to know what it was.
Devlin stopped singing, and four guys were fiddling with the huge speakers that surrounded the stage. Seb knew they would be checking that the sound at the back sounded as good as it did at the front. He felt another tug on his sleeve and glanced at Gray. “Wanna meet him when they’re done?”
Seb shivered in excitement. Did he? Dare he? “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Gray tilted his head, and Seb gestured to his face. He didn’t think he could cope with freaking out one of his heroes.
“Rawlings Security ran protection for him last year when his main bodyguard got shot.”
Seb remembered. It had been all over the news. Some crazed fan had gotten too close and aimed for Devlin, and his bodyguard covered him while another took the man out. His bodyguard was shot in the stomach and had undergone surgery.
“That’s how we got in when I showed my ID.” Gray had been challenged by three different guys as they came in, but Seb had thought they were waved through because of Gray’s technician friend, not because the security team knew him. “No one is going to care when you’re with me.” Seb gazed at the stage and watched as Devlin handed his guitar over to another guy and then turned and walked offstage with another.
“Come on,” Gray stood up, and Seb followed him as they went toward the standing-room-only section in front of the stage. There were two guys talking by the huge digital mixing console, and just as they got nearer, Gray held out his hand to an older guy who was just standing up from being crouched down.
The man—around fifty with a long gray beard, bald head, and enough tats to rival an entire biker gang—grinned as soon as he saw Gray and held out his hand, then pulled Gray into a clinch. “Gray—” The rest of the sentence was lost on Seb as they hugged quickly. Gray seemed equally happy to see him.
Seb couldn’t see Gray’s lips to know what he said, but he saw the grin as Gray stepped back and turned to Seb. “Seb, Rig.”
Seb held out his hand to Rig, only to be clasped in exactly the same manner as Gray. Rig ruffled his hair and glanced at Gray. “Aww, you got a new puppy?”
Gray rolled his eyes and glanced at Seb. “It’s a term of affection. We’ve done a lot of short-term contracts for here.”
Seb decided not to be offended. He guessed Gray meant protection for stars while they were performing here. He thought everyone had their own and made a mental note to ask Gray later.
“Did you get the pictures I sent?” Gray asked.
Rig gestured to another door at the side of the arena. They all walked into what looked like a storage room. Seb wondered what they were doing until Gray put his hand on Rig’s shoulder for him to turn around. “Seb’s perfect at lip-reading, but he has to see your face.”
“Sorry,” Rig said immediately, and Seb got that Rig must have been talking as he walked into the room. “Shut the door.”
Seb shot a puzzled look at Gray, wondering what on earth they were doing talking in a storage closet. Gray hesitated for a fraction of a second, but he shut the door.
Didn’t he want privacy? Then in a flash of insight, Seb remembered what Gray had told him. Claustrophobia. His heart went out to Gray. He wanted to snag his hand, but Rig was there. The fact that only after a few days he wanted to do that, and the only thing stopping him was Gray’s friend’s opinion, wasn’t lost on him.
“I got your pictures. A lot of them are standard audio equipment I would expect, with one exception that I need your okay to pass on.”
Rig pulled out his phone and scrolled to one of the pictures. He pointed to a small gray box wired to the side of the machine. “I have no idea what that does.”
Gray studied the innocuous-looking box and a small label with what looked like a serial number on it. “I thought it was what controlled volume, to be honest.”
Rig shrugged. “I ain’t never seen it before.”
“I forgot. Do you know this make?” Gray held up his phone with the picture he had taken of the small stamp on the inside of the leather band.
“That’s my dad’s,” Seb immediately answered before Rig could.
Rig whistled, looking at Seb. “You’re A.T. Holdings?”
Seb nodded, looking at the photo. He already knew the sound system in the auditorium was one of theirs. He opened his mouth to ask why Gray wanted to know, but Gray put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Rig and nodded toward Seb. “So?”
Rig beamed. “Sure, follow me.” They left the room and walked back toward the stage where the piano stood that Ethan Devlin would play later. A microphone was set on it, and Rig waved a hand toward it. “Go on, kid. Show us what you got.”
Seb looked at the piano, then Rig, then Gray. “What?”
Gray leaned close and mouthed the words at Seb so Rig couldn’t hear. “Rig’s going to record it for you. Thought you might like that when we work out a way you can listen to yourself in a big venue.”
Seb stared at Gray half in astonishment and half in horror that someone else other than Gray would hear him sing, but then he realized this was the only time he would ever get a chance to sing somewhere like this. Apart from a few techs, no one else was here. What the hell, right?
“Okay,” he whispered, feeling slightly nauseous, but for the first time not because he was dizzy. He sat at the piano, took a deep breath, and then closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to hear himself, but he knew what sound the piano would make because of the vibrations. He’d done this enough times. On a whim, he chose his new song. In his head, Ethan Devlin was performing his song to a packed audience, and then when he started singing, there was suddenly only him on the stage.
Chapter Twelve
GRAY WAS trying very hard not to look at Rig, who stood openmouthed, and Gray tried not to feel… smug? He knew Seb was good, but he hadn’t bothered to say that to Rig. He’d just asked for a favor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two techs both pause on the stage with equal looks of surprise on their faces, and then another three men all came into view, walking past the security staff and coming to a standstill. Gray instantly put his hand on his weapon, but Rig met one of their surprised gazes and grinned. Gray relaxed but kept his eyes on them. They would have to be approved to get in here in the first place.
Gray let Seb’s singing wash over him. He wanted to close his eyes and really listen, but that wasn’t his job, and even in a secure space like this, he still had to be careful.
Seb let the last notes fade and turned immediately to look at Gray just as Rig and the men by the door all started to clap. Seb noticed, blushed, and lowered his gaze. Then everyone fell silent as Ethan Devlin walked back out onstage and straight up to Seb.
Gray took a step and
touched Seb to see. When Seb lifted his head and saw Devlin, he jumped to his feet. “Sorry,” he started, and Devlin extended his hand. Seb took it in awe—like it was made of gold—and Rig shot him a gleeful look. Devlin smiled, acknowledging Gray, but immediately started asking Seb if the song was his.
Seb suddenly glanced at Gray, panic on his face, and Gray guessed immediately what was wrong. Ethan Devlin had a strong Irish brogue, and Seb was struggling to read him. That and the full mustache and beard were making it impossible. “Mr. Devlin,” Gray interrupted. “Seb’s deaf. He can lip-read, but—”
Gray stopped abruptly as Devlin turned back to Seb and immediately started signing. This time it was Gray’s turn to be stunned. He felt Rig nudge him. “Ethan’s mom is deaf,” he explained. Gray just nodded in awe as he watched Seb’s face break into a delighted smile and his hands move. Gray had never seen Seb use sign language. To his complete shame, he’d never even thought about it.
And for some reason, he’d always thought people who could hear spoke while they were signing. Devlin was silent. So was Seb. They were having a completely private conversation, and Gray wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
No, no he was. He didn’t like it. He was Seb’s bodyguard. He should know everything that was being said to Seb. His lips tilted up at the corners despite himself. You’re jealous. And he wondered how long it would take someone to learn to do that. With a pang, Gray answered his own question. Longer than this job will last.
“Gray?” Gray automatically shook the hand Devlin thrust at him. “Good to see you.” He turned to Seb. “Gray has looked after me a few times. You’re in good hands.” Gray suddenly wondered if Seb had mentioned any reason why Gray was protecting Seb. Devlin knew Rawlings only did emergency and short-term contracts. He itched to know what they had spoken about.
“I understand you’re only here for one night?” Gray fished.
Devlin spoke and signed at the same time. “Yes, but I was just telling Sebastian—”
“Seb,” Seb interrupted.
Gray smiled ruefully. He’d noticed Seb only encouraged the diminutive form of his name with the people he liked. Gray’s insides seemed to warm briefly, but he ignored the feeling.
“Seb.” Devlin corrected himself without missing a beat. “I kick off the new album tour in Atlanta in April. I’m going to give three new acts a chance to demo one single before I come on and”—he looked at Seb—“I’d really like you to be one of them.”
Seb went so still, Gray took a step toward him in case there was something wrong. Devlin chuckled, watching Seb’s face. “Well, I hadn’t actually got to that part of the conversation, yet,” he admitted.
Rig grinned and elbowed Gray. “That’s great.”
Seb seemed frozen, and Devlin chuckled again. He waved over one of the guys who stood behind him who Gray had thought was security. The man introduced himself as Randy Cartwright, Devlin’s assistant, and he asked for Seb’s contact details.
Everyone looked at Seb, waiting for him to say something. Gray opened his mouth to suggest Randy get in touch with Rawlings for Seb’s contact details, but Seb stopped him. He looked at Devlin. “Mr. Devlin—”
“Ethan,” Devlin interrupted, amused.
“Ethan.” Seb stopped, and Gray instantly knew Seb was going to turn him down. He laid a hand on Seb’s arm.
“He’ll get in touch. He just needs a minute to process.”
Seb turned, but Gray knew he had missed what he had said. “I said you’d be in touch.” Gray knew he was being heavy-handed. Seb was an adult and perfectly capable of making his own decisions. It was nothing to do with Gray, as they wouldn’t be protecting Seb in five months. Hell, it was unlikely he would be protecting him in five weeks. He just wanted Seb to get a chance to think before he turned down such a fabulous opportunity.
“Can I ask something?” Seb was looking at Devlin. He pointed to his scar.
“My nephew has one exactly like it. The only reason he isn’t opening one of my concerts is because he’s fourteen.” Devlin shrugged. “That, and the fact he can’t sing for shit.”
Rig laughed and so did Randy. Gray’s focus was still on Seb. “Ethan?” Randy looked at his watch. “You have to get ready, and the press will be here at five. Then you have the competition winners—”
Devlin held up his hand, and then he shook hands again with Seb and Gray before he followed his assistant backstage. Gray drew in a breath. “You ready to go?”
Seb didn’t answer, still seeming awestruck. Gray said goodbye to Rig, and Rig said he would follow up on the equipment. Gray thought he had better see what Rawlings wanted him to do.
“So, opening for Ethan Devlin, huh?” He nudged Seb in a teasing manner as they got in the car, but it didn’t have the effect Gray was hoping for.
Seb shook his head and lowered it. Gray touched his arm in the automatic gesture they both knew was asking for Seb’s attention because Gray wanted to say something. For the first time, Seb didn’t respond. Gray took in the slumped shoulders and the lowered head. It was as if the kid couldn’t catch a break. Without thinking, Gray pushed a knuckle insistently but gently under his chin to get Seb to raise his head. Seb allowed Gray to lift it until Gray was gazing into his watery eyes, a flush staining his cheeks. Seb jerked away from Gray’s fingers and brushed a hand over his face in embarrassment.
Gray was at a loss. His instinct was to offer comfort, and that shocked the fuck out of him. Seb was a client. Gray had done this a hundred times, a few where he knew the client, albeit female, would have welcomed Gray getting a whole lot friendlier. Some in a purely lustful way—women seemed to find the whole bad-boy bodyguard image attractive—and some simply because Gray was seeing them at their most vulnerable. People said all sorts of things when they thought they might die, and in most of those occasions, Gray was usually front and center, and then clients confused gratitude for other feelings. Kids were the hardest. One precocious nine-year-old daughter of a diplomat decided she wanted Gray to look after her all the time after he stopped a kidnap attempt by a disgruntled ex. Deirdre had been cute. It had been hard to say goodbye then.
He always knew to keep a professional distance, but he’d had to touch Seb. Right from the get-go they had needed a way to communicate. He had spent that night curled up in his bed.
“Seb,” Gray whispered more for his own benefit, and touched his arm again. Seb didn’t move.
What am I doing?
He cautiously nudged Seb again, and Seb turned to look at him. “Are you going to do the concert?”
Annoyance flashed over Seb’s face along with a healthy dose of frustration. “How? How can I?”
“He doesn’t care about your mark.”
Seb chewed his lip for a second before letting it go. “What if I get sick?”
“We have time,” Gray encouraged. “You’ve only tried the exercises for what, a few days? Plus, we’re going to follow up on the nutrition.”
“I can’t.” Seb shook his head and then turned away, his shoulders slumping further. It seemed to be the end of the discussion.
KESWICK WAS sorting through the mail as they walked in, and immediately he handed a handful of envelopes to Seb. Mrs. Pickering came bustling out of the kitchen and smiled at them both. “Just to let you know, I’m going to my sister’s on Wednesday as usual, and I’ll be back on Friday.”
She paused and looked at Seb, waiting for some acknowledgment. Gray touched him on the arm slightly in case he’d missed she was speaking. Seb dragged his eyes from the letters. “Sorry.”
“I’m going Wednesday as usual,” she said in a softer voice. “I’ll leave enough food.”
“Have a good time,” Seb offered and turned to the stairs.
Gray immediately went to follow him but saw the look on Mrs. Pickering’s face out of the corner of his eye. Keswick acknowledged him and then disappeared into the study. He caught sight of Armitage at his desk before the door closed, and on a whim he turned to Mrs. Pickeri
ng. “I was just going to get some lunch for us both.”
She beamed. “I made some pineapple teriyaki chicken that Seb likes. I was going to put it with some salad in a wrap.”
“Sounds fabulous,” Gray said, feeling hungry just thinking about it and followed her into the kitchen.
She immediately walked to the large fridge and pulled a dish out and another bowl of prepared salad. Her hands stilled on the door as she closed it, and she looked at Gray. “You must think I’m awful.”
Gray blinked. What had he missed? “I’m sorry, why—” And then he wanted to slap his head. Thursday. Thanksgiving. Although why spending time with her sister was so bad, he had no clue.
“I tried staying, but Mr. Armitage insisted in the end.”
Gray was still at a loss to know why it was such a big deal. In the past fifteen years, he could count the number of times he’d celebrated Thanksgiving on one hand. Of course it had been different when his parents were alive, but even so, most people got some sort of time off on the holidays.
“I’m sure they manage,” Gray reasoned.
“You know he’s on his own, though?” She went to the sink and washed her hands.
Gray thought. “Seb?”
“Mr. Armitage visits friends and gives Joseph the long weekend off. To be fair he tries to get Seb to go, but that would mean driving….”
“Seb is here on his own?” Gray asked sharply.
Mrs. Pickering shook her head. “Technically no. Andrew lives here, as you know.” She glanced at the closed kitchen door. “Seb insisted on giving Arron the day off.”
He couldn’t imagine Derwent and Seb sat around eating turkey.
“Thanksgiving is so hard on Mr. Armitage because that was when Mrs. Armitage died. She volunteered at a shelter at lunchtime and was on her way home. There was a three-vehicle pileup, but she was the only fatality.”
But surely it would be hard on both of them? The death had been mentioned briefly in the family notes, but he hadn’t associated it with the holidays. “Where does Mr. Armitage go?” If it was family, surely Seb could go with him?