Guarding January (16 page)

Rye took a spoonful of cookie and ice cream and offered it to him. “Dessert tastes better if you feed each other.”

“That’s a big bite.” Even so, he opened and ate it.

“You’ve had a big bite from me before,” murmured Rye, a naughty look on his face.

“Rye!” That made him laugh, right out loud.

Rye looked so pleased at his reaction, and he waggled his brows.

“Butthead.” Jeff scooped up a bite, fed it to Rye. It was surprisingly intimate. Weirdly exposed. Rye slowly took the dessert off his spoon, lips closing over it, sliding off it. Someone liked sweets. Oh hell. Rye liked food. Lots.

“Give me another bite, baby.” Oh, that was a switch, Rye not trying to feed him, but getting him to feed Rye.

“A big one?” Jeff didn’t wait for the nod, just scooped up a bite with cookie and ice cream. Rye opened his mouth and took the bite, but Rye’s gaze held his, made the feeding even more intimate. He could feel his cheeks heating, and he wiggled on his seat.

Rye licked his lips. “You want another bite, baby?”

“A little one.”

Rye didn’t try and feed him a huge bite, instead offering the small bite he’d asked for. The ice cream was his favorite part, slick and cold and creamy. It felt good against his throat.

Rye ate most of the rest of the dessert, teasing another biteful into him now and then.

The music started—goofy and rhythmic, light, with the barest beat behind it. Still, people started dancing, gyrating on the floor.

“You want to?” Rye asked, nodding toward the little dance floor in the corner.

“Okay. Okay, sure.” He danced for a living, didn’t he? Dancing with Rye shouldn’t be weird.

Standing, Rye took his hand and helped him up, then drew him over to the dance floor. Rye wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but he was good—he could move. Jeff let himself lean in, not working too hard, just enjoying himself.

The music slowed after a couple of songs, and Rye pulled him into the strong arms, swaying with him. Oh, that was lovely.

Jeff leaned and let his eyes drop closed. One hand settled in the small of his back, the other on the curve of his ass, and they just swayed easily. It was like a high school fantasy, wasn’t it? Slow dancing with the perfect guy.

They danced until the music changed again, and then Rye took his hand and led him back to their table. “You want to play some pool? Have another ginger ale? Call it a night?”

“I think I’m ready to go home, snuggle for a while.” He was full, tired, warm, and things felt okay.

“Cool. I can get behind that.” Rye pulled out some bills, sticking them under his glass, then took Jeff’s hand again, leading him out.

The driver was sitting in the car, snoring away.

Snorting, Rye banged on the window, making the guy jump. Then the back door was held open for him.

“Good nap?”

“Yes, sir. Fab.” The guy backed out. “Good evening?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was, thank you.”

Rye smiled. “It was great.” Rye put an arm around Jeff and tugged him in.

Jeff leaned over, sighed happily. It had been. Normal and wonderful and different. It was just too bad they were going back to the bus and the tour.

J
EFF
WAS
napping, and the hum of the bus’s engine threatened to send Rye to sleep as well.

Rye shook his head and grabbed his phone. It was as good a time as any to talk to Jeff’s manager. Just feel the woman out about getting Jeff out of the January business.

Donna answered quickly. “Rye, is everything okay?”

“Everything is just fine.”

He heard the relieved sigh from her end.

“I just wanted to talk about possibilities.”

“Possibilities?”

“About what possibilities there are for Jeff post-Lord January. Have you heard him do his own stuff? He’s amazing.”

“No. No, I haven’t, at least not lately. Why? Is he looking to transition away in the next few years?”

Next few years? Was this lady really this oblivious?

“Let me lay it on the line for you, Donna. This needs to be his last tour.”

“I’ll call and speak to LJ.”

“Don’t you dare guilt him into staying in a job that will kill him.”

“Pardon me?” Her voice went icy. “What did you say?” She was a stone cold bitch, he knew that, but Jeff was too important to back down on.

“He thinks he has to keep doing this thing he hates because there’s all these people who depend on him, that if he doesn’t keep playing January until it kills him, he’s letting you and the whole machine down.”

“LJ and I have been working together for years. Years. You’ve known him three months. I’ll let him make his own career choices.”

“I have no problem with that. I just want to make sure you let him know that he does have choices.”

“Good day.”

Click.

Now, that hadn’t gone like he’d hoped.

Rubbing his face, he got up and paced in the little space he had to do it. God damn it. Why was he the only person in Jeff’s life who gave a damn about Jeff himself?

Well, him and Jeff’s sponsor. Donna had never found him. Had she tried? It didn’t matter if she had or not; he had a guy, a private detective.

Rye went through his contacts on his phone, found Brandon’s number, and texted him the details.

He got a text back with a “got it.”

Leaning back, he closed his eyes a second and let himself relax. It wasn’t hellish. Jeff was doing okay—he was clean, safe, working hard. Rye could see it, though, see the way playing January was killing something inside of Jeff.

It didn’t surprise him that Jeff had turned to the drugs. How else was he supposed to cope? It was a totally unhealthy way of living.

He didn’t think Donna realized quite how hard it all was on Jeff, that the drugs had been his only way of coping, an escape. Rye sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Damn it. He headed for the bed at the back of the bus and sat on the edge of it, smiling down at Jeff.

Jeff cracked an eye open. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. I talked to Donna.”

He didn’t want Jeff to find out from Donna that he’d called her. And Jeff needed to know someone was going to fight for him.

“Why? Are you quitting?”

“God, no. I wanted to ask her about her thoughts on this being your last tour, what she thought about finding you a new gig.”

“And she said she couldn’t discuss business with you, and she’d call me.”

“Basically. I think she was pissed that I suggested you might need a change.”

Jeff shrugged. “I trust her. She’s my manager.”

“I just want her to give you options. That’s all, baby.”

Jeff nodded again, still settled in the covers.

Rye lay down next to Jeff, pulling Jeff against him. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Yeah?”

“I think so. I have you. I have money. I have a job.”

“You don’t like your job, though. You’d be happier with a different one, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve never had a different one.” Jeff looked at him, face still, quiet. “And I might not be a better person as just Jeff, and then what would you do?”

“I’m not asking you to be a better person. I’m just asking you to have a different job.”

“Why?”

“Because this one is killing you, and you don’t like it.”

Jeff stood up, slipped from the bed. “I think I need a shower, Rye.”

“Are you going to run away every time we talk about this?”

“Probably, yeah.”

Jeff headed for the bathroom, seeming quiet, small.

“Baby….” God.

He was worried he was screwing this up. He couldn’t give up, though. This was too hard on Jeff.

He truly believed Jeff needed to give up January to live.

Getting up, he followed Jeff to the little bathroom. “Want me to wash you, baby?”

“I want a hug.”

“I always have those for you.” He opened his arms.

Jeff squeezed him tight, just for a few seconds. “I don’t want to talk about quitting or LJ or anything right now. I’m tired.”

“Okay, baby. We can just stand in the shower and be.” At least Jeff was talking to him.

For now that was going to be enough.

“D
O
YOU
want me to fire him? He’s taken this whole thing about taking care of you too seriously, LJ. You’re not a child. You have to look at your responsibilities and decide what’s best for you.”

Jeff nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m serious. One phone call, and he’s gone.”

“No. No, it’s good.”

Jeff was tired, and his throat hurt, and he felt… like he was fading.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. I need to start getting ready for the show.”

Janie was coming, and it was a big one tonight because they were closing out a festival. The crowd had been there three days, drinking and dancing, and the sound already rocked the bus.

“Okay. Have fun, sweetie,” Donna said before hanging up.

“Uh-huh.” He hung up and went to the bathroom, grateful that Rye was out having a security meeting. He grabbed a razor blade and cut a tiny line on his arm, following an old scar so Rye wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t a good high, but it was something. He did it three more times, leaning against the bathroom door as he bled, breathing nice and slow.

“LJ? Honey? You ready?”

“Two minutes. Turn some music on? Loud?”

“Sure thing, honey.”

The music came on, loud just like he’d asked.

He washed up, then opened the bathroom door, just a little buzzed. “Okay, lady. I think the bat wing leathers today. It’s muddy out there.”

“All right. Is that big burly man of yours going to be around to help lift them on?” Janie asked.

As if on cue, Rye came in, closing the door firmly behind him.

“He is.” Jeff pulled on the tight black shirt that went underneath. “Still crazy out there?”

“Bug fuck nuts.” Rye shook his head. “I’m going to be right offstage, okay? I can reach you in two and a half seconds.”

“I’m not worried.” He’d worked worse shows.

“You don’t have to be—that’s my job.” Rye seemed to be trying to keep things light, but his giant was in full-blown protector mode.

They got Jeff dressed in the heavy leathers; they’d protect him from any thrown beer bottles.

“I’m pulling you if it gets too bad.”

“I’ll be fine. We’ve done worse.” He was used to the drama. Hell, he was used to it and buzzing a little.

Grunting, Rye grabbed his chin and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Excited, I guess. Something in the air.”

Rye held his gaze for a long time.

“You want to test me, Rye?” Rye thought he was using. Cutting wasn’t using, though. Was it? Rye would be upset to know he’d done it. Would probably freak right out. Would he leave because of it? Jeff tried not to think about how that thought made everything in him tighten.

Rye answered him, distracting him from his thoughts. “No. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re more animated tonight.”

“I just want to put on a good show.”

“You always do, baby.” Rye glanced back, but Janie was at the front of the bus, talking to Barney. Leaning in, Rye gave him a quick, hard kiss. “You always do.”

Jeff smiled and reached up, held on for as good of a hug as he could get.

“Love you,” whispered Rye.

“Ditto. It’s okay. I swear, it’ll be okay.”

“Stop stealing my lines, baby.” Rye hugged him again, then turned and led him from the bus.

The band was ready, and they went across the back, moving fast. The wind was beginning to blow, storm clouds building.

Rye was a solid giant immediately in front of him, Jeff’s hand on Rye’s back the whole way.

Arriving at the curtain, Rye stepped aside, squeezed his hand, and let him go on.

They hooked him into the harness, ratcheted him up behind the curtain, and Jeff held on to the scaffolding, watching the band set up.

The roadies were starting to hurry, rushing through everything.

He thought he saw a flash of lightning in the distance.

“Come on. Come on,” Jeff muttered. They needed to get a few songs out before the lightning shut them down. Rye had wanted to cancel the show, but he’d flat-out refused, noting that the storm wasn’t supposed to hit until after the scheduled encore.

Things got moving, and they were announced, the crowd surging forward, pushing at the stage. Jeff felt the scaffolding shift—weird.

Then he was flying, and he started screaming out lyrics, the wind pushing him in the air.

Something jerked him, and he dropped suddenly, the ropes coming to a stop about eight feet from the stage. He was still swinging madly, the wind whipping into a frenzy.

He looked back for Rye, but everyone, from roadies to fans, was all scrambling, the stage really moving. Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

The stage was going down.
“Roach! Rye! The stage!”

The crowd surged forward again, and sparks flew, the risers letting go.

His ropes held, but he was flung around by the wind, and it felt like he was in the middle of a tornado.

He watched as the back of the stage went, the crowd pouring over the side, wild. Police and security were everywhere. The scaffolding bent, fire catching along the equipment in the wings. Oh fuck.

All Jeff could see as he went down was a writhing mass of people, screaming and reaching for him.

R
YE
WATCHED
it all happening like it was in slow motion, and his only focus was Jeff.

He was running right for the spot where Jeff went down, but he knew he wasn’t going to be there to catch him.

The fucking crowd was too thick.

Of course, that crowd was going to keep Jeff from slamming into the ground, which probably would have killed him.

Rye waded in, shoving people aside with sheer size and strength. He shouted into his Bluetooth, but he’d be damned if he could hear a damn thing. The roar of people and wind, thunder, lightning, and the stage falling to bits filled his ears, turned almost into white noise.