Shit. I remembered thinking that before. There was something adorable about our twink drummer. Was it like he was a puppy dog, or was I giving him puppy dog eyes?
I was so terribly confused.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed my libido down, and decided that just for this time, I was going to call this a musical orgasm. A musigasm. It had happened once before, after our first recording session—but I knew that was one hundred percent the music.
This one…was unclear.
“Hey,” Aaron said, walking up behind me. “You okay?”
“Fine.” I took a second to compose myself and turned around. He was grinning like a fool. “Apparently, so are you?”
“Doxx, that was a dream come true.”
“Including Phantom?”
He blushed right to the tips of his ears.
Fucking adorable.Damn it.
“You heard that?”
Fournier saved me, returning at that moment. “Monsieur, they could hear that in the catacombs, your projection is amazing.”
“You didn’t mind?” He looked chided.
“This hall was built for music. There is very little you could do in that arena which would make this place unhappy with you, if you do it in honesty and respect.” Fournier gave him a smile. “You’re not the first to sing Eric’s songs in this hall. Few though, have been as ably done as that.”
His eyes lit up. “Was there really a Phantom?”
The man had a wicked grin. “Well, we’ll never know, will we. He was, after all, a phantom.”
I laughed hard and wrapped an arm around Aaron’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go hit the Louvre. There’s some really nice art there, I hear.”
* * *
Havingyour phone ring in the movie theater was embarrassing. Having your phone ring while you’re staring at “The Coronation of Napoleon” in the Louvre was absolutely gut shredding.
It only got worse from there.
The number on the front was the number for the bassist in GaGaGirls. I ran out of the hall and stabbed the answer button. “Yo, Dasch.”
There was no preamble. “Maddox, we have a problem.”
“I’m in the Louvre, man. Can it wait?”
“Hazel and Ginni are in jail.”
My jaw hit the floor, and it took me a good few seconds to get my heart started again. “What do you mean? Where?”
“Moscow.” The word was barely a whisper but hit with the force of a 40-megaton bomb.
“Fuck.” I stomped my foot hard on the floor. “Christ, Dasch, tell me they weren’t tempting fate? Please tell me that?”
“They went to a protest. I didn’t know that was why they wanted to be here today. I would have told Liz to make sure we missed it. But they went and they got arrested.”
“In Russia. Those two really thought going to an illegal protest in a country where being gay is a jail-time crime was a good idea? They aren’t Pussy Riot! They need to fuckingthink.”
“They’re in jail, man, I can’t lecture them right now.” Dasch had panic in his voice, and frankly? I understood. “I need help. I need a plan, fuck, I need a direction to look in.”
