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“You look happy,” Davis comments as he joins me in the back of the bus. “You have some code breakthrough?”
I look up from the measly five lines of code I’d written in the last hour and carefully close my laptop. “Yeah. Something like that.”
He slides into the seat next to me. “Great.”
Uh oh. His flat tone doesn’t match the word. “What’s wrong?”
He tips his head back to stare at the LED fixtures in the ceiling of the bus. “I wrote some lyrics and Ian laid down a sick beat, but I need someone to write the melody.”
“Someone named Adam,” I guess.
“Right on, but he likes the set the way it is. Doesn’t want to mess with it.”
“Your audience does seem to love your music,” I tentatively point out. Sitting with my brother and listening to him complain about the guy I just slept with is highly uncomfortable. I want to be supportive of both.
“Sure, but his argument about turning down the commercial is all about not wanting to get stuck in a rut or be branded with a certain kind of sound before we discover exactly what we all want.”
The emphasis is on all. Wasn’t this what Mike, Threat Alert’s manager, war
ned me of? That Adam liked to do things only one way? He wasn’t that way in the bedroom. He didn’t order me around or dictate how I should act. We responded to each other, perfectly in sync. Perhaps Davis just needs to talk it out with Adam.
I suggest that. “Maybe you should tell Adam how you feel.”
Davis tips his head down to give me a slightly offended look. “You think I haven’t already?”
“I’m guessing that you have and he hasn’t listened.”
Davis makes a fake gun with his thumb and forefinger. “Got it in one.” He blows out a frustrated breath. “I didn’t quit my job to just sing for this damn band. I want to be part of it. Adam’s not letting me.”
I rub the side of my neck and search for something diplomatic to say. “What do the other guys say?”
“None of them will say a word against Adam. We’re on his bus, playing his music, singing his lyrics. He owns us.”
Davis wants more control—over his life, over this band. Any thoughts of sharing the newfound connection I have with Adam are wiped away. Davis would see it as a complete betrayal.
And then what? Would he quit the band? Would he fall back into bad habits? He’s been so good that I’ve stopped watching him like a hawk. Hasn’t he proven, in the months since his jail time, that he’d put the past behind him? I needed to do the same.
“I think you need to bring it up to him again,” I encourage.
Davis isn’t convinced. “Maybe. It’s not as if I don’t get where Adam’s coming from. TA’s audience is dying off and ours is growing, but this commercial could push us places TA can only dream of.”
“And you want to feel a real part of the band, not just an add-on component that can be replaced,” I guess. It comes down to control again. Adam views this as his band and Davis wants it to be their band.
My brother gives me a wry smile. “Exactly.” His smile turns speculative. “Maybe you should talk to him.”
“Me?” I yelp in surprise.
“Yeah, you two seem to be getting along. You went to that golf thing the other night. What’d you talk about?”
I bite my inner cheek hard to keep the embarrassment off my face. A blush would give everything away at this point. “Nothing much. Nothing about the band. We talked about his roommates. They were Marines, you know. His friends are super nice. Did you know that Grace wrote to Noah for almost four years while he was deployed?,” I babble. “Isn’t that romantic? And AnnMarie and Bo have been together for a couple years. They plan to move to Chicago.”
Davis’s eyes begin to glaze over. I rattle off a few more facts I picked up until Davis’s attention is completely gone.
“Is this a private party or can anyone join?”
My heart leaps at the sound of Adam’s voice. “No. Come on in,” I gesture in relief.
Davis is much less welcoming. He doesn’t even move his legs, requiring Adam to climb over them to take the seat opposite.
