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“You’ll get no argument from me. But he’s already carrying enough trauma for a hundred men. He doesn’t need any added on.”
“We won’t tell him his uncle commed me then. He doesn’t have to know, does he?”
Kom mused another few seconds. “Again, he’s dealt with betrayal from the moment he drew his first breath. Would he trust us if we hid this from him and he later found out?”
Avir could see his point. He couldn’t imagine letting Matt get anywhere near those who’d wrecked his life, but he also couldn’t fathom being among their number. “Fuck.”
“Let me check his father’s medical status. If he’s actually ill, we’ll consult Matt’s doctors and hear what they recommend. If they think he should be told, we’ll do what we have to.”
Everything in Avir’s heart shouted to keep Matt free of the influence still working to ruin his happiness, but Kom’s was the voice of reason.
“How often are Nobeks forced to counsel their Dramoks to calm down?”
Kom chuckled. “Especially considering it’s an impetuous Nobek like me and a clear-thinking Dramok like you. This is definitely a once-in-a-lifetime moment. I’ll return to my usual reckless nature now.”
Avir hugged him. “You’ve changed since he came into your life. I’m impressed by the man you’ve become. Patient, caring, thinking first of what’s best for him.”
“He needs me.” Kom’s grip tightened on his shoulders. “I appreciate you’re ready to fight for him. It means the world to me. I asked a lot of you and Masok, bringing him into our lives.”
“I’m glad you did, Kom.” Avir met his gaze, better emotions crowding out anger. “We took him in for you, but this clan is better for adding Mattie. From here on out, it’s all for him.”
“You’re attached, huh? I knew he’d win you over.”
“I guess it’s obvious I love our Earther. I’m certain Masok does too.”
* * * *
Matt let the applause and cheers of the audience wash over him. He’d left his newest song, the fifth original he’d completed, for the next to the last song of his regular set at Den of the Departed. It had gone over well.
“Okay, it’s time for me to sign off—” he chuckled at the answering groans. The regulars were so good to him. “—but we’ll close the night with an old favorite. You’ll recognize it when you hear it, so sing along.”
Which they did, clapping the rhythm. A few Earthers got up to dance, their clans laughing and encouraging them and ignoring pleas they join in. Kalquorian men had a strange abhorrence to dancing.
Maybe not so strange. Matt would have sooner died than prance around and shake his ass.
He spent much of his time on stage in thrall to the music he played. The audience’s faces were a blur, only coming in focus for a couple of seconds here and there during the show. Matt figured diving so deep into the songs was what kept him from minding being their focus. He was so happy to play, the attention simply faded to the periphery of his consciousness. He’d thought about mentioning it to his doctors, but since it held anxiety at bay, why mess with it? It worked.
Therefore, it was no surprise he was halfway through the final number before he noticed who’d joined his clan at their table. His heart leapt as he nodded to Irene, Sherv, Jemi, and Rusp.
That’s right, they’re on break from the tour now.Thank goodness he hadn’t caught sight of Casual Innuendo earlier. He was rolling on the song, his fingers playing the tune automatically despite a flash of self-consciousness. He was letting the audience belt most of the lyrics, so it was all right.
Then he noticed the fourth man sitting at Clan Avir’s table, the unofficial member of the group who kept their world on track, their manager Parlek.
Holy shit. How long had he been there? He’d most certainly heard Matt’s fifth song. The tune was barely ready to be played for Solomon’s tiny club, much less for a major league manager. Had he been present for any of the other four? Had Matt just auditioned, ignorant he was doing so?
His stomach churned, and he thought he might throw up and faint at the same instant. He did neither, and he finished the final song without fucking up…at least he thought he did. He was too dizzy to be sure.
His smile stiff, more a gritting of the teeth, he waved to the crowd, which clapped and begged for more. He stumbled off the stage and hid behind the curtain concealing him from the floor full of patrons.
Shit, shit, shit, shit. How many mistakes had he made during the performance, mistakes a renowned manager of major musical acts would notice? Mistakes that would reveal how amateur and untalented Matt truly was.
He practiced deep breathing as he stowed the Martin in its case. He squatted and sank his head between his knees when breathing exercises failed to calm him. He considered sneaking out of the club and comming the clan from their shuttle to demand they take him home immediately. He envisioned running away and joining the circus. Were there circuses on Kalquor for him to escape to and join?
Fuck. Fuckity-fuckity-fuck-fuck. He couldn’t face Dramok Parlek. No way.
“Hey! What’s up? Are you okay?”
Masok knelt next to him. Matt gazed through a thicket of blond strands, which had fallen over his face. “Casual Innuendo. When did they show up?”
