Ruin Porn (28 page)

“Whatever. I need a shower.” Miah went to drop his bag on the bed and halted. “Hey, Ritchie, do you have a preference as to which bed you want?” Heaven forbid he put his dirty bag and airplane germs on the guy’s bed. Like there was any chance he would use the damn hotel comforter anyway.

“Well, actually….” Ritchie’s voice was tight as it trailed off.

When he didn’t comment further, Miah’s irritation kicked in. “C’mon, dude, I want a fucking shower. Actually what?”

“This is mine and Finn’s room. You’re in the room across the hall,” Ritchie said, suddenly interested in a thread on his jeans, picking at it without looking up.

“What? Since when?”

When neither Finn nor Ritchie responded or met his gaze, Miah stomped over to stand in front of them. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on and why you two look like you just got your hands caught in the cookie jar?”

“It was the candy jar,” Finn responded flippantly, holding up his sucker. “And nothing is going on. I’m tired, man, and this wasn’t our idea, it was Evin’s.”

Miah looked back and forth between them. There was something going on, both of them acting strange as hell, and that Evin would ask to room with him made no sense. “Is that true?” Miah asked Ritchie. Finn could lie with ease. Ritchie, on the other hand, never had been very good at it.

“Yeah, nothing going on,” Ritchie replied, finally looking up and meeting Miah’s gaze. “That flight drained me. I’m dead on my ass. Not really sure what the whole story is, Sid said something about Evin wanting more time to go over some song ideas with you. The keys are on the desk over there.” Ritchie pointed toward the other side of the room.

Miah held Ritchie’s gaze for a few more seconds, searching for any hint of deception, but found none. He eased up. “More than likely he got tired of Finn dicking with him,” Miah teased.

Finn snorted and then began coughing.

Ritchie patted him on the back, restraining a laugh. “I’m sure that has something to do with it.”

Miah snatched his key from the desk and headed out the door. They really must be tired. It wasn’t that funny.

P
ULLING
HIS
fingers through his beard, Evin stared out the window of the SUV that was shuttling him to what felt like a lion’s den. As soon as he’d landed his cell phone had started pinging with cryptic messages from Finn and Ritchie. The mobile was like a lead weight in Evin’s pocket. How in the hell had he got stuck rooming with Miah? It sounded like Sid was onto them and Evin was trying to figure how he was going to hold himself together. He hadn’t been able to control his dick around Finn, couldn’t seem to control his wandering eyes or the lust-filled urges and images that popped into his head. Now it sounded like he wouldn’t even be able to take the edge off with Finn. But none of that was the worst part…. He was sure his nerves would betray him and he would give his feelings for Finn away.

This had long passed just being a hookup for him, but he still wasn’t completely sure Finn felt the same way. So there was no way in hell he was saying anything until he got a better feel for how all this shit rolling downhill impacted both of them.

He sighed heavily as they pulled up to the hotel to find a mob of fans and paps being held back from the door. Evin pulled up his hoodie, covering as much of his face as he could and slipped on his sunglasses. He wasn’t trying to hide who he was—they already knew from the SUV and security—but he wanted to hide what was sure as fuck a guilty expression and wild worried eyes.

The questions started as soon as he exited the car.

“Hey, Evin, why didn’t you arrive with the other members of Rez?”

“Loving the new beard.”

“Is it true there is discord among the band members?”

“Evin, Rezors love you.”

Evin ignored the volley of questions and compliments, hurrying to get to the safety of his room.

“Are you gay like Finn?”

That question caused him to nearly stumble as it hit him right in the center of his gut, but he kept moving, forced one foot in front of the other and kept his mouth firmly shut.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

India

T
HEY
’
D
BEEN
given little instructions from Sid other than get to the Grand Ballroom in ten and for Finn to bring his guitar. None of them knew quite what to expect except that some tech guy had paid for a private event he wanted to stream exclusively from his start-up fan site. It became apparent to Ritchie the minute they stepped through the door that the guy was looking for an old-school, scaled-back Rez experience, like their YouTube channel days. The tables in the room had been shoved to the left, all but one, which had place settings for five guests. Against the back wall there was a camera and it was trained on a keyboard setup as well as two microphones stands. The entire scene screamed impromptu.

Ritchie wasn’t sure who the suave-looking guy was who was greeting them—all smiles and friendly welcoming words spoken in accent-heavy English—but he either had a shitload of money or had called in one of those favors so prevalent in their biz to have gotten this exclusive with Rez.

“Great, you’re here. I’m Cameron Vance. KMA India’s talent rep,” another man greeted them when the tech guy and his guests had taken their seats. “I understand we only have you for a half hour so we better get started.”

“Sure,” Miah agreed. “How do they want to do this?”

“Um….” Cameron scanned the area. “We’re going to film you playing one of your songs and then we’ll talk.”

Even when Rez had done impromptu gigs, he’d always had some kind of percussion. “Dude, you’re missing a few instruments there,” Ritchie pointed out, searching for anything resembling a drum kit.

“They wanted bare bones. See what you can do. Is that going to be a problem?” He looked down at his watch and then looked back up with a panicked look. “It won’t, will it?”

“Nope, we’re professionals,” Miah said, all brash confidence, and strode over to the keyboard, the rest of them looking at each other skeptically as they followed.

Miah stood behind the keyboard, in front of the mic, and pointed to the other. “Finn, you stand there, Evin next to me, and Ritchie next to Evin.”

“What are we playing?” Finn asked as he moved into place and began adjusting the mic so it was trained on his acoustic guitar.

“Just follow my lead,” Miah instructed.

“Yeah and how am I going to do that?” Ritchie asked, holding up his empty hands.

Evin snickered. “We’re professionals, apparently. Make something up.”

Cameron looked up from his camera. “If you’ll start by introducing the band and tell the fans the name of the song, you’ll be playing that’d be great. Ready?”

Ready? Was he fucking serious?
Ritchie had no sticks, no drum. He was so going to look like a wanker.

“Hi, we’re Resonator and this is ‘Immigrating (Home),’” Miah said and began swaying as if the song had already begun, his foot tapping off the first beats of the song.

Miah played a few notes of the softer melody on the keyboard, holding a note as Evin joined him on the keyboard, playing side by side. Finn joined them with a soft strum of his guitar, and when Miah began to sing, Ritchie was left…
yup
, looking like a total fucking wanker. He was so going to kill Miah. He covered his mouth and watched as Evin’s fingers moved flawlessly over the keys. A few beats in, instead of moving out of the way for Evin to play the full spectrum of notes the song called for, Miah stayed on the same keyboard, playing as he sung. Fuck, it was a sight to see those long slender fingers pounding the keys. Miah rarely played on stage, preferring to interact with the fans, but he could play just about anything by ear.

The song went on a slight upbeat, and Evin slapped his hands on his thighs as he stomped his foot, looking to Ritchie, who caught on in the second sequence and took up the beat. He was all about rhythm, man. He could do this. He added a clap and a finger snap, making it a five-beat combo and grinned madly at Evin as he continued to only slap his thighs and stomp. Evin winked and smirked.

Ritchie was transported back to family parties in Finn’s basement, to a time before the stresses of success put life-changing demands on them. Back to a time when their shared love of music—and each other—propelled them to play. There was joy, a kick of happiness in their playing, and they pulled Evin along with them.

By the second verse he, Evin, and Finn picked up the back vocals, Evin playing flawlessly with Miah, complementing each other in a way that no longer surprised Ritchie. And just like when he was a kid, it was Miah’s voice, the way he moved, the way he held himself that captivated Ritchie. He felt the same sweet tingle of blossoming sexuality, his heart beating fast as it had at the moment that it was more than friendship and became the experience of a first crush, the wonder and awe of falling in love for the first time.

This was the way they were meant to play, how they should always play on stage and in the studio. Evin threw his head back, laughing as Miah shook his hips while he played. The smile on Finn’s face made his eyes sparkle as he watched them. Ritchie joined in the antics, adding a little Motown grove to his movements. They were the Detroit 3 plus E. Four friends having fun, letting every bit of love and respect shine through their music. The camera and strangers were forgotten. Fuck the rest of the world, Rez would take it all by storm and leave people begging for more in their wake.

The song started to fade, to end, and the bubble around them popped just as suddenly as it had come on. The other three were smiling and laughing for the camera, but Ritchie could barely hold himself together.

No matter how good those minutes felt, how right the four of them were together, and how much he wished it otherwise—this was merely a reprieve. A foreboding scratched inside him, and he tried to push it back, to not acknowledge its presence. Right then, right there was all that mattered, and he desperately tried to lose himself in the moment while he still could.

E
VIN
SAT
on the edge of the bed, tilting his head from side to side, trying to figure out what the hell Miah was doing and what that god-awful sound he was making was all about. Miah had laid a towel out in the center of the room and was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He had gone into a headstand position with his knees resting on his elbows. If that wasn’t weird enough to witness, the chanting or barking or whatever the fuck Miah was bellowing sure as hell was.

When he’d first discovered he’d be rooming with Miah, Evin had been completely freaked-out, scared dickless actually. He’d been worried he wouldn’t be able to keep his shit or his secrets together, but he hadn’t had to worry about any of that. Rooming with Miah was like spending the day at some kind of hippy, Sci-Fi, colon cleanse, chai tea infomercial, Ripley’s Believe it or Not fucked-up theme park. Evin didn’t care about cleaning his colon—nor discussing the benefits of said procedure in great length—organic teas, meditation, alternate universes or toxic effects of chemicals on the planet for that matter. But being subjected to Thade’s quirks was both entertaining and eye-opening and left little time to worry about secrets and their ramifications.

Evin pulled his fingers through his beard as he continued to stare at Miah in fascination. Miah’s barking became a low woeful sound.

And if Weirdsville wasn’t a strange enough place to be, Finn walked through the door and added to the magical kookfest.

Evin gaped at him. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Finn looked down at himself, then back up and shrugged as if he wore dark sunglasses, white pajamas, and a white do-rag on his head every day. “Kurta pajamas.”

“And you’re wearing that because….”

“Oh cool. It’s going to be a great day, then,” Ritchie commented, coming through the door in the same getup as Finn.

“Why, because you’re going to a pajama party for Casper?” Evin asked.

“No. Well yeah, that, but also because Miah isn’t going to be a dick today,” Ritchie replied, sitting down next to Evin with a big goofy grin on his face.

“And you can tell all that from the barking pretzel?”

“He’s purging himself of negativity,” Ritchie explained.

Evin shook his head. “I suddenly have way more respect for you than I did when I first met you. I don’t know how you roomed with him all this time without ending up in a corner with drool running down your chin.”

“Aww, he’s not that bad.”

The fuck he’s not.
Miah was one strange son of a bitch, and the fact that neither Finn nor Ritchie even batted an eye at the display before them spoke volumes. Then again, the two were sporting the ghost look, so….

“Here,” Finn said and tossed a pile of white linen onto Evin’s lap.

“What the hell is this for?” Evin held up the shirt, realizing it was the same type Finn and Ritchie were rocking. He tossed the clothes on the bed behind him. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to normal attire. You know, jeans and a T-shirt. I have extra if all yours are dirty.”

“No can do,” Finn said and flopped down in the chair. “We’re going to the Holi Festival.
We
meaning all of us, so get suited up.” He then turned his attentions to Miah. “Hey, Rover, time to get going.”

Miah’s response was a string of short barks.

Evin threw his hands up in defeat and grabbed the clothes. If he was going to be part of the asylum, he might as well dress like the rest of the crazies.

D
URING
THE
train ride from Delhi to Mathura—the epicenter of Holi—Finn briefed Evin about what to expect.

“Holi fest is known as the festival of colors and considered the most vibrant and joyous of their holidays. India literally shuts down, except for the bars, lucky for us, and the people take to the streets and douse each other in colored powder, or gulal, and literally paint the town.”