The Gift (21 page)

"We need to find somewhere safe," August said. "Somewhere they can't feel us."

Doren sighed and slumped against the doorframe. "Like where? The moon?"

"No, smartass," August chuckled. "Someplace where there are people. And commotion. Where they can't see us as easily as if we were alone."

Doren frowned and tilted his head. "How do you know?"

"A message from a friend."

"And did this friend also tell you where you might find this magical place?"

"No. But I have an idea." August stalked back into the room and began throwing items into a suitcase. "Grab some stuff, Doren. We're going to crash a party."

It was the first thing that came to mind: the way the drummer had jumped to "protect" Doren from him at the party. Still, as protective as the man may be, it
was
two in the morning.

"You sure about this, August?" Doren said, his eyes doubtful, as they stood in front of the door to the hotel room.

He wasn't. So he didn't answer. He did, however, try knocking again. Harder. "I don't think—" he was just starting to say when the door was opened by a grumpy, tousled-hair, half-naked young man.

"Well, helloooo there," Doren drawled and August flashed him a don't-you-dare look.

The drummer's annoyance faded quickly when he saw who had dragged him from whatever had been taking place. "Holy shit!" His grin was almost wide as his eyes. "Holy shit, holy shit. Guys!" His voice pitched unattractively and he turned back to the room beyond. "Guys, get up. Look who's here!"

August pushed his way past the star struck drummer, dragging Doren behind. "Hey … you."

"You?" the drummer said. "That's the best I get is
you
?"

"Sorry," August shrugged. "Call me evil but I can't remember your name. Doren, you know …" He trailed the comment, waiting for Doren to fill in the blank but Doren merely grinned at the beer in the musician's hand.

"Gee, thanks!" Doren reached out and plucked the bottle out of the drummer's hand with glee. "Don't mind if I do."

"The name's Curtis," he said, grabbing his beer back from Doren. "And get your own. In the cooler beside the bed."

Doren flopped on to the bed, making himself at home, and rummaged beside it for the promised beverage. "Curtis? Really? No Sticks? No Bones? What's wrong with you? What happened to the cool rock star nickname?" He looked at August in faked annoyance. "What's wrong with these kids nowadays?"

August gave Curtis an apologetic look. "Sorry. Defense mechanism as far as I can figure it. He tends to act like a self-important jerk when he's unsure of himself."

"Ah," Curtis nodded. "Yes, I remember. A jacket, a bus ..."

"Exactly."

Another voice joined the conversation. "I remember that." The new member of the group was walking back through the sliding door, tucking a tight t-shirt into equally tight jeans. He stopped to drag long, thick brown hair into a messy ponytail. "I wanted to punch his lights out."

Doren looked up, wounded. "Ouch, that's just harsh."

"This is Geoff," Curtis explained, "the lead guitarist. And don't worry; he's just as self-important and ignorant as Doren. They'll probably get along fabulously."

"Or punch each other's lights out?" August offered.

"Potentially," Curtis agreed. "Dawson's in the other room and Cooper is outside, uh … smoking."

Like theirs, the two rooms were joined by a doorway that was, at the moment, wide open. Both spaces appeared to be a never-ending strew of clothing and take-out packaging.

"You can't smoke in here?" August asked, looking around at the ashtrays that were jammed to overflowing with cigarette butts.

The sliding door opened yet again and in walked a thin blond with a rakish smile, the odor of sweet smoke following him into the room. "Not that kind of smoke, sir," Cooper laughed, reaching over Doren with a sideways smile to get a beer.

Doren grinned at the cute blond and popped open his beer synchronically with Cooper's.

Curtis swatted Doren's feet off the bed and sat down beside him. "So, we haven't seen you since the party. What brings the great and mighty God of Rock down to mix with the commoners at this time of night? You hiding from that chick you ran off with you last time? Or some crazed fans?"

"Hmm," Doren answered thoughtfully. "A little of both, I guess."

August gave him a look of warning. "Listen, this is going to sound like a huge imposition and I know it's probably a little odd, but would you mind if we hung out here tonight?"

Curtis shrugged, glancing eye to eye with each of the other band members. "I don't care as long as the guys don't. Space is tight but we'll make do. After all, it's not every day you get to hang out with one of rock's finest."

Geoff laughed into his beer and Doren held up both hands. "What? It's true, isn't it?"

A tall, dark-skinned man walked out of the adjoining room and August had to assume he was the missing Dawson. "Not in my lifetime, little man. You're good, but you're no Hendrix."

"You ain't no Jagger," Geoff agreed.

Cooper lifted his eyes and thought for a minute. "Oh, the pressure," he said dramatically, pressing both hands to his temples. "Umm, okay, Doren, you are no Ozzy."

Curtis nodded. "Well then. It looks like I'm being forced to recant my statement. And being the suckhole that I am, I feel the need to run with the crowd. Therefore, I take it back. You're no Steven Tyler either."

All four sets of eyes turned to August and he laughed nervously. "Uh, I actually think he's pretty good."

"Pretty good?" Doren said incredulously, staring down each one of them in turn. "I'm the best there is! Where's the employee loyalty here? And really," he turned on Geoff, "Jagger? At least I'm young."

"Inexperienced," Geoff countered.

Doren sat up. "Talented."

"Lucky."

Doren got on his knees, lifting his beer. "I'm marketable!"

"Commercial."

Gasping, Doren jumped up on the bed and grabbed his crotch. "I'm fucking sexy!"

All four men spoke at the same time, "Poser."

"Hey!" Doren said, spinning towards August for support and catching his foot in the sheets. He tried for several seconds to catch his balance, failed, and tumbled to the floor between the two beds. The room fell silent until Doren groaned and whined; "Now I'm just broken."

Curtis reached down and helped Doren struggle back to his feet. "You're young, remember? You bounce."

"Dude!" Cooper said suddenly, pulling the bottle away from his mouth mid-sip as if he'd found inspiration within its foaming contents. "We should play something!"

Doren grimaced. "No way, I'm not in the mood to sing."

"Thank God," Curtis teased. "Anyway, Coop, it's late. Just leave the radio on. The last thing we need is someone beating on the door because we're making too much noise again. Besides," he grinned and winked at August, "Doren's too good to play with us." He paused, cocked his head. "Oh wait! Isn't that what we were hired for in the first place?"

August smiled back. Good. The guys were fun. They'd keep things light and easy. "My personal opinion," August said, "is that if Cooper wants to play something he should go right ahead. I'd love to hear you guys play. If Doren wants to sit there and be a party-pooper then leave him to it. We don't need him to have fun, do we?"

He wasn't going to, he wasn't really sure if the guys would be comfortable with the situation or not, but he was tired and he was worn and he really wanted to be close enough to Doren to feel Doren's breath and body. A safety net of sorts. So August walked over and sat down on the bed beside him and when Doren reached for August and pulled August back against him, August didn't balk. They sat together, August's back pressed against Doren's belly, Doren's legs tucked up beside him and nobody said a damn thing about it.

Tension began to fade and it was such a welcome relief that August sighed. Doren rested his chin on August's shoulder and they both watched Geoff and Cooper tune up and start picking at guitars. It took less than three minutes after the guys started playing for Doren to start singing, a fact that didn't surprise August in the least. And when Doren wrapped his arms around August's shoulders, laid his head back against the wall and smiled, that was when August knew he was listening,
really
listening, to the music the guys were strumming.

Once he found it, once he tuned it in, it flowed right through and out of him.

August relaxed while Doren sang, feeling the reverberation of Doren's voice run through his chest. It was soothing and he found himself drifting off again and again. Finally he slid from the bed, pointing at the sliding door when Doren reached for him, grazing their palms together as August stepped away. He needed air to wake himself up a bit. Besides, he wasn't a rock star or a musician. Two a.m. hit him hard.

He grabbed a blanket from the floor and threw it over his arm, stopping to pull some papers from his case before stepping out into the cool, damp night. The torrential rain had tapered off to a depressing drizzle and it coated the surroundings with a shiny, slippery glaze. He dragged a beat-up plastic chair from off the grass and set it on the eight squares of concrete that made up the boys' patio. At least it was covered. For the most part. Only the most persistent raindrops found their way through the overhead layers of balconies. August shook out the papers and stared at them hard. Doren's contract. Again. Regardless of the fact he was more than sure he knew it inside and out. Because there had to be a way around it. There had to be a way to save Doren from Anton.

He'd been surprised when August got up to leave, even concerned at first. But only until he touched August's hand and got the smile. August simply had other things he wanted to do. It was a fact that nagged at Doren while he sat and socialized. He wasn't used to people getting up and leaving when he sang. Usually he had their awestruck attention. But he guessed that was one of the cool things about August. To August, he was just Doren. He could leave the Rock God title at the door.

It was after four when they started to lower their instruments and talk about hitting the sack. It was almost five by the time they did. Doren however, had other plans as he pushed the patio door over and walked outside. The whisper quiet of pre-dawn was nice after the noise in the tiny room. August was wrapped up tight in a blanket, reading a handful of papers, his jeans lying in a pile beside him. "Hmm," Doren said, pointing at the discarded clothing with a smile. "Did you know I was on my way out?"

August looked up, distracted, then grinned at the presumption. "You wish. They were insanely uncomfortable. How the hell do you wear those every day?" He looked past Doren at the lack of lighting beyond the glass. "You guys calling it a night?"

"Almost." Doren knelt in front of him. "What are you reading?"

August dropped the papers with a sigh of frustration. "Your contract. It's pretty tight."

He shrugged and tugged on the chair, pulling August closer. "I'm not worried. That's the kind of thing lawyers live for."

"I know. But
I
worry."

Doren gave the blanket a yank. "You worry too much. Maybe you need a distraction."

"Not a chance," August laughed. "Not with all those guys here."

Frustrating, Doren thought. And he had no doubts that August had no idea just how much. "Come in and lay down then? Sleep with me?"

"You don't think they'll get freaked out?"

"I think if they do," Doren stood and extended his hand, waiting for August to grab it, "then this isn't the place we should be hiding out at."

The room was quiet, the drapery kept the dawning light out, and Doren pointed at the loveseat. "Sorry, no beds left. Unless you want to sleep with one of the guys."

"No." August swatted him. "This is perfect. You think we can both fit?"

"I think we can do a good job trying."

They folded themselves together, Doren spooning August's back and ass in a way he knew would lead to awesome, yet unfulfilled, dreams. He wondered if it would matter if he told August how much he thought about the two of them lately. Or about how much better it felt to lie beside him then lie alone? He wondered if he finally got the nerve to whisper the words he really,
really
wanted to say, if August would believe him.

"August?"

"Hmm?"

Doren paused, tried to force the words, and swallowed before trying tried again, "Auggie?"

August shifted in an effort to turn and look but there was no way either of them could move much on the tiny couch. "What's wrong?"

Once again Doren opened his mouth and once again the words wouldn't come. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Good night."

August tucked the hand around his waist up to his chest. "Good night, Doren."

His forehead was beaded with sweat and his body shook with exertion. But he was smiling.

It may have taken him hours, but he'd found them.

Stupid little bastards; did they really think they could hide from him?

Oh, sure, they'd thought they'd been pretty smart, thought they were doing a good job of shrouding themselves from his probing mind. But it was only a matter of time before they'd let down their guards. And like spring fawns, staring in lovesick adoration, humming their little songs into one another's eyes, they'd done just that.

At least he knew two very important things. The first one was that they would be at the concert. The papers had scared August, the signatures at the bottom sealing their fate as though written in blood. That was the thing about contracts and laws and fines that always made Anton laugh. The only people truly worried about them were the good guys. Villains had no such issues. Which meant, all things considered, this would be his final shot, the last kick of the can. He had to make sure Morana had everything planned to a tee. It had to be perfect.

The second thing he knew, probably the most important bit of information he had pulled from their minds, were the words that Doren had been about to speak to that little prick. The words that had refused to leave Doren's lips even as Doren's mind had been screaming them. Words that just might change the way he and Morana orchestrated their next move.