The Gift (6 page)

Once again, Doren shrugged. And as such, August was compelled to speak. "That's stupid."

Anton's expression darkened into furious, but August didn't let him speak. "It was only an eight-hour drive to get here. You can't tell me for a minute that it wouldn't be cheaper to store the equipment and return home until you make definitive arrangements. It doesn't cost anything extra to live where we all belong, after all. I know for a fact that hotels aren't cheap, especially not the one you have us set up in. You figure, two weeks at, let's say two hundred bucks a room, for Doren, myself and what, maybe six other guys? At least? That's a bucket-load of cash."

August reached for Doren's knee to gain his attention. "We should just head back home until this is all sorted out."

It was appreciative interest that shone in Doren's eyes and August had to fight to hold back the sigh of relief.

"He's making perfect sense," Doren said casually. "I'm inclined to agree. Besides, maybe you'll be a little more motivated to get all this taken care of in short order if I'm back at home where everyone else knows how to find me."

He probably shouldn't have smirked at Doren's casual, yet evident reference to the fact that all the other studios fiercely coveted Doren's talent. But there was no way August could stop himself.

"Doren," Anton spoke gravely, "we have a contract. We've given you everything you asked for, including this …" His lip curled in distaste and he thrust his thumb in August's direction. "This bold thing. And we're working hard to try and make sure that at the end of the day you are the best that you can possibly be. Surely you can't hold that against us, can you?"

August laughed, surprising himself. "Honestly, sir, I don't think Doren is holding anything against you. To quote a wise man, this is just simple accounting."

Hate fell into Anton's eyes. "Regardless of the outcome of this discussion, we need you to stay until the weekend. There's an appearance scheduled for Saturday and I must have you there. We can discuss the tour situation after that. I'm sure we'll have more information by then. Surely a couple of days of patience isn't too much to ask?"

August rose, and Doren followed suit, surprised. "Thank you, Anton. If you can have one of your secretaries get back to me with the details for Saturday I'll be sure that he gets there. And, since we've already discussed the situation, we won't need to do it again. I'll make the arrangements for bussing on Sunday if there haven't been any further developments on the tour schedule. I believe Doren knows all the staff but maybe you can have your people send over a full payroll list at the same time just to be sure we don't miss anybody." He directed Doren to the door, very aware of the pleased smirk on Doren's face. His stomach jumped with the pride of it.

Anton walked them back to the reception area, fuming, and August was very aware of three things. Anton was furious. Anton was struggling to choose his next words carefully. But the darkness in Anton's eyes displayed the evidence that Anton would take no pains in snapping his neck like a twig if given the opportunity. All in all it only convinced August that staying where they were and folding to Anton's plans, were the wrong things to do.

Doren and Anton shook hands at the door before Anton turned to August and casually grasped his hand, but instead of a firm, calm handshake, Anton tightened his grip to the point of crushing August's fingers. It was through gritted teeth that Anton spoke while August made every effort not to let the act register on his face. "It was such a pleasure to meet you in person, August."

August gave Anton no satisfaction that the pain in his hand caused him any discomfort at all. Rather, he smiled pleasantly and shook the grip as gentlemanly as possible. "And you as well, sir. Thank you for your time."

When the door shut firmly behind them, as they walked down the beautifully decorated corridor, August scrubbed the feel of Anton's palm off his own, rubbing it with far more force than necessary on his slacks, his jaw set like stone and his temper burning.

She stepped from the shadows of Anton's office, appearing to form from the darkness itself. Large silver jewellery glinted like stars against her dark skin.

"Did you see him?" Anton hissed. "Interfering little prick!"

Morana turned passive black eyes on her furious boss and reached, patting the back of his hand. Her cool skin was a startling contrast to his burning body. "Yes, Anton. I saw."

"And?" Anton pulled back, frustrated and impatient. "What do you think?"

She pursed her lips and arranged her robe around her as she sat on the couch. She trailed her fingers over the expensive leather. The smell of it always made her ravenous. "And I think he should be watched."

"And Doren?" He dropped to his knees in front of her, his face twisted with concern. "Should we be worried about Doren?"

She reached for his head and pulled it on her lap, stroking his hair. "He is very powerful. He will be quite useful. We must not lose him."

He looked up, stricken, and then wrapped his arms around her waist, dropping his head to her lap again. "That fucking assistant," he growled. "I can already tell he will be a problem."

She continued to stroke Anton, turning her attention to his ears and his neck. She was an old woman, yes, but as always, Anton's closeness excited her. Such a powerful man, so strong and controlled, but like all of them, he was crumpled on his knees like a child, begging for her to help. She used her long, painted nails to trace symbols on his neck and shoulders. It calmed him, aroused him—she could see it in his softening face, his glimmering eyes.

He lifted his head and moved towards her, but she stopped him with a finger. "Wait. Listen first. There is real reason for you to be concerned with August. He has abilities of his own. I can feel them. I have yet to figure out if those abilities will be useful or not worth the problems they will bring, however."

Anton's eyes were locked to her face—rapt attention, awe—and slowly his hand began to slide up her flowing skirt. "What do I need to do?"

She smiled. "We need to keep them apart. Doren doesn't yet realise his strength. And August doesn't even know of his. The less time they are together, the better. Perhaps we can find a distraction?"

He lifted himself to his knees and pulled her forward, towards him. "That will be easy. I'll send the girls. And you, can you do something about keeping them here for as long as we need? Can you stop that little prick from making off with my star?"

"Anton," Morana sighed. "I can do anything."

The rain started to fall before they reached the hotel. "I told you we should have got a cab," Doren said, water dripping from the spiked ends of his hair. He shook himself like a dog, spraying the lobby and chuckling as August fisted his own hair in an attempt to battle the streaming water. Their clothes were pasted to their bodies, and Doren found himself fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes off August's form. For a small guy, the man had some damn nice definition in his chest and upper arms.

"You," he said, pointing at August almost accusingly, "are soaked through."

"I'm fine. And walking is good for you." August replied. "But we should get you dried off before you catch pneumonia and we prove to Anton just how right he is about my assistant qualities."

"God forbid," Doren shuddered, grinning at the acid in August's voice.

He followed August down the hall, snagging August's arm and nudging him towards the stairs just before the elevator button was pushed. They made it to the fourth flight before August stopped, winded. "Why do you always take the stairs anyway?"

"You're the one who said walking was good for you. So walk!"

"Humph!" August grumbled. "That was outside. There are no stairs there."

The hall was freezing, their fingers chilled to useless, and Doren fumbled for his entry card at the door of his room. But he had no trouble reaching for and stopping August when August turned to leave. "Come in. Please. I'll make the coffee this time."

August laughed and the sound of it, even as Doren wanted to smack the suspicion off August's face, made Doren feel like a kid being offered candy. He leaned against the door and tried his best look-how-cool-and-hot-I-am pose.

"No. I need to dry off and start making some calls."

"Please," Doren mock-pouted. "I don't want to be alone."

August shrugged, walking away. "So call someone. I can get a number for you if you want."

Doren tsk'd, drew himself off the wall, and trailed after August, shoving his palm in the way of the slide-lock when August tried to push his card in. "Not for that, smartass. Just for company. I promise. Please, Auggie. I don't even care if you're just making your calls or doing your work. Do whatever. Just do it with me so I don't have to sit in the room by myself."

August didn't even try to look anything but unconvinced.

"Consider it an office away from the office. I'll probably just sleep anyway."

When August tried to align the card yet again, Doren snapped it from between his fingers. "Can't you ever do anything I ask you to the first time? My room is bigger. I have wireless, phones, fax service—everything and anything you need. So stop being an asshole and just come over and give me some fucking company, okay?"

Doren's heart raced at the sigh August gave him. Something in the air whispered agreement to the sudden rush of heat: "He's giving in." One more push, one more reason, just one more feather on the scale and Doren might be able to make this work. "Besides, we didn't get lunch, remember? We can order room service. My treat."

August released the handle and rolled his eyes. "On one condition."

"You name it."

"Stop calling me Auggie."

Grinning, Doren raised one hand in a boy-scout salute and crossed his heart with the other one. "I promise!" He stepped aside so August could walk past him. He even managed to wait until August stepped through the door to Doren's room and kicked off soaking shoes before he added the, "Aug."

Other than a sharp look, August offered no rebuke. He seemed to be too busy staring wide-eyed at the room. Anton's company had spared no expense: a massive king-sized bed draped in dark silk and nestled in its own little room to the back, a marble bathroom with hot tub, kitchenette, bar, and an impressive desk and sitting area. Doren was more than aware that they'd spoiled him. He also knew it was a far cry from August's staple provisions next door.

"You have all your notes?"

"Yes," August said, running a single fingertip along the brocade of the couch as Doren stepped past him. "But I really should change first."

Doren returned with an armload of towels and dropped them on the couch. He picked one up and tossed it. "Un unh, no way. You won't come back. I know you too well already."

August snagged the towel but rolled his eyes. "I can't very well sit here in wet clothes." He caught Doren's look and his own fell into a frown. "Nor will I sit here wrapped in a towel."

"Actually," Doren yanked the towel from August's grip and rubbed August's hair with it, granting himself a derisive snort, "I was thinking more along the line of you sitting there naked." He laughed at August's annoyance when August clucked his tongue and pulled away. "I'm kidding! Wait here. I'll be right back." He was back in seconds with August's pyjama pants, now dry, and a t-shirt. "Ta-da! Like it was meant to be, no?" With another laugh Doren lifted his voice to shout after August as August made his way to the bathroom to change, "And don't think you can keep that t-shirt, either."

He was still chuckling, albeit mostly silently, as he let himself fall on the bed while August changed, imagining August in the bathroom: the squeaks of wet skin on tile echoing as he peeled off wet clothes, the occasional cymbal-like drip of water on to a hard surface, the shuffle of thick towel on firm skin. With a deep breath Doren reached towards it, searching, seeking, and finally finding August's music. It floated through his mind and he let himself drift with it. Sweet chords of … innocence? He listened harder—yes, definitely innocence. But it was spiced with experimental desire, curiosity and confusion. It was soft, yet hard … playful but demure. It filled Doren's senses with a sentiment that he didn't quite understand, but that left him reaching to hear it again and again—a pleasant rush that brought with it a fierce sense of need.

The breath that Doren sucked in as he bolted upright almost made his head spin. Without another pause he reached for the pen and the pad of paper he always kept beside the bed, regardless of where it was he was sleeping. He was scratching out lyrics when August walked out of the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" August leaned over Doren to peek at the paper. He smelled like rain and fabric softener, fresh and sweet. And the desire to slip his arm around August's waist and pull August on to the bed was almost painful. Instead, Doren lowered his head and licked his lips, steadying his breath. "I'm writing. The rain has inspired me."

"Good. I can get some work done."

It didn't take long for the words to morph from mind to paper. They never did when they hit him like those ones had. Then Doren just sat back and watched August make his calls. He was good—professional and goal-oriented; he was glad August was on his team. August made him comfortable, for whatever reason that might be.

When boredom got the better of him, Doren let the rain draw him to the balcony. He shoved aside the curtains to stare as it rushed to the earth beyond the glass. Entranced, he flipped the lock and walked out. The gutters poured into the sewer drains, eaves troughs and awnings raged into waterfalls. The city was drowning. This time, however, he could find no music to the rain. It was a cold, hurried rush of something dark that hid from his mind when he sought it.

He didn't need to actually hear August come up behind him; he heard the change in sound—the addition of one single chord within the cold, persistent drench. He waited for August to reach his side and spoke, as if to the night itself. "How long have you known that you're gay, Aug?"