“Hear who?”Xane’s breath wetted his already scalding cheek.He smelled of mints and expensive aftershave; stupidly pleasant, in fact.Xane always seemed to smell nice, even when he’d just rocked off stage and every inch of him was lathered in sweat.Pheromones, he guessed.Or in Xane’s case, phero-MOANS, based on the evidence.Spook wasn’t unique in finding himself drawn by Xane’s scent.Girls, boys, grown men, and bearded women, they all swarmed around him like moths drawn to a candle flame.But who could blame them?Breathing deeply of him certainly warded off the stinking miasma of the world.
“Spook?”
“Bastards,” he muttered.
Xane nodded sagely.“Ah, yeah, them.Always hard to escape, even at the bottom of a bottle.”
He wasn’t wrong, but that’s not what the drink had been helping with.It warded off the snakes.
“Are you hissing for a reason?”Xane asked.His pierced eyebrow cocked up towards his hairline, where just a few teeny strands of blond were showing beneath the black dye.“I didn’t realise we were at a pantomime.Although anyone watching might be forgiven for thinking it.Speaking of watchers, if we stand around too long we’re going to get spotted.Ready to get back in the car?”
The hell he was.More hairpin bends and being jolted.No.Thank.You.“How long?”
“To our destination?Another ten minutes tops.”
That he could maybe just about handle.Maybe.With the air con on full whack, and a shoulder to lean on.Although, apparently, he already had cramp in his neck.It was really sore.So too was his head, and his hand, and his hip.“Just kill me and leave me for the crows, okay.”
Xane’s grip on him tightened, as if he thought he might run away.Like his feet were capable of taking him anywhere.“Not a chance mate.Do you know how difficult it is to land a guitarist of your calibre?”
“I’m pretty sure we’re a dime a dozen.”A bottle materialised in front of him, which he automatically took a slug from.Water.He spluttered it everywhere.“The fuck!Where’s the vodka?”
“The lining of your gut is currently gracing the paving.You’re not getting near another drop.Come on, back in the car.I promise, you’re going to be a lot happier once I have you tucked up in my bed.”
He swore the cab driver spat a mint over the dash.
“You mean we’re sharing?”
Two mints.
Xane brushed his lips against Spook’s damp brow.
Make that a third, or he was just choking.
“I can’t recommend the couch.It’s meant for polite conversations with the reigning monarch.It’s impossible not to sit rigidly upright.That, and you’ve dragged me away from my snuggle buddies.”
That was true.No Dani.No Luthor.Just them and the driver.Even reeling drunk he knew Xane well enough to know that was going to cause issues.
“No need to worry though, I’ve no plans to accost you until you’ve gargled some mouthwash.”
Evidently, their driver subscribed to the school of thought that maintained heavy metal was the province of straight white men.He positively glowered at them in the rear view mirror for the remainder of the journey, words like ‘Fucking gays’ flashing like neon signs in the dark of his pupils.Spook made a point of snuggling into Xane’s shoulder, just for the hell of it.He didn’t fucking care what anyone thought.
Incidentally, that drive was definitely nearer twenty minutes than ten, and not a second of it was passed in tranquil delirium, probably because every time his head nodded forward, Xane materialised a bottle of water from somewhere and forced him to drink it.If he dribbled a bit on the precious shirt, then that was Xane’s fault for making him drink while they were driving.
When they eventually pulled up outside the Hotel de Paris in Monaco, Spook toppled out of the taxi and clung to a nearby three-headed lamppost while Xane paid the fare.He kinda wanted to dance.And piss.And piss and dance.And dance while pissing.He tried a few steps out, watching his feet with his forehead pressed to the cold black iron.
“I’d ask what you’re doing, but I’m not sure I want to know.”Xane tugged him away from his crutch and dragged him up the steps into the hotel.The doors magically opened for him, keys were procured, and someone called the elevator.Xane pushed him into it, and stood opposite him, rotating his lip piercing with his tongue as they ascended several floors.“Please tell me you’re not going to spew everywhere again.”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Right.And are you going to be able to aim straight, or do I need to hold it for you?”
“What is it with everyone’s fetish for groping my cock?”
“Your determination to ensure no one ever does.”His tone implied that was beyond obvious.“Tell me about Allegra Hutton.It’s serious, or you wouldn’t still be in touch with her.”
“She presses too many buttons,” he said, making his cheeks ache due to the size of his grin.“Oh God, Xane.The things I want to do to that girl.Her skin’s so pale, like buttermilk, and her hair.It’s so bright, so fiery.I want to screw her hair.”
“Oh-kay.”Xane drawled, extending the vowels.“So, maybe just hold that train of thought a moment, and let’s have the rest of this conversation well away from public areas.”
