“I’ll admit, there’snotmuch to work with here,” Henri said, looking into Quentin’s closet and drawers after three other failed outfits, “but I’m sure we can find something.”
Quentin stood in his underwear in the middle of the room, arms crossed. “Good, because I’m getting cold.”
Cort eyed him. “You could just wear that, honestly. I don’t think anyone would mind.”
Quentin looked down at his gray boxer briefs, which rode low on his hips and hugged his impressive bulge in the front. “I don’t want to get arrested,” he said.
“Have youseenJoel’s outfits for the tour?” Henri asked, poking his head out of Quentin’s closet. “Half the time, he’s shirtless. One of his outfits is literally just black briefs with rhinestones on them.”
“That’s half the reason I’m going,” Cort said gravely.
Quentin hated the fact that the thought of Joel Beckett in rhinestone-studded underwear made him blush…and made his dick ache to get hard. Nope. Absolutely not.
“I’ll wear whatever you give me,” he said, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, and wondering if there was a subtle way he could hide his slight erection. God, it would be mortifying if the others, especially Billy, saw it.
Henri tossed a pair of camouflage pants in Quentin’s direction. “Let me beabsolutelyclear,” Henri said. “You are wearing theseironically. Got it?”
Joel FaceTimed Ariadne Lake. She was back in Los Angeles, and he normally wouldn’t bother her randomly like this, but…
“Hey,” she said when she answered. It looked like she was in the recording studio. “Everything okay? Damn, your eyeliner looks good.”
“I’m sorry for calling without warning.”
“Everything okay?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just…nervous.”
“For the show?”
He frowned. “I guess.” But that wasn’t it, and he knew it.
“You were magnificent in New York, and you’ll be just as good, if not better, now that you have three shows under your belt. Is there something else that’s bothering you?”
“Well, there’s Quentin.”
“Ah.”
“They’re having him come to my hotel room.”
Ariadne raised her eyebrows. “Those villains,” she said flatly.
“It’s throwing off my pre-show routine,” he insisted. “It’s like he’s trying to get in my head.”
“Did he have anything to do with planning this meet and greet?”
“No.”
“Then don’t blame him. Why does he bother you so much?”
“He’s just so…ugh, I don’t know.”
Ariadne smirked. “You’re one of the most talented songwriters of our generation, Joel. I’m sure you can find the words. Just think about it. Okay, I gotta go. Troy calls.” She paused and then leaned closer to her phone. “Hey, give me a call later this week when you have more time to talk. There’s something I want your advice on.”
Her tone worried him. “Okay. I’ll call you later. Love you.”
He flopped back onto his bed and jumped up when Tina, his stylist, screamed at him. “Your hair!” she shrieked.
A hired car picked Quentin, Henri, and Cort up from Quentin’s apartment and took them to the Ritz-Carlton.
