SEB DECIDED to join his dad for breakfast. The weekend had been quiet. He’d finished his song and the translation. Apologized via email he hadn’t been able to do the translation his dad had refused, then said he was available for more. It was Monday morning, and he needed to talk to his dad. But carefully. Seb had decided he would give it one more try to make his dad see sense while Gray waited to hear if Rawlings had gotten any information from the enhanced unit in Florida.
The shock on his dad’s face when he walked into the dining room was almost funny. He poured himself a coffee and sat down. Mrs. P bustled in, and Seb politely asked for an omelet. Seb had already had a smoothie, done his exercises with Gray, and Gray had said he was going to check in with his boss before taking a shower.
Seb had left him to it.
His dad leaned back and drained his own coffee, eyeing Seb and looking at his watch. “You look better this morning.”
Seb nodded. “I feel better. Did Gray tell you we are going to see a nutritionist friend of his when he can set up an appointment?”
His dad’s eyebrows lifted. “A nutritionist?”
“Yeah, Gray says the guy has a lot of experience with cancer patients.”
“What?” His dad looked aghast.
“Not eating. Being sick after chemo, that sort of thing.”
“That makes sense,” his dad said, nodding. “I’m sorry I never thought of it before.”
Seb took a breath. He wanted to ask about his treatments, but there was also Arron’s funeral, which no one had mentioned. “And I was hoping you might have heard about Arron’s funeral?”
“Sebastian,” his dad started.
“Let me explain, please?”
His dad remained impassive, which Seb found a little odd, but he took the opportunity to argue his case. “I don’t think the images they found were his, Dad. I knew the guy for three years. I’d bet a lot of money he wasn’t like that.”
His father sighed. “You can never truly know a person, Sebastian.”
“I’m not asking you to go, Dad, but no one knows me.”
His dad sighed again and searched his face. “I’m sorry, but no.”
Seb sucked in a breath, but his dad held up his hand. “And before you get annoyed, let me explain.” He glanced at the old-fashioned grandfather clock in the corner. “Smith’s memorial actually started twenty minutes ago.”
“What?” Seb interrupted in disbelief.
“Joseph only received the email notification this morning, and the family requested close friends and family only. They are very leery, understandably, of the press making a spectacle of the affair.”
“But—” Seb clamped his mouth closed. He had been a close friend. He tried to breathe his anger away. “I don’t understand why you only found out this morning. It makes no sense. They must have decided this on Friday.” Funeral arrangements needed notice. You couldn’t just decide something like that and have it happen in an hour. “You’re lying.” The words were out before Seb even realized what he was saying, and he was as horrified at them as the expression on his father’s face showed he was.
“Sebastian.” His dad firmed his jaw. “I will overlook your rudeness because I know the weekend after your treatment is very hard for you, but may I point out that even if Keswick had checked that particular email account over the weekend, we would never have mentioned it to you anyway. We both know you are always too sick after Friday to ever rouse yourself earlier than late afternoon on a Monday anyway.”
“Exactly,” Seb pounced on his dad’s words. “Which is why I’m not having any more of them.”
His dad stared at Seb like he was speaking in tongues. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve had enough, Dad,” he said calmer now. “They’re ruining my life—”
Seb jumped as his dad smacked the table with the flat of his hand. He couldn’t hear the sound, obviously, but it had been done with so much force the teacups rattled. Seb gazed at him, suddenly wary. His dad looked furious, and he usually never got angry.
“What life, Sebastian? Tell me exactly what life I am ruining? You spend all day locked away in that bedroom with your ridiculous translations and your pathetic attempt at writing songs.”
Seb hissed at the sting of hurt.
“I’ve tried my best when other parents of enhanced would have had you shipped off to some foster home.” His dad rose from his chair and flung his napkin down just as Mrs. P brought in the omelet Seb now didn’t want. “Grow up, Sebastian.”
After his father walked out, Seb counted to ten before he dared look at Mrs. P. “Try and eat something, Seb,” Mrs. P fussed, but gently. She had probably heard most of the conversation. Seb just nodded and waited until Mrs. P left and then spent the next five minutes staring at the congealing food.
Why? Why had he even bothered? For a giddy second, Seb thought about leaving. And go where? He couldn’t disappear easily. The mark on his face just about made anonymity impossible. But he had some money saved, and he had a way of earning more. But then no diplomatic service would use someone on the run. Seb scrubbed a hand over his eyes. On the run? He nearly laughed. It made him sound like some sort of criminal. If he did run, would his dad still try to enforce the guardianship rules and get the police to find him? He wasn’t completely sure what—if anything—they could do. He could ask Gray. For a second, he felt the leaden weight in his gut lift, but then he remembered Gray was doing a job. Much as the man had seemed kind and certainly was trying to see if he could help him legally, helping him illegally was a whole other matter.
He knew he had a few days. Thursday was a holiday, which gave him time to scope things out. Maybe Gray would have heard from his boss when he went back upstairs?
Seb stood up, gathered the plates, including the ones his dad had left, and took them to the kitchen. Just as he got there, the small office door opened, and both Innes and Paula walked out. Innes looked furious, and Paula seemed resigned. Innes turned back and said something to Derwent, who stood behind the desk, but Seb couldn’t read what he said.
Seb walked straight past them and into the kitchen and managed to rinse the plates before Mrs. P came back. “What’s going on with Innes and Paula?”
Mrs. P shook her head. “Andrew told me he was letting Scott and Paula go.”
Seb was surprised and showed it. “Why?”
“Because he says with the cameras, neither of them are needed. Between him and Gray, you are both okay.”
Seb considered her words. He couldn’t say he was sorry. “Paula’s probably pleased, though, right? Someone told me she has to look after her dad.”
Mrs. P stopped putting away the bottles she had gotten from the wine cellar and glanced at Seb. “Seb, it’s a month before Christmas. Paula’s dad has Alzheimer’s. Yes, she does what she can, but the cost of his care is astronomical. She’s barely keeping her head above water, and she left the Army because of him.”
Seb reddened. The reproach was obvious in her words even if he couldn’t hear it. He dropped an apologetic kiss on Mrs. P’s cheek and went back upstairs. Gray wasn’t there, so Seb assumed he was still in the shower. He quickly logged on to the computer. He had an attorney already. He was getting organized in case he had any trouble later, and he considered the astronomical retainer he paid to be totally worth it. He quickly emailed an instruction letter with as much information as he had on Paula to arrange a wire transfer. He could cover the ten thousand-dollar amount because he never spent anything, and it would make all the difference to Paula. It wouldn’t even clear him out. He had regular work, and his agent was always clamoring for new songs. If he wasn’t as picky about who he sold them to, he would be able to earn a lot more money. Not long now. This time next year, he would be in his own place.
Then, on a whim, he googled Rawlings Security and sent a recommendation should they be looking for someone to hire. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the hand on his shoulder and spun around.
“Sorry, sorry.” But Gray didn’t look sorry; he looked amused. Then he glanced at the computer, and his eyebrows rose. “Looking to replace me?” He put the smoothie down carefully next to the computer.
Seb wished he could hear sarcasm, because he was sure it would have been there.
“Did you know Scott and Paula have been let go?”
“Yes,” Gray said. “Keswick told me when I went downstairs this morning.”
Seb shrugged, feeling a little silly now. “I emailed your boss and told him about Paula and said I could recommend her.”
Gray smiled. “He already knows.”
Because you did exactly the same thing. Seb knew he had.
“How did it go with your dad?”
Seb shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“And I’m sorry. I just found out it was Arron’s funeral this morning.”
“I know,” he mouthed. He cleared his throat. “Did you speak to Rawlings?”
Gray nodded. “Yes, and his friend is asking a lawyer, unofficially,” he added. “I hope he may have some news tomorrow or Wednesday.” Gray chewed his lip for a second. “How about if we get out of here? Would you be willing to come and see a friend of mine? He’s working on the stage for the Ethan Devlin concert tonight.”
“Ethan Devlin?” Seb repeated in complete shock. Ethan Devlin was huge. The man regularly had a top ten single and more.
“They have a sound check happening today. I can’t guarantee Devlin will be there, but I thought you’d like to see everything.”
Seb clutched his arm. “I would kill to see him.” His new song. He had written that with exactly Ethan Devlin in mind.
“Okay,” Gray said and glanced at the smoothie. “After you drink that.”
Seb gaped at Gray. How the fuck did Gray know he hadn’t eaten the omelet?
Gray’s lips twitched. “Mrs. Pickering said any argument puts you straight off your food.” Seb sighed and eyed the glass. “I’m sorry you missed the funeral,” Gray added. His smile was gentle, sympathetic.
Seb reached out a determined hand for the glass and gulped the smoothie quickly. Gray picked up his jacket and held it out.
“No way. Give me five,” Seb croaked out and shot into his bedroom to get changed. He knew if he could hear, his ears would be full of Gray’s laughter.
AN HOUR later because of traffic, Gray’s car—he’d insisted they went in his—rolled down West Peachtree Street and slowed, signaling he was going to turn left. Seb watched as they pulled into the parking deck belonging to Center Stage. He knew the indoor arena held a thousand people, but Ethan Devlin could command many more than that. “Why this venue?”
“Smaller, you mean?” Gray asked, catching on straightaway. “It’s a thank-you exclusive. Fan club, competition winners, etcetera. One night only.”
“I’ve never been anywhere like this.” Seb tried to sit on his jittery hands, then pulled one out and gestured to his face. “Does your friend know?”
Gray nodded. “It’s no problem.”
Seb tried to breathe unobtrusively deeper as they walked from the car. His insides were doing summersaults, and he almost felt light-headed, but not in a sick giddy way—in a “so excited he was having an out-of-body experience” way. Seb wore an Adidas hoodie and kept the hood pulled as far over his head as it would go. Gray’s smile seemed confident, and while Seb’s dad’s money had shielded him over the years from a lot of reactions to his mark, when he was seen, he still had some.
Arron had once taken him to the clinic, and they had gotten into a minor scrape at a stop sign. Some woman with a car full of five overexcited kids got distracted and didn’t stop in time as Arron braked in front of her. The cops were there in five minutes. Arron had jumped out and tried to distract the cop, but the guy must have sensed something because Arron had his documents in his hand, away from the car. Seb thought afterward that it was pretty dumb. The cop came over to the car to look at Seb, and that’s when the shit hit the proverbial fan. The cop took one look at Seb and pulled his gun.
In seconds Seb was out of the car and facedown on the sidewalk. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Arron hadn’t done anything wrong, but Seb had thought he was going to die. Within seconds, it was a circus—eight cop cars in total and a big SWAT-type truck with some scary-ass dudes arrived. And all that time, Seb had lain with his face down in the dirt and wished he had the ability to disappear.
Finally his dad and Derwent arrived, showed guardianship papers, and generally threatened to sue the fuck out of the APD. Only then were the guns holstered and Seb allowed to get to his feet. Seb had been a mess. He wanted to crawl into a hole. He had barely held it together because no one seemed to care he couldn’t hear them, and just barking instructions when he couldn’t see their lips properly didn’t help.
Derwent had bundled him into his dad’s limo as soon as he was released and driven them home. It took nearly six weeks before Seb left the house again.
SEB LOOKED into Gray’s worried eyes automatically as he felt the touch on his arm.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Gray didn’t look convinced, and Seb mentally shook himself free of his memories. He was having a good day, he told himself sternly. Gray was here. He smiled deliberately. “I just get nervous around a lot of people.”
“There won’t be many here today. My friend is an audio technician. I want him to look at the pictures I took of the equipment they were using at the clinic.” Gray nudged him playfully. “Maybe you could get a chance to practice your song.” He grinned and pulled Seb along when Seb’s knees threatened to give out at Gray’s words. Gray was fooling around, right?
Seb still hadn’t recovered when they walked into the auditorium, and for the first time in a lot of years, he wished he could hear.
Ethan Devlin, Ethan freaking Devlin was onstage. Seb was going to scream, pass out, spontaneously combust. He felt the tug on his sleeve and dragged his eyes from the stage and looked into Gray’s amused ones. They had come in the back. The space looked huge to him. Standing room in front of the stage and then stands of red vinyl chairs arranged in a semicircle that seemed to go up for miles. Gray gestured to a seat, and Seb dropped into one, completely riveted to what he was seeing. “Going Home.” Seb knew that song like the back of his hand. It had taken him seeing Devlin only sing one line to know what it was.
Devlin stopped singing, and four guys were fiddling with the huge speakers that surrounded the stage. Seb knew they would be checking that the sound at the back sounded as good as it did at the front. He felt another tug on his sleeve and glanced at Gray. “Wanna meet him when they’re done?”
Seb shivered in excitement. Did he? Dare he? “I don’t know,” he admitted.
Gray tilted his head, and Seb gestured to his face. He didn’t think he could cope with freaking out one of his heroes.
“Rawlings Security ran protection for him last year when his main bodyguard got shot.”
Seb remembered. It had been all over the news. Some crazed fan had gotten too close and aimed for Devlin, and his bodyguard covered him while another took the man out. His bodyguard was shot in the stomach and had undergone surgery.
“That’s how we got in when I showed my ID.” Gray had been challenged by three different guys as they came in, but Seb had thought they were waved through because of Gray’s technician friend, not because the security team knew him. “No one is going to care when you’re with me.” Seb gazed at the stage and watched as Devlin handed his guitar over to another guy and then turned and walked offstage with another.
“Come on,” Gray stood up, and Seb followed him as they went toward the standing-room-only section in front of the stage. There were two guys talking by the huge digital mixing console, and just as they got nearer, Gray held out his hand to an older guy who was just standing up from being crouched down.
The man—around fifty with a long gray beard, bald head, and enough tats to rival an entire biker gang—grinned as soon as he saw Gray and held out his hand, then pulled Gray into a clinch. “Gray—” The rest of the sentence was lost on Seb as they hugged quickly. Gray seemed equally happy to see him.
Seb couldn’t see Gray’s lips to know what he said, but he saw the grin as Gray stepped back and turned to Seb. “Seb, Rig.”
Seb held out his hand to Rig, only to be clasped in exactly the same manner as Gray. Rig ruffled his hair and glanced at Gray. “Aww, you got a new puppy?”
Gray rolled his eyes and glanced at Seb. “It’s a term of affection. We’ve done a lot of short-term contracts for here.”
Seb decided not to be offended. He guessed Gray meant protection for stars while they were performing here. He thought everyone had their own and made a mental note to ask Gray later.
“Did you get the pictures I sent?” Gray asked.
Rig gestured to another door at the side of the arena. They all walked into what looked like a storage room. Seb wondered what they were doing until Gray put his hand on Rig’s shoulder for him to turn around. “Seb’s perfect at lip-reading, but he has to see your face.”
“Sorry,” Rig said immediately, and Seb got that Rig must have been talking as he walked into the room. “Shut the door.”
Seb shot a puzzled look at Gray, wondering what on earth they were doing talking in a storage closet. Gray hesitated for a fraction of a second, but he shut the door.
Didn’t he want privacy? Then in a flash of insight, Seb remembered what Gray had told him. Claustrophobia. His heart went out to Gray. He wanted to snag his hand, but Rig was there. The fact that only after a few days he wanted to do that, and the only thing stopping him was Gray’s friend’s opinion, wasn’t lost on him.
“I got your pictures. A lot of them are standard audio equipment I would expect, with one exception that I need your okay to pass on.”
Rig pulled out his phone and scrolled to one of the pictures. He pointed to a small gray box wired to the side of the machine. “I have no idea what that does.”
Gray studied the innocuous-looking box and a small label with what looked like a serial number on it. “I thought it was what controlled volume, to be honest.”
Rig shrugged. “I ain’t never seen it before.”
“I forgot. Do you know this make?” Gray held up his phone with the picture he had taken of the small stamp on the inside of the leather band.
“That’s my dad’s,” Seb immediately answered before Rig could.
Rig whistled, looking at Seb. “You’re A.T. Holdings?”
Seb nodded, looking at the photo. He already knew the sound system in the auditorium was one of theirs. He opened his mouth to ask why Gray wanted to know, but Gray put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Rig and nodded toward Seb. “So?”
Rig beamed. “Sure, follow me.” They left the room and walked back toward the stage where the piano stood that Ethan Devlin would play later. A microphone was set on it, and Rig waved a hand toward it. “Go on, kid. Show us what you got.”
Seb looked at the piano, then Rig, then Gray. “What?”
Gray leaned close and mouthed the words at Seb so Rig couldn’t hear. “Rig’s going to record it for you. Thought you might like that when we work out a way you can listen to yourself in a big venue.”
Seb stared at Gray half in astonishment and half in horror that someone else other than Gray would hear him sing, but then he realized this was the only time he would ever get a chance to sing somewhere like this. Apart from a few techs, no one else was here. What the hell, right?
“Okay,” he whispered, feeling slightly nauseous, but for the first time not because he was dizzy. He sat at the piano, took a deep breath, and then closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to hear himself, but he knew what sound the piano would make because of the vibrations. He’d done this enough times. On a whim, he chose his new song. In his head, Ethan Devlin was performing his song to a packed audience, and then when he started singing, there was suddenly only him on the stage.