Collaring Chaz (Dante's Infernal #2) - Joel Abernathy Page 0,55
presence, but my life was going in all sorts of weird directions lately. “You can finish your lovers’ quarrel later. Now, get out there and whore out the new album like your lives depend on it, because your careers sure as fuck do.”
Raf flipped him off, but he stalked out on stage with the others. Before I could follow him, Drake caught me by the arm and leaned in. “I really don’t give a shit if you drink yourself into a coma when you’re not working, but if you can’t manage to even show up on time to stand there like a cardboard cutout, I’ll find someone who can.”
As pissed off as I’d been at Rafael a second earlier, Drake’s words didn’t even affect me. It wasn’t like he was telling me anything I didn’t already know.
“I’m sure you will.” I yanked my arm back and walked out to the furor of the press and the flashing cameras that made me long for that coma everyone was always warning me about.
I could feel Raf watching me, but I wouldn’t look at him. Instead, I just focused on the all-important task of zoning out and nodding every now and then to make it seem like I was paying attention to the answers to the questions that were almost exclusively directed at Dante and Rafael. Most of them were about the surprise wedding, with a few way too personal questions thrown in Cash’s direction for good measure.
There were some benefits to being invisible.
Cash nudged me with his elbow and my head snapped up to find everyone staring at me. “What?” I asked in confusion I found echoed on my bandmates’ faces. Then I realized the reporter in the yellow jacket near the back was looking expectantly at me. “Um. Sorry. Could you repeat the question?”
“Sure,” he said, leaning in toward the mic. “I was wondering if you’d care to comment on the new single. Does this mean we can expect you to pursue a solo career, and if so, how is that going to affect your role in Dante’s Infernal?”
My jaw fell open, and all I could do was stare at him, convinced I was hearing shit again. It had never been this overt before, but maybe Cash was right and the pills were fucking with me more than I thought. Or maybe I was dreaming.
No...I was wearing too many clothes for this to be a social anxiety nightmare.
Holy shit, this was real.
“Yeah, Chaz,” Dante said in a stiff tone, giving me an unblinking stare. “I think we’d all like to know the answer to that.”
“I…that’s…I don’t…” I just stammered like an idiot for a few seconds before I realized I’d gotten to my feet in some dumbass fight-or-flight instinct. When I saw the way Drake was looking at me, I decided maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
I swallowed hard, managing to collect myself enough to say, “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
It was a long shot, and not one I had any hope would work, but it was the only thing I could think to say and maybe it would buy me a few seconds. Rafael and Cash were just watching me in confusion, but before I could fully form an explanation in my own mind, the reporter held up his phone and a sickeningly familiar melody began to play.
“This was released last night under your name,” he said as the song continued. It had been cleaned up and polished a little, but to my horror, there was no denying that was my voice, spilling all my innermost feelings and secrets to a bunch of strangers, everyone watching the livestream and, worst of all, the person those lyrics were meant for. “That is your voice, isn’t it?”
I took a step back and almost tripped on a mic cable. The moment my eyes met Rafael’s, I wished I had fallen and impaled myself on a mic stand.
In a single look, an unspoken understanding passed between us. One I’d hoped to avoid for the rest of my life.
He knew the song was about him. He knew, and now the world knew, too, but mine had come crashing down the moment I’d heard him profess his love for Dante more than a week ago.
It figured music, the thing that had brought us together, the thing I had used to bind me to him out of desperation, would be the thing that finally wrecked everything.