that hadn’t stopped him from snarling at Braylin on a few occasions.
When those interactions had gone down, Zen had needed to control his anger. No one messed with his boy.
Zen grunted to himself, his reflection frowning back at him with head shaking.
“You fool.”
A light tap at the door was followed by Marlon peeking in. “Sal’s here. Thought you should know.”
Zen sighed. “Thanks. Does he seem vaguely sober to you?”
“Actually, yeah.” Marlon snorted. “We’ll see how long that lasts, though. He’s always turning over a new leaf at the start of a tour, then shit-faced well before it’s over.”
“Think good thoughts, keep the vibe positive.”
Marlon nodded. “I’ll try. Derek has been grumbling all day. The tension between those two has been epic the past couple weeks.”
“I know, man. But we deal the best we can, right? If the rest of us keep chill, then it helps diffuse the situation. We can’t change the dude at this stage of the game. We’ve offered help, given him support by cancelling gigs or delaying recording so he could get his shit together. Nothing’s worked. At this point, we carry on and do our thing. Adjust as needed when he acts up.”
“It always helps to talk to you, you know that?” Marlon smiled. “I get all stressed but you’re all ‘we can do this’, and I’m good again.”
Zen gave a slight dip of his head, smiling back. “Glad I can help. We got this, we’re gonna smash this show.”
Marlon’s smile got wider. “It’s been sounding good, hasn’t it.”
“Good?” Zen huffed. “Fuckin’ great.”
“Yeah. Cool.” Marlon grinned. “See ya on stage. Sharp Edges is on their last song before the encore, so it won’t be long.”
Zen still had to finish his makeup and he’d planned to check on Braylin, make sure he wasn’t too nervous or didn’t need anything. He could worry about controlling himself later. Braylin might need him.
Marlon turned to leave, but Zen called out.
“Hey. You seen Braylin around?”
He stopped. “Hmm. I don’t think so. Did you want me to give him a message?”
Zen swallowed hard. That sounded too much like his early days when he’d ask Marlon or Gordy to go see if there was a hot young thing looking to make him feel good after the show. He could always cover his bases by saying it was regarding his own guitar that he played on a few of the tunes, but he didn’t need to start playing games.
“Uh, no. That’s cool. I was just making sure Sal wasn’t messing with him.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Marlon shrugged. “I’m sure everything’s fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Otherwise Derek would be in here having a shit fit if Sal was being an ass to the kid.”
Zen fought the twinge of jealousy he’d recently begun to notice whenever others were protective toward Braylin. Everyone seemed fond of the kid, but no one was all that fond of Sal. He should be grateful that others cared about Braylin’s wellbeing.
“True. Well, see you under the lights.”
“Lights? The damn explosions.”
Zen chuckled. Marlon wasn’t as thrilled about the special effects as everyone else was.
“See ya.”
Zen faced the mirror then grabbed his eyeliner. The knot in his stomach had finally unraveled. Even his morning meditation hadn’t been able to relieve the twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach, the one that kept reminding him that Sal had the ability to fuck everything up for them all at the drop of a hat.
But, at least Sal was at the first show. Then they could load him onto the bus and keep an eye on him the rest of the tour. One thing he and the guys had discussed at their pre-tour meeting the night before was they were over it.
The album they were promoting was the final one they owed their record company. Another three-record deal had been offered, but the decision outside of Sal’s presence had been not to accept it unless the company agreed they could do it without Sal’s involvement. They might still be old-school, but he and the others had also agreed that they could always put out their own record, go indie.
Zen sat back and admired his handiwork, the Cleopatra eyeliner that accentuated the glittery eyeshadow being the final touch before he got dressed.
Then I check on Braylin.
* * * *
Braylin stood in the wings, the thundering chords of Sharp Edges’ final song before the encore filling the stadium. He still had plenty of time before he’d have to charge onto stage and set everything up. Braylin ran through