Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(17)

Will do. Doyle tucked his phone back into his pocket and hurried to finish his shopping, hitting a drive-thru for their breakfast.

When he returned to the room, he found Mevi sitting cross-legged on his bed, earbuds in, intently staring at the iPad in front of him and a small notebook propped on his right leg. He didn’t even look up when Doyle walked in. Considering he looked like a man on a mission, Doyle didn’t interrupt him.

Only after Doyle had finished unloading his purchases did Mevi apparently save whatever it was he was doing on the iPad and then pop his right earbud out.

“Sorry. First time I’ve felt like working in months. Thanks for not interrupting me until I was ready. I appreciate that.”

Aaaand we have acceptance. There wasn’t a trace of snark in Mevi’s tone.

“Your work comes first. Scratch that. Your sobriety comes first. Work comes second to that. As long as it’s not jeopardizing your sobriety, I’m not going to interrupt your work. If we were farther from LA, I’d even consider staying here for the day to let you work.”

“Thanks.” Mevi stared at the iPad for a moment. “I think I do need to get out of here, though.”

Doyle made him take another test before they ate breakfast. Then, into the bathroom, where he had Mevi sit on the closed toilet lid while he used the longest clipper set on Mevi’s hair. That left very little silver on the ends. He trimmed the remaining to neaten it up. Not the best haircut ever given, but far from the worst.

When Mevi stood and went to look at it in the mirror, Doyle gathered the hair from the floor, flushing it.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Housekeeping. Can’t be too careful.” He got the package of hair dye and donned gloves to work it into Mevi’s hair. He’d gone with a dark, nearly black color, afraid that anything too brown might show up as reddish or even orange on the ends, although he could take another pass at Mevi’s hair with the clippers.

Once it’d sat long enough, Mevi hit the shower.

While he’d been doing that, Doyle was busy prepping the cooler. He took it down to fill it with ice from the hotel’s ice machine before loading drinks and snacks into it.

So far, Mevi hadn’t shown any diva ’tude.

When Mevi emerged from the shower, Doyle had to admit he wouldn’t have recognized Mevi at first.

Doyle also was extremely glad he’d had one of his bags in hand, hiding the erection that sprouted. With Mevi’s hair shorter and neatly trimmed, as well as dyed closer to his natural color, combined with those killer ice-blue eyes, Mevi was a knock-out.

Wow.

“Well?”

Doyle nodded. “Look for yourself.”

Mevi turned and stared into the vanity. “Shit. I look ten years younger.”

“Yep. If you don’t mind me asking, why the silver, anyway? It’s not very flattering.”

Mevi didn’t turn from the mirror. “Early on, a stylist suggested it because we kept getting snide comments about how young we were. Made me look older. Then as we got famous, I went to that silver color.” He fluffed his damp hair with his hand. “It became my trademark and I never stopped doing it.”

“You look closer to thirty than forty.” Definitely made him look like a different man.

He also looked infinitely more handsome.





Mevi had hated his silver hair. Not just the color, but that it had made him look older, and that it was a pain in the ass to deal with while out on tour. He’d also hated that they’d felt they had to do that to be taken more seriously at first. The only good thing about it had been not seeing if he had any real grey hairs.

Maybe I’ll keep it like this.

He ran his hand through it. Having it shorter would mean not having to waste time styling it, either. Another timesaver.

When he shifted his focus just a smidge and met Doyle’s gaze in the mirror, a jolt of liquid heat shot through Mevi. “Maybe it’s time for a bunch of changes,” Mevi said.

“I’ll start packing the car and then get us checked out. Once we’re ready to roll, you can get in and we’ll leave. The less time you spend out in the open right here, the better.”

“You don’t want help loading the car?”

“Not here, no.” He headed out with the cooler.

Mevi stared at himself in the mirror. A different man looked back at him.

One he hadn’t seen in years.

Hello, stranger.





Chapter Seven


After topping off the gas tank, they headed east. Doyle had dug his iPod out and now had a much larger selection of music at his disposal.

He started off with Hamilton, wanting something up-tempo to help wake him up and get him in a driving mood.

When “My Shot” finished, Mevi reached over to the iPod and hit the button to replay it.

“What is this?” he asked.

Doyle thought Mevi was pulling his leg. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, seriously. This is really good.”

“Where have you be—” He stopped himself, realizing exactly where Mevi had spent the last sixty days. The soundtrack had only just been released two months ago, even though the show had been around longer than that. “It’s Hamilton? The Broadway show? Most of the cast are people of color? Won like pretty much the whole Tony Awards show all by itself? Really?”