Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(56)

There was something seriously…off going on, but Mevi didn’t want to get into it now. “Well, I’m here. Let’s practice.”

Clark quickly introduced Doyle to the others as Mevi’s “coach.” While Erique—hopefully—hadn’t been told about Mevi’s drinking problem, at least Pasch, Troy, Garth, and Bonnie would know who Doyle really was. And from the way they all gave him knowing nods while Erique didn’t, Mevi hoped that meant Doyle’s secret was safe. He didn’t want to spoil Doyle’s anonymity—another stressor on Mevi even though Doyle had insisted on letting him worry about that.

He couldn’t help it. He wanted to protect his Sir.

Doyle sat in a chair off to the side with Clark and watched while Mevi looked for his guitar. “Why is this back here?” He moved it, reaching for a strange guitar placed where his usually sat at the front when they rehearsed.

“That’s mine,” Erique said.

“Yeah? Well, you’d better move it, Wannabeme, before I put my foot through it.”

“Move it,” Clark yelled. “Air—reek, you got a whole contract full of clauses I can pick from to enact to get you out of here before the opening concert. Don’t push me, son.”





Doyle wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t like Wannabeme either, as he was already thinking of Erique. At a break when the guy walked over with an already opened bottle of water and offered it to Mevi, Doyle called out to Mevi.

“Mal. Need to talk to you.”

That was a pre-arranged code between them. While he’d been calling Mevi Mal ever since they became a couple, he’d be calling him Mevi around the others.

If he called him Mal that meant an immediate conference was required.

Mevi accepted the bottle, but before he could drink from it, Doyle took it from him, hiding the action from Erique and swapping bottles with Mevi with one he’d just opened for himself.

“Don’t drink or eat anything he gives you,” he whispered in Mevi’s ear. “That’s an order from your Sir, boy. And don’t eat or drink anything that’s been out of your sight. If you don’t get it from me, or get it yourself, pass on it. Understand?”

Mevi’s eyes widened, but he nodded, not questioning him.

When Doyle studied Erique as they resumed practice, Doyle could see the other man was eagerly watching as Mevi drank from what he thought was the bottle of water he’d brought Mevi.

Hell, even Mevi noticed. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing. We just got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry.” Erique broadly smiled.

But that smile faded as, over the next couple of hours, it was obvious that whatever he’d planted in Mevi’s bottle hadn’t worked.

At lunch break, Doyle took Mevi outside to talk in private.

“What’s going on, Sir?” he whispered. “What was that about?”

“I think he tried to drug your water.”

“Fucker!”

Doyle grabbed his arm and kept him from going back in to confront him. “No. Just be aware. He wants you out, specifically. He’s been sucking up to the others. I’m going to keep an eye on him.”

“We need to tell Clark.”

“We don’t have proof. He can claim you doped your own water or something. We’ll get through this. Plus, do you really want the publicity?”

Mevi shot a glare at the doorway he’d emerged from. “Fuck,” he muttered. “No, you’re right. Okay.”

Doyle kept a close watch on Mevi more than Erique over the next week. Specifically, on Mevi’s food and water. He thought he possibly stopped at least two more attempts on Erique’s part, including one where he flat-out told Erique that wasn’t his water bottle he was reaching for, which earned him a dark scowl that wasn’t warranted under innocent circumstances.

As media hype before the concert hit a fever pitch, stress amped up through the whole group. Doyle had taken time off from doing phone counseling during the practice sessions, but tomorrow, opening day, he had to take care of those as well as working on patient reports. So while Mevi and the others would spend the day at the venue, going through a dress rehearsal on stage and doing sound checks as the crew finalized the set and speaker placements, Doyle would stay behind at the hotel and use that time to catch up before they had to get on the road again.

At least Doyle felt some of his own guilt and anxiety easing. Alone, Mevi was the same sweet, loving, completely open slave Doyle had come to expect. But even when they were together in front of the others, he noticed Mevi hung around him as much as possible, sending him hidden winks or smiles when no one else could see.

His boy loved him.

Yes, being on the road would be stressful, and he knew Mevi had an image to portray in front of the fans and even his fellow bandmates, but at least with his sobriety looking solid, Doyle wouldn’t begrudge any of that.

They made love that night, long and sweet, ending with Doyle and Mevi in a sixty-nine, Doyle on top and making Mevi come before he finally let go and let his boy swallow a mouthful of cum.

Curling up with Mevi in his arms, he held him tightly against him. “I’m so proud of you, boy,” he said, nuzzling the top of his head. “You’ve done so well.”

“I wish you could be there tomorrow.”