Page 65 of Steady Stroke
When they finished, the living room was dead silent.
“Holy shit,” Danielle said. “You gave me a lady boner.”
Emmett descended into full-on blush mode. Benji looked like he wanted to leap across the room and kiss Emmett. Even Trey was gaping at Emmett with respect in his eyes.
“Dude,” Dominic said. “How do you not have a regular gig at your aunt’s club? That was fucking amazing.”
Emmett blushed harder and told the floor, “Severe social anxiety. I can barely bus tables, which is a job no one pays attention to, never mind making myself the center of attention.”
“I respect that. I was terrified of playing my violin in public for a long time, until I took a chance at overcoming that fear.”
“Maybe one day.”
“Hey, I thought this was all about me,” Lincoln said, redirecting with feigned annoyance. Emmett shot him a relieved smile, then melted against the wall again.
Dominic laughed. “You always did like being the center of attention.”
“Well, in case you forgot, I am a cocky bitch.”
“Okay then, cocky bitch. Let’s get Andy’s drums set up and see what you’ve got.”
Lincoln grinned. “Bring it.”
They brought it for the next couple of hours.
Emmett wasn’t entirely sure what went into covering a song in a different arrangement from the original sheet music. He’d never attempted it himself, and he’d never sat down and studied the differences. So when the original members of XYZ, plus Andy, began to practice an arrangement of “The Sound of Silence” that was closer to Disturbed than to Simon & Garfunkel, Emmett was mesmerized.
He ended up sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, while the foursome—with input from Trey and Danielle—went through the song note by note, lyric by lyric, deconstructing and building the song back up. Sometimes their playing sounded like screeching cats; sometimes it sounded like magic.
At one point, Danielle went out and returned with a giant bag of Chinese takeout cartons. They ate without really stopping. When Lincoln’s mouth started to pinch, and he deliberately put his sunglasses on, Emmett fetched him a migraine pill and a glass of water. They all took a bathroom break.
Emmett massaged Lincoln’s shoulders until he melted intothe chair. Before they started up again, Emmett stole a spicy kiss.
Benji had a fantastic voice, and he nailed the number once they figured out how to make it work best for his range, but Emmett couldn’t stop a flash of jealousy. He wanted to be the one singing with Lincoln—especially singing this song. It was Emmett’s favorite. It was the first song he sang with Lincoln.
It wastheirs.
And XYZ had made it their own.
Emmett wasn’t certain how to feel about that, except excluded.
Around six thirty, the group had played the song in completion at least a dozen times, and Benji looked exhausted. They broke to relax, take showers, and get ready for their night at Off Beat. Emmett pulled Lincoln against his chest on the couch and held him, grateful for the contact.
Finally.
“How’s your head?”
“Easing up.” Lincoln played with their fingers, entwined on his stomach. “The pill was a good call, thanks.”
“I’m glad. I hate seeing you in pain.”
“Me too.”
Emmett startled. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He twisted his neck to look him in the eyes. “Are you okay with the song we chose?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful, the way you’re covering it.”
