Love Me Tenor

by Annabeth Albert

  The schedule they’d been handed on the bus had them all performing back-to-back tonight. Then tomorrow they were free to wander around the festival, getting as many photo opportunities as possible and spreading word of the show. Michelin was one of the headliners tomorrow evening. They’d return to Vancouver early Sunday morning.

  “I’ll be ready to sing.” Carter didn’t sound too sure.

  “I’m taking your leads if you don’t go sit down.” Trevor channeled that same no-nonsense tone, stiffening his spine, not letting an ounce of doubt in. “I mean it.”

  “Okay, okay.” Carter slid in next to Jalen, giving Trevor a so there look and leaving him to sit next to Carson.

  “Nice of you to join us.” Jalen didn’t even bother pretending that he hadn’t been watching Trevor bully Carter into sitting down.

  Carter made a rude noise and took a big bite of cinnamon roll.

  “Here’s the deal.” Jalen leaned forward. “You two are going to play a couple. Act. I don’t care if you’re not speaking off camera. On camera, you need to get it together.”

  “I’m not sure I can.” Carson’s eyes were locked on his coffee.

  “Don’t you want to win?” Trevor asked.

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Carter surprised Trevor by the depth of his conviction.

  “Of course he does. Nothing he won’t do to get ahead.” Carson chopped his breakfast sandwich in half with a brutal motion.

  “Hey, whatever happened between you two, we’re not getting into that. That’s between you guys. But the part where we’re about to lose, that’s us. And we’ve worked too hard to throw it all away—”

  “Because someone couldn’t keep his dick in his pants,” Carson interrupted.

  “I told you—” Carter tried to counter, but Jalen held up a hand.

  “Look. If I can pretend to be his boyfriend,” he jerked his thumb in Trevor’s direction, “you guys can pretend to be a couple. You already know how.”

  “Gee. Thanks. Glad to know I’m such a burden.” Trevor picked at his food.

  “You know what I mean,” Jalen snapped.

  Trying not to gag on rubbery eggs, Trevor nodded. Somehow the words that had come so easily a few days ago were so hard to trust now that they were back in the midst of show and group politics.

  “I’ll play nice on one condition,” Carson said.

  “Yeah?” Trevor said warily.

  “I’m not sharing a room with him tonight after the show.”

  “Oh come on, babe.” Carter leaned forward only to be pushed back by Jalen.

  “You don’t get an opinion. You want to kiss and make up, you do that later.”

  “I mean it. I’m not sharing a room.” Carson stuck out his lower lip like he was three.

  For several long seconds, Trevor worried Jalen was about to agree to a switch. He wouldn’t, would he?

  Finally, Jalen sighed heavily. “Fine. You can sleep on the floor in our room, or if there’s a second bed, you can have that.”

  Trevor’s chest got unreasonably warm at that. They might be sacrificing sex, but at least they weren’t sacrificing each other.

  Yet.

  “Dooh.” The opening note of a Killers cover sounded from the main stage. Heat Loss was bringing it, as usual. Like Trevor, Evan, the Heat Loss lead, was a tenor, but he had far more grit in his voice and the look to back it up. Not that Trevor was jealous. No, not him. And apparently, Evan wasn’t averse to playing the make-Carter-jealous game with Carson, as he and Carson had played cards and laughed a bit too loudly on the remainder of the bus ride to the festival.

  The festival was south of Olympia—land of towering pine trees, soggy grass, and more plaid than Trevor had seen since leaving the Midwest. And unlike Northern Iowa, here the plaid was often paired with utility kilts and sandals with socks. For a remote concert location, the sheer number of people was staggering—a whole tent city, a huge area with vendors and food carts, and then the giant main stage.

  Once at the festival, they had drawn straws for performance order, and by some miracle, Stand Out! was last again. They’d been busy all afternoon with press and wardrobe and sound checks. Trevor wasn’t even sure what time it was—it couldn’t be too late because his phone hadn’t beeped to remind him to take his evening meds. His last blood sugar check had been predictably awful—seemed like he couldn’t catch a break lately. He’d eaten very lightly at dinner, but all that did was leave him hungry as he paced the backstage area, waiting for their turn.

  “Nervous?” Jalen asked.

  “Nah,” Trevor replied, and for once, he wasn’t lying. He had so many other worries that stage fright was the least of his issues. Heck, performing would almost be a relief. Might distract from his pounding head and flip-floppy stomach that couldn’t seem to decide whether it was hungry or upset.

  “We’re going to be okay.” Jalen wrapped his arms around Trevor, and Trevor had a feeling the words were more for himself than Trevor. “Carter and Carson are professionals.”

  “Mmhmm.” Trevor enjoyed the embrace too much to contradict Jalen, but Carson looked like he’d happily skewer Carter with the nearest microphone stand.

  “Five minutes!” Dawn breezed by, clipboard in hand.

  The audience roared for Heat Loss’s final song. Jalen released Trevor and he felt a bit shaky, like his knees weren’t up to the job of holding him upright without Jalen behind him. For a weird moment, he thought he saw two Dawns, then his vision returned to normal.

  Please. Just let me get through this performance. Then I’ll tell Jalen about the blood sugar reading.

  “By the way, remind me to switch our phones back after the performance,” Jalen said, totally oblivious to Trevor’s internal freak-out. “Yours is in my backpack.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He had missed his evening meds. He was sure of it now. He hadn’t heard the phone alarm because he hadn’t had his phone. Crap. His backpack was back in the booth the show had set up with swag and a PA to watch their stuff while they performed. No time to run back for his meds.

  “And next up we have Stand Out!” The announcer bellowed their names, and he had no choice but to follow Jalen up the steps to the main stage.

  His vision swam as the spotlights hit his eyes. His feet felt like giant cedar blocks. No. No. I refuse to have a repeat of the mall. Flat-out refuse.

  We don’t give a fuck about your resolutions, his body answered back, his stomach pitching like a canoe full of third graders at camp.

  Then the opening beats of their first song sounded, and he had no more time to argue with his body. Luckily, Carter provided plenty of distraction.

  Good lord. Trevor would have broken them up a week ago if he’d known Carter had this kind of emotional range after all—Carter sang like a broken man. He sang with a quiet desperation that cut right through Trevor. He sang to Carson. Not to the audience, not to Trevor or Jalen, not following their careful choreography of when to look where. No, Carter laid it all on the line and sang the lonely ode to the brokenhearted everywhere.

  And when he finished, the audience went nuts.

  I can do that, too. Trevor took a deep breath and put everything into his song. All his worries about his health, all of the stupid doubts about whether he and Jalen were for real, all of his secret yearning to win this show. He put it all into every note of every song until the final rush of applause sounded and he was shocked to realize they’d made it through the whole set.

  “Oh my God. We’ve never sounded so good before.” Jalen clapped him on the back as he exited the stage.

  “Uh-huh.” Trevor listed to the side, almost falling on the steps. Crap. Why weren’t his feet working? And his brain seemed to have been replaced with dryer lint, fuzzy little balls that clouded the edge of his vision.

  “Hey, you okay?” Carter bumped him from behind.

  And for the first time, Trevor answered honestly. “No.”

  And then he really was falling, the world going black.

 
Chapter Seventeen

  @NextDirectionShow We can’t wait to make an impact at the Bigfoot Music Festival!

  Jalen felt more than saw Trevor fall. All he knew was one second he was congratulating Trevor on a great job and the next second Carson was yelling, “Holy fuck!”

  Trevor crumbled like a tissue—folding in on himself, his head lolling against Jalen on his way to the grass.

  “Get him some water. Probably heat stroke,” Carter yelled, working with Jalen in unspoken concert to get Trevor to the side of the steps. The dozens of people milling in the backstage area quickly morphed into a ring around them, making the already hot air that much more oppressive.

  “Water.” Dawn rushed over with two bottles still dripping icy droplets from the cooler. “Trevor? Can you drink? Did you get too hot?”

  “Ungh,” Trevor moaned but didn’t open his eyes.

  “It’s not heat stroke.” Bile rose in Jalen’s throat. He was seriously going to hurl. Trevor was pale and sweaty, his pulse a hummingbird flutter under Jalen’s fingers. “He’s diabetic. We need his backpack—that’s where his blood sugar monitor is.”

  “He’s what?” Dawn’s voice was sharp, her eyes even more steely. She raised her voice before calling to the gathering crowd, “Medic! We need a medic over here stat!”

  Then she turned on Jalen. “Jalen. You knew he was diabetic and you didn’t tell me? What the hell were you thinking?”

  I don’t know. Jalen bit his lip hard enough to taste blood but couldn’t give her an answer. She pulled out a walkie-talkie from her hip. “Arrow? I’m going to need Trevor’s backpack from the booth ASAP—we’ve got a medical emergency. And pull his emergency contact info for me . . . oh wait, I think I can access that on my phone.”

  Phone. Oh hell. This was all Jalen’s fault. They’d never swapped phones back. Trevor hadn’t had his alarms.

  “Coming through, coming through.” Two blue-shirted medics with black bags pushed through the crowd. Jalen had seen several of them at the first-aid tents set up throughout the concert grounds. “Space! We need space!”

  And then Dawn and Carson were forcibly hauling him backward, making him drop Trevor’s hand. The medics got Trevor flat, taking vitals. Trevor didn’t make a sound, even when they asked him his name. The silence froze Jalen’s bone marrow, turned him into an ice statue version of himself, watching the events from a distance.

  Someone brought Trevor’s backpack to Dawn—Jalen didn’t see who or really care. She excused herself to the side, riffling through it. A silent scream got trapped in Jalen’s frozen throat. It wasn’t right, her tossing his stuff aside. She handed something to the medics, then stepped aside with her phone. The medics spoke into walkie-talkies of their own. Jalen picked up chatter about a helicopter, then the male medic mentioned a stretcher and moving Trevor.

  Jalen tried to step forward, but his icy feet wouldn’t budge. He barely registered that Carson still had him in a bear hug, like Jalen might escape. I’d have to thaw out first. A manic laugh came out like a gurgle.

  A stretcher was brought through the crowd ringing them, and Trevor was loaded up. He moaned a bit at the movement but still didn’t speak.

  No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

  The female medic said something about the helicopter en route and winds and whether it was going to be able to land. Jalen could only catch every other word, the frost inside him extending to his brain and his ears.

  Still on her phone, Dawn followed the stretcher, and Jalen blindly stumbled after her. Carson was right behind him.

  “You gotta let him go, man.”

  No. Not ever. I can’t.

  The medics carried Trevor through the crowd, through the amphitheater area, not stopping at the first-aid tent.

  This was bad. Very, very bad. Why couldn’t they fix Trevor there? Why take him away? Why can’t I fix him? Why didn’t I see he needed help? He’d known Trevor wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but he’d failed to press him on it, failed to keep him safe.

  They came to a clearing on the edge of the parking lot, a new crowd gathering as word of the emergency spread and rubberneckers appeared like vultures, ready to feed off tragedy.

  No. This isn’t a tragedy. I won’t let it be.

  A great whoosh sounded in the distance, helicopter blades slicing through the crowd noise. The helicopter circled once, twice, and Jalen knew a fresh panic—not that they would take Trevor away but that they wouldn’t be able to.

  On the third pass, the helicopter landed, and it had barely touched the ground before a medic sprang out, rushed to the stretcher. Trevor was loaded up in what felt like seconds, but each heartbeat seemed like hours, time doing funky things.

  Jalen almost did scream as the two concert medics wheeled their empty stretcher away from the helicopter. Trevor was in there now, away from where Jalen could get to him, away from where Jalen could help him.

  “Can’t one of us go with him?” He finally found his voice and yelled to be heard over the rush of the helicopter blades.

  “No.” Dawn’s eyes were sunken, her face sallow in the parking lot light. “I asked. No passengers, especially anyone who isn’t immediate family. They’re taking him to Olympia.”

  “No, no, no,” Jalen chanted as the helicopter lifted off, not even aware he was crying until Carson was making soothing noises in his ear.

  “They’re going to take care of him, man, fix him right up.”

  “Yeah.” Carter awkwardly patted Jalen’s shoulder. “He’ll be good. This is the fastest way to get him to the hospital.”

  Life flight. Life flight. Life flight. The name on the helicopter was etched on Jalen’s brain. No. It wasn’t some ultrafast luxury ride to the doctor—it only came when someone’s life was at risk. Trevor’s life. This was different from a random low blood sugar episode that could be fixed with a snack or glucose—he’d heard the EMTs listing off Trevor’s vitals, and the numbers chilled Jalen all the way to his aching heart.

  Oh God. He really was going to be sick. He pushed away from the guys, barely making it to some bushes before he was hurling. He vomited until nothing was left except dry heaves.

  Someone patted his back. A feminine hand this time. Dawn. She pushed a bottle of water into his hand. “Drink a little. It will help.”

  “The medics said they’d get him stable on the ride to the hospital. They’ve got doctors waiting for them there. He’s going to be okay.” Dawn’s voice was shaky, and he didn’t believe her.

  “Ungh.” Another dry heave hit him.

  “Arrow’s working right now to find a car I can take to the hospital to fill out the paperwork and wait—”

  “I’ve got to go with you.” He grabbed her sleeve.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Her voice firmed up. “You lied to me. You hid his condition—”

  “He didn’t want—”

  “Jalen. You’re twenty years old. Not a kid. You had to know hiding this was a terrible idea, and now look what’s happened. He could—”

  “Don’t say it,” he begged.

  “Die. He could die, Jalen.” The parking lot lights glinted over her hair, gave her a fiery glow. The tang of exhaust in the air combined with her words made him want to hurl again.

  “Light into me later. Send me home later. Whatever apology you need, I’ll do. But please. Let me come. I need to see him.”

  “You’re not just pretend boyfriends anymore, are you?” Her tone was somewhere between angry and surprised. Headlights cut between them but offered no more illumination of her thoughts.

  “You wanted this to happen. You set this up. You wanted me to fall in love with him and I did. I love him,” Jalen said baldly, no problem getting the words out now. Now, when it didn’t matter because Trevor couldn’t hear. “I love him and I’ve got to come with you. I’ve got to tell him.”

  “Oh Jalen.” She sighed, her eyes shutting as she rocked on her heels. “I could get fired over this. The show could get sued.
His parents were nice enough on the phone, but—”

  “Hold up. You called his parents?”

  “They were on his emergency contact form.”

  “They hate Trevor. They disowned him for being gay. They—”

  “Sounded like perfectly nice if startled people to me. The father said someone is flying out to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He’ll update me when—”

  “No. They’ll take Trevor away and they don’t even like him.”

  “Jalen. Calm down. Is it possible Trevor overstated his rift with his family?” She sounded so archly superior that Jalen had to step back, fists tightening. He bumped against a huge pickup. All these cars and people and he was reduced to begging someone he’d disappointed so horribly. She’s right to hate you. You fucked up big-time.

  “No.”

  “Perhaps they’ve had a change of heart—that happens.” Her tone was gentler now.

  Jalen made a scoffing noise. “I doubt it.”

  “I doubt it too,” Carter said from behind Jalen. Jalen hadn’t realized he was still hanging around until just now. “This isn’t going to end well. Do they even know he’s out on TV right now?”

  “Uh.” Jalen honestly didn’t know. “I don’t think so. Crap. They wouldn’t even let him say happy birthday to his sister.”

  “This is a total nightmare.” Dawn put her face in her hands. “Look, I’ve got to find Arrow, get the car, try to make sense of this, and hope to God we’re not about to get slapped with a lawsuit or get production shut down.”

  “I’m coming.” Jalen was done arguing.

  And apparently so was Dawn as she threw up her hands. “Fine. What’s one more log on the fire?”

  “I’m coming, too,” Carter spoke up.

  “Me too,” Carson added. “We’re his group. We should be there.”

  Jalen should have been bolstered by the group unity, but his skin prickled at the intrusions. Trevor was his, and all these people were keeping him from Trevor. He looked up at the clear evening sky, like that might give him a glimpse of the guy who didn’t even know how loved he was.