Beneath the Stain - Part 4 Read Free Page A

something I didn’t really get over.”
    Good, Mackey. Make ’em come to you.
    “Is that why we never see you with any women, Mackey?”
    Yup—sweet middle-aged woman asking that question, she made it sound like a joke, nothing invasive, nothing earth-shattering.
    “Well, the reason you don’t see me with any women is that I’m gay,” Mackey said casually, and then he winked at the camera, like he and the audience could ignore the fact that all of the reporters had just lost their fucking minds.
    “Mackey!” cried one woman, a little taller, a little louder than the others. “Do you think your sexual orientation had anything to do with your drug addiction?”
    Mackey grimaced like this was the world’s dumbest question. “Sweetheart, it’s not the gay that made me want to use drugs, it was the fear of how you people react. You all promise to behave, I promise to lay off the hard stuff.”
    And like that, the atmosphere went from charged like a feeding frenzy to gentle laughter. Yup, he’d made them promise to behave—they had to play nice or they’d look bad.
    “What was it that prompted you to come out?” called another reporter, and Mackey and Blake made eye contact while Blake nodded enthusiastically.
    “Well,” Mackey drawled, “I could have said I was only bi when I was high, but if I was gonna stay sober after rehab, that would mean I never got laid again.”
    This time the laughter was louder, and Mackey nodded, touching Blake’s shoulder. Off-screen, Trav had been giving everyone the wrap-it-up signal, and they’d moved back into the center and out of the limelight.
    “Did we dance well enough, Mr. Music Box Man?” Mackey asked dryly as they cleared the foyer.
    Trav had no choice but to nod. “You did great, guys. Do you want a banana, or would you settle for a ride home in three days?”
    “ God , I want to go home,” Blake burst out, and Mackey seconded it.
    “You weren’t shitting about the gym, right?” Mackey’d asked, and Trav had to smile, thinking back on it. Apparently working out was part of their daily regimen. When Trav had put Kell in charge of setting up a gym in the second garage, Mackey and Blake had about wagged their tails and lolled their tongues in gratitude. Well, good. In Trav’s experience, hard-worked bodies were bodies that kept out of trouble.
    He’d said good-bye and come home, to where Kell was recording the press conference on E! .  After watching it with the gang, he felt a little thrill of warmth in the pit of his stomach.
    “They look good,” Kell said avidly, and Jefferson and Stevie concurred.
    “I hope we’ve practiced enough,” Stevie said, sounding worried. “Man, he kept sending us songs and shit—if we don’t hit the studio sounding prime, he’s gonna lose his fucking nut.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m sort of missing the studio,” Jefferson admitted, throwing himself back on the couch. “I miss the band . This is the longest we ain’t played since Mackey gathered us in a circle in our living room, you know?”
    Trav couldn’t keep his curiosity contained. “Mackey formed the band? How old were you?”
    Kell closed his eyes like he was setting the date up in his head. “Yeah, it was a couple of months after Cheever’s dad left. Mom went on a religion kick for a year—she was cleaning the organ player’s house anyway. So she had us go learn guitar and piano while she was working.”
    Trav nodded, seeing the scene clearly behind his eyes as Kell talked. Mackey in the middle, ordering all the older kids around, the older kids desperate for a diversion, and the song about fighting just spilling out of Mackey’s agile brain.
    “God,” Trav said when Kell was done, “he’s really something, your brother. You know that?”
    Kell squinted at him. “Yeah, but straight guys don’t usually say that about other guys.”
    “I’m sayin’,” Jefferson agreed.
    Shelia stated the obvious. “Well, it’s a good thing Mackey’s not