Beneath the Stain - Part 5 Read Free Page B

Blake was in Mackey’s spot on the couch. Mackey—careful of the tattoo Blake had on the upper quadrant of his chest—sat down on him, chuckling a little at his startled “oolf” as he set his feet up on the coffee table.
    “Dammit, Mackey!” Blake struggled to sit up, and Mackey let himself be rolled to the other end of the couch, laughing in relief. He could play. God, when was the last time he played?
    “Serves you right,” he said smugly. “Next time don’t take my spot.” He sat down on the far end of the couch this time and waved Blake to the opposite end. “Here. You and me can share.”
    Blake grunted and laughed too, sitting down like Mackey indicated. They were watching Sleepy Hollow , one of Mackey’s favorite shows—thank God not into reruns yet.
    “Blake, you’re coming upstate with us during Christmas, right?” Mackey said it casually, not even looking at him. Blake liked to follow. If Mackey didn’t make a big deal out of it, Blake just might follow them there.
    “Yeah, uhm, I guess.”
    “Good. Trav’ll make the arrangements. I sorta like us all together—we don’t need to be scattering to the four winds just yet.”
    “Hey!”
    Mackey looked up and was embarrassed by the naked gratitude in Blake’s eyes.
    “Thanks, Mackey.”
    Mackey shrugged and turned his attention back to the screen. “No worries—can we back it up a little? I got no idea what that thing on the screen really is.”
    Blake aimed the remote at the television, and Kell squatted down by Mackey, leaning over the end of the couch.
    “Thanks, little brother,” he said quietly. “I think he really needed that.”
    Mackey shrugged. “We gotta make it work with each other,” he said, thinking about Trav. “I could always stand to be nicer.”
    Kell ruffled his hair in acknowledgment and left Mackey to watch his show in peace.
     
     
    T RAV ’ S FLIGHT got held up, and Mackey was not in a good mood as he did the sound check in the stadium. In his head he knew Trav would be there in time for the performance, and Debra had overseen the equipment and getting them all on the damned plane, but in his heart he knew that he was going to perform for the first time since Gerry’d been there, and that he was used to his Xanax and pot before the performance and his vodka afterward.
    He’d been counting on Trav instead.
    Oh, and his tattoo itched like a motherfucker.
    Blake had seen him trying hard not to scratch the still raw ink when they were on the plane, and offered him a little tube of painkilling ointment to go on it.
    Mackey hadn’t even bothered to go to the bathroom to put it on, just lifted his shirt and greased that shit up right there in his seat, blessing Blake’s name the whole time.
    “Looks sort of cool,” he said, liking the glossiness. “I should do this before I go up on stage. We can all show them off.”
    Stevie and Jefferson had gotten theirs on opposite biceps (which were getting bigger on both of them with the gym in the downstairs and all), and Kell had gotten his on his stomach. Shelia had offered to get hers on her ass, which was really sweet, but Mackey told her that was up to her. Maybe she wanted to get something with just Stevie and Jefferson, right? She’d looked sad, and said she felt like she was little sister to the whole band, and Mackey felt like shit.
    “Okay, then, darlin’—but maybe more a tramp stamp than an ass pass, okay? That way everyone can see it. Your ass is sort of members-only, right?”
    She grinned and kissed his cheek, and he felt a little better. Okay. Only an asshole sometimes. Maybe he could make it through Oakland without Trav after all.
    So even Shelia had a tattoo she could grease up. That would be cool—not subtle, really, but then, The Red Hot Chili Peppers wearing tube socks on their penises hadn’t been subtle. Memorable , yes, but subtle? Not so much.
    So the family tattoo thing was nice, and so was Blake’s offer of ointment, but even with the