Twenty year old Corey Evans is one-half of 2ICE, the biggest duo on the radio at the moment. Pronounced twice, they're number one on the Billboard charts this week with their latest single. And number one in download sales, with two albums that have already gone platinum, to hear their manager tell it. And currently on their second U.S. tour, which has sold out stadiums across the nation. Despite this, there's an emptiness inside him which Corey can't seem to fill, no matter how many groupies he takes to his bed. He sees this same emptiness mirrored in the eyes of his band-mate, Ian Coltraine, who drowns his evenings after each show with a bottle of whiskey. Ian's the one Corey turns to when he wakes beside an unknown fan, still asleep in his bed and needs help evicting her. He's Corey best friend, the only person on the tour he can confide in, who he really trusts ... The one, Corey finally realizes, with whom he is madly, deeply, terribly in love. And he suspects Ian might feel the same. But his recent string of one-night stands makes Ian cautious about Corey's true feelings. He's wanted Corey for so long, and has watched him go through countless fans in search of ... what? Ian doesn't know. And he doesn't yet believe Corey when he says Ian might be it. Ian hopes so, but can't bring himself to believe Corey's fickle desire won't be gone in the morning. Can these two young men somehow move beyond Corey's past and Ian's pain to embrace a love they both so desperately desire?

Beautiful Disaster

And now this. Ian sat across the table next to Dean, who nursed his third Long Island iced tea of the evening and laughed at something Kate had said that Corey missed because he was too busy being bitter. He hated Japanese food, the slimy uncooked pieces of fish that Dean gobbled like candy, the damn chopsticks he couldn’t eat with, the waitresses who spoke in a foreign language like the chatter of magpies. Corey didn’t like that he didn’t know what they were saying. He knew it was about him because the younger waitresses dropped their gazes when he looked their way. He didn’t feel like eating rice or paper thin noodles madefrom rice, and every damn item on the menu was served with one or the other. He wanted something meaty, something American—a juicy sirloin maybe, or a hamburger dripping with grease, something more than these grains and vegetables on his plate.


Chapter 11