Chapter 37

Key doesn’t seem to mind the company. He makes a grab for Joey’s crotch—or seems to, anyway. Joey scoots back in surprise, almost falling off the stool. Key’s hand dips down, latching onto the highest rung on the stool, right between Joey’s thighs. With a grin, he gives the stool a tug to pull Joey closer. “Come on over here a little,” he says. “You’re too far away.”

“The mic’s right there…” Joey grabs onto the music stand as his stool skitters a few inches over the hardwood floor. Now he’s right up on Key, knees touching, and when he leans into the microphone, Key fills his entire world.

This isn’t going to work.

He stares at the sheet music and tries to concentrate on the lyrics, but they make no sense to him. Maybe he can lose himself in the melody instead; he pulls on his headphones, closes his eyes, listening. All he hears is dead air.

Great.