Daron's Guitar Chronicles Volume 12

916 SEA OF SORROW

SEA OF SORROW

Ziggy had changed clothes between the club and the loft. He was wearing a denim jacket that once might have been light blue but had been remade violet over a tight white undershirt.

Jonathan was holding him forcibly against a wall by his grip on Ziggy's jacket sleeves, or maybe he was holding himself up, since he seemed somewhat unsteady. They were chest to chest. Ziggy, for his part, was wriggling like a cat trying to get away from a veterinarian.

Davide and I moved toward them, Jonathan let himself be scooped aside by his guy, and replaced his hold on Ziggy more or less, like some whacked-out square-dance move. Ziggy didn't try to get away from me so much as he gripped onto my forearms, still snarling and spitting. He seemed very put out about something. Had Jonathan said something to him that set him off?

"Are you all right?" How unusual that I was the one who could use words for a change.

He squinted at me and pulled me into a hug.

"Are you on drugs?"

"I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth into my ear. "Just...emotional."

I hugged him back. "Funerals are like that."

"Yeah." He snorted and the tension began to ebb out of him.

I loosened my grip so I could get a look at his face. "Are you sure you're all right? What did J say?"

"He said it wasn't worth it." Ziggy's pupils were fairly huge. I tried to stay calm, but it was somewhat jolting to think that Jonathan thought the relationship with me hadn't been worth it after all. Was Ziggy trying to defend my honor or something?

"Is that what you were fighting about?"

"We weren't fighting. We didn't get to fighting."

"It looked like you were fighting..."

Ziggy blinked. His raccoon eyes were severe from earlier crying. "Wait. I mean Jonathan and I were not fighting. He was keeping me from fighting."

Oh. Wait. "With whom?"

Ziggy's eyes focused on me instead of on the crowd behind me. "Your former singer."

"Oh." That was the oh of relief as much as comprehension. "Jonathan's right. Not worth it." I looked behind me, but Roger didn't seem to be anywhere nearby. J and Davide were hovering, though, as was our host, while everyone else seemed like they either weren't paying attention to us or at least were acting like they weren't.

"You can't expect me–" Ziggy began, then stopped himself, settling his head on my shoulder and sighing. "Never mind."

"Did he say something to you?"

"I said never mind." Ziggy shifted against me and then reached out to pull Jordan toward us. "Sorry about that. I know better than to make a scene."

"You might," Jordan allowed, "but I'm not certain RD does. He's left, by the way. In case you were wondering."

Of course I had been wondering. Well, that was good to know. "Thanks. Would you check on Jonathan? He seemed a little unsteady on his feet."

"Sure."

I turned my attention back to Ziggy, who was suppressing a smirk. I steered him to the nearby refrigerator and extracted a green bottle of Perrier for him. "What's so funny?"

"Jonathan. I'm trying to remember if I've ever seen him drunk. I don't think so. I guess everyone's going to excess tonight in honor or Freddie."

"I guess so." Normally I would have suggested we leave at that point, but it felt a little like since Roger had left–or possibly been asked to leave–on my account, I should stick around for a while.