Page 8 of Bassist With Benefits
“I didn’t have company,” Jeremy was quick to clarify. “Why would you think that?”
Alan shrugged one shoulder. “That’s what Felix told me.”
“Well, Felix was wrong. I went to my room alone.” Jeremy had escaped to his room last night in order to avoid a confrontation with Alan after he found out that Alan had shoved the cameraman. Had Alan been looking for him last night? He wondered if maybe Alan had calmed down and wanted to talk about what had happened.
“Got it!” Derek announced, holding up his phone.
As they resumed their walk to the other end of the floor, Jeremy’s thoughts were running rampant. He was trying to figure out what the hell was going through Alan’s head and what the hell was going to happen to their friendship. Thankful for his long hair which obscured his profile, he stole a quick glance at Alan with only his eyes. Shit. Alan had been looking at him, and they made eye contact for a brief second before Alan turned away and quickened his pace.
When they got to Brandon’s suite, Twin Media was already there preparing for the interview. The interview was in Brandon’s suite because Felix thought there might be an incriminating item left behind from last night’s party in Derek, Jeremy, and Alan’s suite. Housekeeping had already cleaned up this morning and the place was spotless, from what Jeremy could tell, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something hanging around that no one but a rabid journalist would spot. Jeremy specifically recalled the time when a packet of blow just happened to fall out of the couch cushion when they were being interviewed by a major music magazine. The media had exploded with sensational headlines declaring everything from members of Bulletproof spiraling out of control in a drug-induced all-night party, to a near overdose. But Jeremy couldn’t think of anything that was more incriminating than what went on at last night’s party. The journalists hadn’t been there, but the camera crew was sure to pick up the blatant usage of cocaine and pot, and of course, Alan’s attack on the camera guy.
The journalist from Twin Media, a cool-looking chick in jeans and a promotional Bulletproof T-shirt – identical to the one Brandon wore – was setting up her laptop to record the interview. Two cameramen were in place, one facing the journalist, the other in front of where the rest of them would be sitting. Four director-style chairs were set up in the suite, the first one already occupied by Bulletproof’s charismatic lead singer.
Cam was standing next to the chair, one hand on Brandon’s shoulder, the other holding a coffee cup. They were both talking to the journalist, obviously about their relationship.
Derek joined them, giving Brandon a healthy pat on the back before he took the next seat in the line of chairs. It meant that Alan and Jeremy would be sitting next to one another for the interview.
Jeremy could hear the breath exhale from Alan’s lungs as his friend made the same realization. There was nothing left to do but act as if nothing was wrong and hope that Alan would follow Jeremy’s lead. He grabbed a cup of coffee and took the seat next to Derek, while Alan stalled at the buffet.
“That party was a motherfucker,” Derek whispered to Jeremy. He motioned to the cameramen working today’s interview. “I wonder if one of these two is the guy Alan shoved last night.”
It was unlike Alan to be violent, so he must have been pretty fucking upset. The thing that troubled Jeremy the most was that Alan shouldn’t have been so pissed off. It was just a blowjob. Unless… it wasn’t just a blowjob. Alan’s anger and inability to deal with it rationally could only mean one thing – it stirred something inside him that he wasn’t prepared to deal with. At least that’s what Jeremy hoped.
Alan finally took the empty seat next to Jeremy without making eye contact with anyone.
Jeremy fidgeted, wondering what the hell to say or do.Act normal, he told himself. He took his own advice, sat back comfortably in the chair, and clinked his coffee cup to Alan’s. “Here’s to another day.”
Alan barely met Jeremy’s eye and gave a half-hearted nod in return.
It wasn’t much, but Jeremy was grateful for the little bit of interaction.
“So, is everyone ready?” Felix clapped his hands together to interrupt the side conversations taking place in the room.
“I’m always ready,” Brandon answered with a broad smile, prepared to dazzle the cameras.
Felix retreated to the sofa with Cam to watch the interview and stay out of the way.
“I’m Brittany Werthers, and I’m here with the members of Bulletproof, the nation’s hottest heavy metal band, on tour promoting their new CD, Full Metal Jacket.” The journalist held up the CD and smiled into the camera. “These handsome men need no introduction, but in case you’ve been living under a rock,” she tipped the CD toward each of them in succession, “Brandon Bullet, Derek MacAlister, Jeremy Kagan, and Alan Delgado.”
They each gave a nod or a little wave at the camera at the mention of their names.
“Congratulations. I just heard that you have another platinum record to hang on your walls.”
“Thank you,” Brandon replied. “We’re very proud of the music we’ve created on this album. It’s some of our best work.”
“Bulletproof spends more time on the road than most bands. It seems as if a new tour is announced as soon as the old one is over,” the journalist said. “Derek, what’s it like to be on the road so much of the time?”
“We love it. There’s nothing we love more than meeting the fans and playing arenas all over the world. It’s a great life. And we’re thankful that people still line up around the corner to see us, sometimes overnight to get the front row in the pit.”
“Brandon, is there anything special you do to warm up before a show?”
“Of course.” Brandon flashed an excited smile. “I go through a series of vocal exercises. All singers have to warm up their vocal chords, or they run the risk of straining something.”
The journalist laughed harder than necessary, her perky breasts jiggling. She was flirting with Brandon, even though she knew he was gay, and right in front of Cam. But that was the effect Brandon had on people. All people. Men, women – it didn’t matter. He engaged them with his charm and drew them in with his magnetic personality.
“I have this signature scream,” Brandon continued. “It puts a lot of stress on my throat, so it’s important that I don’t overwork my vocal chords.”
Derek turned to Jeremy with a fun-loving smirk. He leaned over and whispered, “Bran and his fucking vocal exercises.”
