Page 60 of Bulletproof
Travis displayed a mischievous grin and pointed to the vent on the ceiling of the bus. “We can climb through there and play on the roof. It’s one of my favoriteplaces.”
“The roof?”
“Yep. I sit up there sometimes at night. Reckless’ tour bus has this row of ridges and indents that I climb up. I can scale it like a lizard.”
Derek blinked at the insanity of climbing onto the roof of the bus, hanging onto a seam in the smooth metal.
Travis found something to stand on, cranked open the air vent and poppedoff the screen. “Oops. It just fell off when I touched it.” The adorable, virtuous smile Travis wore could soften the hardest of hearts. Travis hoisted himself through the opening and slithered onto the top of the bus, completely comfortable about standing 12 feet in the air on an uneven surface.
This guy was fucking Spiderman.
A round of screams and cheers rose fromthe crowd outside when they saw him. He said something to them that Derek couldn’t make out, and then stuck his head inside the bus. “Hand me your axe and amp.”
Too late to back out, Derek stood on the overturned wastebasket that served as a stool and handed off the equipment before grabbing Travis’ hand. In seconds, he was on top of the tour bus, a place he’d never thought he bein his life, ready to play for a group of strangers in the parking lot of a diner in the middle of the night. For free. “What do you want to sing?”
Travis scratched his chin. “Hmm. Well, I love this really cool band. They’re a multi-platinum, multi-Grammy-winning phenomena. I know most of their songs, too. Are you familiar with Bulletproof?AK-47is my favorite. There’s a killer guitarriff that’ll make your head spin. The lead guitarist is pretty fuckin’ hot, too.”
Derek threw his head back and laughed. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”
“Baby, I’m your number one fan.” Travis stepped closer, leaned in, and placed a gentle kiss on Derek’s lips.
Goosebumps ran across the back of Derek’s neck, rippling all the way down to his tailbone. Theslowness of the kiss and the soft pressure overflowed with passion. Derek took a deep breath and swallowed, while the fans below let out a round of cheers and whistles at their public display of affection.
“Are you ready to rock?” Travis asked.
Ironically, Travis didn’t express the slightest bit of anxiety over the performance. It made Derek wonder what triggered thestage fright, and if maybe it was the size of the audience, the pressure from his bandmates, or maybe because so much was riding on Reckless’ success in this early stage of their career.
Derek played the first few notes ofAK-47and it echoed into the empty space around them, as if they were at an amphitheater. Travis sang the lyrics totally different than Brandon. He wasn’t a copycatsinger. He put his own spin on the track, and although it wasn’t what anyone was used to, the fans loved it. And so did Derek. It didn’t have Brandon’s signature scream or the growl and grit, but Travis’ voice held a note with a beautiful ring that resonated with the treble of the guitar. With no bass to add a deep boom, they harmonized.
Derek thumped his foot on the metal roof ofthe bus, the echo simulating the beat of the drum. He leaned back and jutted his hips toward the sky as his fingers flew up and down the fret board. Travis ran to the other end of the bus and projected his vocals to the sky. They turned to face one another, their gaze meeting across the 50-foot bus. They strutted toward one another, taunting each other with each step. Travis’ voice turned raspy andhe snarled his lip, while Derek’s guitar took on a grungy twang.
Derek’s foot slid on the smooth surface beneath him and he slipped. Travis dove and caught Derek by the arm, but it was too late. Derek was already on his way down and took Travis with him. The cold metal ridge on the roof of the tour bus hit Derek in the butt, and it hurt like hell, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Traviswas on his knees, still singing, never missing a lyric even though Derek had stopped playing, and still holding onto Derek’s arm so he didn’t roll off the top of the tour bus.
The stability and stamina that Travis possessed, the degree of commitment, even though they were just playing for fun, impressed Derek. This man was a star.
Derek got to his feet and rattled offa guitar solo. The sound of the strings carried through the open air, until the wail of a siren overpowered his amp and flashing red and blue lights filled the parking lot.
“Uh-oh,” Travis said into the mic. “We’re busted.”
Wide brown eyes stared at Derek before they both burst out laughing. “We’re so fucked.”
A police officer stepped out of the cruiser andbrought the handheld mic to his lips, which broadcasted his voice over the loudspeaker. “Get down off the bus.”
The fans in the parking lot booed and groaned their displeasure.
“Come on, man!” Travis yelled at the cops. “We’re just havin’ fun! We’re not hurting anybody!”
Derek tugged on Travis’ shirt. “Shh. You’re gonna get us both arrested.”
“I repeat, get down off the bus.”
“We’re coming down, officer.” Derek motioned for Travis to jump into the bus through the roof vent.
Travis sulked. “Spoilsport.”
Derek handed Travis the equipment before he slid down the opening, joining his partner in crime. When he turned around, Travis was smiling. “What now?” Derek asked, sure that Travis had another planbrewing.
“Let’s hit it. Cut outta here.”
