Page 68 of Bulletproof
Derek nudged Travis with his elbow. “Go ahead. Take him up on his offer. You can get invaluable advice from one of the greatest heavy metal vocalistsof the 21stcentury, Brandon Bullet. Baritone. Screamer. Creamer and dreamer.”
Brandon let out a rich, hearty laugh. “You’re an asshole.”
Travis glanced at the awestruck expressions on his bandmates faces, envious that Brandon Bullet had extended the invitation to Travis. Their eyes never left the conversation, and they gawked, listening to every word. And it felt damnfucking good.
“That’d be great.” Travis smiled at Brandon. “I’d be honored to be mentored by a well-respected vocalist like you.” He took in the confines of his small dressing room, filled with people and no privacy. “Where do you want to do this?”
“I usually use Derek’s dressing room, since mine is always filled with people.” Brandon sent a teasing grin in his best friend’sdirection. “No one’s ever in Derek’s dressing room. It’ll be empty. No one will bother us. Probably not even a knock on the door to wish him—”
Derek gave Brandon a playful kick in the leg with his foot. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.” And they both shared a laugh.
“Come on.” Brandon motioned for Travis to rise from the couch. “You don’t have much time before Reckless hasto take the stage.”
“What should I do?” Derek asked, as they both got to their feet. “Jerk off while I watch the two of you stroke each other’s egos?”
Brandon covered his eyes. “Thanks for putting that image in my head. Now I’m blind.”
“Fine. Since you’re gonna be hanging out with my guy, I’ll just go back to your dressing room and hang out with your guy.”It was the second time Derek had made the involuntary reference in the last few minutes, and each time it made Travis’ heart beat a little faster. This time, Derek picked up on Travis’ reaction.
“Youaremy guy. You know that, right?”
Travis didn’t even try to hold back a giddy smile. “I’m your guy.”
Before they left the room, Travis turned to his bandmates,smug and cocky. “I’ll be with Brandon.” He gloated. “But I’ll be back in plenty of time before the show starts.”
His bandmates stared back at him, their gaping mouths dripping with jealousy, and he fucking loved it.
Hand in hand, Travis walked with Derek down the hallway next to Brandon. When they got to Brandon’s dressing room, Travis left a soft kiss on his lover’slips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making my life easier. For dealing with my bullshit. For understanding. For listening.”
“Hey, I care about you, Trav. I want to do whatever I can for you. I’ve never had anyone need me before. I like it.”
The emotion closed in on Travis and stole his voice. The excitement of a preshow vocal warm up with someoneas revered as Brandon Bullet was overwhelming enough. He couldn’t believe that both Derek and Brandon came to check on him, because that’s exactly what they did. No matter how they tried to disguise it, when they should have been prepping for their own set, they were here to make sure he wasn’t having another panic attack. The support of not only the wonderful man he was blessed to call his boyfriend,but also the support of Derek’s best friend, knocked the wind out of him.
Derek took Travis’ face in his hands and studied him. He expected Derek to ask him if he was all right or tell him to relax. Instead, he said, simply, “Have fun. And let me know if this guy gets out of line.”
After a quick peck on the lips, Derek slipped into Brandon’s dressing room and rejoinedthe preshow party, while Travis and Brandon moved further down the corridor past the noise and festivities. Travis didn’t think he’d ever be able to deal with the crazy parties Bulletproof had before each show. His shaky nerves could barely deal with being around his bandmates.
They entered Derek’s dressing room and shut the door. Brandon showed Travis an app that contained an arrayof scales to practice, demonstrated breathing exercises, and how to hold a note without becoming short of breath. Travis paid close attention, absorbing the lesson and admiring the power and stamina of Brandon’s voice.
“This is so cool.” Travis cleared his throat. “I can feel my voice opening up. Projecting through the room. It’s stronger. It flows through my vocal cords.”
“Run through these exercises every time you sing. I can’t stress that enough. There’s one more thing.” Brandon nuked two cups of hot water, took two teabags from a cardboard box and stuck one in each cup. While it steeped, he added a nice dose of raw honey.
Travis sipped Brandon’s special brew, which had a unique taste, but coated his throat like velvet. “This tea . . .” He lookedinto the cup. “It really doesn’t taste that good, but it feels like butter in my throat.”
“It’s my miracle juice. If I didn’t drink this stuff, my voice would have been shot years ago. It doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me. I’ve been screaming my head off since I was 13. My voice is stronger now than it was back then, and I hope five years from now it’s even more powerfulthan it is today.”
Brandon Bullet’s voice was legendary. His raunchy throaty scream contained a raw grit and power that few possessed. As hard as it was, it also had the capability of carrying a soft melody. He was a master at his craft, and it was effortless. He oozed confidence and performed with inhibition. Unlike Travis, who had to dope himself up with pills to sleep and sometimesjust to get through the day. He swore he’d never take a fucking pill in his life. Now he popped Ambien and Xanax. Not regularly, only when he really needed it, which seemed to be more often lately.
Travis checked the time on his phone. He needed to head back to his dressing room and to the stage. The past half hour he’d spent with Brandon normally would have been spent cracking hisknuckles, pacing back and forth, tugging on his hair, going over the set list in his head frontward and backward, worrying that his voice wouldn’t hold up, worrying that it would crack or that it would just give out altogether. That’s when he realized that Brandon wasn’t here only to give him valuable advice and techniques – the guy was sincere and filled with integrity – but the real reason forthe vocal exercises was to give Travis a tool. Something to keep him centered and occupy his mind in those moments that otherwise would have been spent tearing himself down with insecurities. He noted the calmness in his steady heartbeat and the lack of jitteriness to his hands. The shake was gone, replaced by calm assuredness.
