Page 80 of Bulletproof
Everyone was quiet for a moment, the crackle of the fire punctuating the silence.
“Since me and Alan have been together,” Jeremy explained, “everything’s been perfect, but while I waited for him to figureout what he wanted, my fucking gut was a washing machine of anxiety. My heart was a tornado of frustration. I was losing my shit because I wanted him so much and I wanted everyone to know it.”
Alan tenderly rubbed the back of Jeremy’s neck. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I don’t know how I didn’t know right from the beginning, when I was 14 years old, that I was in love with you.”
Jeremy turned into a puddle of mush and the corners of his mouth twitched before he gave his lover a kiss.
Derek discreetly wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Love was all around him, yet it evaded him. Just when he thought he would become a couple, one half of a duo, he was stuck being the single guy again. He cleared his throat to steady his voice. “What aboutyou two?” he asked Brandon and Cam.
“We had our ups and downs in the beginning,” Brandon admitted. “Especially when I went on tour for the first time without Cam. Being apart makes you realize how much you love someone, though.”
That was the fucking truth, and Derek’s heart sunk deeper into the pit of his stomach with a burning sensation. His phone buzzed. Thinking itmust be Travis, hope lit up his face, but Felix’s name was on the display. “Why the fuck is Felix calling me at this hour?”
Everyone exchanged puzzled expressions.
“Hey, Felix,” Derek said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“I’m just calling to see how you are. And how Travis is doing.” Felix had no less stress in his voice off tour than during it. “I’m sorry tocall so late. I just heard.”
The fatherly tone in Felix’s voice made goosebumps rise on Derek’s arms. Something was wrong. “What are you talking about?”
“Reckless. Didn’t Travis tell you that he’s no longer in the band?”
It was the last thing Derek expected to hear, and he stumbled over his words. “No. Travis and I are, um, kinda on a break.”
Again, the fatherly sigh of concern. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Derek. I know he meant a lot to you, and I could see that he cared about you, too.”
Although he appreciated Felix’s words, Derek just wanted to know what was going on with Travis. “What do you mean Travis left Reckless?”
“I don’t want to alarm you, but we both know the guy is probably not taking it well,and let’s be honest, you kept him sane. You were his calming voice of reason. His soothing tonic. I care for the young man. That’s why I called to recommend counsel. He’s going to need a good lawyer.”
“Why the fuck would he need a lawyer?”
“Because he broke a contract. The label didn’t fire him. He either walked away or the band ousted him. However it went down, I’m surethe label is going to seek recovery of lost revenue. Reckless had the potential to be extremely lucrative, and they’re not going to be as marketable with a new lead singer.”
Derek was out of words. His mind fumbled with the news that Travis had left Reckless, whether of his own volition or by elimination. He imagined the worst possible scenario of Travis flipping out and taking ahandful of pills in order to calm down. “I gotta go. I gotta make sure he’s OK.”
“Please pass along my telephone number so I can refer him to my attorney.”
“Thanks, Felix. You’re aces.” And he meant it. He clicked the phone off and immediately searched the browser on his phone for information about Travis’ split with Reckless.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked.
Everyone was staring at Derek, but he needed to find out what the hell happened. “Travis left Reckless.” Dozens of hits lit up his phone. He clicked on the first one, ignoring the gasps and comments from his bandmates.
The headline read: Travis Fontana Removed as Frontman from Hard Rock Sensation Reckless.
Beneath it, the article continued: A mutual partingof ways has separated singer Travis Fontana from his former band Reckless. But was it really that much of a surprise? The growing tension between the members of the newly-famous band has been widespread among the entertainment industry. An apparent dispute between Travis Fontana and bassist Mark Miller in Sacramento left the singer with a fat lip and a black eye and the bass player with a brokennose. The lead singer laughed it off at the start of the show saying, “Rock and roll is all about blood and guts. It ain’t pretty. And I’m giving it to you right here. Raw and unfiltered.” The most recent and notable snafu was in Phoenix while Reckless was on tour supporting mega-sensation Bulletproof on their Full Metal Jacket Tour. During the first song of Reckless’ set, Fontana seemed druggedor drunk, missing a few lyrics and then running off stage, leaving the band to continue without him. He returned to finish the last chorus of the song with the ridiculous excuse that he had to take a dump. Rumors have it that the rebellious frontman, who has been in and out of trouble since his teens, is having some kind of nervous breakdown. Neither Mr. Fontana nor the remaining band members, northeir record label, have yet to comment on what exactly what went down or on the future of Reckless.
Derek clicked off the article and hit the number for Travis’ speed dial. He didn’t care that he was supposed to be giving the guy his space and room to deal with shit on his own. This was fucking bad. It was too big. Once, twice, three times the phone rang before it went into voicemail.The guy never fucking answered his phone and it outraged Derek. “Call me back, Travis,” he left on the voicemail. “I need to know you’re alright. I respect that you need your space. I just need to know you’re OK.” He clicked the phone off and sent Travis a text.
Derek: I’m worried about you. Please get in touch with me. Just let me know you’re OK.
He leaned his head backin frustration, smacking it against the hard wood of the Adirondack chair. He knew he wasn’t going to hear from Travis for a while. If Travis didn’t respond right away, it meant his head was in the clouds or he was zonked out somewhere. Derek’s hand went to the guitar pick around his neck that belonged to Chris Cornell. He’d been wearing it more often lately. He rubbed at the piece and silentlyprayed that Travis was smart enough to reach out if he needed help.
