CHAPTER THREE
Derek stood at the side of the stage sipping a beer and watching Reckless open the last of their three-night stint at the Staples Center. With the busy agendas of both bands, he hadn’t seen Travis for longer than a few minutes in passing since the first night they’d met. Watching Travis now, commanding the microphone and feeding offthe audience, no one would ever know that inside the confident frontman of Reckless housed an overwhelmed man battling the sudden onslaught of stardom, and Derek couldn’t get the vulnerability of the softhearted singer out of his mind.
“They’re damn fucking good.” It was Brandon, standing next to Derek, with Cam, also watching Reckless.
“They are,” Cam agreed. “It wasa great call on Felix’s part to add them to the tour.”
Derek laughed. “You’re such a kiss ass, Cam.”
“I don’t kiss anyone’s ass. Ever.” Cam pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin.
Derek boomed with laughter and gave Cam a hearty slap on the back. “Relax. I’m just fucking with you, bruh.” This was Cam’s first tour with Bulletproof, and the poor guywas still getting used to the way they all busted each other’s balls.
“Oh.” Cam presented a small embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”
Derek continued to watch Travis perform. The man owned the stage, and his dark eyes were alive as he drank in the response of the crowd. “I spent the night with him.”
“Who? Travis?” Brandon asked, his deep baritone raising an octave.
“Yeah. No.” Derek shook his head, as confused as he sounded. “We didn’t screw around. We hung out.” His pulse sped up a little at the memory of climbing the mountain and then getting chased by the cops and almost getting arrested. “He’s one crazy motherfucker. We climbed up to the Hollywood sign and smoked a jay. And we made out a little.”
“Corrupting the straight onesnow? Alright!” Brandon clinked the neck of his beer bottle against Derek’s.
“I wish I could take credit for that, but he’s bi.”
Cam grimaced. “That can be complicated.”
“That’s for damn sure.” Derek tossed back his beer, his eyes still locked on Travis, and wondered about the complexity of getting involved with someone who was bisexual. He reminded himselfto slow down, and that they’d only made out for a little while. But he knew there was more to what he and Travis shared than a few hot kisses while drunk and high. He watched for a few more songs, catching Travis’ eye and sharing a smile, and then retreated to the dressing room.
Derek looked intothe audience, spanning his eyes from one side of the arena to the next. Fists raised high, rock and roll horns saluting the band, the hometown crowd roared and stomped their feet with enough force to shake the stage. Spurred on by the screaming fans, Derek rocked his head harder. His hair whipped his legs and sliced across his Strat. Brandon was next to him, taunting him as he screamed into themic. Derek fired back with a wild riff.
Jeremy was on the drum riser, facing Alan. The two were linked together by the rhythm of the music, each feeding off the other.
The deep boom of the bass vibrated in Derek’s soul as he crossed the stage. Looking into the audience, he spotted a kid sitting on his father’s shoulders. The Bulletproof T-shirt, three sizes too big forthe kid’s frame, billowed around his waist as he raised both arms over his head and shot horns in the air. A smile spread across Derek’s face. “Look at this kid,” he said into the microphone, interrupting Brandon who was addressing the crowd between songs. “Right there.” Derek pointed to the kid. “It’s the next generation of metal heads!”
Brandon loved kids, and melted at the sightof the young rocker. He took a rolled up T-shirt from the bin next to the launcher, signed it with a sharpie that one of the roadies handed him, and tossed it to the kid. The kid caught it, his face lighting up brighter than the sun.
The band transitioned intoLethal and Dangerous. Halfway through the song, something drew Derek’s gaze to the side of the stage. He knew it was Travisbefore their eyes met, as if he felt the man’s aura.He’s watching me.It sent a tingle up the center of Derek’s chest. He acknowledged Travis with a nod of his head and an animated smile.
Travis wore a crooked grin, gave a small wave with his hand, and waggled his brows.
Like a shot of adrenaline, energy coursed through Derek’s limbs. Fueled by the watchful gaze of thealluring man, he jumped onto the amp in one giant leap and rocked his body to the beat of Alan’s bass drum. The room was a blur of bright lights through a curtain of black hair. His fingers ran through the chords, adding a few extra notes and enhancing the killer riff. The fans screamed. Derek’s heart pounded. Flashes from camera phones bounced through the arena, creating a strobe of white light.Out of breath but still flying high, he turned to look toward the side of the stage.
Travis was still there, laughing and shaking his head. “You’re nuts!” he yelled, with his hands cupped around his mouth. “I love it!”
Derek’s eyes drifted to Brandon, who was backed up against the drum riser, and he knew exactly what Bulletproof’s lead singer was about to do, despiteFelix’s warning before every show. Incited by Travis’ presence, Derek jumped off the amp and joined Brandon in a running leap into the audience. As soon as his feet left the stage, panic gripped Derek around his throat. His Strat was across his chest. He’d either end up cracking someone’s skull with it, or breaking his prized instrument in half. Using the muscles in his upper body, he quickly twistedhis body so that he faced the ceiling, and landed on a bed of waiting hands. He rattled off a crazy riff while floating on a conveyer belt of hands that brought him to the front of the arena, where he was promptly pulled from the crowd by security and landed with both feet on the floor.
Brandon landed next to him a second later and threw his arm around Derek’s shoulder. “You’re fuckingdangerous! You could have killed someone with your Strat.”
“Didn’t think about it until the last minute. Luckily everyone survived. Even my axe.” He picked off a few notes, proving they were both OK.
“Thanks for always being there to break my fall, Los Angeles!” Brandon yelled into the mic as soon as they climbed back on stage. “How about this crazy fucker?” He pointedat Derek. “Give it up for Derek MacAlister on guitar.”
Derek slid to the front of the stage on his knees. Whipping the floor with his long hair, he sent a lightning fast barrage of twangy notes through the arena. The crowd pumped their fists in the air and hollered back.
Brandon strutted over to Jeremy next. “Let’s hear it for Jeremy Kagan, the coolest bassist on theplanet!”
Jeremy let out a low thump of beats on his Ibanez, which filled the area with a grungy undertone. The fans shouted and screamed their love for him.
