12. Chapter Twelve #2
“Fine,” Bronx relented. “The hearing issue came on suddenly after we wrestled. I could hear things on and off at first but now I’m struggling to hear anything.
I’m only getting bits and pieces of words but enough for me to guess what’s being said.
Lower sound registers are muffled, like it’s coming from under water, but higher-pitched tones I can’t seem to hear at all.
How the fuck am I going to play bass if I can’t hear the music or the beat Ashton is laying down for me?
I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.
We have a show in a few days and soon the Vegas residency.
At the rate I’m going, I’ll be stone-deaf before we even arrive in New Orleans. ”
“All right, take a deep breath,” Cavalari soothed and held Bronx’s face in both of his big hands. “Those are valid concerns and I appreciate your honesty.”
Cavalari pulled Bronx closer and wrapped his arms around him.
To his surprise, Bronx didn’t push him away.
If anything, he seemed to nestle in closer like he needed the comfort.
“I’m not a doctor, Bronx, but it sounds like we need to get you in to see a hearing specialist immediately,” Cavalari said.
“I don’t think you can put this off until your next break.
Every day you wait on this could be doing more damage—possibly permanent damage to your hearing.
You can’t fuck around with this, Bronx. Do you understand what I just said? ”
Bronx nodded. “Mostly, but Dagger can’t find out about what’s going on or he’ll be lining up replacements to audition for my slot,” Bronx said and tears began to build up in his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“Listen, our next stop is Houston,” Cavalari pointed out. “Will you allow me to make some phone calls to a few ear specialists in the Houston area?”
“How is that going to help?” Bronx asked. “I won’t have time to stick around and have tests done or procedures and whatnot, and sooner or later Dagger and the rest of the band are going to show up on this trip to New Orleans.”
“If I call now, there’s bound to be at least one specialist who can squeeze you in for an emergency exam,” Cavalari explained, “and if every ear doctor is booked up, then I’ll take you directly to the ER when we arrive in Houston.”
“The ER is risky,” Bronx said. “Someone could recognize me and then the media will latch onto the story and put fear into the guys in the band and every promoter who signed up to sell our Vegas shows. Not to mention, the hospital workers are known for tipping off the tabloids about which celebrities are in their facilities and why.”
“First of all, we can register you under your birth name, instead of your stage name,” Cavalari detailed.
“And besides, not getting the help you obviously need right now is far more risky than anything you just mentioned. Let me do this for you. I’ll grab a couple of the guards from the other bus and we’ll get you in to see a doctor using the back door of the facility and without anyone noticing. ”
The sound of a cell phone ringing caught Cavalari’s attention. He quickly ruled out it being his phone and looked around the room for Bronx’s. “Where’s your phone?” he asked.
“What?”
“Where’s your phone? I can hear it ringing,” Cavalari said.
Bronx spun around to look behind him and found the phone partially tucked under the pillows at the headboard. He quickly grabbed it and saw that it was Dagger calling.
“What’s up?” Bronx asked Dagger but all he heard back was silence. He hung up thinking it was a bad connection and Dagger called again. “We must be in a shit area for cell towers,” he said but the line was still dead.
When the third call back came in, Cavalari took the phone from Bronx’s hand and answered it. “Hi, Dagger, this is Tony.”
“Why are you answering Bronx’s phone?” Dagger asked. “I was in the middle of talking to him and he hung up.”
“He thought he dropped the call,” Cavalari said.
“There’s nothing wrong with the line, so why the fuck did he hang up on me?” Dagger questioned. “Put him back on the phone.”
“He just stepped into the bathroom,” Cavalari lied. “I can have him call you back if you want.”
Dagger made a sound of frustration. “I want to know what’s going on with him,” Dagger said.
“I watched the video from his interview in Tucson and he was acting weirder than normal and you have to admit his behavior has been—off lately. Knowing his history with substance abuse I always worry when he doesn’t seem right. ”
“I hear what you’re saying but you know Bronx better than that,” Cavalari stated. “If he were feeling even the slightest itch to use again then he would have contacted his sponsor before falling into old habits. His recovery means too much to him to kiss it all goodbye.”
Cavalari watched Bronx leave the room and sat on the edge of the bed to finish his conversation with Dagger.
“Let me ask you something,” Dagger said. “What the hell happened on that bus before the interview?”
“We wrestled a bit but it’s not half as bad as you probably believe,” Cavalari stated.
“Here’s another question, and think long and hard before you answer,” Dagger stated.
“Is there something more going on between the two of you that I should know about? I mean, I pretty much demanded you figure out a way to get along while working together but I wasn’t suggesting that you start sleeping together. ”
“What? Jesus, no!” Cavalari rebuked. “Although I will admit that we are getting along a little better than we were before we left LA.”
“Thank you for being honest and for letting me know the change in your working relationship,” Dagger said.
“I’m also glad to hear you’re not screwing each other blind.
Do your best to keep it that way because I really don’t think either of you needs that kind of distraction on the job.
Also, would it be too much to ask you not to engage him in anymore .
. . wrestling matches? Our management team would appreciate us not looking battered and bruised for our public appearances. ”
“I’ll do my best,” Cavalari answered.
A short time later Dagger ended the call and Cavalari carried the phone back out to give it to Bronx.
He found him sitting at the table in the kitchen staring at a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
An empty shot glass sat beside it. His conversation with Dagger was completely forgotten the moment his brain registered alcohol was sitting in front of Bronx.
His knee-jerk reaction was to grab the bottle and dump the contents down the kitchen sink.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Cavalari said in an even tone as he set the phone onto the table near Bronx. He reached for the bottle to get it out of Bronx’s face but firm fingers latched onto his wrist.
“If you take that away from me then you better prepare yourself to burn for it,” Bronx said through clenched teeth.
“Have you consumed any?” Cavalari asked.
“Of course not,” Bronx scoffed. “I’m staring at the bottle to prove to myself that I’m stronger than this pissy, tea-colored liquid.”
Cavalari exhaled an audible sigh of relief and sat at the table with Bronx. “So, you poke the lion to test your resolve?” he asked. “Isn’t it risky to tempt fate like that?”
Bronx shrugged one shoulder. “It might have been risky when sobriety was new to me but not now,” he admitted.
“All addicts have their methods of coping with their temptations. This is one of mine. If I simply keep the bottle in my line of vision it takes the power of it away. If it’s hidden in a cabinet or not even in the house then the urge to see it intensifies and the fantasies of drinking a few shots takes over my brain.
Over the years I’ve found that seeing a bottle is like me giving it the middle finger.
It’s sort of my version of a major fuck you to the booze and also a you don’t control me anymore salute. ”
“Hmm, that’s actually pretty ingenious when I think about it,” Cavalari said.
“I agree, and all these years later I’m still sober so my madness works—for me,” Bronx said. A moment passed and then Bronx asked, “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Sure,” Cavalari said.
“Have you ever been addicted to anything?” Bronx asked.
“Not to recreational substances but early on in my police training I was addicted to exercise,” Cavalari shared.
“I was working out all the time. Every spare moment I had or day off from work I’d be in the gym sweating.
I built up so much muscle bulk I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror but I still wasn’t happy with how I looked and thought I should be more ripped.
I researched all the latest supplements, diets, and special workouts to add more muscle and it became an obsession more so than something healthy I was doing to prolong my life. ”
“Did you get it under control?” Bronx asked.
“I did but it didn’t happen until I was asking around the gym for certain types of steroids to take because I still thought I could use more bulk,” Cavalari said.
“The owner of the gym where I worked out approached me one day. He knew I was a cop and he told me to be absolutely certain I wanted to go down that slippery slope to enhance my physique. Then he shared a few horror stories with me of what happened to a couple of past gym members when they took body building too far. It was the wake-up call I needed. He started working closely with me on yet another diet and he became my personal trainer.”
“So he’s the one responsible for your current ripped body?” Bronx asked.