13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Cavalari stepped onto the bus about twenty minutes later and placed a piece of paper onto the table where Bronx remained seated and playing a video game on his phone.
“What’s this?” Bronx asked as the air brakes released on the bus and they pulled back onto the highway.
“Dr. Theodore Rosen is one of best ear specialists in this country and he’s based in Houston,” Cavalari said. “I played the celebrity card by dropping your name and they’re fitting you in once we get to Houston.”
Bronx pushed off of his seat in a huff of anger and lunged at Cavalari. “Did you say you fucking gave them my name?” Bronx roared. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“To get you in quicker,” Cavalari carefully enunciated.
“You had no right to do that!” Bronx bit out. “The front desk people are probably already on the phone with the fucking paparazzi. Call them back and cancel the appointment. Tell them it was a mistake and you gave them the wrong name.”
“What’s the point in doing that?” Cavalari protested. “You need to see him, Bronx! We’ve already discussed this and between the urgency of your hearing loss and the potential for more harm being done with every passing hour, I’m not canceling that damn appointment. Do you understand me?”
“Fuck you!” Bronx shouted and gave Cavalari a firm shove on his solid chest. Cavalari grabbed Bronx’s wrist and kept it pressed to his chest and Bronx pressed his fingertips into the mounds of muscle. He could feel the heat of Cavalari’s skin seeping through the fabric of his work polo.
“You can be pissed off at me all you want but it still doesn’t change the fact that I won’t be canceling your appointment and you will be seeing Dr. Rosen as soon as we roll into Houston. Got it? So stop acting like a petulant brat,” Cavalari said through clenched teeth.
Bronx ripped his hand out of Cavalari’s grip and stepped away. “You crossed a line with this and I won’t forget it. Your speech about trusting you was nothing but bullshit.”
“You gave me permission to make that call,” Cavalari argued, making sure Bronx could watch his lips.
“Not to use my name when making the damn, motherfucking appointment!”
“Listen to me for a minute,” Cavalari firmly stated.
“I’ve already faxed over a non-disclosure form to Dr. Rosen’s office and they signed and returned it to me,” Cavalari shared.
“The form prevents everyone in the office from revealing your identity or the reason for your visit. If any of them talks then they lose their job and they will face legal action from us. It’s the exact protocol Fizzbo would insist is done before such an appointment.
I have it all covered, so you can relax. ”
“Did you just tell me to relax? My career is on the line, you piece of shit,” Bronx grumbled. He walked toward the bedroom at the back of the bus, stepped inside, and then slammed the door behind him.
“Good talking to you!” Cavalari yelled at the closed door.
And just like that they were back to having a solid barrier of animosity looming between them like the Great Wall of China.
Cavalari sat down at the kitchen table and glanced at the wall clock.
They had about two hours before the call-in time for the phone interview.
This gave Cavalari plenty of time to come up with a plan to make the interview work in such a way that the station remained clueless about Bronx’s hearing deficit which is what they both wanted.
He found a pad of paper Bronx was using to write lyrics on and turned to a clean page, then rummaged through a kitchen drawer to find a Sharpie marker with a broad tip. When he felt confident about his plan and that it would work, he yelled to Bronx who remained hiding in the bedroom.
“If you’re done sulking, come out here so I can go over the plan I have for the radio interview!” Cavalari shouted at the closed door.
A moment later the bedroom door burst open and Bronx filled the narrow doorway. “What the fuck are you mumbling about now?” Bronx asked.
Mumbling? There was no way the volume he just threw at the closed door could be considered mumbling but Cavalari left that comment alone. For the most part.
“It’s good you’re at least hearing mumbles,” Cavalari said and rolled his shoulders to relax the tension hiding there in the muscles.
“I guess your tone is deep enough that it’s within the range I’m able to hear,” Bronx admitted.
Cavalari lifted his head to make sure Bronx could see his lips moving then said, “What I was saying is I think I have a plan that will work to pull off this call-in radio interview.”
“You have a plan for what?” Bronx asked.
“Your radio interview.”
“That’s funny because I was on my way out here to grab my phone to text the media liaison and have him cancel that interview,” Bronx said as he walked down the center aisle of the bus. He stopped next to the kitchen table and retrieved his phone where it rested near Cavalari’s left elbow.
“I’ve been thinking about this and I really don’t think you need to cancel,” Cavalari said and then smiled smugly.
“You couldn’t possibly think doing this call-in interview would be a smart move for me,” Bronx said incredulously.
“Yes, I do think this could work,” Cavalari said with enthusiasm and making direct eye contact.
“Then how the hell do you see this playing out if there’s a good chance I won’t be able to hear the goddamned questions being asked of me? Unless the interviewer speaks in a low register like you, then I’m fucked, because I will miss most of what he says.”
“We’ll do it on speakerphone and I’ll write notes for you in a short-hand format to help you answer everything they ask,” Cavalari offered.
Bronx shook his head. “It won’t work. Even now you sound like you’re talking to me through thick glass,” he said. “What I hear is wah, wah, wah. But to be fair, you’ve always kind of sounded like a whiny bitch to me.”
“Sit the fuck down and let’s practice,” Cavalari said while ignoring Bronx’s latest jab at him. “I’m going to be your ears, douche bag.”
Bronx opened his mouth to protest but then his jaw snapped shut. Apparently he’d decided the idea might hold some merit. “You really think your plan could work?” Bronx finally asked.
Cavalari nodded. “I do, but you’re going to need to trust me implicitly.
We’ll put the phone on speaker and you’re going to keep your focus on me —not the interviewer’s voice coming through the phone.
I’ll quickly jot down the question and you’ll answer it to the best of your ability from there.
We’ll do a dry run before it’s time for you to call into the station. ”
Bronx’s phone buzzed in his hand with an incoming call from the promotions liaison and swiped his finger across the screen to take the call.
“Are you ready for the next interview?” David asked Bronx in a friendly lilt.
Bronx heard nothing but muffled bits of words and handed the phone over to Cavalari in defeat.
Cavalari took it and pressed it to his ear. “Hi, David. This is Tony, the personal security officer for Bronx. Can you repeat the question, please?
“Why isn’t Bronx answering his phone? Is he okay to do this interview?” David asked with worry in his voice.
“He’s just making himself a snack but he’ll be ready to call into the station at the appointed time.”
“Very good,” David said. “If he trips up over a question tell him to just keep his answers vague and move on to another topic of conversation as a way to redirect. All he has to do is call into the station and they will patch him through to the sound booth.”
“We’re going to do a brief dry run but we’ll be ready. You have my word,” Cavalari said.
“Practicing is an excellent idea,” David said. “He’ll do fine. He handled the last interview with polished professionalism, and he’ll ace this one, too.”
“Agreed,” Cavalari said.
“I’m here if you need me,” David said and ended their call.
Cavalari dropped the phone back onto the kitchen table and shifted a little closer to where Bronx had parked his ass on the bench seat.
He glanced at Bronx’s face and watched him rubbing at his eyes.
The guy looked exhausted and he guessed it was probably from large amounts of stress causing the tension creases in his forehead and around his eyes.
“What?” Bronx asked after he placed his hands back on the table. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I was waiting to get your attention,” Cavalari said. “Are you ready to practice?”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bronx suggested.
“Let’s pretend I’m turning on the speaker and we’ve called in,” Cavalari said. “The receptionist will connect our call and then there’ll be an introduction from the DJ. I’ll then use this pad of paper to . . .”
“Can you repeat that again? I missed the beginning of what you said,” Bronx said.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve been facing you when I spoke,” he replied. But looking at him while sitting this close made his stomach flip and heat begin to spread through his veins.
“That would sure fucking help,” Bronx answered. “I could perhaps attempt to read your lips if you did face me. And I’m going on record now to say this interview is a massive mistake. Plan or no plan, I don’t see this going as smoothly as you’re predicting.”
Great. Now Cavalari knew Bronx would be focused on his lips while he talked. He could already feel the rush of blood heading south to make his pants a little bit too snug in the groin.
“Go ahead,” Bronx said and interrupted Cavalari’s dirty thoughts. “Start explaining your brilliant goddamned plan and please help me out by looking at me while you’re talking.”
I lifted my head from the pad of paper in front of me on the table.
“I can do that for you,” Cavalari said while making direct eye contact with Bronx.
“Let’s say the question is about the Vegas residency, I’ll quickly jot down what the question is like this.
” He then took the Sharpie marker to write abbreviations for the words he’d be using and showed it to Bronx.
“Tell me what you think that says?” he asked.
“You asked if I’m excited to be working in Vegas,” Bronx said and his eyes swung up from the paper to meet Cavalari’s.
Warmth pooled in Cavalari’s chest as he held Bronx’s steady gaze.
Eyes so clear and trusting Cavalari thought he could drown in those depths of intoxicating topaz.
He could feel something building between them, something real and wonderful, but he wasn’t sure they’d ever be on the kind of solid ground required to explore this.
Not to mention how many protocols he’d be breaking with Ventura Security to be with Bronx.
He slowly nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s spot-on to what I was saying with that note,” Cavalari said. “Let’s try another one.” He quickly scribbled another message onto the paper and showed it to Bronx. “Tell me what you think this one says.”
“You asked me what it was like to fill Lincoln’s big shoes on bass after he retired from touring with Black Ice,” Bronx said with a question in his tone.
“Perfect but say it with confidence and if you’re not exactly right then I’ll quickly redirect you to what the interviewer is specifically asking,” Cavalari said. “Speaking of filling Linc’s shoes. I’m curious as to how the transition really was for you?”
“My . . . transition?” Bronx asked.
“Yes, how did it go when you took over for Linc?”
“It was rough in the beginning but over time I grew on the fans like a fungus. Either that or they figured out I wasn’t going anywhere and they had to learn to love me,” Bronx said and shrugged.
“The worst part was trying to play my heart out on stage while many in the audience were screaming for another bass player. Hearing their chants didn’t exactly make my balls warm and fuzzy. ”
Cavalari laughed and said, “That’s a great story. Share that during the interview, but maybe leave out the part about your balls.”
They continued to practice together for another fifteen minutes until Bronx set both hands on the table and nodded at Cavalari. “Okay, I think I can do this,” Bronx said.
“I know you can,” Cavalari said. “I might even throw in some hand gestures to help you, too, so watch for that.”
“Got it,” Bronx agreed.
Cavalari glanced at the time displayed on his cell phone. “You have about six minutes before we need to call into the station.”
Bronx stood up and pointed in the direction of the primary bathroom. “I’ll take a leak and be right back,” he said. When he returned he pulled a few bottles of water out of the refrigerator and set them on the table where Cavalari sat waiting. A moment later, he was seated and comfortable again.
“Ready?” Cavalari asked.
“Yeah, but I’m still not convinced this is going to work without long lag times between the questions and answers,” Bronx explained. “Especially if you take too long to write the questions out on the paper.”
Cavalari gave Bronx’s hand a slight squeeze on the table. “I promise I won’t take too long to write the notes for you,” he said. “Trust me, this is all going to work out—you’re going to do great, and I’ll be right here to get you over the finish line.”
Bronx sighed and ran his hand over his face while Cavalari punched in the numbers for the station and waited for the call to connect. There was no more time for nerves. It was showtime and Bronx had no choice but to perform.