Page 21 of Derailed
8
Sean
It’s been over a week.Nine days to be exact since Coy and Jess moved into the house. Why am I counting? Because it’s the same number of days Bedo’s had us sequestered. Someone leaked our drunken escapades from Paulo’s to TMZ. A short video clip of us staggering through the restaurant’s kitchen. Nothing too scandalous, but enough to get Bedo’s panties in atwist.
No matter, though. We’ve been practicing every day and we’re ready to hit the studio next week to wrap up the album that should already be complete. But there’s no rest for the hustlers. Tonight we’re scheduled to play a gala for the San Diego Children’s hospital. We’ve also booked a mini-press junket, all Bedo’s idea, to shed some light on our humanitarian efforts, and I hope for all our sakes we can all keep it together. The reporters will be ten times more interested in digging for dirt on the band than why we’re raising money for sickkids.
Regardless, it’ll be good to get away for the night and do something other than practice music and work out. I’ve always kept to a regular exercise routine because it’s something I need to keep me sane and healthy, but now that we’re stuck in the house, everybody else has jumped on the fitness train. I love Trent and Austin as if they were my own brothers, but I’m in need of some solo time. Which is why I woke up at six this morning and snuck out of the house for a run through theneighborhood.
I need a break from everything. To stop worrying about Iz; stop wondering whether Coy’s as good a fit as we all want him to be; stop thinking about his girlfriend when I jack off in the shower every morning. It’s completely inappropriate, but I can’t seem to quit. I blame it on those big brown eyes. They’re laced with just enough innocence they beg to be violated, but thinking about how they’d look with her lips wrapped tight around me . . .fuck. I need to stop. She’s totally offlimits.
Again. Another reason why I opted for a five-mile run today over sleeping in, and shit, if these hills aren’t doing the trick. I can hardly suck in a full breath of air, let alone fantasize about gorgeous brown eyes. The muscles in my legs strain and ache to push my body back to the house. Music, angry and harsh, pulses into my ears and cheers me forward. I turn the corner, almost home, and the sound is cut short, interrupted by the buzz of an incomingcall.
A glance down as I pull my cell from my pocket shows an unknown number and I consider letting it go to voicemail. Fuck it, I’m almost done. Switching my gait to a walk, I accept the call. “Hello.”
A scuff much like the rustle of fabric scratches through my wireless earbuds. Fucker. Probably time to get a new number. Someone leaked it, I’m sure. Pain in my ass. I reach for my cell to end the call but before I can, I’m stopped by a greeting I didn’texpect.
“Sean.”
“Iz!” I can’t believe it’s him. God, it’s good to hear his voice. “How areyou?”
“Eh, I’m stilltruckin’.”
“How are things going? Rehab is good?” Fuck, that sounds stupid even to my own ears, but I’m not really sure what the protocol is here. There’s no sensitive way to ask. Reaching the house, I plug in my code to the front gate and opt for a walk around the side until I’m in the privacy of ourbackyard.
“They aren’t letting me get high, so, that’s a win. I guess.” His throaty chuckle brings a grin to mylips.
“That’s great.” It really is, and though I have so much more I want to ask, I’m kinda tongue-tied. Iz was always the guy in the band you could sit next to and not say much without it being uncomfortable. Now, as the silence stretches through the line, I can’t help but wonder if that was more because he was high, or how a friendship with him will be now that he’ssober.
“I’m sorry I didn’t check in sooner. Things have been . . .” The static of his exhale buzzes through my ears. “They’ve been intense. And I didn’t know whether you’d even want to hear fromme.”
“Don’t say that. Of course I do. We all want to know you’re okay.” That’s a stretch, actually; I’m not sure Trent and Austin think much about Iz these days. They’re still pretty pissed off and hurt, which I’m trying to be sympathetic to. We all deal with thingsdifferently.
“I . . . uh . . . shit, man, I don’t really know how to bring this up without coming off as a selfish prick, so I’m just gonna say it.” He clears his throat with a cough. “Would you comevisit?”
“Of course, Iz. Yeah.” As if there was even a doubt. “When?”
“They set up a family and friends visit tomorrow. It’s atten.”
We have the charity gala tonight, but I think I can swing that. No all-night after party for me, but this is more important. Hell, I’m sure Bedo’ll be thrilled. “Sure, man. Count me in. Get me theaddress?”
“Yeah. I will. Thank you, Sean.” I can’t tell, but it almost sounds as if he’s about tocry.
It’s enough to bring moisture to my own eyes. I know he’s where he needs to be, but it’s got to be incredibly lonely. “So . . . I guess we’ll talkthen?”
“Yeah . . . uh . . . I tried to call Austin and Trent. They didn’t pick up. I don’t want to put you in the middle, or cause any more problems for the band . . .” I know what he’s asking and although their avoidance isn’t surprising, it’s still a littledisappointing.
Not wanting him to be discouraged, I answer with a fake enthusiasm I hope is convincing. “I’ll tell them aboutit.”
His chuckle says I fail miserably. “I understand if they don’t want to see me. Fuck, I don’t want to seeme.”
“I can’t promise they’ll come, but I’ll pass italong.”
“Thanks,Sean.”
“Of course, man. The band, we’re family. I’m glad you’re doing well. I really am.” I say good-bye and end the call feeling much better than when I started the run. Even though it’s mid-March, Los Angeles weather is a temperamental bitch. Sweat drips down my back and off my brow from where my hair is soaked. Pocketing my cell in my shorts, I peel off my Dri-FIT long sleeved shirt and use it as a towel to wipe my face. I turn toward the pool, considering a quick dip in the hot tub, but stopshort.
Oh, fuckme.
