Status: Re-posting.
Dedication Takes a Lifetime
But I Still Have My Doubts
“Jesus, Al; what happened to your face?!” We’d all woken at nine and were sitting down for breakfast at nine-thirty when a very hungover Alex Gaskarth zombie-walked into the kitchen. His hair was a mess, last night’s clothes wrinkled and sticking to his body as if he’d sweated through the night, and there were five red welts across the left side of his face. I blushed and ducked down, shoveling food into my mouth so I wouldn’t have to run on an empty stomach when he called me out on it.
Alex blinked at Jack, then touched his face gingerly. His eyes flicked to me so quickly that I was sure no one else had seen, and then he shrugged. “Hit on the wrong girl at the bar last night.”
I dropped my fork and everyone looked at me. “Uh,” I mumbled around a mouthful of egg, “Sowwy.” I chewed and swallowed as they all took back their previous conversations, but noticed how Jack’s eyes lingered on me, a set look on his face.
So I wasn’t surprised when, after we’d finished eating, he’d grabbed my elbow and steered me into my guest room, locking the door behind us. “Nettie,” he started sternly, eyes not joking in the slightest, “Did you hit Alex?”
I opened my mouth to lie, but knew that it would be pointless. “Yes,” I sighed, then quickly defended myself, “But Jack, you should have heard what he--”
He threw up one hand, “I don’t care.” I promptly shut my mouth, biting my lip and waiting. Jack sighed and shook his head, “Nettie, you’re better than this. What happened to just coming out here and playing music? What happened to this not having anything to do with him anymore?”
“But Jack, he’s so--”
Again he interrupted me, “I don’t care what you think he is, Annette,” he snapped. “I know he’s an ass to you, and I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t. But the fact of the matter is that Alex has been my best friend for seven years, and there are some things that I’m just not okay with, no matter how much I like you and your band.”
I had seen the serious side of Jack, but never the angry side. I didn’t like it; it reminded me too much of a disappointed father. How was it that this man I hadn’t even known a year somehow acted as a best friend, a teacher, a student, a husband, a little brother, a big brother, and a father depending on the situation? I hung my head and nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry; I’ll apologize to Alex.”
He waved this off, now looking passive and much more like his usual self. “Nah,” his tone was back to normal too, “He probably doesn’t deserve an apology; just don’t do it again.” I agreed and Jack took my hand, reclaiming his position as my friend, “I want cookies!”
“We just had breakfast,” I pointed out.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Whoo!” Jack pumped his fists into the air, “Cookies it is! And we’ve still got two hours before we need to get to the venue, so we can bake.” Uh oh. I was no Martha in the kitche, but Jack + oven = ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
-- -- --
It was exactly noon when Jack pulled his mother’s beat up old Honda Accord into a parking place in front of a Baltimore club called Rams Head Live! and I felt my breathe hitch. The club was more like a stadium, with a huge theatre front with flashing lights and overhanging lanterns.
“I thought this was supposed to be a modest event,” I mumbled, still staring at the building. From the backseat, I heard Kal and Tomas agree quietly. Deveraux and Jocelyn had chosen to ride with Alex in his car, since we couldn’t all fit into either of the small vehicles, and I sure as hell wasn’t riding with him regardless. He hadn’t said a single word to me since I’d slapped him, instead choosing to just send me little sideways glances here and there. Not that I minded, of course--I wasn’t dying for another demeaning conversation--but it would have been nice to know what to expect from him during the show. Oh, speaking of which…
I craned my neck to look around, “Where are the others? Weren’t they right behind us?”
“Hm,” Jack said thoughtfully, flipping out his phone and hitting some buttons. “Oh,” he said, obviously having received a text, “They stopped off for something; they’ll be here in a few minutes.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, picking up the Tupperware container he’d set on the center console along the way. The rest of us followed him out and around to the side of the building, where he led us through a STAFF door. Reaching back, and without seeming to realize it, one of his hands grabbed Kal’s, tugging her forward as he led us through another series of doors until we were in a large green room. It was filled with people, some I recognized, others I didn’t.
“All right!” Jack yelled, getting everyone’s attention. He was still holding tightly to Kal’s hand for some reason, and I could see her face turning redder by the second. But I could also see her squeezing his fingers back. “Everyone line up!” Slowly but dutifully, everyone did as he said, forming a line that took three layers to complete. “Now, if you met this band yesterday…sit down.” A few people grumbled, but for the most part it seemed like everyone was used to Jack’s antics that they plopped down on the ground.
Jack gestured us forward and began filling in names to faces. “The rest of Hey Monday: Mike Gentile, Jersey Moriarty, and Elliot James.” We smiled and said hello before our friend moved on. “From Mayday Parade: Jeremy Lenzo, Alex Garcia, Brooks Betts, and Jake Bundrick. Here’s John Keefe, from Boys Like Girls. Aaand,” he stopped in front of four men, “Here are the slackers that missed their flight yesterday morning.”
“Hi, slackers!” I waved with a bright smile despite my nerves.
One of them--the only one I knew off the bat; Alex DeLeon--rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “We got called in for a label meeting; there was nothing we could do!” Then he smiled at me, extending his hand, “I’m Alex DeLeon. This is Alex Marshall, Alex Johnson, and Bryan Marshall. Ah, hm,” he scratched his head with his free hand, “Never realized how many Alexes we have.”
I shook his hand and returned his smile, “You do realize that every single one of these bands except for one has an Alex in it, right?”
He threw his arms in the air and let out a grumbling noise, “That’s too many Alexes!”
“You can never have too many Alexes,” a voice said from the doorway, and we all looked to see Alex Gaskarth leaning against the frame, Deveraux and Jocelyn squeezing past him to get in.
Under my breath, I mumbled, “Uh, yeah, you can.” Only DeLeon seemed to hear me, though, and he laughed quietly, nudging me lightly in the ribs. I shrugged at him apologetically.
Jack let go of Kal’s hand and the Tupperware bowl simultaneously to go grab the rest of the group and drag them over for introductions. Alex Gaskarth slipped out a short time later, making some excuse about hitting the vending machines, which we all ignored. I kicked up another conversation with Lipshaw, picking up where we’d left off and trying not to blush when he brought up the “beautiful man” comment again, while Kal hung around Jack and Cassadee, and Deveraux dragged Jocelyn from group to group so they got to know everyone. I had to stop and watch that one for a second; there were so many things Jocelyn let Deveraux get away with that anyone else would have paid for with a severed limb.
And she’d been so mad at me the day before. Not because of anything I’d done to her, but because of my drunken display toward Deveraux in the limo.
My hand came up and smacked over my mouth, my eyes wide in sudden realization.
Lipshaw’s eyes widened too, and he pushed himself off of the wall he’d been leaning on. “What’s wrong, Annette? Are you gonna be sick or something?” I shook my head deftly, still trying to wrap my head around it. Jocelyn had a thing for Deveraux? But they were so opposite! She was way too impatient for someone so unpredictable. That wasn’t what was bothering me though, I realized as I looked from Jocelyn and Deveraux to Kal and Jack. That turning, wrenching feeling in my stomach was the fact that now everyone had someone except for me.
All I had, right now, was the talent of scaring the crap out of Alex Lipshaw. His hands were on either of my shoulders, forcing me to look into those beautifully pale eyes again. “Net, seriously! Are. You. O-kay?”
I snapped out of it and forced a smile up to his concerned face, “Yeah, Lipshaw; I’m fine.”
He sighed with relief and smiled back, leaning back against the wall. “You know,” he said, taking a sip from his bottle of water, “I wish you’d just call me Alex.” Then, as if just remembering yesterday’s events, he smiled ruefully and shook his head, “But I know you won’t, will you?”
I shrugged, pressing my lips together, “Sorry. It’s just sort of a sore subject.”
“I understand,” he told me sweetly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Lipshaw is fine…for now.” He smirked and I couldn’t help but smile back; could he be any sweeter? Maybe I didn’t have to be alone amongst my group after all.
“All right, guys,” Flyzik piped, standing on one of the couches to get our attention. “Um, No Name Jackasses? I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to kick you out now; you have to go do sound check with the other unsigned bands.” We nodded and started toward the door, and he handed us each a slip of paper on the way out. “By the way,” he added, “You can’t perform tonight if you don’t have a name, so I’d get to thinking about that.”
-- -- --
I was reading over the sheet Matt had handed us in horror.
6:00pm - AN EXPERIENCE WITH MOLLY RINGWALD
6:30pm - KOLKATA DAMSEL
7:00pm - THROW THE GOOD BOOK AT ‘EM, BOBBY JOE!
8:00pm - MAYDAY PARADE
8:45pm - HEY MONDAY
9:30pm - BOYS LIKE GIRLS
10:15pm - THE CAB
10:45pm - ALL TIME LOW
11:30pm - WISCONSIN BAND (NAME TO BE ANNOUNCED)
11:50pm - THIS IS URGENT
12:10am - THE ROMANTIC DISASTER
12:30am - COME ASCENDANCY
We were following All Time Low. That is, if we ever figured out a name. This was a surefire way to get screwed over, because if Alex had any intention of messing up our stage time, he would have the perfect opportunity. I dropped my head into my hands and let out a loud growl of annoyance.
“Hey, you okay?” Brianna, the lead singer of Come Ascendancy, sat down next to me on the couch. We’d been at the venue for almost two hours now, sound check done and acquaintances made. All that was left to do was get dressed and ready, and do last minute checks and rehearsals. Our band had taken a break from pre-show practice so we could brainstorm on names for a while, but truthfully I hadn’t even given it a single thought.
I shook my head, looking up at her. She had one of those sweet faces; the kind that are hard to lie to. “I’m just stressing about the set list; we’re on after All Time Low and…well…Alex Gaskarth hates me! So I just know he’s going to fuck over my band!” I balled the paper up and threw it to the floor in anger, growling once more.
She laughed and put a soothing hand on my shoulder. “Hey, calm down. Have a cookie,” she offered me one from the bowl Jack had brought; no one had been brave enough to eat even one. “Just kidding. But really, Annette, you have to calm down. I don’t know what he did to you or why, but I heard you guys rehearsing and you’re amazing; so whatever it is, it obviously isn’t worth worrying about.”
I sighed, because I knew that she was right. Nerves; just nerves. The tended to get the better of me, especially as far as Alex was concerned. But I loved music. I loved my band. I loved what we were doing, and truly believed in it. This was everything to me, and I was going to do it right.
“Thanks, Brianna,” I told her with a big smile, “You’re good at this feel-good stuff.”
“It’s a gift,” she pretended to praise herself before excusing herself to find the rest of her band. I did the same.
“Okay, guys,” I said once I’d rounded them all up, “I had a mini-breakdown, threw up a few times, cried once, and got advice from a seventeen-year-old girl I’ve known for an hour. But I think I’m good now, and I can guarantee you that tonight is going to be great.” Kal smiled at me, and Jocelyn let out a little, “that’s what I’m talkin’ about, girl.”
I laughed and continued, “All right, so let’s get ready and then we’ll do another quick rehearsal, because that’s what’s most important right now. The name is going to have to just come. Okay?” They all agreed and we went our separate ways again to get ready.
-- -- --
“I’m bringing everything along with me
I’m trying to find some middle ground
I’m stuck inside the sentiment of who I should be
And I don’t want to let anyone down”
Kal and I worked on a harmony that had been giving us some trouble as Deveraux played the tune out on a practice standing piano and Jocelyn tapped out the rhythm on the hard wood. We’d decided to do all originals, and there were a few that weren’t quite perfected yet. Granted that our set was only twenty minutes long--barely enough time for six songs--and everyone would be leaving by the time we got up there, we still wanted to be perfect. If that meant standing in the middle of the hallway in front of the dressing rooms and practicing until the very last minute, that’s what we were going to do.
Deveraux stopped playing, fiddling with one of the buttons of his flannel in thought. “Okay,” he mumbled, in one of those rare, serious moods of his. “I think we’re good for ‘Along With Me.’ Let’s move on to the chorus of ‘Disillusionment,’ because Annette’s been having some trouble timing her breaths there. And Jocelyn,” he pointed out when the drummer snorted, “You tend to speed up at the same time, which is probably why she does it. So let’s try that.” One way that Deveraux and Kal were a lot alike was: They were not afraid to tell you when you needed to fix something about your music.
Jocelyn prickled visibly, but started drumming out a beat with her fingertips regardless, eyes locked on the bassist the entire time. I took a breath and started in on one of the choruses.
“And I let down my walls, and I’m taking the fall
So excuse me if my sentimental reason is dull
I’m just trying to see what it is that you mean
When you say that it was never about you and me”
Deveraux opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when he seemed to see something of interest over my shoulder. I heard the soft squeaking of sneakers against tile and turned my head as they stopped. Alex Gaskarth was standing right behind us with a smug look on his face.
“Don’t mind me,” he said with a smile, “I was just listening.”
Jocelyn smiled at him; they’d talked through breakfast and then rode together to the venue, and I had a feeling he’d managed to charm her. Deveraux too. Kal still seemed on my side, though…somewhat.
“And what did you think?” My so-called best friend asked him lightly, eyes hopeful. What was she thinking, asking him something like that?!
He tilted his head thoughtfully, “Well the beat is good, and so is the piano. Kal, you can harmonize like nobody’s business.” I just stared at him, and he stared back. Finally, he made a pained hissing sound and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s too bad; you guys could be great if you would just cut your weakest link.”
Oh, really? “And my weakest link,” I demanded angrily, “I suppose you mean me, right?”
“Hey, you said it, not me. But now that you mention it, honey--”
“Honey?!”
“You could use a few more years of training,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me.
Behind me I heard Jocelyn whisper, “Jesus, all these months and I thought she was exaggerating. But he really is a dick.”
I took a step forward, raising my chin defiantly, “And you just know everything about everything, huh?”
He shook his head, “No, not everything. But when it comes to this,” he waved a hand around, “Music, performing, having what it takes? I am omniscient. And you,” he looked me over, sizing me up, “You just don’t have what it takes.” He walked away quickly then, probably thinking I would hit him again, and I slumped back against the piano.
“Hey,” Kal said quietly, resting a hand on my shoulder, “You okay?”
Before I had a chance to answer, however, Flyzik popped out from one of the dressing rooms and walked right over to us. “Just the band I was looking for!” He played with his headset and glanced toward the hallway that lead to the stage, “An Experience With Molly Ringwald is about to start their set; you’d better get out there if you want to see them.” He eyed me carefully, “Have you got a name yet?”
I paused, glancing at my bandmates individually before cracking a smirk and turning back to the manager. “Yeah,” I told him smugly, “Yeah, we do.”
Alex blinked at Jack, then touched his face gingerly. His eyes flicked to me so quickly that I was sure no one else had seen, and then he shrugged. “Hit on the wrong girl at the bar last night.”
I dropped my fork and everyone looked at me. “Uh,” I mumbled around a mouthful of egg, “Sowwy.” I chewed and swallowed as they all took back their previous conversations, but noticed how Jack’s eyes lingered on me, a set look on his face.
So I wasn’t surprised when, after we’d finished eating, he’d grabbed my elbow and steered me into my guest room, locking the door behind us. “Nettie,” he started sternly, eyes not joking in the slightest, “Did you hit Alex?”
I opened my mouth to lie, but knew that it would be pointless. “Yes,” I sighed, then quickly defended myself, “But Jack, you should have heard what he--”
He threw up one hand, “I don’t care.” I promptly shut my mouth, biting my lip and waiting. Jack sighed and shook his head, “Nettie, you’re better than this. What happened to just coming out here and playing music? What happened to this not having anything to do with him anymore?”
“But Jack, he’s so--”
Again he interrupted me, “I don’t care what you think he is, Annette,” he snapped. “I know he’s an ass to you, and I wish I could tell you why, but I can’t. But the fact of the matter is that Alex has been my best friend for seven years, and there are some things that I’m just not okay with, no matter how much I like you and your band.”
I had seen the serious side of Jack, but never the angry side. I didn’t like it; it reminded me too much of a disappointed father. How was it that this man I hadn’t even known a year somehow acted as a best friend, a teacher, a student, a husband, a little brother, a big brother, and a father depending on the situation? I hung my head and nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry; I’ll apologize to Alex.”
He waved this off, now looking passive and much more like his usual self. “Nah,” his tone was back to normal too, “He probably doesn’t deserve an apology; just don’t do it again.” I agreed and Jack took my hand, reclaiming his position as my friend, “I want cookies!”
“We just had breakfast,” I pointed out.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Whoo!” Jack pumped his fists into the air, “Cookies it is! And we’ve still got two hours before we need to get to the venue, so we can bake.” Uh oh. I was no Martha in the kitche, but Jack + oven = ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
-- -- --
It was exactly noon when Jack pulled his mother’s beat up old Honda Accord into a parking place in front of a Baltimore club called Rams Head Live! and I felt my breathe hitch. The club was more like a stadium, with a huge theatre front with flashing lights and overhanging lanterns.
“I thought this was supposed to be a modest event,” I mumbled, still staring at the building. From the backseat, I heard Kal and Tomas agree quietly. Deveraux and Jocelyn had chosen to ride with Alex in his car, since we couldn’t all fit into either of the small vehicles, and I sure as hell wasn’t riding with him regardless. He hadn’t said a single word to me since I’d slapped him, instead choosing to just send me little sideways glances here and there. Not that I minded, of course--I wasn’t dying for another demeaning conversation--but it would have been nice to know what to expect from him during the show. Oh, speaking of which…
I craned my neck to look around, “Where are the others? Weren’t they right behind us?”
“Hm,” Jack said thoughtfully, flipping out his phone and hitting some buttons. “Oh,” he said, obviously having received a text, “They stopped off for something; they’ll be here in a few minutes.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, picking up the Tupperware container he’d set on the center console along the way. The rest of us followed him out and around to the side of the building, where he led us through a STAFF door. Reaching back, and without seeming to realize it, one of his hands grabbed Kal’s, tugging her forward as he led us through another series of doors until we were in a large green room. It was filled with people, some I recognized, others I didn’t.
“All right!” Jack yelled, getting everyone’s attention. He was still holding tightly to Kal’s hand for some reason, and I could see her face turning redder by the second. But I could also see her squeezing his fingers back. “Everyone line up!” Slowly but dutifully, everyone did as he said, forming a line that took three layers to complete. “Now, if you met this band yesterday…sit down.” A few people grumbled, but for the most part it seemed like everyone was used to Jack’s antics that they plopped down on the ground.
Jack gestured us forward and began filling in names to faces. “The rest of Hey Monday: Mike Gentile, Jersey Moriarty, and Elliot James.” We smiled and said hello before our friend moved on. “From Mayday Parade: Jeremy Lenzo, Alex Garcia, Brooks Betts, and Jake Bundrick. Here’s John Keefe, from Boys Like Girls. Aaand,” he stopped in front of four men, “Here are the slackers that missed their flight yesterday morning.”
“Hi, slackers!” I waved with a bright smile despite my nerves.
One of them--the only one I knew off the bat; Alex DeLeon--rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “We got called in for a label meeting; there was nothing we could do!” Then he smiled at me, extending his hand, “I’m Alex DeLeon. This is Alex Marshall, Alex Johnson, and Bryan Marshall. Ah, hm,” he scratched his head with his free hand, “Never realized how many Alexes we have.”
I shook his hand and returned his smile, “You do realize that every single one of these bands except for one has an Alex in it, right?”
He threw his arms in the air and let out a grumbling noise, “That’s too many Alexes!”
“You can never have too many Alexes,” a voice said from the doorway, and we all looked to see Alex Gaskarth leaning against the frame, Deveraux and Jocelyn squeezing past him to get in.
Under my breath, I mumbled, “Uh, yeah, you can.” Only DeLeon seemed to hear me, though, and he laughed quietly, nudging me lightly in the ribs. I shrugged at him apologetically.
Jack let go of Kal’s hand and the Tupperware bowl simultaneously to go grab the rest of the group and drag them over for introductions. Alex Gaskarth slipped out a short time later, making some excuse about hitting the vending machines, which we all ignored. I kicked up another conversation with Lipshaw, picking up where we’d left off and trying not to blush when he brought up the “beautiful man” comment again, while Kal hung around Jack and Cassadee, and Deveraux dragged Jocelyn from group to group so they got to know everyone. I had to stop and watch that one for a second; there were so many things Jocelyn let Deveraux get away with that anyone else would have paid for with a severed limb.
And she’d been so mad at me the day before. Not because of anything I’d done to her, but because of my drunken display toward Deveraux in the limo.
My hand came up and smacked over my mouth, my eyes wide in sudden realization.
Lipshaw’s eyes widened too, and he pushed himself off of the wall he’d been leaning on. “What’s wrong, Annette? Are you gonna be sick or something?” I shook my head deftly, still trying to wrap my head around it. Jocelyn had a thing for Deveraux? But they were so opposite! She was way too impatient for someone so unpredictable. That wasn’t what was bothering me though, I realized as I looked from Jocelyn and Deveraux to Kal and Jack. That turning, wrenching feeling in my stomach was the fact that now everyone had someone except for me.
All I had, right now, was the talent of scaring the crap out of Alex Lipshaw. His hands were on either of my shoulders, forcing me to look into those beautifully pale eyes again. “Net, seriously! Are. You. O-kay?”
I snapped out of it and forced a smile up to his concerned face, “Yeah, Lipshaw; I’m fine.”
He sighed with relief and smiled back, leaning back against the wall. “You know,” he said, taking a sip from his bottle of water, “I wish you’d just call me Alex.” Then, as if just remembering yesterday’s events, he smiled ruefully and shook his head, “But I know you won’t, will you?”
I shrugged, pressing my lips together, “Sorry. It’s just sort of a sore subject.”
“I understand,” he told me sweetly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Lipshaw is fine…for now.” He smirked and I couldn’t help but smile back; could he be any sweeter? Maybe I didn’t have to be alone amongst my group after all.
“All right, guys,” Flyzik piped, standing on one of the couches to get our attention. “Um, No Name Jackasses? I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to kick you out now; you have to go do sound check with the other unsigned bands.” We nodded and started toward the door, and he handed us each a slip of paper on the way out. “By the way,” he added, “You can’t perform tonight if you don’t have a name, so I’d get to thinking about that.”
-- -- --
I was reading over the sheet Matt had handed us in horror.
6:00pm - AN EXPERIENCE WITH MOLLY RINGWALD
6:30pm - KOLKATA DAMSEL
7:00pm - THROW THE GOOD BOOK AT ‘EM, BOBBY JOE!
8:00pm - MAYDAY PARADE
8:45pm - HEY MONDAY
9:30pm - BOYS LIKE GIRLS
10:15pm - THE CAB
10:45pm - ALL TIME LOW
11:30pm - WISCONSIN BAND (NAME TO BE ANNOUNCED)
11:50pm - THIS IS URGENT
12:10am - THE ROMANTIC DISASTER
12:30am - COME ASCENDANCY
We were following All Time Low. That is, if we ever figured out a name. This was a surefire way to get screwed over, because if Alex had any intention of messing up our stage time, he would have the perfect opportunity. I dropped my head into my hands and let out a loud growl of annoyance.
“Hey, you okay?” Brianna, the lead singer of Come Ascendancy, sat down next to me on the couch. We’d been at the venue for almost two hours now, sound check done and acquaintances made. All that was left to do was get dressed and ready, and do last minute checks and rehearsals. Our band had taken a break from pre-show practice so we could brainstorm on names for a while, but truthfully I hadn’t even given it a single thought.
I shook my head, looking up at her. She had one of those sweet faces; the kind that are hard to lie to. “I’m just stressing about the set list; we’re on after All Time Low and…well…Alex Gaskarth hates me! So I just know he’s going to fuck over my band!” I balled the paper up and threw it to the floor in anger, growling once more.
She laughed and put a soothing hand on my shoulder. “Hey, calm down. Have a cookie,” she offered me one from the bowl Jack had brought; no one had been brave enough to eat even one. “Just kidding. But really, Annette, you have to calm down. I don’t know what he did to you or why, but I heard you guys rehearsing and you’re amazing; so whatever it is, it obviously isn’t worth worrying about.”
I sighed, because I knew that she was right. Nerves; just nerves. The tended to get the better of me, especially as far as Alex was concerned. But I loved music. I loved my band. I loved what we were doing, and truly believed in it. This was everything to me, and I was going to do it right.
“Thanks, Brianna,” I told her with a big smile, “You’re good at this feel-good stuff.”
“It’s a gift,” she pretended to praise herself before excusing herself to find the rest of her band. I did the same.
“Okay, guys,” I said once I’d rounded them all up, “I had a mini-breakdown, threw up a few times, cried once, and got advice from a seventeen-year-old girl I’ve known for an hour. But I think I’m good now, and I can guarantee you that tonight is going to be great.” Kal smiled at me, and Jocelyn let out a little, “that’s what I’m talkin’ about, girl.”
I laughed and continued, “All right, so let’s get ready and then we’ll do another quick rehearsal, because that’s what’s most important right now. The name is going to have to just come. Okay?” They all agreed and we went our separate ways again to get ready.
-- -- --
“I’m bringing everything along with me
I’m trying to find some middle ground
I’m stuck inside the sentiment of who I should be
And I don’t want to let anyone down”
Kal and I worked on a harmony that had been giving us some trouble as Deveraux played the tune out on a practice standing piano and Jocelyn tapped out the rhythm on the hard wood. We’d decided to do all originals, and there were a few that weren’t quite perfected yet. Granted that our set was only twenty minutes long--barely enough time for six songs--and everyone would be leaving by the time we got up there, we still wanted to be perfect. If that meant standing in the middle of the hallway in front of the dressing rooms and practicing until the very last minute, that’s what we were going to do.
Deveraux stopped playing, fiddling with one of the buttons of his flannel in thought. “Okay,” he mumbled, in one of those rare, serious moods of his. “I think we’re good for ‘Along With Me.’ Let’s move on to the chorus of ‘Disillusionment,’ because Annette’s been having some trouble timing her breaths there. And Jocelyn,” he pointed out when the drummer snorted, “You tend to speed up at the same time, which is probably why she does it. So let’s try that.” One way that Deveraux and Kal were a lot alike was: They were not afraid to tell you when you needed to fix something about your music.
Jocelyn prickled visibly, but started drumming out a beat with her fingertips regardless, eyes locked on the bassist the entire time. I took a breath and started in on one of the choruses.
“And I let down my walls, and I’m taking the fall
So excuse me if my sentimental reason is dull
I’m just trying to see what it is that you mean
When you say that it was never about you and me”
Deveraux opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when he seemed to see something of interest over my shoulder. I heard the soft squeaking of sneakers against tile and turned my head as they stopped. Alex Gaskarth was standing right behind us with a smug look on his face.
“Don’t mind me,” he said with a smile, “I was just listening.”
Jocelyn smiled at him; they’d talked through breakfast and then rode together to the venue, and I had a feeling he’d managed to charm her. Deveraux too. Kal still seemed on my side, though…somewhat.
“And what did you think?” My so-called best friend asked him lightly, eyes hopeful. What was she thinking, asking him something like that?!
He tilted his head thoughtfully, “Well the beat is good, and so is the piano. Kal, you can harmonize like nobody’s business.” I just stared at him, and he stared back. Finally, he made a pained hissing sound and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s too bad; you guys could be great if you would just cut your weakest link.”
Oh, really? “And my weakest link,” I demanded angrily, “I suppose you mean me, right?”
“Hey, you said it, not me. But now that you mention it, honey--”
“Honey?!”
“You could use a few more years of training,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me.
Behind me I heard Jocelyn whisper, “Jesus, all these months and I thought she was exaggerating. But he really is a dick.”
I took a step forward, raising my chin defiantly, “And you just know everything about everything, huh?”
He shook his head, “No, not everything. But when it comes to this,” he waved a hand around, “Music, performing, having what it takes? I am omniscient. And you,” he looked me over, sizing me up, “You just don’t have what it takes.” He walked away quickly then, probably thinking I would hit him again, and I slumped back against the piano.
“Hey,” Kal said quietly, resting a hand on my shoulder, “You okay?”
Before I had a chance to answer, however, Flyzik popped out from one of the dressing rooms and walked right over to us. “Just the band I was looking for!” He played with his headset and glanced toward the hallway that lead to the stage, “An Experience With Molly Ringwald is about to start their set; you’d better get out there if you want to see them.” He eyed me carefully, “Have you got a name yet?”
I paused, glancing at my bandmates individually before cracking a smirk and turning back to the manager. “Yeah,” I told him smugly, “Yeah, we do.”