Liam looked at my parents before looking back at me. “Well…it’s an open audition, and I’ve been looking for some exposure, so I thought it would be a good idea…”
“A good idea to do what?” I asked, my voice firm.
Liam raised his chin. “I’m auditioning too.”
My first instinct was outrage. This was my audition, my job, but then I remembered…it wasn’t. I’d given it up, and now it was open for anyone to pursue. I stood from the table and Liam backed up a step, like he was sure I would deck him. I didn’t though. I was trying to be a better, more mature person. I was trying to grow up. And a part of doing that was learning to be gracious and supportive. I wanted the best for Liam, I really did.
Holding out my hand, I told him, “I hope you get on the show.”
Liam seemed shocked by my admission, but I meant it. Even if he didn’t win the contest, the show would rev up his career in a way that nothing else would, and I wanted that for him. Finally seeing that I was serious, he clasped my hand. “Thank you,” he told me.
Nothing but sincerity was in his voice, and I smiled at hearing it. “You’re welcome.”
The next two weeks flew by. I barely had time to think, there was so much to do. Practicing was at the top of my list. If I wasn’t at work, I was in my parents’ garage, busting out beats on either a bass guitar or a lead. I’d had to rent them, since I’d sold mine in “the purge.” Well, technically Liam was the one renting them, since I didn’t have the money. Liam practiced on one while I practiced on the other, then we’d swap.
Liam had played a bit as a kid, but he hadn’t touched an instrument in recent years; he was even rustier than I was. I helped him get caught up, giving him refreshers on chords and notes, and teaching him every single one of the D-Bags’ songs. The ones I could remember, at any rate. More than a few had slipped from my memory, a by-product of barely paying attention for years. God, I was a lazy jackass sometimes.
Mom was ear-to-ear smiles whenever she watched us rehearsing. She loved seeing her kids getting along. Chelsey and her girls watched us sometimes too, and sometimes the kids would bang on pots and pans and sing whatever lyrics came to mind. That was sort of annoying, but I ignored it and focused on the music. If I could keep my concentration during their ruckus, then I could keep it through anything.
Before I knew it, auditions were upon me. When we arrived at the crack of dawn, there was already a line around the block. People must have camped out for this. My heart was thudding in my chest as I took my spot at the end of the line. From behind me, I heard Liam say, “I’m gonna be sick, and we’re not even inside yet.”
Turning around, I put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna be great. You had inside help on learning all the songs. That gives you a huge advantage over everyone else here.”
Liam swallowed, then smiled. “Everyone but you.”
I wished I could believe that, but I had too much baggage in my way. For me, my experience was a handicap. “I may know the songs, but I don’t think it will help me. I need all three guys to say yes to the next round…and as far as I know, hell hasn’t frozen over yet.”
Pissiness started seeping into me, but I pushed it back. The only way this was going to work was if I tore down my pride. And begged. I figured I had lots of that in front of me. But that was okay. Whatever I had to do to get my life back.
It took forever for the line to move. Liam and I entertained ourselves by chatting with the other contestants. There were a surprising number of girls in the line. I figured they just wanted a glimpse of Kellan, but…maybe not. All the ones I talked to knew their shit. In fact, most of them knew more technical crap about music than I did. I could have used their expertise when I’d been putting together that godforsaken album.
Liam had helped disguise me, so no one around knew who they were actually talking to. My brother seemed to think I’d be best unrecognized as a ginger. He said it was because I’d been blond when the band first got big, then brunette when I’d quit on live TV, so a redhead was my only remaining choice. Personally, I think he’d just wanted to torture me. He’d borrowed some supplies from a recent commercial he’d filmed—a red wig in a cut so short, I had to crop my hair again…and just when it had been almost to my chin too; a red fake goatee; green contacts; and red paint for fucking freckles. I had been afraid I was going to end up looking like Raggedy Andy, but Liam knew what he was doing, and when he was finished, I looked like a completely natural redhead.
There was excitement in the line as it inched closer and closer to the front doors. People had come from all over for this, and some of them had waded through a lot of crap to get here. Hearing their stories only added to my regret. I’d been handed fame on a platter and hadn’t appreciated it until it was too late. Story of my life.
As I trudged along that sea of hope and possibility, it became increasingly clear to me that Matt had been right all along. I had ridden the guys’ coattails, and I was the one who owed them, not the other way around. They’d all put so much effort into making the band what it was, and me? I’d enjoyed the spoils, but I hadn’t really contributed to earning them. Well, if I won this, that would all change.
Not wanting any distractions, I’d left my cell phone at my parents’ place. I was regretting that now, as thoughts of Anna clouded my mind. I wished she was here, cheering for me, supporting and encouraging me, even if it was over the phone. She hadn’t called yet, and I hadn’t had the guts, or time, to call her either, so I had no idea if Kiera had given her my note or not. If she had, Anna’s silence didn’t bode well for our future. Like the D-Bags, that was completely up in the air. To be determined. God, I hated those words.
When Liam and I finally got inside, we were herded to one of many registration tables. As I watched people filling out paperwork, Liam asked me, “Are you going to stay in disguise or let them know it’s you?”
I watched as people handed over their IDs to the people behind the table, and sighed. “I didn’t bring a fake ID along with me, so it looks like I’ll be telling the truth.”
Liam gave me a squeeze on the shoulder, then sighed. “Hey, before we do this, I just wanted to let you know…I’m sorry for all the jerk comments. I was just…really jealous about everything you had, but it was stupid and petty, and I’m sorry.” Dropping his hand off my shoulder, he studied the floor. “It’s just hard to see someone you know have everything you’ve ever wanted, especially when they don’t seem to appreciate it.” He met my eye again. “But I do care about you, and it was wrong of me to feel that way. Basically, I suck, and I know it, and I’m sorry.”
His apology hit close to home, and I smiled. “I know you suck…but thank you. I think I did something similar with the guys…so I get it. We both suck…must be genetic.”
Laughing, Liam clapped me on the back. “Definitely.”
Chapter 24
Hope
Liam and I were called up to different stations at the same time, but I gave him a good luck clap before we parted ways, not that this part was hard or anything. It was just paperwork. The lady at the table had a number waiting for me when I stepped up to her. I smiled at seeing it—6969—my favorite number.
“Name?” she asked, her fingers hovering over her laptop, ready to record the information.
Clearing my throat, I stated, “Griffin Hancock.”
She started to type, then stopped and looked up at me. “Are you messing with me?” she asked, scrutinizing me. Since Liam had done such a good job on my disguise, she was having a hard time seeing the former rock star in the person standing before her.
I sighed, then shook my head. Leaning down, I told her, “I’m Griffin Hancock, former D-Bag. I don’t want people to recognize me, that’s why I look like this. I just want to try out, like everybody else.”
Her eyes were wide, but instead of outright believing me, she asked, “May I see your ID please?”
After I handed it to her, she gasped. “Oh my God, it is yo
u. You realize this is a contest to replace you, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know. Can I fill out the forms?”
“Oh, yes, yes…” She handed them my way. Once I began working on them, she asked, “Can we get a testimonial? Before your audition.” When I looked up at her, she said, “Just a little something we can use for the broadcast, to help the audience get to know you. Not that they don’t already know you.” She could barely contain her enthusiasm. She was either one of my elusive fans or, more likely, she recognized television gold when she saw it.
“Sure. Why not.” The more the audience knew me and knew my side of the drama, the better my chances were.
The girl looked over my shoulder and snapped her fingers. When she had someone’s attention, she pointed at me and mouthed the words He’s next. After I handed her my completed paperwork, she handed me my number and gestured to a waiting area. “You’ll be called when it’s time for your group to enter the auditorium. Until then, wait over there for your testimonial.” With a beaming smile, she stuck her hand out. “I’m not supposed to say this, but good luck!”
I clasped her hand with both of mine. “Thanks.” I was going to need it.
When the camera was finally thrust in my face, the host of the show said, “So what is your story? How is it that you came to be here today?”
Inhaling a deep breath, I told him, “My name is Griffin Hancock, and I’m here to get my job back.”
Frowning, the host looked over at the cameraman. “Cut,” he said, making a kill motion with his hand. The red light instantly died on the camera. The host turned back to me, irritated. “Look, this is a serious part of the show, to let the audience get to know your personality. So, just tell the truth okay? What’s your name?”
Leaning forward, I said, “Griffin…Hancock. I’m the former bassist of the D-Bags, and I’m here to get my job back.”
The host sighed, then spoke into something at his wrist. “Sally, contestant 6969…who is this guy?”
I could see his eyes widening as he listened to her response. “Holy shit…” he muttered, then snapping his fingers at the cameraman, he barked, “Start filming. Now!” When he spoke to me again, his tone of voice was completely different. “Griffin, this is such a surprise. Do the guys know you’re auditioning, and why are you wearing a disguise?”
Shrugging, I shook my head. “No, they have no idea I’m here. No one knows I’m here, and for now, I want to keep it that way. I just…” I looked down at my hands, not able to face him anymore. “I’ve made a lot of boneheaded mistakes lately, but leaving the band was the biggest. I just want to show the guys that I’m serious now.” I looked up at him, determination in my voice and my face. “I want this, and I’ll do whatever it takes to win my spot back.”
“Excellent. Inspiring words for an inspiring moment. We’re all rooting for you, Griffin.” The host started to motion to the camera guy again, but I interrupted.
“Wait. I want to say one last thing.” The host leaned in, instantly intrigued again. Staring directly at the camera, I said, “If my wife is watching, I just want to let her know…Anna, you mean the world to me…and I’m sorry I…”
I couldn’t say anymore ’cause my damn throat closed up. I gave the host an I’m done signal, and he signed off with flowery words about love and heartache. When the camera died again, he extended his hand and wished me luck, just like the other girl had. I soaked it up like a sponge.
About an hour later, our group was led into the auditorium. The entire room smelled like nerves, and everyone around me was sweating. Even though I knew what I was doing, even though the guys on the judging panel were my best friends, and even though I loved being the center of attention, I felt like I was going to throw up.
Liam and I grabbed some seats in the back of the room so I could observe without being observed. Kellan, Matt, and Evan were set up at a table in front of a stage. They were listening to a guy jamming on a guitar that was provided for the auditioners. They had about ten different types to choose from, along with drums, keyboards, and various other musical equipment. The point of the audition was to showcase a person’s best talent, and the guys understood that that might not necessarily be bass guitar.
Matt was bobbing his head to the beat while the guy onstage shredded it. Evan was casting glances at Kellan and Matt, but by the grin on his face, I could tell Evan liked this guy. I could see why too; he sounded amazing. Fuck. I suddenly felt very inadequate surrounded by so much raw talent. But I was good too, and I knew what I was doing. That had to count for something. Kellan was the only one who seemed unimpressed. Well, maybe he was impressed, he just wasn’t showing it. Whenever I got a peek at his face, his expression was completely blank.
When the guy was done, all three guys accepted him into the next round. I hoped it went as smoothly for me. And Liam. As he sat there beside me, sweating and rocking in his chair like he had a mental condition, I could see how badly he wanted this.
Just as I was about to wish him good luck, a group of people in front of us caught my attention. I elbowed Liam. “Look who’s here,” I said with a smirk.
Liam looked over to where I was pointing, and spotted them instantly. Our entire fucking family was here. Chelsey was giggling as she pointed out Kellan to Mom. Dustin seemed transfixed by the entire production. Surprisingly, it was Dad who turned and spotted Liam and me in the back. He waved, then gave us each a thumbs-up. I didn’t know what to do, say, or think. My parents had always been supportive, yes, but it had typically been a backseat kind of support. I don’t think they’d ever even seen a D-Bags show. It kind of choked me up that they were here, which was sort of irritating. I was quickly becoming as much of a girlish wuss as Kellan. Goddammit.
When my number was called, I went down to the waiting area. I was next. My nerves spiked as I watched the person before me. He looked awkward onstage, like he was about to shit his pants or puke in the bucket just off camera. I sympathized; I sort of felt the same way. After his lackluster performance, all three judges said no. It felt like it was bad luck to have a bad review right before I went on. The announcer called my name—my nickname, since they allowed contestants to use them.
“Next up…G-Dog.”
There were a few chuckles in the crowd, and a lot of screams. My family was in on the disguise, but they weren’t the subtle type. I raised a hand in acknowledgment, then made my way to one of the guitars on the stage. I kept my head down, and my ball cap low. I wanted the guys to hear my music first, before they realized who I was. I couldn’t play that way though. I needed to engage the crowd. Showmanship was just as important as ability; I’d been drilling that into Liam all week long. Playing well was only half the battle. But once I started up with my usual antics, the deception would be over—the guys would recognize me instantly. Nothing to be done about that though.
I’d chosen a D-Bags song, since I knew them better than anything else out there. I picked an old one though, one that had never been officially released. I figured I’d stand out from the crowd better that way, since everyone was playing D-Bags songs.
Since this was a music competition, there were no accompanying background rhythms. No drums, no vocals, no nothing. It was just me, and whatever noises came out of my guitar. That was nerve-wracking. It was pretty much the solo from hell.
I chose a lead guitar so the rhythm would shine through. And unlike that dreaded time when I’d fucked up a perfectly good D-Bags song during rehearsal for my parents, I was going to nail it. I silently counted out the rhythm, then started in. The intro was quieter than the chorus, and I kept my head down while I played, stretching out my anonymity for as long as I could. Once I got to the chorus though, I let it rip.
Dropping all of my doubts and fears, I imagined that I was back at a D-Bags concert, rocking out with fifty thousand of my closest friends. The music electrified me as I made eye contact with the crowd. I started singing along to the song I was playing, and making playful faces at the crowd. Th
ey were clapping along, dancing in the seats, and cheering my name. Well, my nickname, at any rate. For a few glorious minutes, I completely forgot that I was fighting for my life; I just had fun. Man…I’d missed this. But then I noticed the judges, and I was suddenly yanked back to reality so quickly, I swore I had whiplash.
I knew in five seconds flat that the guys had recognized me. Matt was scowling. Evan looked shocked, and Kellan…he was finally smiling. Matt raised his hand to stop me. I played four more bars before I consented and stopped my fingers; they vibrated along with the last chord, and the listening crowd cheered and clapped. I’d rocked the shit out of my audition.
By the look on Matt’s face though, you wouldn’t think that was true. “What the hell are you doing here, Griffin?”
I heard murmuring in the crowd as people tried to figure out what was going on. Knowing the jig was up, I removed my hat, my wig, and the expertly glued-in-place goatee; that one stung like a mofo to remove. Without my getup, people started recognizing me, and I heard gasps, then screaming. But mixed in with the screaming, there was an awful lot of booing. I was not universally loved.
Matt turned around in his seat to silence the crowd. When he got them under control, he swiveled back to me. His face was firm; he wanted an explanation for this. For a lot of things, probably. “I’m auditioning,” I told him. “Just like everybody else.”
His eyebrows scrunched together and he shared a look with Evan and Kellan. “You’re auditioning…for your old spot?”
Why did everyone keep asking me to reaffirm that? I was well aware that it was kind of ironic, but it was the only way I could get back in. “Yes,” I said, as seamlessly as possible.
Evan leaned forward then. “You know that the winner is going to be determined by the fans, right? We don’t have a say.”
I nodded. “I know. But the three of you determine who gets on the show…and all I’m asking for is a chance. Put me through my paces, like anybody else. Let me prove to you, to everyone, that I’m good enough to be a part of this band. Let me earn my right to play with you again…because I don’t think I earned it the first time around, and I definitely didn’t appreciate it. I do now though, and I want this. I want to play with you guys again. I want to be a D-Bag.”