Music Notes Page 5

  The thought is so exciting and completely terrifying at the exact same time.

  Troy, Ben, and Corie are waiting for the van when it pulls up. I can’t contain the irrefutably thrilled smile that spreads wide as I see my three new friends. I’m barely out of the van before I’m encompassed in a tight group hug.

  “We all got in! How amazing is that?” Corie says.

  “Come on in to the lounge and you can tell us all about it,” Ben says with a lingering, almost overfriendly glance.

  I follow the group inside the hotel. Some veer off towards their respective rooms. Packing. Many are going home after today. We make our way into the lounge and order soft drinks since it’s not even noon yet. Not that I couldn’t use a celebratory drink or two right about now, but I refrain from indulging in alcohol to fuel our excitement.

  “So?” Corie asks as she takes a sip of her ice tea.

  “I was picked by all four coaches,” I confess without really making eye contact with them.

  “Seriously?” Ben asks.

  “Yep. I can’t believe it myself,” I admit.

  “So, you’re on Felix’s team then?” Troy asks.

  “Actually…” I start and then stop, taking a deep breath before I continue. “I’m on Team Beau.”

  Three sets of shocked eyes stare back at me. I couldn’t have shocked them more right now if I had actually tried.

  “But…I don’t…wait. Beau is country,” Ben finally spits out.

  “I know that. It’s just when I was up there and they were all staring at me, there was something in Beau’s gaze that made me stop and actually consider him. I hope I didn’t just make a huge mistake,” I mumble before gulping down huge swigs of cold diet cola.

  “Honey, nothing about Beau Tanner is a mistake. If you chose him, then there must be some reason. Like fate or destiny,” she says with a wicked grin which results in an eye roll from Ben.

  “Well, I don’t know about that, but I definitely felt like it was the right choice in the moment,” I add.

  “Besides, he’s completely hot, and now you get to stare at his gorgeous face all the time,” she adds with a giggle. I fight to keep the smile at bay, especially when Ben glowers at her comment as if he just ate something gross.

  Eventually, everyone around me goes on to talk about the show and what he or she needs to do over the course of the next several weeks to prepare. My mind wanders back to dangerous, uncharted territory. Beau’s gaze had pulled me in so deep that I could have drowned in a sea of those smoky eyes. I felt something way more than a crush or excitement when our eyes locked. I can’t describe it or explain it, but one thing’s certain: I know I’m never going to be the same again.

  Note to self: Dress for success. Or dress like yourself and pray no one notices the difference.

  I’ve spent the past six weeks working as many extra shifts as I can and squeezing as much one-on-one time with Eli that I can possibly manage. But, the time is flying by, and before I know it, it’ll be time for me to head back to LA.

  Mom and I are going shopping this afternoon to grab a few new tops and pants for my looming trip. I don’t need to bring anything for the show since they have their own stylists whose sole purpose for being there is to dress me. But I’ll have plenty of other moments that will be recorded and broadcasted to the viewing audience. Plus, at the post-audition meeting, we found out that parts of the hotel and all practices will be streamed to their website so the audience will have twenty-four-seven access to the contestants. Awesome.

  “What do you think of this?” Mom asks as she holds up a loosely knitted gray top. The deep, rich color instantly reminds me of a certain cowboy’s eyes that I’m trying not to think about. Six weeks of trying not to picture his face, and six weeks of failing miserably. Beau Tanner invades my dreams almost nightly.

  “I really like it. With a burgundy or purple cami underneath, it’ll be great,” I tell her as I grab the shirt from her hands.

  “Go with the purple. When you had that streak in your hair last summer, it really looked great on you. Hey, maybe you should streak your hair again,” Mom says as she digs through the rack of tops in my size.

  I’ve never been afraid of used clothes. It’s not like I had to have them when I was growing up. Mom made decent money to support both of us, and with my dad’s life insurance, we were able to make ends meet. Of course, that doesn’t mean we bought expensive clothes. Expensive to us was shopping at Target instead of Wal-Mart.

  My love for used clothes came right after high school. I was walking past the used clothing store on my way to Colton’s place where a vintage concert t-shirt hanging in the window caught my attention. Together with a pair of retro jeans with rhinestones on the ass and a jean jacket, I left with a great new outfit at the everyday low price of fifteen dollars. Plus, I like the idea that not everyone around me is going to have the same clothes.

  “What about this?” I ask as I hold up a navy and cream-colored dress. It’s strapless and gathered just below the breast and flows down to the knees. Pair it with the tan boots I’ve been breaking in and an armful of golden bangle bracelets, and I think this would make a great rehearsal outfit.

  I glance down at Eli playing happily in the stroller with his Spiderman action figure. We’re taking advantage of the mid-May day and doing a little shopping before my shift at Chaser’s. We stopped at the deli down the street and had soup and sandwiches, played on the swings at the community park around the corner, and are now hitting my favorite store before heading home.

  “That’s great. Get that dress. What about these pants? I think they’ll make your ass look great!” Mom is holding up a pair of black leather pants in just my size. I have another pair of leather pants that I rarely wear since they cost Mom practically a month’s salary. These are worn and broken in, and I can’t wait to pair them with the red lace top with the single left side sleeve that we found over in another section.

  “Yes! Grab those.”

  “So, I was thinking that next weekend we could have a salon day before you go to work. I want you to have a fresh haircut and maybe some highlights before you go,” Mom says.

  “Mom, I don’t need to spend all that extra money on stuff like that. I imagine that their stylist is going to do whatever they want with my hair,” I tell her, remembering the discussion we had at the meeting about not making any major changes to your appearance or body.

  “I guess. Oh, do you want to get your nose pierced? All great rocker chicks have their nose pierced,” she adds.

  “Mom. No one I know has their nose pierced anymore. And besides, I’m not supposed to make any changes, remember.”

  “I know. I just want to make sure you look your best, not that you don’t every day. You’re without a doubt the most beautiful girl there. I already know you sing better than all those other contestants, but I want to make sure you look the part. Rocker chick is in right now, and I want you to be a trendsetter.”

  I exhale dramatically. I’ve never been concerned about setting any trends or following the crowd. I’ve always been more of the outcast or the rebel when it comes to my appearance. I don’t want to follow in anyone’s fashion footsteps.

  “Do you need to groom the southern region again?” Mom says, breaking me out of my daze.

  “My southern region is fine. Thanks for asking,” I tell her, absently squeezing my legs together a little more. The memory of my first bikini waxing still gives me uncontrollable shivers. Doesn’t hurt, my ass.

  Note to self: Make sure you remember your Aloe Vera and shot of Jack before your next bikini wax.

  “Well, you should still get it trimmed up before you go. You don’t want stragglers when you’re dressing in front of those people,” Mom says. She always has a way with words.

  “I’ll make sure to get that taken care of,” I mumble as I head up to the cashier.

  As we slowly make our way through the streets of Chicago, I can’t help but think about the upcoming weeks. My flig
ht leaves a week from Monday which means I have just over seven days to get everything in order. Plus, spend as much time with Eli as humanly possible. Part of me wants to be kicked out in the first round so that I can board the flight and return home. Return to my life at Chaser’s. Return to my life as a single mom.

  But then there’s the other part of me that wants to know if I can actually make it all the way. Do I have what it takes to win the whole thing? The trophy. The prize money. The recording contract.

  I guess there’s only one way to find out.

  Ready or not, I’m heading to Los Angeles to see if I’m the next Rising Star.

  *****

  The bar is packed which surprises me since it’s not a karaoke night. Doc MZ spins high-energy dance music from his position on the stage while the patrons dance and drink the alcohol I’m serving. It’s the Saturday before I leave for the show, and Tiffany has to be happy with the turnout tonight.

  I’m just pouring a draft beer in a tall, frozen mug when the guy in front of me catches my eye. “Hey,” he says with a smile and a head nod.

  “Hi. I’ll be right with you,” I tell him as I finish filling up the mug of beer.

  After I hand the first man his beer and collect the money, I turn back to the guy who was standing in front of me. “What can I get you?”

  “How about a Bud Light bottle, sweetie,” he says with wiggly eyebrows. Good lord. Every time. I was just thinking how attractive the guy is, and then he goes and does that.

  “Coming right up,” I tell him as I grab his brew from the cooler.

  “Three-seventy-five,” I tell him as I pop the top.

  “So, I was wondering if after you get off work, maybe you want to come over and watch porn on my sixty-two inch flat screen mirror above my bed.” Again with the eyebrow wiggle. His statement actually completely catches me off guard that I almost miss the mirror part. Full, grab your belly laughter erupts uncontrollably from deep within.

  “I don’t think it’s that funny,” he mumbles as he takes a big pull from his beer bottle.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that that might be my favorite of the night,” I say through fits of laughter.

  “Uh, so that’s a good thing?” he asks with confusion and hope mixed together.

  “Not really,” I tell him as I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry. No, I’m not available to make–or watch–porn on your mirror. Thanks for the offer, though,” I tell him with a wink as I collect his money.

  “Some guy just asked me if I work for UPS because I’ve been checking out his package all night,” Tiffany says next to me with a dramatic eye roll.

  “Classic. Wait until you hear the one I just got,” I tell her as Lee sits down on his usual barstool in the corner. “Who’s that with Lee?” I ask, taking stock of the woman standing next to him with her back to us. She’s short with shoulder length brown hair and reminds me of someone I know well. Moments later, the woman turns around revealing…my mother.

  “Mom?” I ask as I approach the end of the bar, completely forgetting about the pick-up line I was just about to share with Tiffany.

  “Oh, Layne! We have a surprise for you,” she beams next to Lee.

  “What’s going on?” I ask moments before Doc takes the microphone in his hand.

  “Hey hey, party people! On Monday, our own little Layne is going to fly out to LA and kick some major ass on Rising Star! Who thinks Layne’s gonna win the whole thing?” he asks the crowd who screams their approval.

  “Well, Tiffany just told me that every Wednesday and Thursday night, Chaser’s Bar is gonna be watching Layne perform. We’re gonna expect everyone to grab their phones when she’s done, though, and cast your vote for the hometown girl. Tiff’ll have drink specials each night and everyone is invited to come watch our girl shine like the true star she is,” he adds with a wink and point in my direction.

  “So, in honor of Layne’s departure, let’s have her come on up here and sing a song or two for ya. How ‘bout it?” he says as the bar explodes into more cheers.

  My mom shouts her encouragement as Tiffany pushes me towards the end of the bar. My legs carry me towards the stage, the masses barely having enough room to make way for my progress.

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting this and I don’t even have a song picked out, so I’ll leave the song choice up to Doc,” I say into the microphone.

  “I got ya covered, girl,” he says just before the intro to Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” starts. I have about two seconds to think before the opening line starts.

  For the next three minutes, I lose myself in the music. The lights don’t bother me and the staring eyes don’t matter. The music. That’s the only thing that matters when I’m on stage. As if pulled deep from within my soul, the music grabs me and doesn’t let go. It’s like this every time.

  Kelly’s song flows right into Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock N Roll” and the entire bar sings along with me. Every mouth in the place is singing as we croon about a woman taking a man home from a bar–not unlike many of the hook-ups that’ll happen at Chaser’s tonight.

  “Don’t forget that Layne’s taking off for up to eight weeks, so I better see those tip jars overflowing with cash at the end of the night,” Doc says before starting another upbeat dance number.

  At the end of the night, the tip jars are, indeed, overflowing and the crowd is slow to exit. Jay nurses the fat lip he received when breaking up a scuffle on the dance floor while Zane keeps the people moving out the door.

  “I can’t believe you guys did this,” I say to Tiffany who is wrapping up what’s left of the congratulations cake that my mom brought.

  She took off hours ago, only staying long enough to watch me perform and cut the cake. Jane from next door stopped over to watch Eli for us, and Mom was anxious to get back home to her grandson.

  “Well, we couldn’t be more proud of you, honey,” Tiffany says with what could be our thirtieth hug of the night. Every time someone asked me about the show, I got a hug and was told how much she’s gonna miss me.

  “You probably won’t even notice I’m gone. I bet Kyle and Callie will do a better job than I do,” I tell her as I start to clean up the empties on the bar.

  “Are you kidding me? I have to have Kyle and Callie work together to replace you.”

  “Well, I’ll be back before you know it. I probably won’t even be gone the full eight weeks,” I say.

  Tiffany turns me firmly around so that I’m staring directly at her. “You listen to me, young lady. You have everything it takes to win that show. You are by far the best singer that has ever graced this stage. Promise me that you’ll give it your all and that you won’t think about this place or me for even a second.” Her eyes are firm and trained directly at me.

  “I promise,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.

  “Good. Now get rid of the rest of the empties before you make me smear my mascara. You know I hate smearing my mascara,” she says as she fights her own tears. “Besides, you still have to tell me about your favorite pick-up line of the night.”

  Note to self: Don’t forget to breathe. Because when all else fails you, breathing may be all you have left.

  I have this eerie sense of Déjà vu as a black town car drives me towards the BLVD Hotel. This time around, I share the vehicle with a girl who looks to be all of fourteen, a guy who carries his guitar around like a baby, and a hipster who smells like pot. And I’m stuck riding bitch in the backseat between the young girl with a cell phone permanently molded to her fingers and the guy who reeks like he smoked a fatty in the airport bathroom. Awesome.

  The only silver lining is that there’s a slim chance that I’ll have to share a room with Shawna again. With forty-seven other contestants, I’d say I’m good to assume that I’ll be roomies with any other woman on the show. I mean, what are the odds, right?

  After checking in at the front counter, we all make our way up to our respective rooms in the same section of the hotel. Sinc
e teenie bopper continues down the hallway in search of another room, it’s safe to say that I won’t be sharing a room with her.

  Maybe I’ll be rooming with Corie? We kept in touch through email and text over the past two months, and I’d definitely be happy to bunk with her.

  I slide the keycard into the door and give the nob a turn. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hear in an all too familiar voice as I push aside the heavy door.

  Note to self: If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have any luck at all.

  “Shawna. We meet again,” I mumble while staring down my arch-nemesis. After a two second stand-off, I drop my luggage on the floor in front of the first bed.

  “That one is yours. I’m not sleeping next to the bathroom this time since you were in and out all night long the last time. Is your bladder the size of a pea?” she asks with a huff and a flip of her perfect blond hair.

  “My bladder is perfectly normal.” I think.

  I begin the unpacking process while doing everything within my power to ignore my roommate. I admit that it’s hard, though, when a cloud of perfume and hairspray follows her wherever she goes. And it’s not like the hotel room is that big or anything. The bathroom or the closet is the only place to grab peace and quiet here.

  When my bags are empty and stacked within the small confines of the closet, I glance through the paperwork I received at check-in. Dinner tonight is at six o’clock and will be followed by drinks in the lounge downstairs. Then, tomorrow begins with scheduled coach’s sessions.

  Round one pins each contestant against another on the same team chosen by the coach. This round is more duet style as each pair sing together with only one being chosen to move on to the next round. Round two will showcase each remaining singer as an individual. However, at the end of the team performances, each coach will choose their top three performers, as well as choose one from the pool of the other castoffs from the other coaches. This gives each coach four contestants.