Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2) (15 page)

“But I’m not selling coffee in a cardboard cup.”

“You see,” she said, shrugging her thin shoulders, “that’s why I gave Jordyn a thumbs-up. She’s ready. The only question now is which of you I think America would love more.”

As she finished talking she smiled and tossed her hands up, as if to say the outcome was anyone’s guess, even though Caleb suspected that that was far from true. Then she turned on her heel and marched off toward the stage.

When she was out of sight, the makeup artist reappeared from the sideline, where she had been organizing her supplies while obviously eavesdropping the entire time.

“Wow,” she said. “You’re braver than I am. She mistook me for a set hand the other day and asked me to get her iced tea. I got it instead of correcting her.”

Caleb laughed, closing his eyes for the powder. “It’s just a show and she’s just one of the judges.”

“For you, maybe,” the girl said. “But for me it’s just a job, and she’s just one of the bosses. Now, let’s get this hair fixed up for you and then I think you’ll be set.”

The artists stood lined up on the stage, every one of them nervous as hell, while the judges laughed and talked among themselves. The judges would occasionally point down from their box and comment to one another on the contestants, as if this were just some other day, which Caleb guessed for them it was. For him it was anything but. If he made it through this round, there would be only four artists and four weeks between him and half a million dollars. Enough after taxes for a down payment on a house and one hell of a wedding.

Don’t think about it, he told himself. You’ll only get disappointed. Just think about getting home and seeing Jane. Think about that.

The producer eventually called for quiet on the set. Then the director called for action. And just like that, it was really happening. The host was onstage in his shiny suit and coiffed hair, gleefully reading from the teleprompter the rules that would determine the contestants’ fates.

Caleb watched as the spotlight hit the first pair of artists. They were both girls with incredible voices, although Caleb figured Jasmine would be the one going through today. And he was right. The judge hemmed and hawed and eventually chose, and Jasmine jumped and jiggled and hugged the host so hard he dropped the microphone.

When Jasmine was seated in the chair and the losing contestant had gone, the spotlight moved. A guy and a girl this time—both young country artists. Caleb guessed the guy. He was wrong. The judge called Carrie Ann, and she curtsied and
skipped over to join Jasmine. The losing kid went into a short speech to thank the judge and the show, but the host eventually cut him off and ushered him off the stage.

Next up were two folksy girls who could have been sisters. Caleb couldn’t pick between the two, and it appeared the judge couldn’t either. The host pressured the judge for a decision, a well-rehearsed and ramped-up sense of urgency played out for the camera, and finally the one named Erica went through.

Then the spotlight moved to Sean and Panda. Sean looked at Caleb and smiled nervously, in spite of his swollen lip. Then he dropped his head as if he knew. Panda was standing beside him in her sparkly red shoes, and she reached up a hand and patted him on the back as if she knew too. It was a strange, almost maternal gesture from someone so young. The host asked for a decision, and the judge spent so long complimenting Sean on his performances and on his growth as an artist that before the winner’s name was even spoken, everyone on the set and in the audience knew he was going home.

“We need the name now, Judge. America’s waiting.”

“Panda,” the judge finally burst out. “I’m choosing to put Panda through.”

Sean immediately turned and hugged Panda, and told her she deserved to go on. A true bad boy through and through, Caleb thought, but one hell of a good guy too. Then Sean looked at Caleb, and Caleb could see by the spotlight in his eyes that he was crying. He smiled and gave Caleb two reassuring thumbs-up, and then he walked off the stage for his last time.

Caleb was still watching him go when the spotlight hit his eyes. Jordyn was standing next to him, and she reached and took his hand in hers. He would have rather faced the judge alone, but Jordyn’s grip was tight and she wouldn’t let go.

Oh well, he thought, she’s probably just as nervous as I am.

Then Caleb saw the host speak, and he was aware that the judge had begun to ramble on about how great he and Jordyn each were, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t understand a word. It was as if the stage and the judges and the people had retreated to some faraway place, his body standing there in the spotlight, but his mind and soul and heart were a thousand miles away with Jane. He heard her parting words:
I love you, Caleb. I love you no matter what. Rich or poor, win or lose. And I’ll be waiting right here for you when you return.

He could see Jane’s face, the crease in the corner of her lips and the twinkle in her eyes when she smiled. He could taste her kiss good-bye. Smell the shampoo in her hair. And he wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel the skin of her cheek with his fingertips, caress the delicate flesh at the back of her neck. And he wanted to tell her that he loved her and that he always had and always would. Rich or poor, win or lose, no matter what the world threw at them, they would face it together.

“Caleb. Did you hear me, Caleb?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming to and looking up at the judge. “Did I hear what?”

“We need your decision; we’re running out of time.”

“My decision?”

Caleb looked around, feeling very confused. Then Jordyn squeezed his hand and leaned in to him and rose onto her tiptoes and whispered in his ear.

“Just go along with me,” she said. “You’re going through. Nod if you understand.”

He nodded and Jordyn lifted their joined hands into the air. “Yes, we’ll do it! We’ll go through together.”

The applause sign lit up, and the audience rose to their feet and clapped and cheered.

Did she say
togethe
r
?

Caleb looked over at Jordyn. “What do you mean, together?”

But it was so loud now on the soundstage, none of the microphones caught his comment. And if Jordyn did, she only ignored his question and kept on smiling and waving for the cameras.

“Dude, did you have a seizure up there, or what? You really had no idea what she asked?”

Caleb splashed cold water on his face again, then raised his head and watched it drip off in the bathroom mirror. He could see Sean standing in the doorway behind him.

“I didn’t hear a word, Sean. I was all wrapped up in a daydream, and the next thing I knew, everyone was clapping and Jordyn was lifting my hand up in the air like I’d won a boxing match or something. She said I was going through, but I didn’t know it meant both of us as a stupid duo.”

“Still, a duo’s better than going home, dude.”

Caleb dried his face with a towel, then turned to look at Sean. “You think so?”

“Sure. You still get the recording contract if you win, even if you do have to split the advance. And I don’t know about you, but I sure wouldn’t turn down a quarter million dollars.”

Caleb tossed the used towel on the floor and sighed. “What did the judge say? Did you hear?”

“I was watching the monitors backstage. She just went on about what an impossible choice it was, same as they all do, but then she said she loved your duet so much that she had a proposition for you. She said you could go through together if you both agreed to be a duo. Otherwise, she’d choose one.”

“I just wonder why she did it. And why did Jordyn agree to go through with me? She seemed like a lock to me.”

“Maybe because she’s into you, man.”

“I don’t think so. I think she’s just smart and conniving, even though I can’t see her angle yet.”

“Well, whatever, dude. She’s not bad to look at anyway.”

“I’ve got a girl, Sean. And I intend to marry her.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re dead, dude.”

Caleb walked past Sean into the room and flopped down onto his bed with a sigh. He picked up his phone and checked it. He’d sent a text to Jane with the news, but she hadn’t replied yet. He glanced at the clock and figured that she must still be out working since it was Friday evening.

He set the phone down and looked at Sean. “Hey, what are you even doing here? It’s our last night. Shouldn’t you be out running the town?”

Sean looked down at his feet and shrugged. “Nah, I’ve seen enough of L.A., dude. I’m looking forward to getting home.”

Caleb could tell that Sean was depressed. He just wasn’t sure if it was because they would be going their separate ways in the morning or because Sean wouldn’t be coming back.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Caleb announced, hopping off the bed. “Let’s get out of here together and go have some fun.”

“Really? Where would we go?”

“You could show me Canter’s Deli.”

“You really wanna see it?”

“Sure. I love Guns N’ Roses. And I wouldn’t mind walking Sunset Strip. I’ve been here this whole time, and all I’ve seen is that stupid soundstage and the inside of this room.”

“Sweet. We can hit up Jumbo’s Clown Room too.”

Caleb had his shirt half on when he paused. “Jumbo’s Clown Room? I’m afraid to even ask.”

“Dude, it’s the land of milk and honey. They claim it’s the best alternative pole-dancing club in Hollywood.”

“What do you mean by ‘alternative’?”

“The girls are insane. Big ones, little ones. There was a midget last week. And they’re all tatted up and pierced.”

Caleb laughed and pulled his shirt the rest of the way on. “Let’s start with Canter’s and see what happens.”

They caught a cab in front of the hotel and had it drop them at Canter’s Deli. Caleb had expected to be impressed, but it just seemed like an all-night diner with a bar attached, except that there were photos of the owner together with Slash on the wall above their booth. They ate thick pastrami sandwiches, and Caleb had a glass of cold milk while Sean had a Heineken. Then Caleb held the menu up for cover while Sean used his pocketknife to add his initials to the hundreds of others on the wooden booth.

When they left they walked up to Hollywood Boulevard, passing crazy cartoon-costumed street characters posing for pictures with tourists, passing Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and its creepy concrete footprints from the past, passing Marilyn Monroe, and James Dean, and even Elvis twice, once young, once old. They walked on past the Roxy and the House of Blues, doubling back to stop into Musso and Frank, where they sat at the bar and pretended to be Hollywood bigwigs. Caleb had a club soda while he watched Sean down martinis and a dish of baked escargot, because they had neither in Iowa, or so Caleb assumed. Then they headed deeper into the Strip.

There they walked beneath the warm glow of a thousand billboards from a bygone era, and they talked about their lives and their hopes and their dreams, and about music, of course, music being the thing that connected all three. And they were not alone. Their shadows followed beside them with the ghosts of Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison, forever
young, forever falling in love with life and with music and with one another, the voices of sweet poetry and endless possibility, their conversations still echoing just beneath the din and clamor of the clubs, if one were drunk enough, or brave enough, to put his ear to the sidewalk and listen.