More Than Music (10 page)

“Yep. Hector’s going to promote his graphic novel, and he got me a ticket, too. Kyle is going with Alexis, who’s taking photos for the website she works for. I’ve never been before, so I’m excited.”

“We went the last two years. It was amazing.”

I told him about it as we waited for the other guys—waking up at 3 AM to get in line for the biggest panels, eating nothing but pretzel dogs and mini-pizzas for days, the unbelievable number of people crammed into the exhibit hall, plus all the incredible costumes and free swag. Jared listened intently and asked questions, and in return, I asked all about Hector’s graphic novel. Hector had done the artwork, inking, and coloring, but someone he’d met online had written the script. The band really
did
live up to their geeky name.

Jared’s phone buzzed, and I stood close enough to sneak a peek when he checked it. The text was from someone named Michelle and said,
“hey sexy wanna get 2gether 2nite?”
He shot me a quick glance and shoved the phone back in his pants without answering. He probably didn’t want me to see what he wrote back. It had to be from one of his many groupies or maybe someone he’d met on the show. One of those girls from the audition perhaps? The girl with the mohawk and chainmail bikini? Did she seem like a Michelle? Whatever. Jared’s sex life was none of my business.

When the other guys arrived, we walked the three blocks to the address we'd been given for the studio, and Jared told us how Villain Complex’s social media sites had all gained thousands of followers overnight. More people had visited our website in the last day than ever before, and many were even buying the album. It was crazy to think we now had fans all over the country, rooting for us and anxious to see our next performance. Even more pressure to do a good job on this week’s show.

We stopped at a brick building that looked like it had once been a factory or something. The windows were all dark so we couldn’t see inside, and there was no sign or anything—just a number on the black door.

“Is this it?” I asked, checking the address again on our schedule.

“Must be,” Kyle said.

We stepped inside and found a lounge with dark couches scattered around the room, plus an attached kitchen area with coffee and food. A guy at a reception desk directed us to room four, where our gear was waiting for us in a soundproofed studio. Someone from the show had dropped off sheet music, and I studied the guitar tabs, mentally replaying the song in my head. I was already familiar with “Somebody Told Me,” but singing along to it on the radio and playing it with the band was a totally different story. I hadn’t been lying to Jared, though—I did have an ear for this stuff. I set down the papers after a quick once-over and tried out the opening guitar riff. It was easy but very catchy with the way the chords got higher and higher.

The other guys tried some things, too, testing out their own parts of the song. After a few minutes, Jared turned to face all of us.

“Before we do anything else, we need to figure out a way to differentiate our version from whatever The Static Klingons do.”

“Good idea,” I said. “They already have a similar sound to The Killers, so they probably won’t change the song very much.”

“What if we made the song darker?” Kyle asked. “Drop the tuning, make it almost an emo cover of the song.”

Jared rubbed the stubble along his chin as he considered. “That could work, and it would sound more like our own stuff, too. Let’s try it.”

For the next three hours, we worked on getting our version of the song figured out, experimenting with different ways to make it our own. The guitar on the song wasn’t hard, but the bass was trickier and Jared had a tougher time with it.

After a particularly bad play-through, we decided to take a break and stretch our limbs before the next three-hour block. I headed to the kitchen to grab lunch and found Sean in there, pouring some coffee.

“Hi,” he said. “Crazy day, huh?”

“Very. I’m still trying to catch my breath.”

“Me too.” He watched as I grabbed a plate and piled on some salad. “I hate that our bands are competing against each other.”

“I know, it really sucks.” I examined the mini-sandwiches, trying to figure out what they were, and then grabbed two turkey ones and a soda. I was just thrilled the show wasn’t starving us today.

“So how’s it going for you?” Sean asked, resting his hip against the counter in front of me. “With the song?”

“We’ve got it figured out I think. Just need to practice more. How about you?”

“We’ve done covers of ‘Somebody Told Me’ before at shows, so we feel pretty good about it. What kind of spin are you putting on it?”

“Um…” I wasn’t sure what to tell him, and then I was distracted by the sight of Jared in the lounge, talking to a girl with long copper hair. Was this Michelle? She gave him a flirty smile and put her hand on his elbow, and I wanted to dump my plate of food on her head. Jared flashed her his devilish grin, but when he looked at me and Sean, something crossed his face. He ditched the girl and walked over to us.

“Hey,” he said, standing close to me and glaring at Sean. “What do you think of the song choice?”

“We’re happy with it. It’s a good song for us. You?” Sean’s sunny disposition had vanished, and he eyed Jared with an openly hostile look. I wasn’t really sure what was going on between them.

“We’ll make it work.”

“Cool.” They stared each other down for a long, painful moment, and then Sean turned back to me. “Hey, it was great to see you, Maddie.”

“You too.” I pulled my shirt down to better cover my leggings, suddenly self-conscious. The mood had turned frosty ever since Jared had arrived, like they both wanted to stake their claim on me or something, which was ridiculous.

“What was that about?” I asked Jared once Sean had left.

Jared turned to make himself some tea with honey. “He’s trying to work you to get info on what we’re doing.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s just a nice guy, and you’re being paranoid.”

“Okay, then he wants to get in your pants.”

“I highly doubt that.” Yes, Sean was the sort of guy I usually dated, but he was also our competition. He lived in Nebraska anyway. “And if he does, what do you care?”

It was a loaded question and Jared’s eyes widened for second, but then his cool exterior took over again. “I don’t. Just be careful what you say to him.”

“God, Jared, I’m not going to tell him anything.”

I walked away before he could reply. Did he actually think I would betray the band just because some cute guy smiled at me? And why did it sting so much that Jared didn’t care if Sean wanted me? Like the other guys, he only saw me as a little sister. While I found this charming in Kyle and amusing in Hector, when Jared acted like an overprotective big brother, I kind of wanted to kick something.

A
ccording to our schedule, Angel was supposed to show up during our final two hours of practice, but she never did.

That night I told the guys I was tired and watched the second group of auditions alone in my hotel room. I couldn’t handle another night of awkwardness next to Jared, especially after our conversation earlier.

For the next few days, we spent most of our time in rehearsal, and Angel still never appeared. I was starting to think she was a mentor in name only. Were the other bands on her team being ignored, too, or was it just us? I thought about asking Sean, but Jared’s warning echoed in my head. I didn’t think Sean was using me for info, but it wouldn’t hurt to be careful either.

In the evenings, many of the bands hung out in the lobby of the hotel, mingling and gossiping and flirting, but I didn’t join them. I had zero interest in seeing Jared slipping off to some hotel room with another girl. Besides, I felt like an imposter around the other bands, like as soon as I opened my mouth they’d realize I wasn’t really one of them. I didn’t want them to think,
Why are you on this show, you hack?

Instead, I retreated to my room and ate alone every night. Being around the guys all day was exhausting anyway, and I needed some alone time to recharge. I sent updates to Carla, who was in New York on some fashion shoot, and Julie, who had returned to the town in Northern California where we’d grown up to see her parents.

On Thursday night, she called me while I was watching TV and painting my nails a dark burgundy. “Hey, Julie, what’s up?”

“I saw your mom today, and she asked how you’re doing.” Julie paused, and I could feel her judgment in the silence. “You didn’t tell her about the show?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to her in…” Honestly, I wasn’t sure how long it had been. “A while.”

“Maddie!”

“I know, I know. I should have told her.” I sighed. Everything with my mother was so difficult, it was easier to just ignore that part of my life sometimes. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, and it was seriously uncomfortable. You need to tell her.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll call her tomorrow.” I blew on my nails, debating whether or not to ask the thing I really wanted to know. “How’s she doing? Is she…”

“She looks good. Better. She said she’s been sober for three months now.”

I closed my eyes, relieved. I didn’t think it would stick, but at least she was trying. Again. “Where did you see her?”

“At the store. She was buying cigarettes.”

“Of course.” The only two things my mom would leave the house for: booze and cigarettes. “How’s your family?”

“Ugh, all they want to talk about is my sister and how wonderful she is. They’d trade me in for a clone of her in an instant.”

I laughed and started painting my toenails while Julie told me all about her time back home. It should have made me homesick, but it didn’t. When I’d turned eighteen, I’d gotten out of that place as fast as I could, and I had no regrets.

O
n Friday, we went to a different part of the studio to record our version of the song so
The Sound
could sell it on the website. The more songs a band sold, the better they did in the live shows; though for this episode, they’d just earn us some extra cash. Angel was supposed to attend the recording session, but, surprise surprise, she never showed up.

The other guys had rented a recording studio before to make their album, but I’d only recorded music for school so a lot of it was new to me. The sound guys advised us from the control room while one of the producers watched—a guy named Steve who wore the biggest watch I’d ever seen, along with a suit that probably cost more than my car.