More Than Music (13 page)

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Authors: Elizabeth Briggs

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #New Adult, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary, #Romantic Comedy, #Coming of Age, #Music, #college, #Love, #Romance

BOOK: More Than Music
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“Yeah. I know I need to work on it.”

“It’s obvious to anyone who primarily plays bass, but you’re not terrible either. Just remember that your job is to bridge the drums and the guitar. You need to provide the groove and the pulse for the entire song. Bass isn’t as showy as the guitar, but it’s just as important.”

Jared exchanged a look with his brother like, “What is happening?” Dan was the bassist in Loaded River, so it didn’t surprise me he had tips for Jared. Still, I was impressed Dan knew our names already and that he’d done his homework on us. Five minutes in and he was already a better mentor than Angel. We might actually learn something from him.

“Maddie, you’re a strong guitarist,” Dan continued. “In fact, from a technical standpoint, you might be the best guitarist on the show. But let me guess—you’re a classically trained musician?”

I nodded, still reeling over him saying I might be the best guitarist here. That was so far from the truth I couldn’t even consider it.

“I figured. You’re too stiff when you play, like you’re focusing too much on hitting the right notes and not on the emotion the music is conveying. You have the skills and you know the songs, but you don’t
feel
them. You need to work on your stage presence and bring a little passion to your performance. I’ll help you with that.”

“Thanks.” Everything he said about my stage presence was true, and I was eager to improve. I’d take any advice he had.

He gave the other guys some tips, too, and then said, “All of you need to remember, sometimes less is more. You need to learn to listen to the rest of the band and react to them, instead of just focusing on your own playing. This is what makes the strongest bands: cohesion. We’ll work on that this week. But cohesion and raw talent aren’t enough to win this show, especially since you’re not exactly what the producers or record label are looking for.”

“What do you mean?” Jared asked.

“Do you remember Addicted to Chaos? The last rock band that won
The Sound
, two seasons ago.”

“They broke up after they won, right?” I asked. “When the singer and drummer got a divorce or something?”

“I remember that,” Kyle said. “Didn’t one of them get arrested, too?”

Dan nodded. “It was a total nightmare for the show. The divorce ripped the band apart, and they stopped showing up for the tour and bailed on recording their album. When the show sued them for breach of contract, they really went off the deep end, trashing concert halls and hotel rooms, getting in fights in bars… The bassist even got hit with sexual assault charges. The show had a pretty bad rep for a while because of them, with the network threatening to cancel
The Sound
entirely. Ever since, the producers have wanted a nice, no-risk, low-drama winner. That means, no edgy rock bands and no bands that have any sort of romance angle at all.”

“There is no romance angle,” I said quickly. “We’re just friends.”

Jared shot me a sharp look, but said nothing.

“That’s good,” Dan said. “I know the show has been trying to feel out what kind of relationship you two have. They don’t want another repeat of Addicted to Chaos, so don’t do anything to fuel those rumors about the two of you being together.”

I nodded. Being part of the band and winning the show were the only things that mattered, and I couldn’t let my attraction to Jared mess that up. I’d just have to stay away from him as much as possible over the next few weeks.

“Fine,” Jared said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. “But do we even have a shot at winning if they don’t want another rock band?”

“Yes, because it’s up to the voters who wins. No matter what the producers want, your band is one of the most popular ones this year. I think you can make it all the way to the end, but you’ll need to keep winning the viewers over and not just when you’re performing. I’ll be coaching you on what to say in interviews, what to wear for the live shows, and how to act when you’re in public. You have an image to keep up now. You’re not just a band anymore—you’re a
brand,
too. ”

I wasn’t sure how to process all of this. We could work on cohesion and I could try to avoid Jared, but I’d never thought about our “brand” before, other than how I dressed to fit in with the other guys. Now it sounded like everything we did from this point on would be scrutinized, especially if we didn’t fit with what the producers wanted.

Dan checked the papers in front of him again. “Jared, from the rumors I’ve heard and things I’ve read online, you seem to be something of a playboy, right?”

Jared coughed and stared at the floor. “I guess so.”

“Good. Play up that angle for the show. Stay single, flirt with women, make everyone at home think they could have a shot with you. That will prove you’re not with Maddie and might get you more votes. Ladies love a bad boy.”

Hector smirked. “Shouldn’t be too hard for him.”

Jared nodded, but his hands were clenched at his side. Dan’s advice made me want to punch something, but I didn’t know why it would bother Jared since it was the same thing he was already doing now.

“The rest of us don’t have to do that, right?” Kyle asked. “Because I have a girlfriend.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Dan said. “In fact, you should mention that. You have the edgiest look in the band and having a steady girlfriend will make you seem more relatable. And Hector has the diversity angle covered, which is good for attracting a wider audience.”

Hector scowled, and I didn’t blame him. There was more to Hector than just being Latino.

“Hector’s an artist,” Jared added. “He has a graphic novel that just came out.”

Dan wrote something down. “Okay, we’ll see what we can do with that.” He turned to study me again. “And to attract the male vote we’ll have to make sure Maddie looks hot every week.”

“Should I wear my contacts instead of my glasses?” I asked with a sigh.

“No, keep them. The glasses make you seem more relatable, more real, especially to other girls.”

I hated this. For the live shows, it wasn’t just about being musicians anymore; now we had to look and act certain ways to get votes. I just wanted to play my guitar, not worry about manipulating the viewers to like us, but I had no choice but to go with it for a few weeks. It was a game, and if that’s what it took to be on the show until the end, so be it. And unfortunately, my contributions seemed to be “looking hot” and “not getting involved with Jared.”

T
he next few days went by in a blur of practice, and Dan actually showed up for every single one of them for at least an hour while the camera crews filmed from the sidelines. We’d been working on everything he’d told us, and I could already tell we were improving a lot. One day Dan even had us switch instruments to try and give us a better understanding of each other. Turns out, I was terrible at drums (though they were fun), not too awful at bass (maybe I’d learn it next, once this was all over), and playing keyboard was as easy as guitar for me, even if I wasn’t familiar with Kyle’s setup. Hector was a disaster with anything other than the drums, while Kyle could scrape by on every instrument, even if he obviously never practiced them. Jared was good at everything, of course. It shouldn’t surprise me, since he wrote most of the band’s music, but it’d be nice if he were bad at something for once.

Our rehearsals were interspersed with photo shoots and interviews about what it was like to work with Dan now that we were on his team, along with questions like why we chose this song and why we wanted to win
The Sound
. Dan had coached us each on what to say, and we repeated his sound bites until they lost all meaning. The show especially loved to ask me and Jared about our relationship status. We both chimed in that we were single and, yes, we would definitely date a fan. Those lines sounded fake when I said them, but Jared was much better at pulling them off than I was. I avoided him entirely outside of rehearsal, which was easy since I kept to my room a lot…until Kyle insisted I come to their room to work on my stage presence.

Jared opened their door, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His wet hair hung in his face, and water dripped down his long, toned chest. I’d always wondered if Jared’s tattoos continued under his shirt, and the answer was no, except for the word “VILLAIN” inked across his chest, just below his collarbone.

“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Um…Kyle told me to stop by.” Damn, it was really hard not to stare at him. My eyes followed the dark hair that trailed down his stomach and under the towel.
Please let that towel fall
, I thought. I’d never wished for something so hard in my life.

“Ugh, go put some clothes on,” Kyle said from behind him.

Jared stood back to let me in, and I was careful not to get too close to his steaming, naked body as I walked past. He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door, and I remembered how to breathe again.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I thought he was going to the gym with Hector.”

There wasn’t much room to practice, so we moved the desk and made space in front of the sliding doors to the balcony. Once that was done, I pulled out my acoustic guitar and checked the tuning. It wasn’t as exciting as my electric guitar, but it would have to do since my Fender was still in Dan’s studio.

Jared emerged from the bathroom wearing black jeans and a T-shirt with Darth Vader that read, “Choking Hazard.” If there was anything that could make him sexier to me, it was a geeky shirt. Dammit.

He sat on the bed beside Kyle, and they waited for me to start. I put my hands in position on my guitar, but still I hesitated. I’d played in front of the brothers dozens of times now, but for some reason, I was more nervous than ever today. Maybe because they were both watching me intently instead of playing alongside me. It was like my first night in their garage all over again. Except now I was in their bedroom, which made it even worse.

Jared must have sensed my reluctance because he grabbed his own guitar and plugged it into a small travel amp. I hadn’t realized he’d brought his Fender to the hotel, the same one I’d played at his party all those nights ago. He started the opening to “Uprising,” and with his music to concentrate on, I joined him on my own guitar. The mix of acoustic and electric sounded odd, but it didn’t matter for this exercise.

Kyle examined me for a minute and then jumped up. “Your body is too stiff.” He grabbed my arms and shook them a little. “You need to loosen up.”

I dropped my guitar pick and then grabbed it off the floor. “I’m not that stiff.”

“You look like you’ve got a piece of wood jammed up your ass,” Kyle said.

“You
are
pretty stiff,” Jared said. “Try moving your hips when you play. Like this.”

He stood behind me and put his hands on my waist, and I sucked in a breath as he showed me what he meant. Heat rushed through my body as I imagined him sliding those hands lower, across my bare skin. He stepped back, and I remembered Kyle was still there, too, which cooled me off a little.

Jared took off his guitar and passed it to me. “Here, use mine. Playing with an acoustic guitar isn’t the same.”

I flushed as I put it on, remembering the previous time I’d used it. I started up again, trying to keep my arms loose and swinging my hips along with the beat, but I was so focused on moving that I missed notes and got all messed up and had to stop playing. Or maybe I was still flustered from Jared’s hands on me.

Kyle squinted. “Well, that was terrible. You looked like you were in pain or something. This time try not to look like you’ve been set on fire and are trying to put it out.”

I sighed and played the opening again, moving less and forcing myself to smile, but Kyle shook his head. “Nope. You look like a creepy doll with that grin.”

“Ugh!” I flopped onto one of the beds, dropping the guitar next to me. “This is hopeless. I’m never going to be any good at this.”

“We have to find something that works for you and doesn’t make you look psychotic or like you’re dying. Maybe—” Kyle stopped and fished his phone out of his pocket. “Shit, Alexis is here early. I’ve got to run. Sorry. We’ll continue this tomorrow, okay?”

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