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.”