by T L Dasha
~DON’T LET ME BLEED FOR YOU~
The room fell silent, save the pounding of my own heartbeat. No one spoke and no one moved. It was only for a split second, but I could see the surprise in Greg Winters’ eyes.
The judges stood up and clapped.
###
Logan had a late afternoon shift at the jewelry shop, and I had the last shift at Meli’s Diner that night, so we rode back to the dorm together as soon as we got out of the audition. Official results wouldn’t be released for a week, so we couldn’t quit our day jobs just yet. We both ran to our respective dorms, parting with a “Nailed it!” fist bump, then scrambling into our uniforms. Logan headed to the mall, and I headed over to the diner.
I got there just in time to avoid another lecture on tardiness, then I dashed behind the counter to get into my apron.
“Can I assume it didn’t go well since you’re still working here?” Abby, walked behind me to grab a pair of burgers. Her tone was playful, while her step was hurried.
“They couldn’t pay me enough to miss out on having babies throw their complimentary applesauce in my face.” I tried to keep my excitement subdued until the official confirmation. I washed my hands and gave my reflection in the aluminum countertops one last once over.
“Oh, good, because they’ve got twins at table eight. I saved that one just for you.” She winked. Such a giver, that Abby… “Oh, and do you mind taking the patio? A guest just headed back there, and I’ve got my hands full right now.”
The patio? The sun’s already set. Did they ever replace the lights back there?
Abby was off to deliver her tray before I could ask. I shrugged and headed over to table eight to drop off a round of waters. I could already see the evil in the eyes of those babies, as they banged their plastic trucks on their highchair tables. The father doled out the order for the whole family, making sure to order plenty of applesauce. I dropped off the ticket and headed out back.
It was dark on the patio, save the residual lighting from the city that cast geometric shadows through the trellis roof. I hit the light switch once or thrice with no results. I’ll have to leave another note for the manager to order more bulbs.
I approached the lone customer sitting with his back to me at a two-seater, wireframe patio table.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but we’re going to have to close the outside section until we resolve some technical issues. But if you don’t mind sitting inside, I’d be happy to be of service.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to service me this early in our relationship.” The voice of Jay McClintock crawled through my ears. I was grateful for the darkness as I felt my cheeks instantly turning red. What is he doing here?
“Do we have a relationship?” I wanted to play it cool, but my face was smiling. I stood by his table with my hands in my pockets. The checkerboard shadows fell over his glasses, gently wrapping around the contours of his cheeks, framing his eyes. There was just enough light to reflect a playful glint in his deep blue.
“What song did you use for the audition today?” Jay leaned back in his chair, propping an elbow on the backrest as he turned to face me. He remembered that it was today? Wait- did he come here just to see me and ask how I did?
No, that couldn’t be it. This kind of stuff is his job. I’m sure this is purely a professional question. To gauge the talent.
“Death Before I Love You. The same one I showed you in the park.”
“The response?”
“I’ll just say I’m finding the rest of the world is a lot easier to impress than Jay McClintock of ALIVE Records.”
“Well, that goes without saying.” He nodded. “You’ll be going on to the next round then.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Those butterflies who had recently taken up residence in my stomach seemed to be fluttering again. I hadn’t expected his confidence. “Was that your first time performing a song live?”
“N-no, I’ve performed at…” My little sister’s birthday party, Logan’s dad’s retirement, my cousin’s wedding... Yeah, that sounds real noteworthy, Roland. “A couple different events. Smaller ones. This was the first time it was ever for someone so important though.”
Jay snorted, as if to dismiss the judges’ credentials. I suppose a radio DJ and some marketing people are small time compared to man behind some of the most successful bands of the last decade.
“How did it feel?” His voice grew serious.
“How did it feel?” I repeated the question to parse my thoughts from each word. “It felt like… Ecstasy.”
“You’re a writer. You can describe it better than that.” Jay stood up, and I instinctively recoiled a step. His height paired with the darkness made him even more intimidating than usual. “What did it feel like here…” He gently placed his hand on my cheek, then trailed his fingers down my chin until his thumb was resting on my lower lip. My mouth parted ever so slightly as he slid his thumb down my lip ring, gliding over my chin, then applying a light pressure as he moved down my neck. I know he felt me swallow hard when he met the collar of my shirt.
He stayed outside the fabric, sliding down to my speeding heartbeat. He settled an open palm over my chest, feeling every ounce of anxiety and fear and uncertainty and desire between his fingers.
“And what did it feel like here?”
It felt like…
I stood on my toes, and I touched my lips to his, nudging his lower lip in hopes that he might take the provocation. He didn’t return the kiss. He remained static, his hand still on my heart. I pulled away, shooting my gaze to the floor, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. What was I thinking? Why did I do that? That was stupid.
“Is that all it felt like? Was it that small? That empty? That timid?” What? I looked back up at him. “You know the rules. Show, don’t tell.” His words sounded like a dare. And in that moment, I was a willing challenger.
I grabbed him by his suit collar and pulled his mouth back to mine. He parted his lips just enough to let me in, but not enough for me to show him how this day had felt. I needed more. I slipped my tongue inside him, and moved over his, coaxing him to give it to me. This time he obliged. I pulled his tongue into my mouth and sucked on it lightly. The taste of smoke and sex danced on my taste buds. He started to withdraw, but I wasn’t done. I bit down just enough to plead for him to stay. I sucked harder to show him I meant it.
My hands moved up to his back, feeling his muscles through the cloth, fighting the urge to pull myself against him. I wanted to feel his body against mine more completely, but I didn’t want him to feel how much he was turning me on already.
With a speed and forcefulness that wasn’t asking for my opinion anymore, Jay spun us around, shoving my backside against the patio table. His tongue no longer surrendered to my will. His fingers grabbed hold of my hair, and he pressed his mouth harder on mine, his teeth taking hold of my snake bites. A knee nudged apart my legs, and my hands shot behind me to brace myself against the table’s edge.
Then my cell phone buzzed.
Jay stepped back and I fumbled for my phone. It was Abby, asking where I was and informing me that there was food waiting to be delivered.
Fuck you, Table Eight.
I tried to catch my breath, as his eyes moved up my body. I thanked the apron that kept my arousal a secret.
“I-I gotta go.” I squeaked under my breath, before I ran for the door. I slipped inside, and shut the door harder than was reasonable, leaning against it until I could make myself calm and presentable enough to serve a family. Jay took off after that. My shift had never felt so long.
I flopped onto my bunk that night, trying to make sense of my day. The audition. The power of my own voice ringing in my ears. The judge’s applause. And the feel of Jay’s teasing tongue.
No, not teasing. The way he grabbed me tonight wasn’t just about provoking me. Not this time.
What was I to Jay McClintock?
Chapter 4
“This is it! This is
it!” Abby leaned over the edge of the table, and Logan sat across from me in the pink booth. Three sundaes stood on standby, either to help us celebrate or to drown out our depression. This was it.
The day they announced the results.
My finger hovered over an email on my phone, just waiting for one of us to dare to open it. Logan reached across the table to put a hand on my shoulder. He gave me a nod. I took a deep breath. And I tapped my screen.
Abby snatched my phone away as quickly as the email could load. She read the words aloud:
“Dear Roland Finley and Logan Michaels of Fighting Chance,
Thank you for your interest in the Battle of the Bands competition and reality show.”
“Ohhh, the wording already sounds foreboding.” Logan chimed in. I smacked his hand to knock off the jinx he was summoning. Abby continued.
“We regret to inform you…” Abby frowned as she fell silent.
My insides clenched, my throat ran dry, I couldn’t seem to breathe. Logan reached for a sundae.
“No, I’m just fucking with you. It says you made it!” Abby grinned and open her hand like she was exploding a ball of confetti.
“Give me that.” I snatched the phone back from Abby to read it myself before addressing the room again.
“Thank you for your interest in the Battle of the Bands competition and reality show. The judges were unanimously impressed by your performance, and the team at SINapse Network is thrilled to welcome you to the next round of the competition.
Should you accept this invitation, we have attached a non-disclosure agreement, the filming schedule, and a contract detailing the rules and expectations of our contestants. Please sign and return all forms as soon as possible.
Thank you and we look forward to hearing from you.
Cheers,
The SINapse Team”
We all sat at the table in silence, letting it sink in. Finally, Logan released his breath in the deepest and most heartfelt sigh of relief I’ve ever heard.
“Fuckin’ A. Never letting Abby read an important letter ever again.” He shook his head, digging into his sundae.
“Agreed.” I nodded, grabbing a hold of mine.
“Geez, since when did everyone forget how to take a joke?” Abby rolled her eyes, still grinning ear to ear. She grabbed her own ice cream and popped the cherry into her mouth. “Good job, boys! Don’t forget me when you make it to the top!”
“Who could ever forget the weirdest person they’ve ever met?” Logan spoke through a mouth full of whipped cream.
“He’s right, you know.” I raised a finger in solidarity.
“Oh, whatever! You wouldn’t love me so much if I wasn’t at least a little odd.” Abby puffed up her cheeks. “Alright, I’ve gotta get back to taking care of customers. Enjoy your ice cream, and keep me in the loop! I want to hear all the details. Just remember, NDA’s don’t apply to best friends!”
“Is Abby our best friend?” Logan laughed as she ran off. His gaze lingered on her long enough to be noticeable. Did he always look at her like that? Did I miss something?
“She’s our something, alright.” I spooned the last bit of ice cream into my mouth, then downed the melted remainder in the bottom of the glass. “So what do you want to do for the rest of the day? How do you want to celebrate?”
“I’ve got a date.” Logan’s lips curled like the Cheshire cat.
“What? With who? Since when?”
“With… Mr. Cardo. As much as I want to party, I still have my statistics final tomorrow, and he’s doing a review tonight. Rain check?”
“Rain check. We’ll live it up this weekend.”
“Sounds good, Roland. I’ll catch you later!”
I walked to the door with Logan and we parted ways. I wasn’t terribly worried about finals. I always did well enough to pass whether I studied or not. Instead, I was still thinking about that word. “Date.”
When was the last time either of us went on a real date? I guess between the band and school and work, I haven’t had time to think about relationships much. I would hardly call these encounters with Jay any kind of “dates.” All I knew about him was his name and profession.
He was just some stranger whose lips I kept running into.
Maybe I should change that. If I can’t celebrate with Logan, maybe I can celebrate with Jay.
I reached for my phone and stared at the screen, not entirely certain what I had planned to do with it. Like he would ever actually give me his phone number. How did I get it into my head that this guy might like me when he’s never given me any way to contact him? He just shows up where I am whenever he wants, then he disappears without a trace, save the deep mark he leaves all over my hormones. He probably does that on purpose.
“I really am an idiot.”
###
The weeks leading up to the show went by in a flash of finals and late night practicing with Logan. I didn’t run into Jay at all, but I didn’t have time to focus on him anyway.
I already felt like a celebrity as we arrived for the first day of filming. The studio didn’t look like much from the outside, but the moment we stepped into that concrete building, there were lights and cameras everywhere. The performances were going to be filmed on a large, hexagonal stage, with smaller platforms of varying heights illuminated in white and purple track lighting. A studio audience was being ushered onto the dance floor, one at a time, filling a large space that would look even more crowded after some camera magic.
The rest of the show was going to be filmed in the back rooms, some set up like sound studios, others set up with single chairs for more private interviews and commentary. I could already see it all. The snide, off-color comments, the cheering crowd, the pulsing light shows. Even though I had watched the show for years, it was impossible to anticipate how it would feel to actually be on the set.
I barely had a chance to shove a croissant in my mouth before they tore us away from the catering table and into the dressing room. I wanted to make a casual first impression, so I went with jeans, a black tank top, and a subdued black leather jacket. The stylist spiked back my hair, and swapped out my lip rings for studs, to stop me from fucking with them on camera as a nervous tick. But it seemed like that was the end of any urgency, as I immediately proceeded to sit in a waiting room for what felt like several hours. The awkward small talk with the other contestants made it feel even slower. By the tenth “Where are you from? Oh, how totally fascinating,” we were ushered onto the stage to take our positions.
And it began.
“Welcome to season five of Battle of the Bands!” Drake Morgan, the same announcer from the previous years, took the stage to a cheering crowd. His bleach blond hair and relaxed expression gave off a surfer vibe, while his tailored suit held a contradictory sophistication. “We’ve searched far and wide across this beautiful country, hand picking our bands from street corners and local dive bars, bringing you the best of America’s hidden talent.”
“One of these sixteen groups is going to walk away with five hundred thousand dollars in cash, a spot on the Bass Jumpers Tour, and a one year contract with SINapse Records! Without further ado, let me introduce you to our finalists!”
More cheering, and the spotlight whizzed over to the first group in the row. A curly haired blond girl with enough makeup to suffocate an elephant stood with her hands on her hips next to a similarly blond gorilla.
“My name is Bailey Harrison, and this is my brother Ricky Harrison. We grew up in Seattle, Washington, and we’re here to dazzle you with my guitar-“
“And my soprano.” Her brother finished her sentence. Even having only spoken three words, I could already tell how deep and smooth his vocal notes would be. Their audition video played, confirming my suspicion.
The spotlight jumped over to Dread Theory. Lance had heavily toned down his punk rock look with whites and muted greys, while his former half-shaved hair was now a longer-on-top fade, slicked back and stylishly well kempt. I gue
ss if he’s going to change his music, he may as well change his look. Though his ears were still lined in piercings and gauges. Marcus was dressed in all black, still rocking eyeliner under his medium length dark hair, and Tanner still looked like a preppy jock.
“I’m Lance Gold, the master of the mic!”
“Marcus Ringer, guitarist and magician of melodies!”
“And I’m Tanner Adams. I create the rhythm of our hearts with the beat of my drum sticks!”
“Together, we are Dread Theory.” They all spoke in unison. I think that was the least Lance-centric introduction I had ever seen from Dread Theory.
A few more bands introduced themselves, then the spotlight fell on us. Logan threw an arm around my shoulder, and I grabbed hold of the microphone.
“I’m Roland and this is my best friend, Logan.” I could hear my own excitement in my voice, and I could barely believe how comfortable it sounded.
“What we lack in talent and sophistication we make up for with hard work. I know we’ll have a ‘Fighting Chance’!” Logan gave the camera and the crowd a thumbs up, as a few good laughs echoed through the studio. The spotlight went on to finish the roster.
“Short and sweet.” I whispered to Logan.
“You know I’ve always got you.” He grinned back. My nerves from the audition were gone, no longer feeling the weight of the judge’s eyes, and it just felt right being up in front of a crowd of excited music lovers. This is what we had always dreamed of. No matter how the competition played out from here, I was happy with what we had accomplished.
“Let’s give our bands some love, everyone!” Drake took center stage again while the audience applauded. “So this year we’re doing things a little different. You, the viewers, will still be voting online and over the phone for your favorite performers every week, but instead of pulling genres out of a hat and watching our country bands learn to rap and our R&B artists learn to play heavy metal, we want you to really get to know these people behind their microphones.”
