I’ve yet to perform since I’ve been here and even though that should bother me, it doesn’t. It’s giving me time to fine-tune my stage performance. I play in front of my grandma and the house staff all the time. They all say I’m good and can’t wait to see me perform on stage. My grandma has offered to make some calls, but I told her that I need to do this on my own, no handouts. I know she wants to help, but I need to struggle. I need to feel like I’m accomplishing something for everything I’ve left behind.
I don’t know what to expect from tonight. I do know a lot of industry people will be here and we’ll be mingling. In all my years, I’ve never mingled. I’m not even sure I know how to mingle or be social. I am promised that no one will ask about where I came from or what I’m doing. Betty simply told them that her grandson has come to live with her.
Living here has been interesting. Navigating the streets is a nightmare and I know why my grandma has a driver, but I refuse to let Stan drive me anywhere. I have to learn my way around. I can’t show up at a gig with a driver. That screams rich spoiled kid and that is something I’m not.
I slip my arms into my jacket and stand in front of the mirror. Everything about me is different. My hair is longer. The bags are gone from under my eyes. I feel like I stand taller even though I know it’s not possible. I’ve taken full advantage of the swimming pool that’s on the grounds and agreed when my grandma ordered a weight set for me to use. As much as I’m over football, I’m not over my physique and do want to keep that.
Days after I arrived, my grandma and I sat in her theater room and watched her old movies. We ate popcorn, laughed and she even cried a little. It’s amazing to see her on screen and then sitting across from me at dinner in the same day. Each day that I’m getting with her is a blessing. She’s truly an amazing woman and the fact that she’s been kept from me for so long makes me more resentful toward my parents. They have no idea what they’re missing.
When she pulled out my grandfather’s old records and played them I did something I never thought I’d do – I asked her to dance. Seeing her face light up made me truly smile for the first time in months. Being here with her is worth the heartache I feel. I have no doubt in my mind this is where I belong.
I walk down the hallway and into the formal dining room where the party is already in full force. There are new staff members walking around with serving trays, all dressed in black pants and white shirts. One walks by, offering me a glass of champagne. I take the glass and quickly bring it to my lips, downing the contents. My grandma and I haven’t talked about the vices I have, but I’ve seen her frowning when she catches me smoking. The habit should be easy to stop, but it occupies me and keeps me from thinking. It keeps me from wondering why I’ve been gone for two months and she hasn’t called me yet. I thought she would’ve. I had hoped she’d call and demand I come back to her so we can fix us, but she hasn’t.
The one request for tonight is that I mingle and introduce myself. It’s an easy enough challenge. I was once the most charismatic guy in Beaumont, how hard can industry people be?
“Liam?”
I turn at the sound of my grandmother calling my name. She beams at me when I step toward her with an out stretched hand.
“I want to you meet a friend of mine,” she says. “Liam this is Tess and her son Harrison James. Tess is the personal assistant to my casting agent.” We spent a day going over all the jobs in the industry. There are so many that I got lost and like a true grandma, she made a list for me so I wouldn’t forget. “Harrison plays the drums at a club called Metro. They have open mic nights if you’re interested in talking to him about it,” she whispers. I nod, acknowledging what she’s telling me.
I step forward and shake both their hands. “It’s nice to meet you both,” I say.
“You too, Liam, your grandmother has told me so much about you. She’s very happy you’ve decided to stay with her.” I look at my grandma who is smiling from ear to ear.
She pats my arm. “Why don’t you take Harrison out back and show him around?”
“Okay, grandma.” I kiss her on the cheek and signal toward the patio door. Harrison follows, stepping out into the early evening sun. I walk until I’m at the back, where there is a table set up.
“Sorry about my grandmother in there. I think she’s trying to make up for all the years we’ve missed.” I sit down and lean my chair up against the tree.
“It’s okay. I was pretty much forced to come here tonight.” I inspect Harrison. He’s a bit taller than I am and far skinnier. He has a few tattoos on his arms, making wonder if they’re a necessity in the music industry. I quickly look down at my arms, curious as to what they’d look like with inked etched on them. One thing is for certain, my parents would flip and that thought alone makes me want one.
“Because of me?” I ask already knowing the answer but needing the confirmation.
He nods. “Yeah,” he says without making eye contact. “My mom is close to your grandmother so they plotted and here I am.”
“I’m sorry. If you want to leave, I can make up some excuse.” I know what it feels like to be put in awkward situations. My dad has done it to me many times, which only spurred me to withdraw from him more and more.
Harrison shakes his head slightly. “I’m cool.” He looks down at the ground or his feet. It’s not like I want to stare, but I’m trying to figure him out. He runs his hand over his beanie, moving it back and forth before leaving it where it originally was.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” I ask.
He looks up quickly and offers the slightest of smiles. “Hell no, my mom said I couldn’t, but if you are, I’m going to.” We both light up and I don’t know if this is some freaky guy bonding thing, but it definitely takes the edge off any awkwardness we have going on.
“Can I ask you about your gig?”
“I play the drums for the house band at the bar Metro.”
“So you have, like, open mic nights?”
He nods as he takes a drag of his cigarette, exhaling into the night air. “Thursday through Saturday we do. We have some regulars and shit too. You sign up at four and wait your turn. The owner puts you on according to popularity. Usually by ten or eleven there are a few agents lurking around. We’ve had a couple of acts pick up agents and even sign deals from there.”
“You’re not working tonight?”
He looks at his watch and back to me before putting his cigarette out. “I’m doing the last few sets. My mom doesn’t stay out late so I just asked for a few hours off.”
“How do you know what to play? I mean, everyone comes with different music, right?”
“They do, but most of the time they’re songs that we’ve all heard. Every now and again someone will come in with an original piece and once they start, I can usually figure out the beat.”
“Just like that even without hearing it first?”
“Yeah, I have this weird music hearing thing. I don’t know. I can’t explain it,” His brows furrow as he’s telling me this. I wouldn’t call it weird, I’d call it a talent. I had a similar knack with picking apart the defenses that I was facing. “My mom said something about you playing the guitar and wanting to sing?”
“I taught myself last summer and I’ve been playing a few songs. I’m on the list for the Roxy, but that list is freaking long.”
“And they’re hard to get into and you usually need a full band to play there. But that’s how I learned to play the drums so it’s cool that you taught yourself. You should come with me down to the club and check it out.”
I think I like this guy and I want to scream hell yes, but I try to keep my cool. “Want to go now? I have a truck we can take.”
“Sure why not? If we’re supposed to hang so you’re not alone, might as well hang where we can jam. Grab your guitar and we’ll go.”
Harrison doesn’t have to tell me twice. I all but run back to the house and to my room to change out of my clothes and into black jeans and a
t-shirt. I snag my guitar and find my grandma to tell her what we’re doing. Her expression is a mixture of “I wish you wouldn’t leave” and “go have fun”. When I get outside, Harrison is standing by my truck, waiting.
“Stan said this one is yours.”
“Sure is,” I say as I hop in. I can still smell her perfume lingering in the upholstery. Half of me wishes it would dissipate, but the other half, the half that will love her forever, wants it to never leave. All of me wishes she was here, in the middle where she belongs, and going with me to jam because she makes everything better.
Chapter 28
I forget when we’re walking in the door that I’m a minor. If this were Beaumont, I’d be okay, but probably not here. I follow Harrison down a long dark hallway. The music being played is muffled and I can barely make out the beat, let alone the words. Harrison turns into a room that has a few people sitting around. One guy is sitting in the corner, strumming his guitar. Another sits on the couch, with a girl sitting on his lap. Neither of them makes eye contact with me.
“Thought you were going to be late, James?”
I turn at the sound of the female voice and step back. Standing there is a girl, no a woman, with raven black hair that looks blue under the florescent lights. Her lips are painted red and her eyes have barely any make-up on them. She’s wearing leather pants with some incredibly spikey boots and a simple tank top. Thing is I don’t think there’s anything simple about this woman.
“Liam sprung me from party purgatory. I’m here and at your service, Trixie.”
Trixie?
I avert my gaze once Harrison says her name. I look around the room taking in the walls that have band posters adorning them. The furniture is a bit rough, but looks comfortable and the guy in the corner seems oblivious to me just standing in the middle of the room completely out of place. This is where I want to be though. I want to be waiting for my name to be called up on stage. I want to feel the anxiety and pressure I’ve read so much about from other artists. I want to deal with stage fright and people hating my music. I just want to get up on stage so I can sing and play my guitar for people. I’m not looking for overnight success – I just want the satisfaction of playing for people. I want the sound of hands clapping because they want to, not because they’re obligated too.
“Liam, huh? You’re a virgin.”
My mouth starts to drop open. I shut it quickly and clear my throat. “Excuse me?”
Trixie moves forward, almost pressing herself against me. She eyes me before continuing, “I’m not talking about your dick, but you’ve never been in a green room before. That makes you a virgin in my book.”
I swallow hard, afraid of breaking eye contact with her. Trixie steps away, laughing. “What’s your story, Liam the virgin?”
“Um… I’m just looking to play.”
“Trixie is the owner, Liam. She’s just giving you shit. But yes she can smell fresh meat a mile away. He wants to jam and I had a few hours to kill so I thought I’d bring him back here and hang out.”
“Are you twenty-one?”
I nod and pray that she doesn’t ask me for my driver’s license. Her head moves up and down slowly before she purses her lips and gives me another once over and leaving the room.
“You can breathe now, dude,” Harrison laughs as he pats me on the shoulder. “She’s a firecracker, but she’s trustworthy and faithful to her staff. I’ve worked for her since I was nineteen. She can be a little hard to take sometimes because this is her baby and all that shit.”
“Got it.”
“Right, so let me show you around. The band will be taking a break in a few so we can sit back here and jam a little before I have to go on stage. Do you want to watch the main act tonight? It’s an all-girl band and they’re pretty good.”
“All-girl band?” I question. I sort of like the idea of watching girls play so I can get a feel for how they perform.
“Well aside from me and Burke who plays the piano for them tonight.”
“Yeah man that sounds cool.”As I follow Harrison around the club I can’t help thinking about Mason and what he’s doing. I’d give anything to be giving him a tour or standing out in this club with him by my side as Harrison fills me in. Harrison is very unassuming and keeps himself to himself. The drive here he just gave directions, nothing else. No conversation about the weather and he didn’t ask about my life before Los Angeles and for that I’m very thankful. I don’t know what, if anything, I’m going to tell people. The last thing I want is people to think I’m still that kid in Beaumont who’s come to the big city to try to make it big. I don’t want to be a statistic. If I don’t make it, I’ll go home and eat crow. Beg for forgiveness and find some way to pay my way through school.
Either way I need to do this as the new me, not the old one. Not the one that was so stressed out and anxiety riddled that I couldn’t see straight. I need to try out the music scene, fail and try again in hope that I’ll be something. If I can do that, I’ll be something to me and that’s enough.
“Hey you should put your name down for tomorrow.” Harrison points to the sign-up sheet for open mic tomorrow night.
I grab the pen that’s on the table and write Liam before pausing. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it with the new me. I close my eyes and picture myself up on that stage with a drummer and a keyboardist playing right along with me, enticing the crowd to sway their bodies or hold on to their dates. I see them to sing along or jump up and down to the beat of the music. This is what I want. I scribble Liam Page, the name that has echoed in my mind since the moment my grandma said it, and set the pen down. Tomorrow, I’m booked for my first open mic in Los Angeles, that’s why I came here and now it’s done.
“Trixie goes over the list at closing and calls people at nine a.m. sharp,” Harrison tells me as he shrugs. “She’s a sadist, but people love her and they keep coming back even after they’re signed.”
“That’s good, right?”
He nods. “It is. Look outside.” He points to the window where people are lined up. “She does two sets. The top talent gets the last set which is what you’re going to watch, but she kicks everyone out after the first one so we can clean and get tuned up. Those people are lined up, trying to get front row.”
I walk close to the window and look out, amazed by what I see. “They’re here just to watch a band that hasn’t been signed?”
“Yeah,” he confirms, standing next to me. “These girls will get signed though, they’re that good.”
“And do you go with them?”
“What do you mean?”
I run my hand over my face, frustrated that I don’t know what I’m talking about. “You play for them, right?” he nods. “So when they get signed with an agent or a record deal, do you continue to play with them or do they move on?”
Harrison fiddles with his lip ring and as much as I don’t want to stare I am. You don’t see those in Beaumont. Hell, you don’t see people like Harrison there at all. That town is so pretentious and in need of a serious culture overall.
“I want to be in a band, but the right one hasn’t come along. The people who perform here usually have their own ideas about music and are trying to make it as an artist. I’m an afterthought and just here to add the extra beat or rhythm to their set. The agents in here, they aren’t looking at me, they’re looking at the singers. Drummers are a dime a dozen around these parts. I’m going to go get ready. Take a seat up front and when we’re done, just come back stage.”
Harrison walks away before I can acknowledge him or ask him any more questions. I look back at the crowd forming outside, unsure how to respond. I could fail at this and have to go back home with my tail between my legs to face the music so to speak, but it’s worth it to try. At least it is to me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the dark, blank screen, which indicates that there are no missed calls or voicemails. She still hasn’t called, nor have I called her. I don’t know why, either. I should call he
r, but I don’t know what to say. Telling her I’m sorry doesn’t seem like it’s the right thing to say and trying to explain myself will fall on deaf ears. I tried to show her this side of me and maybe I should’ve tried harder. Maybe I should’ve shaken her until she opened her eyes, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have to. She’s supposed to love me, not the idea of me or what I can do to secure her future by my side.
I put my phone back and shake my head. With each day that goes by, the decision I made becomes easier and easier to deal with. As much as I want things to be different, as I look around this club, she doesn’t fit in here. She would be uncomfortable and on edge and I need to focus on me and making this happen.
The doors open and people rush in, vying for seats up front. I’m taken back by the onslaught of people. Whoever this band is, they have a large following and I like it. I like knowing the potential is out there for me. I just have to work hard to achieve my goal and that’s something I can easily do.
My goal – the words resonate in my head. I never thought I had a goal until now, but I do. I want this to be my crowd. Not tomorrow night and maybe not next month, but this will be my first milestone and I like that I have something to work toward, a milestone that I can take back to Beaumont and show her that I’m good at something other than football. I need to prove to her that I left for the right reasons, whether she wants to believe me or not.
Harrison and Burke come out on stage, followed by two girls who I assume are in the band. The people move faster, racing for seats. The lead singer stands in front of the microphone with her legs standing shoulder width apart. Her hair is straight and long and a very vibrant red. Nothing about her seems real except for the way she’s carrying herself. I sit down and watch as she gives orders to her female counterpart, and to Harrison and Burke as well. Everyone seems happy and poised for performance.
Finding My Way Page 14
