She stormed out the front door, and Kyle raced after her. Jared started to follow, but Hector held him back and they started arguing in low voices. Kyle had been right about Becca being a mess, and I knew they’d been through a few other bassists before, too. Hopefully he could get her straightened out before their audition.
Conversation around the room picked up again, but I slipped down the hallway and found the door Kyle had mentioned. It clicked shut and locked behind me, and the noise of the party faded to a dull thrum. The studio seemed to be a soundproofed garage with cheap carpeting that peeled up in the corners. The far wall had the Villain Complex logo and a bunch of quotes painted in black, including: “You don’t know the power of the Dark Side,” from Return of the Jedi; “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” from The Dark Knight; and “One lab accident away from being a supervillain,” from The Big Bang Theory. Under the quotes was a couch with an acoustic guitar flung across it and a small table covered in empty soda and beer cans. The rest of the studio was filled with microphones, headphones, pedals, amps, and cords crisscrossing the floor to connect it all.
I stepped carefully through the room, like I was walking on hallowed ground, and inspected the instruments on display. Kyle had a top-of-the-line keyboard that I wanted to run my fingers across, but I held back. I didn’t see the bass Becca had used earlier—maybe she’d taken it before her dramatic exit. The drums were here, though, in pieces, waiting to be set up again.
Jared’s black Fender sat in the middle of the room, propped up on a stand instead of in its case. It was already plugged into a small amp, like it was just waiting for someone, anyone, to play it. I glanced around the room—stupid, since I was obviously the only one in it—and took a step closer. I just wanted to look at his guitar, to figure out why it was plugged in when no one was here. Maybe Jared had been checking it after the show and had been interrupted. Or maybe he’d planned to sneak away from the party to be alone, just him and his music behind the soundproofed walls. If so, I could relate to that. Music had always been my way to escape and deal with the world on my own terms. I just didn’t think of Jared as the kind of guy who needed to escape, too.
The guitar was beautiful, with a smooth white faceplate, gleaming struts, and a shiny fingerboard. My fingers itched to touch the silvery strings, to form a chord and let it ring out through the amp, to hear what it sounded like without all the other instruments accompanying it. And if I was honest, I wanted to close my eyes and pretend I was on stage, playing for a crowd, hearing them scream for me. The longing I felt every time I went to a concert stirred up in me again. It wouldn’t hurt if I played one chord, right? That was it. One chord, and I’d put it back. No one would ever know.
Before I could stop myself, I picked up the guitar and threw the strap over my head. It settled against my shoulder, and with one hand on the fret board and the other on the strings, I was home. I closed my eyes, picturing Jared when he was on stage and how his talented fingers had moved across the guitar. I imagined him singing my favorite song of theirs, “Behind the Mask,” and the words and notes melted together in my head. I strummed the guitar, the sound ringing from the amp, the vibrations traveling up the ground and into my feet. God, I loved this guitar. It sounded just as good as my own, if not better.
Now that I had the guitar in my hands, the compulsion to play was irresistible. What was one more chord, right? I was alone and the room was soundproof. The door had locked behind me. Kyle was dealing with Becca, and he’d given me permission to come in here anyway.
I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I should put the guitar down and walk out of the room. But I started strumming anyway.
I was hesitant at first, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. My hands found the chords automatically, and the words flowed out of me with the music. Exhilaration swept through me with each note, and I closed my eyes and let the song take me away. Soon I was belting out the words, shredding the guitar like I was on stage playing for a massive crowd. I’d never do this in front of anyone else, but here, alone with this guitar, I could pretend. I could let myself go.
And then I opened my eyes and wanted to die.
Jared stood in front of me, his eyes wide and mouth open slightly. He must have come in while I was playing. How much did he hear? Or worse, see?
My fingers slipped off the strings with a screech, and I nearly dropped the guitar. Thank god for the strap. “I’m so sorry. Kyle gave me the key and I was just—”
There was no way to explain what was going on, so I shut up. I’d been singing his lyrics, playing the song he’d written. Not to mention, I’d been using his guitar. That was like wearing someone else’s underwear. You didn’t just play another person’s guitar without their permission.
I yanked the guitar off and tried to put it back, but knocked the stand over instead. Hands shaking, it took me two tries to right it again, all while Jared stood there, gaping at me. Why didn’t he say anything? Was he so angry he couldn’t speak? I set the guitar down carefully, then backed away like it was on fire—and ran straight into the drum set. Cymbals crashed as I fell against it, knocking the equipment all over the floor. Great, now he must think I’m a stalker and a complete klutz. I jumped up too fast, and my legs were so unsteady I started to topple over toward the table. Jared caught me before we had another disaster, his hands gripping my arms to balance me.
“You okay?” he asked, his blue eyes holding mine and making my heart pound even faster. If I stared into those eyes too long, I’d fall into them completely.
I jerked away from his touch and stumbled back. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You were playing one of our songs.”
“Was I?” I asked with a forced laugh, trying to edge toward the door to make a quick escape. “I mean, uh, yeah. I was. Obviously. But it’s not a big deal. It’s not like I listen to your songs a lot or anything. I just have that kind of ear where I hear something once and can play it back and uh…” Stop talking, I shouted at myself. STOP.
The thing about music was true. I could usually play anything just from listening to it a few times, but I’d also listened to Villain Complex’s album about three thousand times and practiced the songs in my room with my guitar hooked up to my headphones. I wasn’t obsessed or anything. I just liked their music a lot. But he didn’t need to know any of that. This was humiliating enough as it was.
“Really?” he asked. “I wish I could do that.”
Not the reaction I’d been expecting. I thought he’d yell at me to get out of his house or think I was another of his swooning groupies. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t think that. I didn’t look the part with my boring glasses and plain brown hair and flannel shirt. No, he probably assumed creepy stalker fangirl. I had to get away, out of this room, as far from Jared and his guitar and this nightmare as possible.
He started to say something else, but I blurted out, “I have to go.”
I escaped through the door and back to the party, slipping into the anonymity of the crowd. Once away from Jared, I could finally breathe again, but the urge to flee was still strong. I found Alexis and gave her Kyle’s key and told her to say goodbye to him for me. Now all I had to do was find my friends and get the hell out of his house.
Julie was flirting with a guy with a fauxhawk, but I grabbed her arm. “We need to leave. Now.”
“What?” Julie looked back at the guy and pouted. “Right now?”
“Yes. Trust me on this.” As I spoke, Jared appeared at the edge of the room, his head swinging around like he was looking for me. “Oh, god.”
She craned her neck to follow my gaze. “What’s going on, Maddie?”
“I’ll explain when we’re in the car. Now can we please go?”
She nodded, and we made our way out the front door, where we found Carla arguing with Daryl. I knew he’d track her down. Unbelievable.
“I told you, I was just about to leave!” she said to him.
“We�
�re going now.” I didn’t wait to see if they followed me. I started down the hill toward where my Honda was parked, anxious to get away from the house, away from Jared, and away from the most embarrassing moment of my life.
I could never go to a Villain Complex show ever again, that was for sure.
THREE
Despite a restless night of sleep, I somehow managed to forget about the disaster with Jared and focus on my music history final for two hours. With that done, my junior year at UCLA was over, and I was ready for an entire summer interning with the LA Philharmonic. I’d beat out hundreds of other people to get it, and even though I’d probably spend my entire summer doing boring stuff like filing and pouring coffee, I couldn’t wait.
Last night was in the past, nothing but an embarrassing memory. I’d put it behind me, and with any luck, Jared had gotten so drunk after I’d left he’d forgotten the moment had ever happened. I was over it. Really.
Except when I walked out of class, Jared was there, leaning against the wall in a black leather jacket. He stood up straight when he saw me and I skidded to a halt, breath catching in my throat. Someone crashed into me from behind, and I stumbled forward and dropped my bag. Because I couldn’t have just one embarrassing moment in front of Jared, no, not me.
“Hey, Maddie.” He picked up my bag while I moved out of the way of the students streaming into the hallway.
“Um, hey.” What was he doing outside my class? He’d graduated from UCLA a year ago, so there was no reason for him to be here. I conjured up all kinds of horrible scenarios: He wanted to yell at me for touching his guitar. Or I’d broken the drums and now he wanted me to pay for them. Or he just wanted to see what kind of freak played his song from memory.
Calm down, I told myself. Maybe he wasn’t here for me. Maybe he was waiting for Kyle. Yes, that made a lot more sense. Except…Kyle wasn’t in my music history class.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking my bag from him.
“Looking for you.” He rubbed the stubble along his chin, like he was thinking. “Kyle told me you play piano, but I had no idea you played guitar, too.”
No one did, other than Carla and Julie. To everyone else, I was geeky Maddie who played piano—and sometimes violin or clarinet—but that was it. Only my roommates knew I practiced guitar for hours in my room, losing myself in the sound of the strings buzzing from my amp until my fingertips were sore and my hands cramped.
“And you can sing, too,” he continued.
All the mortification from the previous night came back and set my cheeks aflame. I couldn’t believe he’d heard me singing one of his songs.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, clutching my bag to my chest. “I shouldn’t have touched your guitar. I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“You’re really good. Do you know all our songs?”
“Yes.” No, wait, why did I say that? Backtrack time. “No. Maybe. I mean, I might.” I tried to shrug casually, like it was no big thing, but I wanted to melt into the linoleum floor, seep into the cracks, and disappear. I prayed for an asteroid to hit the spot I was standing in and wipe me off the face of the Earth, but no such luck.
“I need your help,” he said, fixing an intense gaze on me. “We have a live audition tomorrow for The Sound. Problem is, our bassist quit last night, and we need a fourth member of the band.”
“What?” Was he saying what I thought he was saying? No. Impossible.
“I know—worst timing ever. Can you play bass by any chance?”
“No…”
His face fell for an instant, and some reckless part of me wanted to lie and say yes or promise him I’d learn. How hard could it be to learn the bass if I knew how to play guitar, right? Though I immediately realized how dumb that idea was because a) I could never learn bass in time for an audition tomorrow; b) I shouldn’t care about making Jared happy, even if his disappointed face broke my heart; and c) none of that mattered because he couldn’t possibly be asking me to join his band anyway.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I can play bass, and you can play guitar. It’ll work.” His smile lit up his face again, with a look that could charm any girl lucky enough to bask in it. Right now, that girl was me. “So what do you think?”
Jared was asking me—me—to play guitar in his band. In an audition on live TV. In front of four of the greatest musicians ever, plus millions of people at home. Mind. Blown. Somehow I’d been handed my secret dream on a silver platter. Next up, Jared would ask me out, too. Yeah, and then we’d ride off into the sunset on a rainbow unicorn with our million-dollar record deal.
“You want me to join your band?” I asked slowly, studying him for any sign that this was all a joke.
“Just for the audition. That should give us enough time to find another bass player to take Becca’s place.”
Ah, there was the catch. I would only play with them for one day, giving me a tiny taste of their lifestyle, and then they’d drop me as soon as the audition was over. No, better to never know what it would be like to play guitar on stage, to be part of a band, to make music with Jared and Kyle. Besides, I couldn’t play guitar in front of the world. Guitar was my secret, my fun escape, and nothing more. My internship started on Monday, and I needed to focus on that—not on silly dreams of being a rock star.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I spun around and rushed toward the exit before he could respond. I didn’t want him to see my face and how much I desperately wanted to do it.
“Wait!” He ran after me, but I kept going, past other students who watched us with curiosity. “Maddie, wait!”
Damn his long legs. He caught up to me, practically jumping in front of me to stop me in my tracks. I kept my face glued to the floor, to the contrast of his black combat boots and my green Converse. I couldn’t look up at him or I’d be tempted to say yes to anything.
He lowered his voice. “Please, you’re the only person who can help us. You’re an amazing guitarist, and you already know our songs. We need you.”
I shook my head, looking anywhere but at him. Hearing him say he needed me with his whiskey-chocolate-sex voice made my legs a bit shaky, but what he was asking for? It was too much.
Jared got down on his knees, right in the middle of the hallway, and everyone stopped to watch us. He raised his hands like he was begging. “Please, this is our one chance, but without a fourth member, we can’t do it. You’re perfect and it’ll only be for a day, and then I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything you want.” He topped it off with a grin. “Help me, Maddie Taylor, you’re my only hope.”
Damn. How could I say no to a Star Wars reference from a hot guy on his knees? The word slipped out before I could stop it. “Okay.”
“Yes!” He jumped to his feet and hugged me, making my head spin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I really owe you one.”
The students around us clapped, like he’d just proposed to me or something. I gave the crowd a faint smile, feeling sick to my stomach. Jared quickly rattled off all the details about the audition tomorrow and told me to meet the band for practice in a few hours. And then he left, before I could come to my senses and change my mind.
* * *
Julie and Carla were watching House Hunters International when I walked into the apartment we all shared.
“You can just repaint the stupid room!” Julie yelled at the TV.
I collapsed on the sofa beside them and threw my head back with a groan. Now that Jared was no longer in front of me and the glow of his smile had worn off, the reality of what I’d agreed to do was sinking in. I couldn’t go on the show with the band, but I seemed to be physically unable to say no to Jared either. Maybe I could pretend I was sick. Or break my arm. Yes, I had to injure myself. That was the only way to get out of this mess.
“Was your final that bad?” Carla asked.
“Maybe she needs to eat.” Julie handed me a box of crackers, which I waved away. Eating was the last thing on my mind right now.
“My final was fine, except Jared was waiting for me outside my class.”
Julie dropped the box, spilling crackers across the hardwood floor. “He what?”
“Was he mad about last night?” Carla asked.
I’d told both girls the entire embarrassing story on the drive home from the party. They’d thought it was hilarious naturally. “No, he wasn’t mad. Even worse—he asked me to join his band.”
“WHAT?” Julie and Carla both blurted out together.
“I know! But it’s only for their audition on The Sound tomorrow, and then they’ll find a new bassist. It’s not a permanent thing.” I sucked in a breath and then spit the rest out. “And I said yes, but now I need to tell him no because I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
My two friends looked at each other, and something passed between them. Julie turned back to me. “You can do this, and you will,” she said in her fiercest voice.
“Julie’s right,” Carla said. “This is what you’ve been dreaming about forever. You have to do it.”
“But I’m not a guitarist!” I protested. “I’ve never played live before or on stage or in front of…well, anyone.” At least, not since my mom had flipped out on me all those years ago.
“You’ve played guitar for us a million times,” Julie said.
“And you play piano on stage all the time,” Carla added.
“Yes, I play piano on stage, and sometimes I go wild and play the violin in an orchestra. But playing guitar in a band in front of millions of people is completely different!”
“You’ll be fine,” Carla said. “Besides, it’s only one performance. Just pretend you’re playing for us.”
Julie nudged me with her shoulder. “Plus this gives you a chance to get close to Jared.”
“I don’t want to get close to Jared!”
“Why not?” she asked. “Everyone wants to get close to Jared.”
BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds Page 64
