My fingers danced across the frets, and my pick pounded against the strings. I tried to lose myself in the music like in our rehearsal, but this time there was a crowd watching my every move. My chest tightened at the sight of the four mentors eyeing our performance, judging everything we did. Was I looking at my guitar too often? Or not enough? Should I move around the stage? Look out at the crowd? No, that would only make me more nervous. I should probably move though, instead of standing like a statue. But what if I moved too much and knocked something over? Or, worse, crashed into Jared? No, moving was out, too. Safer to stay in one place. Just focus on the music, I told myself. Also, don’t pass out.
At the chorus, Jared gave me an expectant look. Right, backup vocals. I leaned into the mic in front of me and joined in, but my voice was too quiet at first. Probably because I didn’t actually want anyone to hear me sing. I raised my voice and hoped Jared was hypnotizing the crowd enough that no one paid any attention to me.
Near the end of the song, the music quieted down and only Jared’s vocals filled the room, haunting and pained as he sang about how no one saw the real him. His words hit me right in the gut, like they always did. When he finished the verse, I jumped back in with the killer riff he normally played, kicking the song up a notch. The other guys joined us, a bonfire of Kyle’s synth and Hector’s drumming and Jared’s bass. The crowd went wild, and a red light lit up in front of us with a loud buzz.
I missed a note in my surprise, but the other guys never lost their place. One of the mentors had picked us! Surely the other guys were freaking out as much as I was? Hector’s steady beat immediately got me back on track, but then another buzz sounded—a second mentor wanted us! Followed by the buzz of a third! I’d been scared we wouldn’t even get one, and now we had three? I couldn’t believe it.
And then it was over. With one last note, the song ended, and the crowd roared. Somehow that had been both the longest three minutes of my life and the shortest. Sweat dripped down my face—it was freaking hot under all these lights—and adrenaline raced through my veins, making my arms tremble, but I felt more alive than ever before. This is it, I thought. This is what I want to do with my life.
The audience continued to scream, and Jared raised his arms, basking in the crowd’s love and in our victory. Kyle and Hector came out from behind their instruments to stand next to us, grinning like drunken fools.
Three of the mentors had red lights in front of them: Angel Reese, the former singer of the ‘80s glam metal band Dark Embrace, still sporting bleach blonde hair and a spiked leather jacket despite her age; Dan Dorian, the long-haired bassist and singer of Loaded River, a ‘90s grunge band that had played with Nirvana and Pearl Jam; and Lance Bentley, a young pop star who personified tall, dark, and handsome. He’d won the last three years of The Sound, but rumor had it that he’d slept his way through all the women on his team. No thank you.
The only one who didn’t buzz for us was Lissa Cruz, a beautiful brunette country singer who was known for being the sweetest mentor on the show. That was okay—we needed a coach, not a cheerleader.
The host of the show, Ray Carter, joined us at the front of the stage. He was probably in his late 40s, with overly gelled black hair, skin that screamed “spray tan,” and a flashy white suit.
“That was one of the best things I’ve heard all day,” he said into his mic. “And the audience clearly loves you. Who are you and where are you from?”
“We’re Villain Complex from here in Los Angeles,” Jared said, and the crowd cheered even louder. I couldn’t believe they were making this much noise for us.
“That was killer,” Angel said. “I need you on my team! I—”
Dan cut her off. “Yeah, I loved the way you—”
“Hey, I was talking!” Angel snapped. “Wait your turn.”
Dan rolled his eyes but gestured for her to continue. This was normal for the show; part of the draw was seeing the mentors bicker between each other. Still, it was crazy that two musicians whose songs I’d listened to for years were fighting over us. Was this really my life? How did I get here?
Angel started again. “As I was saying, I love your sound, I love your look, and I think you’d be perfect for my team. With my help, you could definitely win this thing.”
“Are you done with your sales pitch yet?” Dan asked her and then continued before she could answer. “Look. You’ve got the raw talent. You’ve got the skills. You’ve also got some things you need to work on, but I can take you to the next level.”
“No, this band is mine!” Angel said, slamming her fist on the table. “I buzzed in first!”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Dan said.
“But I want them. I want them so bad.” She practically fell out of her seat saying it, and the crowd went wild.
“Okay, you’ve heard from two of the mentors,” Ray said. “Lance, you want to chime in?”
Lance leaned forward, his dark gaze slowly taking us all in. “Listen. I’ve won The Sound three times already. Join me and we’ll win.”
“That’s it?” Ray asked, after a brief pause.
Lance shrugged and sat back. “That’s all I need to say. They know what the right choice is.”
“All right then,” Ray said and turned to us. “It’s up you now. Whose team do you want to be on? Take a moment to talk it over.”
The crowd erupted with shouts, and we huddled together next to the drums. “What do you guys think?” Jared asked. “I think we should go with Angel.”
“I don’t know,” Hector said. “She hasn’t won before. Lance has won three times. Seems like a sure deal.”
“That’s why he won’t win again this year. Viewers are tired of it. They want someone else to win, with a new sound.”
“What about Dan?” Kyle asked. “Loaded River was my favorite band as a kid.”
“I don’t know. He didn’t seem that excited about us,” Jared said.
Kyle snorted. “He was more excited than Lance.”
“Maddie, what do you think?” Jared asked.
The three of them looked at me. I’d kept quiet until now because I wasn’t sure I’d get a vote. I was brand-new after all.
“Um.” I turned back to check out the mentors again. Definitely not Lance, but I couldn’t decide between Angel and Dan. Both of them thought we could go far in the competition, and both seemed to be good mentors from what I’d seen on previous seasons. The crowd chanted names, but it was hard to tell which name was the loudest.
“Time’s up,” Ray said. “Who do you pick?”
“Angel,” I told the guys. “I’d go with Angel.”
Hector rolled his eyes. “You only picked her because Jared did.”
“No, I picked her because she seemed the most enthusiastic. We need someone who will fight for us ‘til the end.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Jared said.
“Fine,” Hector said, and Kyle nodded.
We turned back to the mentors and the crowd, and Jared grabbed the mic. “We pick Angel.”
“And Team Angel gets another band!” Ray yelled.
One of Dark Embrace’s songs started playing through the speakers while Angel jumped up and cheered. She rushed onto the stage and hugged each of us before I knew what was happening. Her hair smelled of cigarettes and very strong perfume, and I nearly gagged.
“I’m so happy! Welcome to my team,” she told us before going back to her seat. She stuck her tongue out at Dan, who just shook his head.
The stage turned so the next band could audition. Bright lights flashed in my eyes as we were taken into another room, and as soon as the door shut, we all erupted.
“We did it!” Kyle wrapped an arm around Jared and Hector’s necks, bringing them in for a squeeze. “We actually did it! Alexis is going to be so jealous. She loves Angel.”
“I can’t believe it,” Hector said, his eyes wide. “Did that really happen?”
Jared laughed and clung to the other guys. “I told
you we’d make it!”
I stood apart from their guy-bonding moment. It was fine—they’d been together for years, and I was the new kid. But then Jared pulled me over with an arm around my shoulder. “Get in here. You’re a part of this band, too.”
His touch sent sparks through me, as it always did. I had so much I wanted to say to him—to thank him for taking a chance on me and convincing the others to let me join the band. To tell him how much it meant that he’d believed in me. But this time, words failed me. Kyle looped his arm around my other shoulder, and the four of us stood together in a huddle, grinning ear to ear.
“That’s cute,” Ray said, speaking to a camera guy. “Make sure you get a shot of this.”
We pulled apart at the reminder they were still there. I’d completely forgotten about the interview they did with everyone who got on the show, when they asked how the band got started, what kind of music they liked—that kind of stuff. Hopefully one of the other guys would do all the talking since I’d been in the band for, oh, less than a day now.
Ray arranged us so that Jared and I stood in front, with Kyle and Hector slightly behind us and to the side.
“This will be quick,” he said. “I’ll ask you some questions and you’ll look straight at the camera when you answer. Don’t worry if you mess up, we’ll edit it together so you look good. Ready?” He launched right into it without waiting for a response. “I’m here with Villain Complex from Los Angeles, who just joined Angel’s team after a fierce battle between her, Dan, and Lance. Tell me, why did you pick Angel as your mentor?” He shoved the mic in Jared’s face.
“It was a tough decision, but she seemed like she wanted us the most.”
“You’re the singer, yes? Can you each state your name and what you play in the band?”
“Sure. I’m Jared Cross, and I’m the lead singer and bassist.” He flashed his stage smile, and Ray thrust the mic at me next.
“Oh, um.” I yanked at the bottom of my dress, worried the camera was getting a view. “I’m Maddie Taylor, and I play the guitar.”
“And sing backup,” Jared added, much to my dismay.
The other guys said, “Hector Fernandez, drums,” and “Kyle Cross, keyboard.”
“Great,” Ray said and then asked Jared, “So what does Villain Complex mean? Who came up with that?”
“I did,” Jared said. “It’s a play on the phrase ‘hero complex,’ which is when someone always wants to save the day and get recognized for it. I figured someone with a villain complex would crave the opposite—they’d want to be noticed for the bad things they do. Fame through villainy and all that.” He laughed. “Basically, we all love comic books, and villains are cool.”
I studied his face and wondered if there was a personal reason he’d chosen that name or if they really were just comic book geeks. His comment reminded me of the lyrics in “Behind the Mask,” about presenting a certain image to the world but no one seeing the real person underneath.
Before I could ponder it further, Ray continued with his next question. “Can you tell us a little about how long you’ve been together and how you formed?”
“Sure. Kyle and I started playing music together when we were kids. Our mom’s a songwriter and our dad’s an entertainment lawyer, so it must be in our blood. Hector was my best friend in high school, and I convinced him to learn the drums so we could start a band.” He stopped and glanced at me. “And Maddie joined us…recently.”
Ray quickly rattled off a few more questions to Jared about the band and what we hoped to get out of the show while the rest of us just stood there like we didn’t exist. Hector and Kyle kept trying to butt in, but Ray never let them have the mic.
“One last question,” Ray said. “Maddie, are you and Jared together?”
“What? No!” He hadn’t addressed me for the entire interview and now he asked that? Where had that question even come from?
“So no hidden story there?” he asked, and I shook my head. “C’mon, there has to be something. Look at this guy. You like him, right?”
My god, what was this guy’s problem? As the camera focused on me, I coughed, trying to find the words to make this moment end.
“No, we’re just friends,” I finally managed to say. Jared stared at the floor, like he wanted to be anywhere else. Me too, Jared, me too.
“Too bad. Okay, that’s it,” Ray said, and the interview was over. He left the room without another word, with the camera crew trailing behind him.
“What the fuck was that?” Hector asked. “This isn’t the Jared Cross band.”
“Huh?” Jared asked. “I didn’t ask the questions.”
“No, you just answered all of them. And this isn’t the Jared and Maddie love story either.”
“I didn’t—” I started while Jared said, “There’s nothing—”
“Whatever,” Hector said. “Just keep it in your pants, man.”
Jared’s face darkened. “What the—”
“Enough,” Kyle said, getting between the two of them. “The show is just trying to find an angle they can work. Don’t worry about it. Besides, Maddie already promised she won’t hook up with Jared.”
Wow, thank you, Kyle. As if this moment wasn’t embarrassing enough. “Can we please drop this?” I asked.
Jared raised his eyebrows at me and Hector snorted, but no one else said a word after that.
The show gave us all the information about what would happen next, and we were finally sent home. I still couldn’t believe I’d made the choice to do this, to give up my internship to join a rock band and compete on a reality TV show. Who was I and what had I done with my former self?
SEVEN
Quitting my internship was harder than I’d expected. Let’s just say the LA Philharmonic wasn’t pleased to have their carefully selected intern back out at the last minute. I’d definitely burned some bridges there, not to mention with the professor who’d sponsored me. I came pretty close to calling the guys to tell them I couldn’t join the band after all, but Carla and Julie assured me I was doing the right thing. God, I hoped they were right.
On Monday, I met the band at the high-rise hotel in LA Live where we’d be staying as long as we were on the show. We were only allowed two rooms, and the guys decided it would be best if they shared one, giving me a room all to myself. I think they just didn’t want to argue over who would have to share with me.
I dropped my luggage off in my nice big room and ran into the guys again in the elevator—their room was a few floors up. As the door closed, a voice said, “Going down,” and immediately the Fall Out Boy song “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” popped into my head. As if on cue, Jared started singing the chorus of that exact song.
“I heard that, too,” I said, and he grinned at me.
“I thought of Aerosmith’s ‘Love In An Elevator,’” Kyle said.
“Also a good one,” Jared said, and belted out the lyrics.
Hector shook his head. “Not me. I heard that Nelly song ‘Country Grammar.’”
“What?” Kyle gaped at him. “I think we might have to kick you out of the band.”
“No kidding,” Jared said. “I’m not sure our relationship can survive such fundamental differences in musical taste.”
“Please, we all know you’d be lost without me,” Hector said.
“True.” Jared grabbed him, and they wrestled until the elevator door opened. I rolled my eyes. Guys.
The lobby was all smooth bamboo and stainless steel trim, and my shoes squeaked loudly as we walked across the shiny floors. Some of the people checking in or sitting on the couches were business people or tourists, but the rest had to be musicians on the show, with their dyed hair, faded band T-shirts, and guitar cases. Many of them were sizing us up, too.
“What do you think the other bands on Angel’s team are like?” I asked the guys.
Kyle shrugged. “Who knows? Last season she had all kinds of music.”
“Yeah, but she tends to go for hard
er stuff usually,” Jared said. “Punk, emo, heavy metal.”
“Last season she had one pop band that almost won though,” I said.
“True. I just hope she picks a good song for us to play in the battle.”
After the auditions, the next step was The Sound’s Battle of the Bands. Basically, the mentors paired off the six bands on their team and had them compete against each other by performing the same song. The mentors chose the winners and also got one rescue that they could use on any band eliminated from one of the other teams—leaving four bands on each team for the next show.
Usually there were two battle rounds, but this season had been shortened to only six weeks and moved to the summer instead of the spring, probably because ratings had been dropping steadily. Maybe they hoped a shorter season would keep everyone on the edge of their seats the entire time, or maybe they thought the show would have less competition in the summer since there was nothing else on TV.
We found the meeting room for Team Angel just as four guys with skinny jeans and identical shaggy haircuts walked over. They had that combo of nerd-meets-hipster down, and two of them even had black-rimmed glasses to complete the look.
“Are you on Angel’s team, too?” one of the guys asked. He had a boy-next-door kind of face, with broad shoulders and sandy blond hair. Definitely the best-looking one in the group.
“Yeah, we’re Villain Complex,” Jared said, and we all made our introductions.
“Sweet name,” the cute guy—whose name was Sean—said. “Wish we’d thought of it. We’re The Static Klingons.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the Star Trek pun. “That’s awesome.”
Sean grinned at me. “Yeah? I think you’re the only person who’s gotten it so far.”
“We probably should go in now,” their bassist said, scowling at us like we were the enemy. Technically we were, even though we were on the same team.
Sean opened the door and stepped back, waving me inside. “After you.”
BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds Page 67
