Falling for Forever (Before Forever)

by Melissa Chambers

  I hit a high note and the music changes keys. I jerk my head toward the laptop guy, and he’s stifling a grin. I go with it, because I’m a professional. But the words are meshing with the music, and before I know what’s happening, he’s transitioned me into some old song…a Spice Girls song.

  Oh no he did not. It’s “Wannabe.”

  Chapter Two

  Miles

  The pop princess who’s so full of herself I think her head might explode practically singes my skin with her glare. She needed to be taken down a notch. The karaoke function of this show is intended for audience participation, not single-person domination.

  I’ve got the vocal up on “Wannabe,” but she puts the mic back to her lips, glaring at me so hard I have to blink. I give her the courtesy of switching the split track back to vocal-down. If she wants to sing “Wannabe,” I’ll let her have at it.

  To my surprise, she switches the vocal melody to a free-style rap line. They’re clearly mostly insults aimed at me, and they’re not half-bad considering I’ve put her on the spot.

  “What’s behind those geeky glasses? Diss my style? You can kiss my asses.

  Doin’ homework or spinning tracks? Your vibe’s so dull I’m ’bouta take a nap.

  No need for a system. I got my Mac. 2008 called. Can they have their jeans back?”

  After she’s had her say, she anchors the mic, bobs a curtsy with flare, and then takes her time moving down the stairs in front of me. I wonder if she even remembers me. I doubt it. She’s so in her own selfish world that she probably has never even considered what she stole from me that day.

  She pretty much ignores me for the rest of my set, which is more than okay with me. As I shut down and unplug, Dev and Nat meet me on stage. “Cool, man,” Dev says.

  “Where were your graphics?” Nat asks.

  I glance around the place. “Not for here.”

  “You’re holding back for the talent show, aren’t you?” Dev asks.

  I shrug. Of course I am. I’m somewhat regretful I even told these two yahoos about my mash-ups. I don’t need some talentless twit at my school stealing my ideas…and my cash prize.

  “We’re going to Dragon Park,” Nat says. “Dryden and those guys are there. You’ll meet us?”

  “I’ll be by in a bit.”

  “Cool.” They head off.

  I’m loading my laptop into my backpack when the pop princess steps in front of me.

  “What was up with that?” she asks.

  She’s so thin I think a puff of air would blow her out of my way, but my mom has always taught me to be a gentleman to girls. Not saying the little stunt I pulled earlier was gentlemanly, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “My show,” I reply.

  “You know what I mean,” she says. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you took that stage like you were Lady Gaga. All you were missing was the backup dancers.”

  Her big green eyes widen, and she points at the stage. “I thought that little raised platform was for performing, no?”

  “Ever heard of laying low, trying not to show others up?” I ask.

  As she shakes her head, her wild, blonde mane swings about her face. “Not even my style, dude.”

  Looking directly into her eyes right here a foot away from me after watching her sing for America week after week last spring is causing a very odd movement in my stomach. What is wrong with me? I am not star struck by this girl. “Something to consider. Excuse me.” I try to move past her.

  She holds her thin fingers near my chest. “Look, I apologize if I showed you up. I was just under the impression people who got on stage to sing could express themselves.”

  My ears blaze with heat. “You did not show me up.”

  She raises both hands in surrender. “All right. Sorry.” She chuckles. “Guess you’re not a fan.”

  I laugh at this. A fan…of hers. She has got to be more full of herself than any diva on the planet. She’s a talent show reject…not Adele. “Not really, sweetheart.” Okay, that sounded a little Han Solo circa Return of the Jedi, but I doubt she’s a Star Wars fan.

  She narrows her gaze. “Did you watch my season of America’s Newest Sensation, or did you really just hate my performance tonight that much?” Her words are sincere, like she’s genuinely trying to figure out why I’m pissed. I can’t believe she’s this clueless.

  What’s she even doing here? This is my space. She’s supposed to be off in Chattanooga or wherever the hell it is she’s from.

  I open my mouth to respond, but I’m stopped by the tiny smile on her lips, which flubs me up. She’s not going to make me like her…or forgive her for what she did to me.

  I cock my head to the side. “Which answer will get me out the door?”

  She stares at me for a moment longer than I’m comfortable with and then steps out of my way. She motions to the door. “By all means.”

  As I load myself into my CR-Z, my adrenaline starts to subside. I can’t let her get to me…not again. It took me too long to get over the chance she stole from me, and I’ve got more important things to focus on now than her.

  When I arrive at Dragon Park, I find my friends hanging out over by the stone wall at the edge of the tunnel. A few of them are hitting a pipe, which isn’t my scene. Because I’m a musician doesn’t mean I have to live up to the deadbeat stereotype. Besides, the last thing I’m going to do is get caught high and give my dad more fuel for his anti-musician crusade.

  I don’t know why my dillweed friends hang here. The cops always break up groups of kids whether we’re drinking and smoking or not, and then it ends in a lame dramatic chase and us at Sonic trying a new drink combination.

  Nat holds up a hand, and I nod. I point at my phone like I’ve got an important situation going on there that requires my distance from them. Nat nods. He’s smart enough to catch my real drift.

  I straddle the tail of the dragon and lean against its colorful tile structure. I’m hovering over the icon for Instagram when I can’t help moving to a search engine. I type America’s Newest Sensation.

  The official website comes up, so I tap on that page. The winner is featured—Adam Bowling, the next Michael Bublé. I drill down on the top ten, which are posted at the top of the page in little boxes, and sure enough, there’s tonight’s pop princess. I click on her picture and pull up her bio.

  Jenna Quigley was born into a musical family some seventeen years ago in Nashville, Tennessee. Her mother and father, popular bluegrass duo Annie and Mack, came off the road after Jenna’s birth and settled into studio work. The family currently resides in Cliff Ridge outside of Chattanooga where Jenna attends Cliff Ridge High. She’s active in musical theatre and starred in her school’s productions of Footloose and Kiss Me, Kate.

  She’s from Chattanooga. Everyone’s always moving to Nashville. Hopefully she’s not on that bandwagon.

  “Hot show, Miles.”

  I look up to find Nicolette with Greta and Jasmine. I pocket my phone. “Thanks.”

  Nicolette grabs hold of a point on the dragon’s tail. “You do realize who you messed with tonight on stage, don’t you?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m aware.”

  “She’s, like, famous or something,” Greta says.

  I scratch at some grout. “Or something.”

  “We tried to get her to come here with us but she wouldn’t,” Nicolette says. “She said she was leaving for L.A. Monday. She’s moving there.”

  I don’t let the girls see my relief. They don’t know what happened. I didn’t want anyone to know I auditioned for Sensation in case I didn’t make it. That would be way too humiliating for me. Nat and Dev know, but that’s it, and I’m regretful I told them. The show always takes way more singers than other types of talent, but still. I could have made it. And I would have if she hadn’t screwed me out of my audition.

  I stand up off the dragon tail, and we walk toward our friends.

  Nicolette catches up with me.
“Have you thought about a partner for the songwriting unit in Music? I hear Weston matches you up. You know we’re starting that Monday, right?”

  I know all too well. I need to keep straight A’s in all my classes if I’m going to win the scholarships I need for Belmont next year. I’ve heard horror stories about kids getting the wrong partners and their grades falling to C’s as a result. I work so much better alone. I counted kids on Friday, and we have an odd number of students. I’ve already asked Weston if he’d consider letting me work alone, and he said he’d think about it. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

  “I think Greta would make a fantastic partner,” Nicolette says.

  Greta shoots Nicolette a glare, and I pretend I don’t see. Nicolette’s been on this mission lately to hook Greta and me up, and I have no idea why. Greta doesn’t seem particularly interested as far as I can tell. We’ve always been friends, but that’s about it.

  Nicolette stops us just before we hook up with our friends. “You should partner with Greta, Miles.”

  Jasmine scrolls through her phone. “I’ve heard Weston finds ways of sabotaging the partnering process.”

  Nicolette shrugs. “I think we’re savvy enough to get past that.”

  I don’t have the heart to tell them I’m planning on working alone, so I keep my mouth shut. They mingle with the guys as I hang back and use my phone as a crutch. I just came here because I didn’t want to go home and talk to my dad. He hates the fact that my mom got me the gig at The Glass Vortex. The only reason I go to Nashville’s Academy of Creative Arts is because my mom put her foot down. He doesn’t like it, but he’s never been able to say no to her when she digs in.

  He wants me at Montgomery Bell Academy or Father Ryan so I’ll be a shoe-in for Emory like he and my brother were. Full-on family affair. But I’ve got other plans.

  The girls mix in with our other friends, and Nat sidles up to me. “Dude, Nicolette just said Jenna Quigley was at The Vortex tonight. I didn’t even see her.”

  I huffed a laugh. “You missed her performance?”

  His eyes widen. “No way! She sang on your stage?”

  “Yep.”

  Nat clenches his fists and closes his eyes. “God, please tell me you did something to screw up her performance.”

  My stomach sours as a wave of guilt washes through it. “Yeah.”

  Nat tosses his head back. “Yes! That bitch totally deserves it.”

  I frown. “Don’t call her that.”

  “What? Are you kidding? She totally screwed you out of your audition.”

  I glance around to make sure nobody heard. “Dude, shut up.”

  “What’d you do? Switch up her key? Change out her song?”

  I shift my weight, feeling uncomfortable as crap. “Both, actually. It was dumb. Petty.”

  “It was payback, my man.” Nat points at me. “Not that you’re even, though.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need to get even. I need to get over it. I’ve got another talent competition to win.”

  Nat lifts an eyebrow. “Fifty grand for college is shit compared to what winning America’s Newest Sensation could have done for you.”

  I hold up both hands. “I got it. Okay?” I swear sometimes, if he wasn’t like a brother to me… “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “She’s headed to L.A., or at least that’s what she told Nicolette.”

  Nat salutes. “Buh-bye! Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Jesus, Nat.” I think his high is kicking in. He’s usually not this keyed up. Or maybe I just need to quit making excuses for him.

  I pull out my keys. “I’m going home.”

  “No, come on, man. We’re headed up to Love Circle next. We’re gonna have races rolling down the hill.”

  “As stimulating as that sounds…” I give him a serious nod. “Let one of the girls drive you. They seem sober.”

  He waggles his eyebrows. “Not for long.”

  I nod at Jasmine as I walk to the car. “Did you drive tonight?”

  She furrows her brow. “I always have my own ride.”

  “Will you make sure he gets home?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes, but I know she’ll do it. She and I are the designated babysitters of our crew.

  As I drive home, I can’t seem to shake Jenna off my brain, the way she commanded that stage tonight like she’d never been afraid of anything in her life…the way she had no problem putting me in my place. I couldn’t help but respect her a little bit in a really weird way.

  Water under the bridge, as my mom says. She’s leaving for L.A., so I’ll likely never see her again…unless it’s on a screen of some sort. And that’s just fine with me.

  Chapter Three

  Jenna

  I’ve been lying awake for an hour and a half staring at my ceiling. I can’t believe this day is here. I’m leaving for L.A. in a matter of hours. I’m ready, of course. I’ve been ready. Except for…I’m nervous. In theory, jumping on a plane and heading across the country to start a new life in a town where I know basically no one sounded great up until now…like the adventure of a lifetime, and I was brave enough to do it. But now that it’s actually happening, I’m freaking out a little.

  I’ll be fine once I get there and get settled, I’m sure. I’m just having a case of cold feet. I think I’m the most worried about not having enough money. I have the two grand I saved from this past summer, but between rent and deposits, food…decent clothes for the stage, professional pictures, demos, and just generally the high cost of living out there, that’s going to be gone in a matter of days, probably. My dad’s been saying this all along, of course, but I haven’t been listening…until now.

  A knock sounds at my door, and then Dad appears holding a cake iced in a hideous aquamarine with some sort of big pink glob on top. He tried. Bless him. He and my mom sing the required song and present me with the cake. My mom is solemn, especially for someone singing a birthday song, but my dad is smiling way too wide. He must have accepted the fact that it’s over, and there’s no more keeping his baby home.

  “Make a wish, sweetheart,” he says.

  I close my eyes and wish for opportunity to present itself to me swiftly and surely upon my arrival in L.A.

  I blow out the candle and face my dad. Not only is he smiling, he’s beaming.

  “Dad, why are you so happy?”

  His smile is so big it takes up the whole damn room. “I got you in.”

  I’m supposed to be applying for crappy waitress jobs in L.A., but somehow I’m in the front seat of my dad’s truck headed for Nashville’s Academy of Creative Arts. Why did I make him that promise? I should have known my dad would move heaven and earth to get me into that school. I still can’t believe he pulled it off. I know he didn’t pay our way in. We don’t have any money. My parents are musicians, not doctors.

  “Your mom is meeting with our landlord this afternoon, and then we’re going hunting for the new apartment.” He smiles. “I’m thinking we go for it and get a place smack dab downtown. What do you say?”

  He’s been talking logistics for the past two days—my entire birthday and all morning long during this hour and a half trek to my new school. We had to leave the house at six o’clock this morning. He stopped and got me a large gas station cappuccino, though, so I’ve been trying to drown my sorrows in the sugary mess.

  He points repeatedly at no one in particular. “I knew it was a mistake to leave you for the tour this past summer. You were too young to be working those karaoke gigs, and it did nothing but put nonsense into your brain. I know you’re eighteen, but you’re too young to leave home. Thank God it worked out.” He looks heavenward and quickly holds his hands together in prayer mode before re-gripping the wheel. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  I don’t even know if we’re Christians.

  The truth about it all is my dad has some logical points. I talked a big game, but when I pictured myself at the airport hugging my dad bye, I pa
nicked and wiped the whole mess from my brain. I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle the actual moment of leaving him or waking up by myself completely alone in a huge city. I was hiking up my big girl panties in preparation, but the truth is I was scared shitless.

  Staying here gives me the opportunity to make some more money and become just a little more prepared. I’ll get a crappy waitress job here…in Nashville…somewhere cool. Maybe I’ll go ahead and work on my demo and get those professional photos done…have everything ready and in place before I go. My L.A. dreams are not over…just delayed a few months. I can leave whenever I want. I’m eighteen now, and there’s freedom in that. If I just hate this school, I’ll quit. It’s that simple.

  I’m going to give this school a try just so I can say I did and make my dad happy. He went to such great lengths to get me in, begging, stealing, borrowing, or whatever the hell he had to do. Whatever it was, I’m sure extreme measures were taken. How can I leave now with him as happy as a freaking puppy?

  There are things I can do here. I mean…it’s Nashville. You can’t throw a Pabst Blue Ribbon can without hitting a studio. And my dad has connections out the wazoo. I’ll record some stuff…maybe toss it up on YouTube. I’ll get a website and try to play some gigs. We are moving to the city. How hard could it be for the girl who placed eighth on America’s Newest Sensation to get a gig?

  I’m the first to admit I’m not the best singer in Nashville…okay, possibly even in Cliff Ridge. My stage presence is what got me through Sensation. I can sing, but I need work—lots of it—if I’m going to be a true competitor in L.A. I can take the choral track at Nashville’s Academy of Creative Arts and get better…much better.

  My dad parks in a visitor spot up front. He puts his arm around me as we walk into the school.

  “Dad,” I scold—not because I’m embarrassed, but because he’s hovering. It’s like he’s discovered I’m dying, but they’ve just found my cure.

  “Sorry,” he says and lets up.

  As we walk through the ancient doors of the school, we’re met by two uniformed police officers, a man and a woman.