Wow, she seems dumb.
“I don’t know about you,” Switchblade sighs and rolls her eyes, “but I’ve spent the last few days immersed in Wild Child albums.”
I’m not telling her I did the same. I nod absently.
She continues, “Ever since Kellan told me about the audition, I’ve been analyzing their music really closely. When you get deep into their song structures, it’s amazing to see how widely they pull from the history of rock and blues, and even further back than that. There’s a lot of classical influence in their first two albums. Kellan said it’s got to be Bach and Beethoven, but I think it’s more Franz Joseph Haydn and Stravinsky. Who knows,” she giggles. “But I guess we can ask the band when we audition, right?”
Okay, she’s not dumb.
I smile vapidly, “Yeah.”
Man, it would be really awesome if Mark Kutler would finish up his audition and the assistant would walk out and call my name.
A minute later, my prayers are answered.
Mark walks out of the back, guitar case in hand.
Perfect timing. Because I keep noticing Switchblade’s knee bumping against Kellan’s, like she’s going, “Flirt, flirt, flirt,” every two seconds.
I really don’t like her.
Not because she’s a dumb bitch or anything, because she’s not.
Just because.
Chapter 83
VICTORY
“Thanks a lot, man,” Mark Kutler says to the assistant.
“Anytime, Mark,” the assistant says. “I’ll shoot you an email this evening.”
“Solid,” Mark says and bumps fists with the assistant. “Take it easy, man.”
I can’t tell if the assistant is being cool to Mark because it’s Mark and not the Ghoul In The Hat, or because Mark’s audition went well.
Hmmm.
Mark lowers the mirrored sunglasses on top of his head over his eyes and walks outside.
Do I need to follow Mark and stick him in my trunk with a gallon of Kellan’s sewage juice like I planned? It’s a tough call. If I do that, I might miss my chance to audition. Better to wait and hope I can impress Wild Child with my playing.
Okay, the only people in the room are me, Kellan, Switchblade, Headphones, and Nails. I’m the only one who’s been here all day.
It’s my turn.
The assistant peels his clipboard paper back and scans it, “Kellan Burns?”
Fuck!
Are you kidding!
I fold my arms across my chest and hide my irritation.
Kellan cocks a smile in my direction, “That’s me.” He stands, grabs his guitar, and turns to Switchblade, “See you in a few.”
“You want the amp?” Switchblade asks.
“No one else has one,” he answers, “so I think I’m good.”
She winks at him, “You sure you don’t want the Jason Becker magic?”
“I’m good,” Kellan says and walks into the back.
I know who Jason Becker is, but I have no idea what that reference meant. I guess it’s buddy-buddy code between Kellan and his pink haired sweetheart, who I’m now stuck with.
I hope she doesn’t want to chit chat.
“So,” Switchblade asks, “Have you known Kellan a long time?”
I spoke too soon. I sigh, “No.”
“Me neither. But he’s a great guy.”
“Sure.” My plan is for one word answers to convey my disinterest without me having to spell it out. Switchblade is smart, so it shouldn’t take long.
“So, you guys work together?”
“Yup.” I pop the P for emphasis.
Switchblade smiles, “It must be fun teaching kids at the school. Kellan says he loves teaching kids. I think that’s totally sweet. Don’t you?”
I arch an eyebrow in response. She needs to take the hint and drop it. I really don’t want to listen to her gush about how awesome Kellan is.
She says, “I’ve always thought it would be fun to teach, but I think I’m more impatient than the kids are,” she twinkles.
I think I’m impatient for her to shut the fuck up. I’m going to reach into my purse and use my rainbow rape knife to slice her tongue out if she doesn’t give it a rest soon.
Switchblade looks around the room at Nails and Headphones. I hope she’s done talking.
She stretches her arms over head, displaying her boobs and cleavage to the room. Wow, she’s such a slut.
I catch Nails stealing a good long look at the Switchblade Titty Show.
I frown at him.
He looks away briefly, but continues sneakily shoplifting as much of Switchblade’s rack as his eyes can get away with.
Then I notice Headphones, who is still playing his Jackson, bend his high E string while gawking at Switchblade’s tits. He bends the string higher and higher until it snaps. Ping! He looks at the broken string and whines, “Aw, man!”
I snicker.
Serves him right.
Switchblade doesn’t notice the guys drooling over her. I can’t tell if she’s oblivious or if she does it all the time for attention. With her rack, I’m voting for attention. She knows.
Switchblade drops her arms innocently and smiles at me, “Kellan said you’re a pretty good guitar player.”
I blurt, “He did?”
“Yeah. And he says you’re a natural with the students at the school. I totally respect that.”
“Really?” Now I’m all ears.
She nods, but says no more.
Now she chooses to be tight lipped.
I sigh.
She stands up and walks to the cupboard in the corner that has a coffee brewer and columns of styrofoam cups on top. She pours herself a cup. She really does have a nice butt. I can see why Kellan was so complimentary about it earlier. Yet another reason to disdain her.
She sips her coffee and turns to me, “You want some? It tastes pretty good for waiting room coffee.”
“No thanks,” I smile flatly.
Wow, I get the distinct feeling my dislike for her is completely misplaced.
So why do I absolutely hate her?
Who knows.
Twenty minutes later, Kellan walks out of the back with his guitar, smiling big.
The assistant guy walks with him and says, “Tell Rich Aymes thanks from the band for sending you out.” He shakes Kellan’s hand firmly.
Holy shit! Did Kellan get the gig?
“Will do,” Kellan grins cockily and bumps fists with the assistant.
I hate him!
The assistant slides his pen behind his ear, “You’ll hear something one way or the other by next week. Thanks so much for jumping on the audition, man.”
I guess he didn’t get the gig?
“Any time,” Kellan grins and walks over to me and Switchblade.
Switchblade blurts, “How’d it go?” She’s smiling excitedly.
“Nailed it!” Kellan says confidently.
“I’m so happy for you, Kellan,” she says, and jumps up to hug him, her arms around his neck. She presses her ample breasts against his chest and he hooks an arm around her narrow waist.
Kellan chuckles, “Thanks.” He sets her down.
The assistant walks up behind Kellan and says, “Your friend can come in next.”
Me? I’m Kellan’s friend!
Switchblade stands up.
Oh. Her.
She twinkles, “See you in a minute, Kellan!”
“Good luck,” Kellan says before slumping into the seat one over from me like he did earlier. Probably because he’s dating Switchblade and doesn’t want to sit too close to me. I can respect that.
He has boundaries.
His muscular tattooed arms are stretched over the seat backs to either side. Kellan is really a big young man who takes up a lot of space, in a hot bodied dominant male “I own the place” sort of way.
He turns his head and gives me a huge, ice-cream eating grin.
I roll my eyes, “I guess it went well?”
“You could say that,” he smiles.
“Good for you.” That came out a bit harsh. I try again, “I mean, great. Good job. I’m happy for you. Really.” It’s still coming out wrong, so I stop talking because I don’t mean any of it. I want the damn gig.
“You nervous?”
“No,” I say confidently.
“I heard you working over the songs back at the school the past few nights. You put in a lot of time learning Wild Child’s music.”
“I had to. I didn’t really know the songs that well.”
He nods, “I could tell.”
For a second, I think he’s being superior about it, but he’s not. His compassion is obvious.
He continues, “I’ve been in your shoes before. Trying to prep for an audition you’re not ready for, or isn’t the right fit, or you find out about it last minute like we did, but you’re determined to make it work no matter what. It sucks when that happens. No matter how hard you prepare, it’s a stress fest. I guess it’s just fate that I lucked out this time and knew Wild Child’s music. If it had been any other band, I wouldn’t have been so prepared. Me and you would’ve been wood shedding late nights at the school together.” He pauses, looks off into space, and grins thoughtfully. After a moment, he shakes his head, “Anyway, knowing you, you’ll do fine. You really know your shit, Victory.”
“Thanks,” I say sincerely. Wow, he’s being really nice for some reason. I say spontaneously, “I drank your sewage juice.”
“What?” he chuckles.
“The other night, when I stayed late working on Wild Child songs, I didn’t have any food. So I bought some chips from the vending machine and took the juice you left in the fridge.” I feel vaguely guilty, but Kellan’s niceness drew it out of me. I can’t bear to tell him I poured most of it down the sink.
He smiles, “So that’s where it went.” He shakes his head, “I knew there was no way Rich would steal it. He doesn’t eat vegetables.”
I grimace, “What was that foul taste in it?”
“Wheat grass.”
“I knew it! It tasted like the bottom of a lawnmower!”
He smirks, “How would you know what a lawnmower tastes like?”
“I don’t,” I grin. “But my dad made me mow growing up, and your juice reminded me of the smell of a used lawnmower.”
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing,” he chuckles.
“I tasted your juice,” I wince. “Trust me. It is.”
“Does this mean I don’t have to worry about you stealing more of my juice?”
“What? No!” I giggle. “I can pay you back, if you want. When I get the Wild Child gig, I’ll have plenty of spare cash.”
“When you get it?” he arches an eyebrow and chuckles, “You wish.”
I slap his ribs, “I’m going to blow you out of the skies, Smellan. Once they hear me play, they’re gonna forget your name!”
Why did I slap his ribs?
Oh well. He didn’t seem to mind.
He snickers, “I’ll be sure to tell the band that when I’m on the road in a cush tour bus with them.”
“Don’t start measuring your bus bunk bed just yet, bub! They haven’t heard me play.”
He jokes, “Why don’t you spare them the trouble and go home before you mess up your audition?”
I can’t tell he’s bullshitting with me or if he’s saying it in a mean way.
It doesn’t matter because, for the next half hour, we chat casually about the students at Rock & Roll High School, trading teaching stories. This is the first civil conversation I’ve had with him in weeks. It seems so easy and comfortable.
“So I told Rich,” Kellan says, finishing up another story, “either that kid starts practicing, or I swear I’m gonna—” he stops himself suddenly short.
Switchblade walks out of the back, smiling from ear to ear. She shakes her head, making her long pink hair shimmer and wave. She cheers, “Yay!”
Kellan smiles at her directly, like he completely forgot he and I were talking like good friends only a second ago.
He asks Switchblade, “You did good?”
She nods, “I knocked it out of the park like Barry Fucking Bonds!”
“Nice,” Kellan grins, standing to give her a hug.
Switchblade jumps into his arms. and squeals, “Let’s go celebrate!”
Boy, she really likes Kellan.
Sigh.
I mean, I don’t give a shit.
Chapter 84
VICTORY
Switchblade drags Kellan out the front door while screaming about getting drinks at a bar in Los Feliz.
Headphones finally puts away his guitar. I think he tired himself out. And broke all his strings. I hope he brought spares.
Nails eyes his shoes like he wants to pull them off and go to work on his toes because his fingers are a shredded mess.
And I wait.
I really hope I get called in for the audition.
But at this point, I’m starting not to care.
I huff out a sigh.
Nails stands up and walks over to me. I hope he’s not in the mood to talk.
He asks, “Do you know how long we have to wait?”
I shake my head.
His nibbled fingers are throbbing red. Poor guy. He scratches his head and says, “You know, I think I know you.”
He must be mistaken. I don’t associate with known nail biters.
He points at me and smiles, “Yeah! You’re the girl in that video!”
What video! Everyone keeps telling me I’m in some video!
I say blandly, “The one on YouTube, right?”
“Yeah!” He hops once for emphasis.
“With the guy?”
“That’s the one!” He hops again and punches down at the air.
I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh,” he says softly, disappointed. After a moment, he asks, “So, uh, are you ready to audition?”
“I’m past ready,” I roll my eyes.
He holds up his battered fingers and looks at them, “I know what you mean. I’m ready to chew off my guitar calluses on my fingertips.”
I wince, “Please don’t?”
He drops his hands to his sides, “You’re probably right.” He looks around absently. “I’m really just here to meet the guys in the band. I don’t stand a chance of getting the gig.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I encourage, “you can’t give up before you try.”
“You’re right,” he nods absently. “Do you think I’ll piss them off if I ask for their autographs?”
I frown, “Don’t do that. Then they’ll know you’re an amateur.”
“But it’s Wild Child, man!” His eyes shine with starry wonder.
“So? If you think about it, this is just a job interview. They’re not the masters of the universe of whatever.”
“Are you kidding?” Nails asks in utter disbelief. “Wild Child is the biggest metal band of all time, man!”
I scoff, “Haven’t you heard of Iron Maiden or Metallica or Deep Purple?”
He shakes his head, “Those guys are classic rock. Wild Child is cutting edge, man.”
I wish he’d stop calling me man. “No they’re not,” I say dismissively. “They used to be, but they’ve been around for years.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he nods thoughtfully. “Hey, uh, do you have a boyfriend?”
I squinch my nose, “Yeah, sorry,” I lie.
Ms. Mischievous whispers in my ear, He walked out the door with the pink haired punk rocker ten minutes ago. You never should’ve moved your stuff out of his apartment! What more invitation did you need!?!
Shut up, you.
“That’s cool,” Nails sighs dejectedly, “Had to ask, man.” He lingers, obviously looking for something else to talk about. “Your outfit is hot, man.”
I fold my arms across my chest, pulling the leather jacket closed over my studded le
ather bra and exposed stomach.
Nails watches me do this very closely.
He’s harmless. Pathetic, but harmless.
The assistant walks out a second later, “Victory Payne?”
“That’s me!” I jump up from my seat, grab my guitar, and hustle past Nails.
I follow the assistant into the back of the building.
The spiky haired assistant leads me around corners in the hallway, which has framed records hanging on the wall. I’m moving so fast, I don’t notice the names.
Despite my nonchalance talking to Nails, this IS a big deal. It’s the first time I’m meeting huge rockstars like the guys in Wild Child, but I’m so ready for this. I’m not their number one fan, but I’ve heard their music for years, and I did my homework. I learned the songs. I read up about the band, learned their real names in case I need to know them, anything I could think of. I’m dressed to impress. Despite my tiredness, I will be casual but respectful. I will do my best to act like I belong in their band, like I’m the perfect fit for their particular band chemistry.
The assistant stops at the open door to the recording room and says, “After you.”
I’m all smiles when I walk inside.
Chapter 85
VICTORY
I’m a little disappointed.
I was kind of expecting the entire band to be in here, instruments in hand, ready to jam, and surrounded by an entourage of their attendees like rock & roll royalty.
But it’s just two people sitting behind a boring old table with a camera mounted on a tripod next to them. The room’s not even that big, and it’s brown walled and boring. Where’s the glamour?
Oh, he’s sitting behind the table.
I instantly recognize Danny Daggers of Wild Child. He has a cast on his left hand that covers his fingers and goes past his elbow. I guess the break was worse than I’d pictured.
The guy sitting next to him is clean cut and wears a sport coat over a Wild Child t-shirt, and slacks.
I take a better look at Danny because he’s probably the one I need to impress most, since I’ll be filling his shoes for two months.
See how I’m thinking positive? Like it’s a done deal?
Victory RUN: Collected Victory RUN 1, 2, 3 Page 39
