I dreaded the prospect that if he tried to kiss me tonight, with no one in the house to interrupt us, I would likely have to tell him all about my past love life or lack thereof. I wouldn’t be able to pretend like I knew what I was doing.
I figured that the way he was looking at me now, like I was a mystery that he couldn’t wait to solve, would be gone. He would know.
I was just a shy girl who could sing love songs.
But I had no clue how to actually make love.
Jax parked the white convertible in his underground garage beside three other expensive-looking cars. I knew nothing about car brands or models, but I had never seen anything like them back home. With their strange windows, winged doors, and chrome finish, I doubted I would again. They looked like they came straight off a Hollywood set.
When I stepped out of the car, I felt my knees shake a little. Jax held out his hand and I grasped it eagerly. The last thing I wanted to do was fall over walking into his house. I was already feeling like a nervous child.
Yet instead of leading me up the stairs into the main house, Jax nodded toward a door I hadn’t seen before in the corner of his garage.
“I thought I would show you the recording studio,” he said. “I told you in Vegas you inspired me. And I thought if I did the same for you, you should know where you can come to write songs, sing with great acoustics, or lay down some tracks.”
“You think you inspire me?” I quipped, trying to pretend that he hadn’t just transformed from the cool teenager back into the mega-rich rock god.
He opened the door to reveal thick black stairs that appeared to descend and twist into a pitch-black room. “With my good looks and sense of humor, I believe Rolling Stone wrote that I would inspire many love songs for those in my generation.” He grinned. “But if you would like to pretend you aren’t inspired by awesomeness, go right ahead.”
“They really wrote that, didn’t they?” I laughed. “But I doubt any of those reporters made this journey into the dark with you. If this is actually a basement and you’re trying to kill me, I’m telling you now, this is the first place the cops will look.”
“Thanks for the advice. If I decide to kill you, I’ll be sure to move the body,” Jax replied as he turned on the light, which had me blinking quickly.
“Smart choice,” I choked out while staring at the state-of-the-art home studio. It was hard to take it all in. The computer, the piano, the keyboard connected to cables, the guitars on the wall, the control system, the mic booth, and the plush lounge were more intimidating than the entire house made of glass. This was the reminder that I was a girl who might be able to sing and Jax was a musician. “I don’t think I should be allowed to touch anything in here,” I quietly confessed as if standing amongst church pews. “I haven’t ever tried recording my own songs and would more than likely break something if I did.”
“I can teach you the basics,” Jax replied. “We can start with the computer software that links with your cell phone. We both know if you win this competition, people will likely offer to write your songs for you, and there will be a whole bunch of people who can help produce and engineer your music to sound amazing. They already have the best in the business writing songs for each of the top ten contestants to launch their career if they win. But I like knowing how everything works and understanding what they’re doing behind the scenes and what they’re talking about during meetings. I thought if you didn’t already, you might like to learn.”
“I think you’re right,” I said, “but I might really suck at this.”
“I think you’re doubting my skills as a teacher,” he teased. “I can do more than just judge people.”
We spent the rest of my time at his house in the studio. He would suggest we take a break, offer to drive me to the best sites of LA, to explore beaches and shopping malls. And I would encourage him to order another pizza and show me again how to turn the keyboard into a base guitar and stack my vocal recordings.
I wanted to know how everything worked. We weren’t creating anything of substance—I was mostly playing with sounds and instruments—but I knew with enough practice, the songs I had inside my head would play through the speakers. Thicker and richer than I could ever have managed on my little secondhand keyboard at home.
I could see that some nights it drove him crazy; he rolled his eyes and threw cushions at me to break my focus from the computer. He moaned about wanting me to get out of the studio and breathe fresh air. I dreamed that he was really complaining about not having another opportunity to hold my hand and stare into my eyes. But then other days he couldn’t keep the grin or excitement off his face as I got closer to being able to produce my first song, and there would be no further discussions about us running around town. And I would go back to thinking that maybe he thought our kiss in Las Vegas was a mistake. He had gone back to wanting us to just be friends.
I didn’t admit out loud that it wasn’t only creating music that kept me content with staying in the home studio. I loved watching Jax teach me how to make music. There was something about his patience when he showed me something he loved doing that made my toes curl. His face transformed when I selected the right instrument to layer or appreciated the sound of an acoustic guitar or base.
It was almost sexual.
When we would sing together, I closed my eyes and imagined what our voices molding together to create a new sound would look like. The image in my mind always wound up in a California king bed with white sheets and pillows everywhere. I would open my eyes and immediately look away, hoping Jax didn’t see the desire that lurked within them.
His voice was better than mine, of course, more rehearsed and a tool he knew exactly how to wield at the right moment. I was a novice. He told me my voice was better than some of the most seasoned professionals, but I knew he was just being nice. Compared to Jax Bone, I was inexperienced in all things and couldn’t quite live up to everything he offered a girl.
I wasn’t ready to leave tomorrow. But I also knew I couldn’t stay.
The contestants were all staying at a hotel right near the set where they would be filming all the live shows. And there would be no way Jax and I could share a house and remain a secret.
I had spent the week learning new things, but some things couldn’t be taught, and some things neither of us was ready to share.
“You need to get to the hotel tomorrow,” Jax muttered while leaning back on the home studio couch.
“Yeah,” I nervously replied while staring at the platinum albums displayed along the wall, avoiding making eye contact with Jax.
“My friend Sam is in town. He’ll drive you from here. No one will suspect anything.”
“Will we get to see each other a lot? Between live shows?” I asked, feeling the disappointment before I even heard his words. From his posture, the way his eyes didn’t meet mine, I already knew the answer.
“It’s unlikely. I’ve seen the schedules. It’s grueling. They have you recording your song choices, making appearances on talk shows, and then there are the live show rehearsals.”
“You’ll be there? When they record the songs we’re singing?”
“They bring in other guest musicians to help with your recordings. It boosts their ratings. They like to keep us judges away during the recording sessions so when you wow us on stage, we have more genuine reactions. Although, they do make us come to set pretty regularly to film us giving you pep talks before rehearsals.”
I already knew that. I had seen the celebrity guest stars helping contestants in past seasons. I didn’t know why I asked. I think I wanted things to be different. I wanted more time. I didn’t just want dance rehearsal pep talks. I wanted other opportunities to hold his hand and listen to him sing in a recording studio, just the two of us. I was annoyed at myself for desperately wishing for more. Then I reminded myself that this was Jax Bone. If he had really wanted me, he surely would have made a move by now. There had been lots of girls in the magazines snug
gled up to him, so he clearly knew how to make a move on a girl. He probably just didn’t want to make one on me.
“It’s only about three months. We should be grateful that it’s shorter than any other reality programs on television. Then we won’t have to hide our friendship,” Jax told me. “People won’t think I’m forcing you to hang out with me due to my celebrity judge status.”
“Who would be stupid enough to think that Jax Bone needed to force a girl to be friends with him?” I muttered. “But if you think people will think differently of us both, then it’ll be something to look forward to once my part of the competition ends. And if I get kicked off the show next week, it’ll be like we never had to,” I teased, sounding more like myself and not a sulking lovesick fan.
˝You really don’t know how good you are.” Jax chuckled. “It’s going to be interesting to see how long that lasts.”
Jax had a driver drop me off at the hotel without a word spoken between us. I figured he had probably done this before. This was likely the guy Jax called to transport all the girls who spent the night so they didn’t have to perform the walk of shame. I wondered if Jax explained our situation. If he told this guy he just wanted to be friends with me. If he knew I wasn’t like the other girls. I didn’t have the courage to ask. I also didn’t really want the answer. Instead I decided to text Zach.
Besides the short messages from him to make sure I landed safely in LA and his updates that my mom had returned to her usual self, we hadn’t had any conversations. I figured we both were dealing with our guilt since we spoke after they watched my audition. I went to text him a couple of times about Jax and the recording studio, but something always made me stop. Now that I was on my own again, I didn’t feel this brick wall preventing me from reaching out.
Done playing in LA like a tourist. Just arrived at the new Superstardom hotel. Do you think the room will be as good as the one in Vegas?
Better. Top 10, B. They’ll start treating you like royalty soon. You practiced your princess wave yet? Got your diva demands ready?
His reply made me smile and sigh in relief. I could always rely on Zach. I could trust that my mistakes would never ruin our friendship. He would always be there with a wiseass comment and a smile.
Just found out I got my own room this time. No sharing.
Faith will be relieved she doesn’t have to listen to you snoring then.
I don’t snore.
Summer. Camp.
I was twelve and sick. My nose was blocked! Those girls telling everyone I snored was just to bully me.
I still have the video recording they sent to everyone.
Those b*tches.
Hey, when you make it big, I’m going to make a lot of money off this video. I might need to send them a fruit basket, or do you think they would prefer a pie?
You show anyone that video, Zachary, and people will see the video of you practicing your victory dances.
I don’t know why you think that’s a threat. I was nine, and my victory dances are still awesome.
I chuckled, then unlocked the door to my new hotel room, contemplating the best way to ask Zach if I should call my momma. Then I saw the note sitting in the middle of my bed. A small cream-colored piece of paper with blue pen roughly scrawled across the page.
It’s almost the end.
I wondered how Jax managed to have his friend put the note in my room without me noticing.
I picked it up and carefully slipped it into my purse, thinking about how strange it would be to finally have our friendship out in the public. I wondered how Faith would react.
I decided I really needed to give Jax my cell phone number. His handwriting wasn’t that messy, but if we were going to be friends, well, friends texted. They didn’t leave random messages on beds. I chuckled thinking about it.
Although, it didn’t stop me from worrying about what everyone was thinking, because Jax wasn’t wrong. This would be all over in a matter of months. The auditions aired this week. Rehearsals were about to start. The live shows were days away. I hoped things would end well and not in tears.
Sweet on each other
Jax
“Five spotlights? Is that necessary?” I heard Billie ask Carey Leigh, the guest musician helping the top ten with their first live show. After a week of rehearsals and interviews on talk shows about their auditions that had been airing with unprecedented ratings, it was finally the night where the public could see Billie perform live. And from the tapping of her feet and the high-pitched tone with which she asked her questions, I guessed she might have wished the week of rehearsals had gone a little slower.
“You mean fifteen spotlights, right?” I teased, leaning against the open door to Billie’s dressing room.
With her curls intricately styled on top of her head and wearing a floor-length black gown that sparkled as she turned, Billie looked at me with fear filling her eyes.
“There are fifteen?” she gasped. “I won’t be able to see the keys. I won’t be able to see the audience. This is ridiculous. Why did I think I should play the piano during the first live show? Connor keeps repeating that you can’t screw up during a live show. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.”
“Don’t stress about the lights,” Carey replied, staring daggers at me. “You’ll barely notice them. We’ve rehearsed this. You’ll be sitting at the piano anyway. There will be five spotlights above you shining down, but there will be ten on the ground. You’ll look like a star. This dress Michael picked out will sparkle, and people will be so mesmerized that they won’t believe you’re a girl who should go back to high school. You could and will sing with twenty lights on you at some point, and they’ll be like trees in a background. And Connor’s an idiot. Live television isn’t too different from normal.”
“What if I forget the lyrics?” she whispered.
“You won’t,” Carey reassured her. “Every rehearsal, you’ve killed it. And I’ve seen your audition and your performance in Vegas. You are more than ready.”
“And if you do forget a word, make some up,” I stated offhandedly. “Sure, people will give you a hard time about it during judging, but those watching at home won’t know the difference. And they’re the ones you need to impress.”
Carey glared at me again, clearly unimpressed by my advice. She then took a long look between Billie and me before she asked me curiously, “Jax Bone, what exactly are you doing in here? The camera crew is with Cowboy Ryne right now.”
“Us judges thought it would be a good idea to go around and wish all the contestants good luck off camera. It’s more sincere this way,” I informed her, grinning. I didn’t mention that it was my idea, or that in the entire history of the show judges had never seen the contestants before they performed.
“Well, that’s sweet,” Carey said, rolling her eyes. Her title as the latest pop princess meant she and I had seen and performed with each other a lot at different musical events. And I knew she cared less about this show than anyone on the planet. Yet, she also had to improve her current unflattering image in the press after she made headlines over her latest stint in rehab, so here she was. “I don’t suppose you could tell the other judges to keep out of my way as I try and keep Billie calm, check that Faith’s guitar is tuned, see that Katie knows her kids are in the audience, ensure Ryne doesn’t have Whitney in his dressing room, and handle the other five contestants who all have their own issues and need my help tonight?”
Billie chuckled.
I laughed before replying, “I’ll tell them to wait to wish them good luck until after you’ve left each contestant’s dressing room. That help?”
“I knew I agreed to work with you again for a reason.” Carey smiled.
I winked at Billie, whispering, “Good luck,” before stealthily making my exit and heading to my seat at the judges’ table.
I managed to hail Cindy down to pass on Carey’s instructions to not let the judges bother her with helping each of the contestants before they went out
on stage. Then I settled into my judge’s seat and imagined what Billie planned to do after the show. I thought about revisiting her dressing room afterward and suggesting we take a drive.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“We start filming in ten minutes,” I told Donny dismissively.
“You think I don’t know that? I organize your schedule, for Christ’s sake.”
“Then why are you calling?” I sighed.
“I got an email from the record label, and I figured that while I talk to you about their latest deal on the table, I’d encourage you to talk to the curly blonde girl as long as you want on stage tonight.”
I felt tingles at the back of my neck. “Why would you want me to do that?”
“You told me you didn’t want me to tell you if it wasn’t about the music. Let’s talk about the label’s deal first—”
“Donny.”
“Okay, the pre-air premiere was a massive success. People loved your connection with the country girl—”
“My connection?” I interrupted.
“You guys looked sweet on each other. A reality teenage love story. You put the star in her hand, told her to hold on to her dreams. It was a cute moment, and the public have been calling it a connection. Anyway, when some kids snapped photos of you together, the record label loved it.”
“What photos?”
“Of you guys at the pier. It looked romantic. You were holding hands, taking in the sights. You looked like real boyfriend material, Jax. It caught me a little off guard.”
“F*ck.”
“Don’t worry. This is great. People are loving it. The execs for the show think it’s wonderful publicity, you guys being so close in age and all, and now that we’re at the point in the competition where the public votes, we haven’t got any liability. Plus, everyone loves a love story. Of course, they don’t want you breaking up with her any time soon or having photos of you guys doing more than holding hands out in public. But it’s creating buzz.”
Childish Dreams Page 10
