Finding My Way (18 page)

“Stan said this one is yours.”

“Sure is,” I say as I hop in. I can still smell
her
perfume lingering in the upholstery. Half of me wishes it would dissipate, but the other half, the half that will love her forever, wants it to never leave. All of me wishes she was here, in the middle where she belongs, and going with me to jam because she makes everything better.

Chapter 28

I
forget when we’re walking in the door that I’m a minor. If this were Beaumont, I’d be okay, but probably not here. I follow Harrison down a long dark hallway. The music being played is muffled and I can barely make out the beat, let alone the words. Harrison turns into a room that has a few people sitting around. One guy is sitting in the corner, strumming his guitar. Another sits on the couch, with a girl sitting on his lap. Neither of them makes eye contact with me.

“Thought you were going to be late, James?”

I turn at the sound of the female voice and step back. Standing there is a girl, no a woman, with raven black hair that looks blue under the florescent lights. Her lips are painted red and her eyes have barely any make-up on them. She’s wearing leather pants with some incredibly spikey boots and a simple tank top. Thing is I don’t think there’s anything simple about this woman.

“Liam sprung me from party purgatory. I’m here and at your service, Trixie.”

Trixie?

I avert my gaze once Harrison says her name. I look around the room taking in the walls that have band posters adorning them. The furniture is a bit rough, but looks comfortable and the guy in the corner seems oblivious to me just standing in the middle of the room completely out of place. This is where I want to be though. I
want
to be waiting for my name to be called up on stage. I
want
to feel the anxiety and pressure I’ve read so much about from other artists. I
want
to deal with stage fright and people hating my music. I just want to get up on stage so I can sing and play my guitar for people. I’m not looking for overnight success – I just want the satisfaction of playing for people. I want the sound of hands clapping because they want to, not because they’re obligated too.

“Liam, huh? You’re a virgin.”

My mouth starts to drop open. I shut it quickly and clear my throat. “Excuse me?”

Trixie moves forward, almost pressing herself against me. She eyes me before continuing, “I’m not talking about your dick, but you’ve never been in a green room before. That makes you a virgin in my book.”

I swallow hard, afraid of breaking eye contact with her. Trixie steps away, laughing. “What’s your story, Liam the virgin?”

“Um… I’m just looking to play.”

“Trixie is the owner, Liam. She’s just giving you shit. But yes she can smell fresh meat a mile away. He wants to jam and I had a few hours to kill so I thought I’d bring him back here and hang out.”

“Are you twenty-one?”

I nod and pray that she doesn’t ask me for my driver’s license. Her head moves up and down slowly before she purses her lips and gives me another once over and leaving the room.

“You can breathe now, dude,” Harrison laughs as he pats me on the shoulder. “She’s a firecracker, but she’s trustworthy and faithful to her staff. I’ve worked for her since I was nineteen. She can be a little hard to take sometimes because this is her baby and all that shit.”

“Got it.”

“Right, so let me show you around. The band will be taking a break in a few so we can sit back here and jam a little before I have to go on stage. Do you want to watch the main act tonight? It’s an all-girl band and they’re pretty good.”

“All-girl band?” I question. I sort of like the idea of watching girls play so I can get a feel for how they perform.

“Well aside from me and Burke who plays the piano for them tonight.”

“Yeah man that sounds cool.”As I follow Harrison around the club I can’t help thinking about Mason and what he’s doing. I’d give anything to be giving him a tour or standing out in this club with him by my side as Harrison fills me in. Harrison is very unassuming and keeps himself to himself. The drive here he just gave directions, nothing else. No conversation about the weather and he didn’t ask about my life before Los Angeles and for that I’m very thankful. I don’t know what, if anything, I’m going to tell people. The last thing I want is people to think I’m still that kid in Beaumont who’s come to the big city to try to make it big. I don’t want to be a statistic. If I don’t make it, I’ll go home and eat crow. Beg for forgiveness and find some way to pay my way through school.

Either way I need to do this as the new me, not the old one. Not the one that was so stressed out and anxiety riddled that I couldn’t see straight. I need to try out the music scene, fail and try again in hope that I’ll be something. If I can do that, I’ll be something to me and that’s enough.

“Hey you should put your name down for tomorrow.” Harrison points to the sign-up sheet for open mic tomorrow night.

I grab the pen that’s on the table and write
Liam
before pausing. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it with the new me. I close my eyes and picture myself up on that stage with a drummer and a keyboardist playing right along with me, enticing the crowd to sway their bodies or hold on to their dates. I see them to sing along or jump up and down to the beat of the music. This is what I want. I scribble
Liam Page
, the name that has echoed in my mind since the moment my grandma said it, and set the pen down. Tomorrow, I’m booked for my first open mic in Los Angeles, that’s why I came here and now it’s done.

“Trixie goes over the list at closing and calls people at nine a.m. sharp,” Harrison tells me as he shrugs. “She’s a sadist, but people love her and they keep coming back even after they’re signed.”

“That’s good, right?”

He nods. “It is. Look outside.” He points to the window where people are lined up. “She does two sets. The top talent gets the last set which is what you’re going to watch, but she kicks everyone out after the first one so we can clean and get tuned up. Those people are lined up, trying to get front row.”

I walk close to the window and look out, amazed by what I see. “They’re here just to watch a band that hasn’t been signed?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, standing next to me. “These girls will get signed though, they’re that good.”

“And do you go with them?”

“What do you mean?”

I run my hand over my face, frustrated that I don’t know what I’m talking about. “You play for them, right?” he nods. “So when they get signed with an agent or a record deal, do you continue to play with them or do they move on?”

Harrison fiddles with his lip ring and as much as I don’t want to stare I am. You don’t see those in Beaumont. Hell, you don’t see people like Harrison there at all. That town is so pretentious and in need of a serious culture overall.

“I want to be in a band, but the right one hasn’t come along. The people who perform here usually have their own ideas about music and are trying to make it as an artist. I’m an afterthought and just here to add the extra beat or rhythm to their set. The agents in here, they aren’t looking at me, they’re looking at the singers. Drummers are a dime a dozen around these parts. I’m going to go get ready. Take a seat up front and when we’re done, just come back stage.”

Harrison walks away before I can acknowledge him or ask him any more questions. I look back at the crowd forming outside, unsure how to respond. I could fail at this and have to go back home with my tail between my legs to face the music so to speak, but it’s worth it to try. At least it is to me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the dark, blank screen, which indicates that there are no missed calls or voicemails.
She
still hasn’t called, nor have I called her. I don’t know why, either. I should call her, but I don’t know what to say. Telling her I’m sorry doesn’t seem like it’s the right thing to say and trying to explain myself will fall on deaf ears. I tried to show her this side of me and maybe I should’ve tried harder. Maybe I should’ve shaken her until she opened her eyes, but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have to. She’s supposed to love me, not the idea of me or what I can do to secure her future by my side.

I put my phone back and shake my head. With each day that goes by, the decision I made becomes easier and easier to deal with. As much as I want things to be different, as I look around this club, she doesn’t fit in here. She would be uncomfortable and on edge and I need to focus on me and making this happen.

The doors open and people rush in, vying for seats up front. I’m taken back by the onslaught of people. Whoever this band is, they have a large following and I like it. I like knowing the potential is out there for me. I just have to work hard to achieve my goal and that’s something I can easily do.

My goal – the words resonate in my head. I never thought I had a goal until now, but I do. I want this to be my crowd. Not tomorrow night and maybe not next month, but this will be my first milestone and I like that I have something to work toward, a milestone that I can take back to Beaumont and show
her
that I’m good at something other than football. I need to prove to her that I left for the right reasons, whether she wants to believe me or not.

Harrison and Burke come out on stage, followed by two girls who I assume are in the band. The people move faster, racing for seats. The lead singer stands in front of the microphone with her legs standing shoulder width apart. Her hair is straight and long and a very vibrant red. Nothing about her seems real except for the way she’s carrying herself. I sit down and watch as she gives orders to her female counterpart, and to Harrison and Burke as well. Everyone seems happy and poised for performance.

The lights dim and the crowd comes alive. The chanting of their name – it’s what I want. My heart races for them. My palms sweat with excitement and I’m not even on stage, but they are and they’re living a dream. I scan the patrons briefly; wondering if any are agents or scouts looking for new talent.

A guitar strums and I swivel back toward the stage. Sticks clank together four times before Harrison’s arms move quickly and bang onto his drums. The crowd screams as the music starts and the lead singer takes hold of the microphone. The way she clutches it in her hand shows me that she’s in charge. She owns the stage with her music and that is something I haven’t grasped yet. She’s putting on a show and I need to do that as well.

My eyes wander between her, Harrison, Burke and her guitar player. Each one of them commands a presence with their own craft. The lead singer moves across the stage, tempting her fans with the way her hips sway, the way her leg bounces as she belts out the lyrics to her song. They respond in kind by grappling for her, begging for her attention. She is what I need to be. I can’t be this lump of body mass sitting on a stool singing about a love that I had and lost due to my own actions. I need to re-invent myself. I need to figure out how to command a crowd and bring them to their knees because that’s what she’s doing now. They’re eating out of her palm and she loves every minute of it.

I’m going to love every minute of it.

Chapter 29

A
s this singer, whose name I need to learn, finishes her last song, the crowd is showering them with thundering applause and I can’t help but join in. The band deserves it, each one of them, including Harrison and Burke. This is the first time I’ve analyzed a performance. Watching MTV does nothing for you when you can sit next to the stage and watch every single movement, hear the reactions from the audience and feel the vibration coming off the instruments. Each action is being cemented into my brain. This is what I needed to take my next step.

The lights dim, but the fans get louder. I can’t help joining in with the celebration. I cup my hands over my mouth and scream loudly, begging them for an encore. The deafening cheers are enough to bring them back on stage. I look around and see just how infectious the singer is to her capture audience and that sentiment is returned when they look back at her. It’s pure admiration.

They leave the stage after finishing three more songs and the lights come on. This must be Trixie’s cue for people to start leaving.
Metro
is so different from
Ralph’s
; it’s like night and day.
Ralph’s
is home drinking where people will spend hours just sitting at the bar telling Ralph, the owner, all of their troubles.
Metro
is art deco and Trixie doesn’t care if you want to linger, you’re in and out.

It’s time to move on.

I walk backstage as Harrison suggested. As soon as I open the door I’m greeted with laughter. So much so, that I can’t help smiling as soon as I walk into the room. The lead singer is shaking a bottle of champagne and lets its contents fly, dousing the room with sticky liquid. The excitement in the room is contagious and it leaves me wanting this for myself. I know I could’ve had it with football. Winning the big game for college or NFL – that’s what it’s like to be a part of a family, but it’s not the family I want. I want this one or something similar. I want to be close to the fans and feel their elation permeate off them and onto me.

“What did you think?” I turn at the sound of a captivating voice beside me. The lead singer is standing next to me offering a beer to me. I take it with a smile and bring the cold, dark glass to my lips. The amber liquid is a welcome taste and one that I’ve missed sharing with my friends these past few months. I haven’t dared drink in front of my grandmother for fear she’d disapprove and for some reason her approval is incredibly important to me.

“What’s your name?” I ask, avoiding her question. Since I’ve become acquainted with her on stage, it’s only right that I know her name.

She smiles and turns away. Her grin is infectious and I find myself smiling against the lip of my bottle. There’s something wild about her, you can see it in her eyes. They’re honey colored and twinkling in the bright lights above our heads. She winks and that reminds me that I still don’t know her name.