by Finn, Thia
Graduation fell close to her twenty-first birthday, thanks to her starting college a full year early. She’d received a few invitations to audition for area orchestras and musical organizations, but staying in the New York area was not where her heart was. She wanted to return to Austin, the live music capital of the world, the one place that would always be home to her. Surely she could find a way to make something meaningful of her life there doing what she loved.
While she was classically trained, her heart was always pulled toward the music she found on her own, music that seemed to call to her soul. In college, she felt she had to hide her passion for modern music because some of her instructors did not appreciate the beautiful melodies that were the undertones to much of rock genre. The guitar riffs of rock that pierced the airwaves spoke to her on a deeper level than anything she performed as part of her schooling. Playing both guitar and piano, she quickly found that she was able to learn a lot of the music she loved on her own just from listening to it, a gift she seemed she had always possessed.
Moving back to Austin was strange for her after living on her own for four years in New York. She knew it would never work living with her parents again and why should she? She had a trust fund to live on, for a while at least. She knew her parents would never embrace her decisions, so she had been vague and non-committal about her plans. It was time for her to make her own choices now. She was ready to be her own person. Her first step had been to make her way back to Austin and get settled, and her second was to audition for rock bands for the first time ever and see what she could turn up by-way of a regular paying gig.
She was jolted from her inner monologue when her phone rang. “This is Dr. Hobbs, returning your call.” The professor sounded fairly young to be the head of such a prestigious department at UT. Chandler jumped into the speech she had prepared.
“Yes sir, hello. My name is Chandler Chatam, and Dr. Fowlin at Juilliard gave me your phone number as a possible place to start looking for a position.”
Her first step was put into motion. She had left a message for the professor at the urging of her Juilliard mentor when he learned about her plans to return to Austin. He had hoped Chandler would reconsider her broader options, but she was determined to give Austin’s music scene a try first. So, her mentor had given her the contact information of his friend, who happened to head the music department at UT’s Austin campus and suggested she start there in her search for connecting with local musicians.
“I know Dr. Fowlin well, and I’m sure he’s sent you to the right place. Come down to my office and let’s see what we can do for you.” Dr. Hobbs was excited to get someone with Chandler’s background in his office with the hopes of getting her to apply to their Master’s program.
“Thanks, Dr. Hobbs. I appreciate your help but you should know that I am looking for bands in the Austin-area who are looking for keyboard players. I have no interest in going back to school at the moment.”
“That’s disappointing to hear but I understand your need to get out there and prove yourself in other ways.” Chandler could tell from his tone he was disappointed. “Come in anyway, and we’ll see what we can do to help you. With your skills, finding a band shouldn’t be too difficult.” She could only hope he was right.
Finally, after hanging out on campus in UT’s music department for a couple of weeks, her hovering paid off. One of the private tutors came in and mentioned a band he knew was looking for a skilled keyboard player. She was thrilled! What did she have to lose by checking it out? So she contacted the label, sent over a resume, and waited. And waited. And waited.
On Friday morning, bright and early, her phone erupted with Steven Tyler screaming, “Dream On”. It wasn’t the way she usually wanted to wake up, but it got the job done.
“This better be good because I was having an awesome dream,” Chandler managed to mumble.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I’m looking for Chandler Chatam?” The guy on the line didn’t seem too sure about his statement.
“Speaking.”
“So, yeah. My name is Keeton MacDonald, and Ethan at 13 Recordings told me that you might be available to come in and audition for a temporary spot playing keyboards in our band.”
“Well, yeah, I could do that. Would I know your band or the music, Mr. MacDonald?”
“Please, call me Keeton, or KeeMac, preferably. And possibly, if you get out in Austin much. We play all over town: Red 7, Mohawk, Red Eye Fly and then SXSW and the Austin City Limits festivals.” Chandler was impressed to hear they had played at the two biggest festivals in Austin.
“I haven’t been to South-by or ACL in a few years, but I’ve made some of them. With all of the venues in Austin, I don’t think I’ve actually made it to those particular clubs yet.” Going alone to a bar wasn’t really her idea of fun. She made a mental note to put them on the list of places to check out soon.
“So, anyway, we are looking for someone who can pick up our music quickly and can go on a two-month tour, like Monday.” KeeMac knew this was asking for a lot in a hurry but they were getting desperate. Nothing the label sent their way had panned out, and if they couldn’t find a replacement it was looking like they were going to have to cancel the tour until they could get Jacoby back.
“MONDAY?” Yeah, right! Chandler thought. She’d just got to Austin and they wanted her to leave—in three days—for eight straight weeks?
“Well, first you would have to audition. And the entire band has to agree on you before we could even make an offer.” KeeMac had been told her skills at the keys were over the top but that didn’t mean she could adapt to their music. She had to have heart for the music, as well.
Chandler sat up trying to get her bearings and thought about it for a few seconds. “OK, sure. I can come in for the audition. When do you want me, and where?” Her quick response sounded like a loaded question to KeeMac, and it made him chuckle to himself. Damn, my inner man slut is working overtime today, he thought as he tried to stay focused on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for dirty on the road, he reminded himself with a smirk. “Yeah, we can all be there at ten this morning. I know this is quick, but like I said, we don’t have much time to work with.”
“I can make it. Just tell me where.”
Chapter Three
“Come to mama, baby.” Chandler loved her Fender Clapton Stratocaster. She felt like they wouldn’t ask her to open the case, but having it along as a good luck charm gave her an extra boost of confidence that she could do this. Thinking back on the day she received it, made her smile to herself.
“Why would you buy me something like this? It’s so expensive,” Chandler asked, running her hands reverently over the smooth glossy wood.
“Because Chandler, sweetheart, we want you to have the best money can buy to pursue your career.” Her father had told her when she’d opened the custom Strat after one of her performances in college. They had attended a performance where she played a guitar solo that completely impressed them.
“We had no idea until we heard you play how much you had honed your skills on the guitar. You have amazed us, once again, with all of your accomplishments. You should take the time to inform us of your achievements more often, dear,” her mother added. Giving such an expensive gift for just one solo was something only her parents would do, if for no other reason than for others to see how generous they were with her. It made her feel self-conscious.
Chandler couldn’t have cared less what others thought and took the gift back to her apartment where she promptly stored it under the bed. There it stayed until the day she packed everything into her moving van; she didn’t want to feed their egos by flashing that thing around campus. But once she could actually bring herself to look passed the idea that it was a showy piece of musical artwork, she finally pulled it out to play it, if only in the privacy of her own place. From the first moment she strummed across the strings, she was in love.
Addressing it lovingly again, like it w
as human, she whispered, “You know you’re my favorite, baby.”
Wandering into the studio at 13 Recordings was a little surreal to her. Platinum albums lined the walls from the label’s signed bands, past and present. She had seen these sort of plaques before but never in a professional recording studio where she was about to audition, and certainly not since she had come home to Texas.
The black-haired woman sitting behind the reception desk left Chandler trying not to gawk at the striking beauty. Her heavily-tatted 50’s pinup girl-look was working for her, all the way down to her vintage style polka-dot dress. Deep red lips turned up in an infectious smile that, set against her lily-white skin, lit-up the room like a thousand-watt light bulb. Chandler, half-stunned, couldn’t help but return it as she wondered if the girl’s skin ever saw the light of day in Austin. This city was hot as hell, like over one-hundred-degrees-hot on a daily basis in the summer. Covering up wasn’t an option, so Chandler was sure this girl didn’t venture outdoors in daylight.
“You look a little lost,” Red Lips offered.
“Yeah, I don’t think I am. I’m here to audition with Assured Distraction.”
The look Chandler received was almost comical as the receptionist’s dark eyes grew bigger then roamed down Chandler’s body and back up before they landed squarely back on her face. She really was a Betty, personified.
“Yeah, right. Did someone actually line-up this audition, or did you read they might be looking for someone?” Betty’s body language made plain that the first impression Chandler was going for when she’d chosen her clothes for the audition may have missed the mark.
Chandler had auditioned so many times in her life she could do it blindfolded and blow the audience away every time. Her all-black outfit, from starched blouse and knee-length skirt, to her charcoal hair pulled back into a tight, neat bun had been perfect for all of her auditions before. She wore just a little mascara so that her aqua-blue eyes stood out and some light pink lip gloss so her lips wouldn’t be dry. When she got nervous, she tended to run her tongue over her lips often and that could be distracting during an audition.
“So, let me check-in with a few people before I send you back to the wolves. Have a seat over there, please.” She pointed to the bank of chairs in the corner of the lobby.
“The wolves?”
“Yeah, ‘cause they are going to eat you for lunch.” Betty busied herself with dialing a few numbers and having some hushed conversations behind the high-top counter of her desk, her back turned to Chandler. Obviously, she had no intention of letting Chandler hear a single word of her conversations, which was fine with Chandler. She was nervous enough, for some reason. Adding Betty’s comments to her frantic brain right now was not going to help.
Rounding her desk, the receptionist approached Chandler and stuck her hand out. “Hey, I’m Peri. I think I might have been a little offensive with my comments earlier.”
Chandler looked at her and shook her head, a little surprised at the about-face this lady made in a matter of minutes.
“I really didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that AD has been holding auditions for over a week now, and no one of your uh, type...no wrong word...no one of your caliber, has shown up. Did that sound any better? No, maybe not...sorry. I’m just trying to say that you look, so, uh... formal, for the kind of music that AD plays. I’m sure you are awesome, though, or they wouldn’t let you in the door. Wow, that sounded even worse. OK, I’m just going to shut up and tell you where to go...no, I mean where to take your guitar and... Shit, I am so not doing a good job of this today. Look, take your guitar down to the last door on the left. And just so you know, I was told fabulous things about you on the phone, and I am so sorry if I came across as rude. You just really caught me off guard this morning.”
“No problem, Peri.” She didn’t know how to respond to all the girl had just spewed from those red lips so quickly. Picking up her Strat, Chandler made her way to the door Peri had indicated and stopped for a deep breath to mentally prepare herself. She had no clue what she was going to find waiting for her on the other side of that door.
Turned out, it was nothing. She was the only person in the room.
Chandler breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could get her shit together and be ready for them to come to her. The keyboard in the room was the same one she played often in the productions at school. She preferred the full sound the piano made but she could rock this keyboard like no other, so she felt comforted and a surge of confidence shot through her.
She sat down on the bench in front of it, and allowed herself a minute to just breathe and think. She sometimes thought it was sort of like doing yoga. She would sit at the keyboard, close her eyes, center herself, breathe deeply and then do what was second nature to her: play the beautiful sounds that were in her mind and soul, the way she had since she was a small child, and when she just played for her own pleasure and enjoyment. And she reached out and touched the keys without opening her eyes.
After running through a few of her favorite pieces and finishing with one of the songs that AD sometimes closed their shows with before the encore, she stopped. She hadn’t opened her eyes the entire time. She didn’t need to; she felt the music rather than played it.
Loud claps and wolf calls from behind her shocked her out of her music coma. She turned slowly and found four band members talking all at once with praises for the music she produced from memory. Chandler didn’t know how to respond. Peri said the wolves were going to have her for lunch, but she didn’t think that was a literal statement and these particular wolves took her breath away.
“Damn dude, that was fan-fucking-tastic,” KeeMac was the first to speak up. “Do you know all of our songs like that? Can you make them all sound that way?” He made his way over to her in what seemed like one giant leap which made her lean as far back as she could get without falling off the bench. His size alone was enough to send her running but his looks made her want to melt off the end of her seat in a puddle of boneless goo.
“Yeah, that’s the fucking sound we’ve been missing since dumb ass Jacoby got himself laid-up,” Carter added, leaning in behind KeeMac with a smile that took her breath away. They were both beautiful. She didn’t have time to linger on the gorgeous faces before another body entered her personal space.
“Hey, I’m Ryan,” said the friendliest looking guy in the bunch. He had a bit of Texas twang in his accent, from East Texas maybe? “I damn sure hope you’re Chandler, because I really don’t wanna to have to audition another fucking person.” Ryan stuck his hand out to her for a get-acquainted handshake.
“Do. Not. Drool.” Was the only thing that came to mind as her gaze travelled up the muscular arm to his face. The long, dark hair and ultra-green eyes staring at her, hints of ink stuck out from under his t-shirt sleeves, and one good look at this fine specimen of man sent a shot of lust-fueled adrenaline straight through her. Without risking an obvious full-body scan, she could tell he was over six-foot by the way she had to look up at him. No musician she had ever been this close to had ever sent her body into a rush of heat like this.
Bobbing her head up and down in response was about all she could manage. She had been around hundreds of musicians, but this room, full of gorgeous testosterone-charged pillars of masculinity all shouting at once, had her brain on a temporary hiatus. At least the part that connected to her vocal chords.
“So, I’m Gunner, the best bad ass drummer AD has ever had.” He broke the stunned silence in Chandler’s head when he stuck out huge hands connected to arms that looked like guns Dave Grohl would be jealous of.
Finding her voice finally, she stood up. “Aren’t you the only drummer AD has ever had?” She knew in her mind that sentence had to sound so lame but it was all she could get out of her mouth.
Carter snorts in laughter. “Exactly, jackass! Frickin’ drummers... I’m Carter, by the way. Bass, the real talent of the rhythm section. Hey, do you know what you call a drummer that just broke up
with his girlfriend?”
Chandler smirks at him, a little baffled that he seemed to be breaking into a joke in the middle of introductions. “No, what?”
“Homeless,” and then he erupts in a fit of hysterics as he punches the perturbed drummer in the arm and steps away, clutching his side and slapping his thigh.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you just break up with your girlfriend?” she asks him in earnest, sympathy crossing her face as she looks back at the hurt on Gunner’s face.
His eyebrow raises and he cocks his head to the side a little as he steps forward to shake her hand. “Maybe, are you offering to console a broken-hearted man in his time of need?” She placed her hand in his to shake but when he took her hand in his massive paws, he didn’t shake it or let go. He turned her hand over and studied her palm and fingers. She guessed being a drummer that he had a thing for hands. Gunner looked it over carefully, and still holding her hand in his, stroked her palm lightly, he looked up into her eyes, and asked, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
His intimate study of her hand and fingers had sent some strange electricity through her, and she felt temporarily stunned, staring back at them all like a deer caught in headlights. “Hi. I....I’m Chandler Chatam. And I’m here to audition for Assured Distraction,” she finally managed to choke out over her frozen vocal cords as the charismatic drummer finally releases her hand, letting her recoil it back closer to her body.