Boys Club: How Far Would You Go?

by Ema Bancroft

  Ricardo could only play the high notes half the time, and I think he had his hand in his pocket squeezing the balls to do it.

  Tim put his hand through his strange hair and began to sing.

  And it was fucking amazing.

  His voice was a little rough, but still pure and clean... and he played those high notes better than Ricardo. I took a look at Rocket, but he was looking astonished, his mouth a little open.

  and every time you let me touch you?

  Where I want to touch you

  Everywhere I want to touch you

  It's like I found my way through

  Unknown territory

  And I'll be damned if that kid didn't race jazzy on that last word flying up to a note so high I thought he was going to break the windows.

  If the boy could dance, I think he was inside.

  Daisy

  I almost peed in my pants.

  I thought I had control over my nervousness, but when I went out on stage and saw E. C. Lynch looking at me with those intense green eyes I really thought I was going to pee on myself.

  I knew there were too many Red Bulls, combined with the fact that I couldn't exactly get into the ladies' room. What about the men's room? I was so desperate that I opened the door, but I sniffed a little and thought I'd keep it.

  It was probably a mistake, but it was disgusting.

  I knew all the 5Point songs by heart, like any good fan. I had been driving Mabel crazy, singing with my iPod, trying to learn all the parts of Ricardo Morales. I was planning to sing Baby, please, but while I was waiting backstage I heard everyone else sing the same song. So, I took a chance and switched to Uncharted Territory, hoping I could do it.

  I must have done well, because they told me to come back at two to learn the choreography. I ran backstage and ran to the ladies' room, scanning the area quickly before entering.

  I was a little worried about the dance. Not because he couldn't dance - because he could do it all - but because he had to dance like a boy. Once again, I had practiced like crazy, watching videos and memorizing the steps, but I wasn't sure if I could get Bobby Brown out (before Whitney), or if he would look more like Beyonce.

  I examined myself surreptitiously in the mirror while washing my hands.

  No. Not Beyonce. But you come up with the idea.

  I looked at the bathroom door and quickly came out, walking down the hallway, looking backwards to make sure I wasn't being watched. I turned a corner...

  and hit the pretty impressive chest of an E. C. Lynch.

  God, kill me now, please.

  "Shit! "I exclaimed before I realized I had spoken in my normal voice. I dropped a few tones. "I' m... sorry, buddy. "I punched him in the shoulder and wiped my upper lip. " I didn't see you"?

  I must have hit him harder than I thought because he rubbed his shoulder absently. "No problem... it's Tim, right? "he asked.

  He knew my name. Well, it's not my name, but the one I was using instead of my name.

  Wow.

  I shook my head. I had to overcome this crush if I had any hope of advancing in auditions. I was pretty sure I stumbled on my feet because I was doing goo-goo eyes on the lead singer wouldn't work.

  I cleared my throat. "Yes, that's right. You're from E. C. Lynch. " I tried not to let my voice crack when I said his name. I think I almost got it.

  He didn't notice, or at least pretended not to. He raised him hand and I looked at his blank for a moment before I realized he wanted to shake mine. I took his hand and tried not to jump into the electric shock I felt in the palm of his hand.

  "Wow,"he said, pulling his hand back. "Have you been rubbing your feet on the carpet or something? " He laughed, shaking his hand slightly.

  I made myself laugh. "I guess I just have an electric personality!"

  Really, Daisy? Is that the best you could come up with?

  You idiot!

  E. C. he smiled with indulgence and set out on his way. "Well, I'll see you at the dance auditions, right?"

  "Yeah... sure... see you then,"I said sadly.

  He walked past me a few steps, then turned around. "You really know how to sing,"he said. "You knocked me out of your mind, man."

  My eyes widened wide. "Really?"

  He nodded. "Seriously. Can I give you some advice once?"

  "Sure... yes... of course,"I babbled.

  "Well, the band's been through all that shit lately, you know, with Ricardo and all that,"he started.

  I had heard the rumors. Everyone had heard the rumors. I didn't know what E. C. was coming, though.

  "So," he continued uncomfortable,"the band can no longer afford a bad press.

  I nodded, confused.

  "I'm just saying... if you want to be in the band, you might want to stay out of the ladies' room,"he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Oh. My. Damn you. God.

  My face fluttered. My heart's racing. My stomach fell out. My voice is gone.

  "All right,"I screamed.

  And E. C. Lynch turned and walked away without saying another word.

  E. C.

  We're staying with ten guys for the dance auditions. Cecil had them divided into groups of five to learn the choreography, and in general they did pretty well. Two of them were good, but not good enough. The rest of them looked like any of them would.

  "Do" wasn't what Cecil wanted, though. He had some select criteria that apparently only he and the label representatives were aware of. So at four o' clock, he had reduced the field from ten to three: Jessie Jones, B. J. Amante (a name he knew Cecil would change if he got to the group), and Tim Caldwell.

  Caldwell was my personal preference. I didn't know what was his, but there was something about him that told me he was special.

  I felt a little bad about getting into the ladies' room. I was just a kid, and I'm sure he was just curious, but hell, it was for his own good. If Cecil caught him doing that shit, there was no way he had a chance. Cecil didn't risk that shit anymore.

  The bad guy was for Rocket... the rest of us had an image to keep.

  After a dinner break, Cecil had us meet on stage. He wanted each of the kids to play a song with the group so he could see how we all interacted. After that, he said he'd make the decision.

  Potential replacements had learned Ricardo's part and the choreography of Don't Leave Me Baby, I Want Ya, so we took our places and ran through the song a couple of times with each of them.

  I saw right away that Jessie wasn't gonna work. He seemed more focused on taking the center of attention for himself than on working as part of a team. It was kind of a truce between B. J. and Tim, from what I could tell. Although, in my opinion, Tim had the best chops to sing with.

  Cecil apologized, telling them to wait backstage while we talked. They left nervously, and I noticed Tim doing something strange with his hair. His hands were on the top of his head, almost as if he were holding it.

  Weird.

  I shrugged my shoulders and stood in the front row with the others and waited for Cecil's verdict. I realized I'd already made up my mind.

  "B. J. ", he said categorically.

  I sighed. "Tim is better."

  "B. J. Is more attractive,"Cecil argued.

  "Tim can sing."

  "B. J. can sing."

  "Not as good as Tim."

  "That's your opinion."

  "That's a fact."

  Rocket cleared his throat. "Cecil?"

  Cecil looked at him irritably. "What?"

  The rocket moved awkwardly. "I saw B. J. getting a... well... a B. J. in the alley during dinner break."

  Cecil stared at him for a moment before nailing his clipboard to the stage.

  "All right,"he said,"Tim is."

  Daisy

  I did it myself.

  I did, damn it.

  He was inside. I was the fifth member of 5Point.

  I couldn't believe it when Cecil - my new manager, thank you very much - told me that they had chosen me over t
he other two guys. I signed some papers and was told to show up for rehearsals two days later at a studio downtown.

  I went into the alley and screamed. And not a true male guttural cry, but a feminine scream, oh, God, I can't believe it. Fortunately, the alley was empty at that particular time.

  Of course, the first person I called was Mabel. And the first thing I did on my to-do list was a haircut.

  I had struggled with the stupid wig during all the auditions, and there was no way I could deal with it once we started rehearsing for the tour.

  The Tour.

  42 cities in three months... worldwide?

  I couldn't believe it.

  "Are you sure you want to go through with this?

  "Mabel asked, holding the scissors over my head. I looked at my long brown hair one more time, said goodbye and prepared myself.

  "Now there is no turning back,"I replied, closing my eyes. I kept them closed the whole time.

  After a while, the hairstyle and trimming stopped. "All done,"said Mabel brilliantly, and I opened my eyes slowly.

  "How does it look? " I asked timidly.

  "Go to the bathroom and see for yourself,"Mabel said with a smug smile.

  It actually looked pretty good. Not too short, and Mabel had stylized it with a little gel, so it looked scrambled and natural. There were only two problems.

  One. He was nothing like the wig he had used for auditions.

  Two. It looked exactly like E. C. Lynch's hair.

  Different color, of course. Mine was just brown. It was a crazy mixture of copper, bronze and gold. But the style was the same.

  He was gonna think I was some kind of crazy E. C. Wannabee.

  Fantastic. Like he doesn't think I'm a freak with all the electric shock and the rendezvous in the bathroom.

  "Well," Mabel bounced off the bathroom door with excitement. "What do you think?"

  I took a look at her eager expression and said all I could.

  "It's perfect."

  0

  I was very nervous when I arrived at the studio for our first rehearsal, but in reality things were better than I expected. All my duties had paid off and I almost knew all the moves - and the words - of the songs from the last album. After a week, I felt much more comfortable with the choreography and the other members of the band.

  Rocket wasn't as rebellious as the Internet wants you to believe. It was actually quite nice, and during the rehearsals he focused quietly. Ethan (I've learned that I really hated the name E-Dog) was funny and friendly, always willing to give me what he called "pussy advice. Actually they all talked about pussy - a lot.

  Well, except Roland. He laughed at the jokes, but I had a feeling he wasn't so interested in pussy. I've seen him look forward to Eddie, the choreographer, more than once.

  But he and I seemed to have a quiet understanding. I think he caught me taking an equally eager look at E. C. (which, by the way, I prefer to be called Elijah). Roland caught my attention and nodded sharply before turning.

  He thought I was gay.

  Perfect.

  Well, it could have been worse. At least he didn't think I was a girl. That's what was so strange. None of them seemed to suspect that I was anything other than what they expected me to be: an eighteen-year-old boy. My age was tough. I had to lie because I definitely wasn't full enough to look my true age, twenty-one, but I couldn't say I was less than eighteen, because then I would need a father to sign all the papers. Mabel had a friend of a friend who gave me a fake me. D. and social security card (I didn't ask). To be honest, pretending to be a boy was a lot more complicated than I thought it would be, but to my surprise, it seemed like I was doing it?

  Except when it was about Elijah. He never said anything, but occasionally he caught him looking at me in a strange way and I was worried that he might suspect something. Half of them expected me to have a hard time with my hair, but he just looked at it, smiled with a smile and said nothing.

  Maybe he thought it was a compliment.

  I moved into the house Cecil had rented for the Hollywood Hills group. It was enormous and precious, and beyond all I had seen, and much less lived. The backyard had an infinite pool and jacuzzi and the view of the city lights at night was incredible. I had a room for myself that was bigger than my old apartment, with an adjoining bathroom that reminded me of Richard Gere's in Pretty Woman.

  I really wish Mabel could see it. Maybe I could bring her in, saying she was my cousin or something.

  I hadn't really anticipated all the problems that would arise from having to be a boy twenty-four hours a day. Well, I had my room for myself at night, so I could relax (Read: rubbing my sore breasts), but the rest of the time, it was Hartmann's bandages and scratching me. I had to constantly monitor myself to make sure I kept my posture correct, my voice low and didn't say anything to expose myself.

  To be honest, it was a little tiring. And I slipped more than once.

  The worst was a week after I moved out. The boys had all gone out and I had the house to myself, or so I thought. I had removed my blindfold and stretched delightfully, and then I went to take a shower in my attached bathroom. When I got out, I was tired and relaxed. I put on my boxer's underpants - which are surprisingly comfortable, by the way) and a big T-shirt and I was about to go to bed when the door opened.

  I spun, clutching my arms in my chest in reflex.

  "Shit! " Elijah stood there, staring at me as surprised as I was. He had a baseball bat in his hand and was breathing heavily.

  "Tim… man. I'm sorry I scared you. I thought you'd gone with the others,"he said, lowering the bat so that the end would hit the ground. "I heard noises here and even though someone broke in."

  I tried to relax my arms across my chest without revealing anything. It was difficult, because Elijah wasn't wearing a shirt... and let's just say my nipples were definitely interested in his nipples.

  "No problem,"I replied. "I didn't realize you were here either."

  "Yes,"he put a hand in his hair. "I didn't feel like partying tonight, you know? I'm exhausted."

  I nodded once, trying to be casual. "Yes."

  "All right, then,"said Elijah,"I guess I'll see you."

  I nodded my head and turned to turn my duvet down, coming through the bed to grab the extra pillow. But when I turned around, Elijah was still there, leaning on the jamb of my door. He had a strange look on his face. His jaw was clenched. His face was red. And he seemed lost in thought.

  "Elijah? Are you all right? " I asked, holding the pillow against my chest.

  He swallowed and shook his head slightly. "Yes,"he said in a deep voice. "Yes, fine. I stepped out for a second,"he said, but he didn't look me in the eye.

  "See you,"he said, turning quickly down the aisle.

  "See you,"I called him.

  I had been very careful leaving my bedroom door open after that. Still, every once in a while I relaxed so much that I forgot to stoop when I walked, or laugh when Ethan made a pussy joke, and I had a curious look from Elijah or Roland.

  One Friday night, after a particularly long day of rehearsals, we arrived at the house exhausted, but too euphoric to sleep. We had a week before the tour started and we were all excited. I was more than nervous, of course. It's not so much a question of acting as it is of the press week to which we committed ourselves before the tour. Cecil had had a press conference when I was elected to join the band, but I didn't have to say anything. With the round of interviews and appearances I had planned, I knew I was going to have to answer some questions.

  I really wasn't looking forward to that.

  So when Rocket suggested that we sit around the pool and have a drink instead of begging and saying he was tired, as usual, I sat down and let him make me a Jack and Coke.

  Some of them, actually.

  I felt a little dizzy - which was no good when you were trying to hide the fact that you had boobs and a pussy - when Ethan decided to call some girls who had met at a bar the night before and inv
ite them over.

  Of course, the girls rushed - I only had time for one more Jack and Coca-Cola while we waited. In Ethan's lap there was a tall and beautiful one called Terri, and the other three, Carla, Janice, and - I forgot the other's name... something that started with an M - they sat on the extra lawn chairs. Carla came over and tried to talk to me.

  It scared me a little bit, actually. She licked her lips and ripped her tits off (I was a little jealous of that, to be honest) and said she was cute and I tried to touch my hair.

  Eeeewwwwwww.

  Fortunately, Roland came to my rescue, taking Carla to the bar to pour her a drink.

  I guess he thought we gays had to stick together.

  I got up, planned to go to the bathroom, and got up a little bit. I leaned against the wall by the French gates, trying to clear my head.

  Then I saw Elijah.

  I was standing on the other side of the pool talking to... M... whatever... and I was smiling and laughing and looking incredibly beautiful and shiny and shiny and lamentable...

  He was killing me.

  Elijah looked up and caught my attention. He seemed surprised for a moment, then something strange happened.

  His eyes darkened... and his lips snapped... and my boxer's underpants were immediately moistened?

  I turned around and practically ran to the bathroom.

  E. C.

  I was in trouble.

  A big problem.

  I mean, I was okay with it when Cecil put Tim in the band. He could sing and dance and he seemed like a pretty decent guy, putting aside the women's bathroom. Tim fits in well with the group. Hell, he knew the choreography better than Richard, and God knows he had a better voice. He fixed his weird hair. It was pretty quiet. He was doing his own laundry and not leaving shit all over the house.

  I should have been happy.

  Instead, I was... well, I wouldn't say miserable.

  More like a fucking panic.

  It wasn't long after Tim started rehearsals. Eddie was working with Ethan, Roland and Rocket on some choreographies for when they turned off the track, so he was helping Tim with some steps. Suddenly, I have a strange feeling... feeling?

  Like my stomach made this thing turn around.