“Excuse me if I sound blunt, Mr. Blanco. I mean, Manuel. But is all of this your way of telling me I’m doing a lousy job?”
He flashed a smile again and laughed. “Yes, I have been told I might benefit from being more direct. And I appreciate your bluntness with me. Otherwise we might be here all day. You must understand that much of my day consists of revenue projections and spreadsheets. And as boring as it is, I take pride in doing my job well.”
“I understand,” Jane said. “I can try to do a better job.”
He smiled and reached across the desk and shook her hand. Then he stood, signaling that the meeting was over. Jane rose and said good-bye. She was at the door when he called her name. She stopped and turned back.
“Did you see the Seahawks beat the Panthers on Sunday?”
Jane shook her head. “Has the season started already?”
“Yes. My son and I always watch the games together. I told him I had met a real twelfth man from Seattle. Or twelfth woman, I should say.”
“You mentioned me to your son?” Jane asked.
“He thinks everything from Seattle is cool,” he answered, shrugging. Then he smiled and added, “I guess I do too.”
Chapter 12
Caleb stopped playing midsong and shook his head.
“This isn’t working,” he said. “It’s too hokey.”
“Hokey,” Jordyn repeated, her tone mocking. “What are you, like fifty years old? Nobody says hokey anymore. They say lame or wack. But I agree with you. The song sucks ass.”
“Oh yeah, because sucks ass is so much more current than hokey. Did they teach you to talk like that at Juilliard?”
“What’s your hang-up with my education?” she asked. Then before he could answer, she added, “Just because I didn’t learn guitar in juvie like you did. Get off me about it.”
“Sorry, but I just think you’re fake. That’s all.”
Jordyn set her guitar down and leaned forward in her chair, looking straight into Caleb’s eyes.
“Listen,” she said, looking suddenly serious. “I don’t like spending my Saturday writing a stupid duet with you any more than you like spending yours with me. But this is important.”
“I don’t see why,” Caleb replied. “One of us is going to stay and the other is going home. Why sing together?”
She huffed as if he were a stubborn child. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Don’t get what?”
“What this is really about. You’ve got to see it in terms of marketing. You’re right, only one of us is going through. But when we do, we’ll be competing against four other singers on live TV. And it won’t be up to the judge anymore, then it’ll be up to America to decide. And those voters, viewers, whatever you want to call them, all they’ll know about us is what they will have just seen on the shows we’re recording now. Including this hokey duet. So, Caleb, you need to wake up and take this seriously. We want America to fall in love with us.”
“I signed up to write and perform music. You make it sound like we’re selling breakfast cereal or something.”
“Aren’t we?” she asked.
“I sure hope not.”
“You know what? I like you, Caleb. And because I like you, I’m going to tell you something.”
“Should I feel special?”
“Just shut up and listen. Will you listen?”
“Fine, I’ll listen.”
“I didn’t really go to Juilliard. Well, that’s not true either. I kind of did go, but not how I like to let people think. I was in their precollege division.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I was a freshman in high school when I went. I didn’t officially graduate from there. I got a certificate, but it isn’t the same. But that’s not my point. My point is this. Here I was, learning music theory and solfège from the best.”
“What’s solfège?” Caleb asked, interrupting her.
“It’s a method for sight singing and identifying pitch. It’s why I could hear your song once and then play it back to you. But let me finish. What I’m trying to say is that I was there with the best and the brightest in the world, learning from the most accomplished musicians, and I realized something. I realized that most of those prodigy kids were going to go on to be great musicians themselves. But at the same time, I knew that almost nobody would ever hear them perform.”
“So you’re saying popular music means better music? Then explain Justin Bieber to me.”
“He’s actually pretty good, I think. And Usher obviously thought so when he discovered him. But I don’t want to argue about Bieber. And I’m not saying popular makes better. But let me ask you something, Caleb. I’ve heard your songs. You really have something to say. Is it fair to let twits like Kesha take up all the airwaves? Don’t you want your voice to be heard?”
Caleb shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Then you’ve got to get popular first so you can say what you want to say and have them hear it.”
“That’s what you think?”
“That’s the lesson I learned. You keep hating me because my father’s rich. But my dad doesn’t care about money. He’s a biologist. And a good one. He’s rich because he helped found a biotech company that develops drugs that make people’s lives better. And the more money they generate, the more research they can do; the more research they do, the more lives they can save. The money’s just a nice bennie. Get it? So why not become famous, build an audience, and then speak your truth? That’s what I learned at Juilliard. That’s what I learned from my father. That’s why I’m here. Now do you understand?”
Caleb sat quietly watching her, considering these things she had said. She looked different in jeans and a T-shirt with almost no makeup on. She looked young. Too young to be wise. But her eyes were bright and alive, and he knew she believed every word of what she was pitching him.
“You wanna know what my father taught me?” he finally asked. “He taught me that you can’t drink just a little bit and still be sober.”
“And what’s that got to do with anything?”
“He convinced himself that he’d drink just a little to get through my mother’s death. Then he drank so much he joined her. You better be careful you don’t get addicted to the fame.”
Jordyn leaned back and crossed her arms and looked at him. He thought he saw both sorrow and defiance in her eyes, and he was sure she was about to reply when the door opened and their judge walked in, followed by a camera crew.
“How are my two superstars doing?” the judge asked, speaking a little too loudly for the room, probably, Caleb thought, for the benefit of the microphones. He watched as Jordyn flashed the judge a huge Hollywood smile.
“We’re getting on like old friends,” she said. “So much so that I just can’t imagine what I’ll do next week when we’re forced to part.”
She looked to Caleb to confirm this, but he only laughed and picked up his guitar, then went back to rehearsing the song.
Sean had a cut lip and one swollen eye when he came in at midnight. He closed the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. Then he opened it again and peeked out into the hall and looked left and then right, as if perhaps he were checking to see if he had been pursued. When he closed the door again, he latched the privacy lock and flopped onto his bed, where he lay looking at his knuckles and appearing somewhat perplexed.
“Well, fuck all,” he finally said. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“What the hell happened?” Caleb asked.
“Shit, man. I was in the lobby bar trying to pick up this chick. She’s in town with some girlfriends going to Disneyland. Who the fuck goes to Disneyland if they’re old enough to drink? Anyway, some douche got all butt-hurt over my talking to her, and he came over to give me the what-for.”
“So you got in a fig
ht over a girl you don’t even know?”
“No, dude. Screw the girl.”
“Sounds like that’s what you were trying for,” Caleb said.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “I was. I was trying hard too. But that wasn’t it. There’s way too many mice in the barn to fight some crazy cat over just one.”
“I’ve heard of fish in the sea,” Caleb interjected, “but mice in the barn?”
“It’s something my old man says. It’s an Iowa thing, dude. Anyway it wasn’t about her. When Mr. Sunglasses strolled over and cut in, I was happy to tap out. I was gone. But then he had to jump in on me with a comment about the way I looked.”
“Oh, no. What’d he say?”
“He called me Billie Joe Armstrong.”
“The lead singer of Green Day? What’s wrong with that?”
“That’s what I said, man. I actually thanked him.”
“So, what was the problem?”
“After I told him it was a compliment, the idiot goes on to say Billie Joe Armstrong can’t sing for shit.”
“So what?”
“So I hit him.”
“Let me get this straight,” Caleb said. “You won’t fight over a girl, or even over the way you look being insulted, but you’ll up and throw down on a guy for insulting Green Day.”
“Dude, I grew up on Green Day. Some shit’s just sacred.”
Caleb laughed so hard he nearly fell off his bed. “Sorry,” he said, regaining his composure. “But seriously, dude, I’m really going to miss the hell out of you if one of us goes home this week.”
Sean got up and looked at himself in the wall mirror. “I’m sure as shit going home now,” he said. “Look at me.”
“Oh, that’s nothing, pal,” Caleb said, trying hard to sound reassuring. “The makeup gal’ll fix you right up.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. And even if it shows a little, just sing one of your edgier songs. You’ll totally look the part. Everyone loves the badass rocker.”
Sean looked at Caleb’s reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, man. How was your duet rehearsal with Jordyn? She ask about me yet?”
“Yeah, she asked me if you were single.”
Sean whipped around to look at Caleb straight on with his one good eye open wide. “She did?”
“No, dude. I’m just screwing with you. She did give me a lecture on the nature of the music business. Truth is, there’s no way I’m going to beat her. She’s too commercial and I’m too alternative. Plus, I don’t think our judge ever liked me.”
“She passed you through this far.”
“Only because it makes good TV. I swear, this show’s as scripted as a movie. The whole thing’s a racket.”
“Yeah, well, what isn’t?”
“That’s what Jordyn said.”
“See, we were meant to be together, her and I were.” Then he sat on the bed and stripped off his shoes, saying, “I don’t think I’m going through either. Makeup or no makeup.”
“Why not?”
“We rehearsed our duet this afternoon.”
“You and Panda.”
He nodded. “That chick scares me.”
“She’s all of sixteen, dude.”
“I know it. But that voice. Damn. It’s like she opens her mouth and it comes from everywhere all at once. Like a ghost or something. Like the sky opened onto heaven and angels are singing. That girl makes me want to give up music altogether and work for my dad on the farm.”
He tossed his shoes in the corner and rose from the bed. “I’m gonna take a shower. You want me to knock before I come out of the bathroom?”
“Why would I want you to knock?” Caleb asked.
“I dunno,” he said, grinning with his split lip. “Maybe you wanna call your girl or something.”
Caleb threw a pillow at him. “Get out of here.”
Caleb was sitting in the makeup chair getting his face powdered when his judge walked by on her way to the set from her dressing room. She stopped to look him over. The makeup artists stepped back with an air of deference, letting the judge have an uninterrupted view.
“I thought your duet with Jordyn this morning was great, Caleb,” she said. “But are you ready to wow me out there with your final solo act? Only one artist can go through, you know.”
Caleb looked up at her from the makeup chair. “Would it make a difference if I do wow you?”
“Now, what is that supposed to mean?”
“I dunno. I just figured you must already know which one of us you’re sending through.”
“Well, that would spoil all the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe for the TV viewers, I guess, which is all anyone here seems to care about.”
She crossed her arms and cocked her head to look at him, then let out a short laugh.
“You’re a strange boy, Caleb Cummings.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Maybe a little of both,” she said.
“Can I ask you something, Cynthia?”
“Fire away.”
“Why did you give me a thumbs-down in Austin? And why did I end up on your team here?”
“That’s two somethings,” she said, “but I’ll answer both. You ended up on my team because we picked names blindly out of a hat. I was as surprised as I’m sure you were.”
“Well, that’s encouraging,” he muttered.
“I gave you a thumbs-down at your audition,” she went on, “because although I thought you were good, I didn’t think you were ready.”
“But you gave Panda a thumbs-up just before me. And she’s only sixteen.”
“Yes, well, some people are born ready.”
“Do you think I’m ready now?”
She smiled and cocked one plucked and painted eyebrow. “I told you,” she said, “I’m waiting to be wowed by your final performance to decide. Hopefully your roommate hasn’t rubbed off on you too much.”
“Rubbed off on me how?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that he wears more eyeliner than the sixteen-year-old girl he’s competing against? This is the music business, Caleb, and I’ve been in it a long time. America loves clean-cut and attractive people who are good at what they do. That’s why Starbucks is so successful.”
“But I’m not selling coffee in a cardboard cup.”
“You see,” she said, shrugging her thin shoulders, “that’s why I gave Jordyn a thumbs-up. She’s ready. The only question now is which of you I think America would love more.”
As she finished talking she smiled and tossed her hands up, as if to say the outcome was anyone’s guess, even though Caleb suspected that that was far from true. Then she turned on her heel and marched off toward the stage.
When she was out of sight, the makeup artist reappeared from the sideline, where she had been organizing her supplies while obviously eavesdropping the entire time.
“Wow,” she said. “You’re braver than I am. She mistook me for a set hand the other day and asked me to get her iced tea. I got it instead of correcting her.”
Caleb laughed, closing his eyes for the powder. “It’s just a show and she’s just one of the judges.”
“For you, maybe,” the girl said. “But for me it’s just a job, and she’s just one of the bosses. Now, let’s get this hair fixed up for you and then I think you’ll be set.”
The artists stood lined up on the stage, every one of them nervous as hell, while the judges laughed and talked among themselves. The judges would occasionally point down from their box and comment to one another on the contestants, as if this were just some other day, which Caleb guessed for them it was. For him it was anything but. If he made it through this round, there would be only four artists and four weeks between him and half a million dollars. Enough after taxes for a down pay
ment on a house and one hell of a wedding.
Don’t think about it, he told himself. You’ll only get disappointed. Just think about getting home and seeing Jane. Think about that.
The producer eventually called for quiet on the set. Then the director called for action. And just like that, it was really happening. The host was onstage in his shiny suit and coiffed hair, gleefully reading from the teleprompter the rules that would determine the contestants’ fates.
Caleb watched as the spotlight hit the first pair of artists. They were both girls with incredible voices, although Caleb figured Jasmine would be the one going through today. And he was right. The judge hemmed and hawed and eventually chose, and Jasmine jumped and jiggled and hugged the host so hard he dropped the microphone.
When Jasmine was seated in the chair and the losing contestant had gone, the spotlight moved. A guy and a girl this time—both young country artists. Caleb guessed the guy. He was wrong. The judge called Carrie Ann, and she curtsied and skipped over to join Jasmine. The losing kid went into a short speech to thank the judge and the show, but the host eventually cut him off and ushered him off the stage.
Next up were two folksy girls who could have been sisters. Caleb couldn’t pick between the two, and it appeared the judge couldn’t either. The host pressured the judge for a decision, a well-rehearsed and ramped-up sense of urgency played out for the camera, and finally the one named Erica went through.
Then the spotlight moved to Sean and Panda. Sean looked at Caleb and smiled nervously, in spite of his swollen lip. Then he dropped his head as if he knew. Panda was standing beside him in her sparkly red shoes, and she reached up a hand and patted him on the back as if she knew too. It was a strange, almost maternal gesture from someone so young. The host asked for a decision, and the judge spent so long complimenting Sean on his performances and on his growth as an artist that before the winner’s name was even spoken, everyone on the set and in the audience knew he was going home.
Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2) Page 15