I went to the production room and got my radio, and then I started the coffee and went about switching on all the lights and checking that the judge’s chairs were clean and their desks had any announcements that Clint or Jake wanted them to have for that day. Once the judges arrived, around eight, or nine, I’d start the job of wrangling the talent. I had to make sure they were all in their places when they needed to be. If you think that is a small task, you would be dead wrong. These artist types were flighty, and sometimes the emcee would be calling out for some guy named Herbert and a cheerleader from Des Moines would be next. They’d given me a headache the day before, I didn’t expect this day to be any different.
I went over to the door and looked out at the line that stretched across two parking lots and wound down the street. Keith was out there working the line, trying to get them all herded into the seating area. I felt lucky that I at least got to work inside; it was going to be a scorcher, probably close to ninety degrees.
“Elly!” I heard the accented voice and had to remind myself to breathe as I turned around. It was Jake.
“Mr. Gilley, hello.”
He smiled warmly and said, “Please, call me Jake. Good turnout today?”
“Yes, a great one,” I told him. “It’s L.A. and that means a lot of talent.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said glancing out the small window over my shoulder. “Elly, I’d really love to talk to you sometime when we’re not both so rushed. Clint has told me how much promise he’s seen in you and I’d like to get a feel for where your career is headed.”
My mouth went completely dry. Jake Gilley wanted to talk to me about my career? I was literally speechless. I nodded like an idiot and Jake chuckled.
“Good then, you have my card. Give me a call this weekend and maybe we can have coffee or lunch and talk.”
“Sure, thank you so much,” I told him. He took my hand again. He held it a little too long and looked into my eyes with his dark brown ones. I swore he was sucking information out of my head every time he did that.
“You’re very welcome, Elly,” he said. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
I watched him walk away, almost not hearing the announcement on my radio that the judges were in place and ready for the first contestant. Jake Gilley wanted to talk to me about my career.
“Elly, are you ready?” Keith had stuck his head in the door and brought me out of my reverie.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Send me the first three, okay?”
Within a few minutes, Molly was walking in with two girls and a guy following her. All three looked really young, and so nervous that I was afraid they were going to puke. Molly gave me the sheet with their information on it and I attached it to my clipboard. Then, I did my best to put them at ease.
“Hi, I’m Elly,” I said, then looking down at the clipboard to make sure I remembered their names I asked, “And you are, Gary, Hannah, and Violet?”
They nodded and the girl named Hannah said, “I feel kind of sick.”
“Here, sit down,” I told her, moving a chair over close to her. “Lean forward and put your head down on your knees. I’ll get you some water. You’re third, by the time Gary and Violet finish, I’m sure you’ll be good to go.”
I got her the water and I explained to all three of them how this was going to work. They would go in and sing one song. The judges would stop them whenever they wanted, and they’d tell them either “Yay or Nay” right then and there. Then they would go out the other side where the show’s Emcee was waiting to interview them. When I said that, Violet gagged a little. I found a small trash can and sat it next to her as I ushered Greg through the curtain that separated us from the judges. I radioed Kevin and told him to send me another.
I had my back to the door and I heard Molly come in; she was speaking to someone quietly. I heard her telling them where to have a seat and that I’d be with them soon. I felt an arm brush against mine and I looked up to see an array of tattoos. I followed those up and I was suddenly looking into Tristan Roger’s face. He looked a lot cleaner and better groomed than he had the night at the bar. He grinned at me and in spite of myself I felt my stomach flip. He went and took the seat Molly had directed him to. Wow, was his career really this bad?
“Are you okay, Elly?” Molly asked me. I realized I was still gaping at him.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, Molly. I’m fine. Thanks.” She raised an eyebrow as if she doubted it, but she was too busy to ponder it further. I took a deep breath in and walked over to give Tristan my spiel. To his credit, he didn’t let on that he knew me. To my chagrin, I realized that could be because he really didn’t remember me at all.
Chapter Six
Tristan
On Monday, I had a hellacious hangover. I’d stayed out at the club until two that morning and then I had a couple of girls I’d met there at the apartment, until I finally remembered how early I had to be at this fucking audition. It was after four before I finally kicked them out. I slept for about an hour, which I think did me more harm than good. Then I dragged my tired ass out of bed and into the shower. While I was shaving, I looked at my hair and realized that I really should have gotten a haircut. I forgot sometimes that I looked like shit. It never really seemed to matter anymore.
When I finished shaving, I spiked my hair up with some gel and looked at it. It still looked like shit, but it was better. I opened the new package of t-shirts I’d bought and pulled one on. It was a little wrinkled, but there was no fucking way I was pulling out an iron. I had to dig to the back of my closet to find a pair of jeans that looked halfway decent, and, after I pulled them on, I put on my boots and looked at the final product in the full-length mirror. It would have to do because it was already after six and I was afraid that I was going to end up at the back of the line. That was exactly what happened, and, by five that evening, I still hadn’t even made it close to the doors. I stayed as the line thinned out some, the people not hardcore enough to brave the streets of Burbank overnight. My fucking head was throbbing and I could have really used a joint. But I dipped down deep and found a shred of the determination that I used to have, back when I was a kid, and I stayed.
By about three in the morning, most of the contestants that had stayed were asleep. I spotted a girl, just barely over legal sitting about three people away from the door. She looked lonely, so being the good guy I am, I went forward to keep her company. I ended up spending the rest of the night in her sleeping bag. We fooled around inside the bag, and, when the sun came up on Tuesday morning, I was suddenly contestant number four, right behind my new girlfriend…Veronica? Valerie? Fuck, something that started with a V.
Around eight a.m., I was finally shuffled into a room with about fifty other losers and then, sometime around nine, taken backstage by a chick with a lisp but a nice rack. Imagine my surprise when I got back there and saw that Sweet Lips from Huggys was on the production crew. Sweet Lips was the perfect nickname for her. God, were they magnificent.
From the way she looked at me, I could tell that she recognized me. I had to give her props for staying professional and not letting on. Now I had three reasons not to blow this: a million bucks, a record contract, and Elly. Shit! I even remembered her name.
I walked through the curtain when they called my name. It had been a long time since I had to audition for anything. I wouldn’t have admitted this to anyone, but I was nervous as fuck. My hands were shaking so bad that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to play my guitar. In all honesty, it was probably more that I needed a drink or a smoke than nerves. Whatever it was, I stood under the spotlights, staring at these three famous people feeling like I wanted to throw up.
“Tristan Rogers, wow!” Diva in the center yelled as soon as she looked at the paper in front of her. Of course, she didn’t recognize my face.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.
“Where have you been?” the soft-spoken country singer on her right asked.
>
Fuck! How do I field that one?
“After the band broke up, I did some traveling, and since then, I’ve just been spending time with my family…playing a few gigs here and there…”
Family? Yeah right, but it sounded better than the truth.
“Wow,” Diva with the big, fake tits said again.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” the guy who got famous off his mother’s name to her left said.
I sat down on the stool in the center of the small, makeshift stage, took a deep breath and tried to go to another place in my head, a place where I was a superstar and not a loser. When I opened my mouth actual music came out. I was impressed with myself.
They stopped me about half-way through. Diva had tears in her eyes. “That was…wow!” she exclaimed.
Shocking.
“Fabulous,” Country Boy said.
“Amazing,” was Mama’s Boy’s comment.
I walked out with a golden ticket. I had to field the same, “Where have you been?” comments from the Emcee, and then I actually got asked to sign two autographs on my way out. I made my way back to the other room, the first one I’d waited in, and found the girl with the lisp.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Can I go to the back again, real quick? I forget something in there, I think.”
She sighed like it was taking everything in her not to say no and then she said, “Okay, but quickly, I’m busy.”
“I can find my way,” I told her. She started to protest, but the guy at the door called her name. I went through the other door, walked up to Elly, and took her pen from her hand. I wrote down my number on her clipboard, smiled and left without saying a word. I was going to treat myself to a drink…and a smoke…and maybe a line or two.
Chapter Seven
Elly
“Pass me the dip,” I told my roommate, Susie.
We were supposed to be studying for the final we had coming up. Our summer classes were coming to an end, and I was actually looking forward to having a couple of weeks off before the fall semester began. Susie handed me the dip, I grabbed a handful of chips and put them on my plate, and Susie said, “So, are you going to call him?”
“Who?” I said, facetiously. I knew exactly whom she was talking about.
She rolled her eyes and said, “You know who, don’t act dumb. Are you going to call him?” I had broken down and told Susie everything. I told her about my crush and about going to the seedy bar and, Lord help me, I told her about the sex in the bathroom. God bless her, she didn’t seem to judge me at all. She actually told me that when she was a kid, she had the hots for the lead singer of Blink 182 and, given half the chance, she’d do him in the bathroom too.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?”
“It’s not up to me,” she said. “But just for argument’s sake…why not?”
“Because, he’s not exactly the guy I had the hots for all of those years ago. He’s hardcore now, Susie. He drinks like a fish, and I suspect he does a lot of drugs too.”
“Do you want to marry him?”
“What?”
“Marry him! If not, then why not just screw around with him some more?”
I had my reasons for worrying about the outcome of getting into any kind of relationship with an addict, but I didn’t feel like expounding on them at the moment. Instead I said, “For one thing, he’s a finalist on the show now, and it’s against the rules. I could lose my internship.”
“If they find out, but if you’re just having fun with the guy, you can do it at our place or his. No one else needs to know.”
“Yeah, but I’ve heard that the press goes out of their way to try and find these things out. Especially because of the big scandal last year. I don’t think I should risk it.”
Susie was looking at me with that look that said I didn’t take enough risks, as she said, “You’re not going to be young forever, Elly. One of these days, you’re going to wake up and be fifty years old and you’re going to wish that you had taken a risk or two when you were young. It might be too late then.”
She was probably right, but what I might also regret at fifty was losing the job opportunity of a lifetime for a night of hot sex with a virtual stranger. As good as that was, I doubt it was worth all that.
“I’ll think about it,” I told her.
She rolled her eyes and said, “Gimme some of those chips.”
Chapter Eight
Tristan
We finished our set at the most recent dive bar Mitch had booked for us. He was on cloud nine when he heard I had made it through to the finals of Fresh Voices; little did he know that the first thing I was going to do when I won all that money was fire his ass.
“Hey, you going out tonight?” Les, our bassist asked me as we packed up the equipment.
“I was thinking about heading over to the Gold Mine for a while,” I told him. Besides the fact that it was the only strip joint in the city with women who looked like they were under the age of forty, I had a guy who lived close to there that sold me the best coke I’d ever tasted. I planned on hitting him up on my way to the club.
Les was curling his lip. “I think I’ll hit the Mayan tonight. I feel like dancing, and maybe taking home a real girl.”
“Alright dude, keep it covered, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Les took off, and Billy drove Brad home to the old lady. I got on my old, ’95 Harley that I’d bought cheap off some tweaker a few years ago and headed out to Santa Monica Blvd. I turned off two blocks before I got to the club and pulled up in front of Marco’s apartment building. I’d already told him I was coming, so he met me out front. It was a quick sale, and as he headed back inside, my phone rang.
“Yeah,” I answered it.
“Hi,” a sweet little female voice said. I had no idea who it was, but maybe it was someone who was looking for a party.
“Hey there,” I said.
She laughed. “You have no idea who this is, do you?”
“No fucking clue,” I said.
She laughed again and said, “It’s Elly.”
“Oh, hey…I was just about to guess that.”
“You’re full of shit,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s true. How are you?”
“I’m good. I thought you might want to hang out sometime.”
I looked at the vial in my hand. I wanted to see her, but tonight I also wanted to get fucked up. I didn’t know for sure, but I had the feeling that wasn’t something Elly would be up for so I said, “Yeah, sounds great. I can’t tonight though; I’m…practicing with the guys. How about you come by my place Sunday night? We’re playing again tomorrow night, but Sunday I’m all free.”
“I can do Sunday,” she said. “Where do you live?”
I gave her the address. When I hung up, I had a twinge of regret that I had to wait two days to see her. I did one spoon of the coke…damn! That was some good shit! I put the pretty, professional girl in the back of my mind and headed on to the Gold Mine.
I parked the bike right up front; it was one of the privileges of riding a bike over a car. I found a table once I got inside. I didn’t like the counters. That was where all the old fat guys in their business suits liked to sit. I wanted to be in the back where I could enjoy my treats and have the opportunity for the kind of lap dance that you aren't going to get sitting at the bar.
I ordered a pitcher of beer from the hot, little waitress. She had reddish brown hair, and when she smiled, she had a deep dimple on each side of her face. She had nice round tits that pressed up hard against the red halter-top she was wearing, and her long, black stockings started just underneath her tight black leather shorts and ended underneath a pair of black come fuck me heels.
“Hey, sweets, what can I get you?” she asked.
Her name tag said, “Jessica,” so I said, “Well, Jessica…I‘d love a pitcher of dark beer, whatever you have on tap, and maybe a handful of that fine ass.”
“The beer will be ten bucks and throw in another ten and
you can grab a handful. Just make sure you do it quick and don’t touch anything above the level of the tables or the bouncers will bounce you right out of here on your own pretty, little ass.” I threw a twenty up on her tray and copped a nice feel. My cock was at half-mast and I was sure it wouldn’t be long before I’d need some relief.
The place was pretty slow for a Friday night. I could see a few of the strippers mingling with the mostly middle-aged crowd, and a couple of waitresses lounging around the bar, chatting it up with the dirty, old salesman crowd. There were a lot of those in this place. This was one of the nicer clubs in the city. It was actually capable of holding five-hundred people, although I’d be willing to bet there weren’t even a hundred there that night. It was more expensive for the cover charge than the others were, and the member’s only area scared off a lot of guys who were just in a club like this looking for anonymous pussy. They didn’t really want to have to break a twenty for it, if you know what I mean. I went there instead of going to the cheaper joints because it reminded me of places I used to go back before I was crowned the king of the sleaze bars.
It was decorated nicely, with plush red carpet that didn’t look like people had been crushing cigarettes out on it, and comfortable, plush, deep red chairs and mahogany tables. The walls were black and the lighting was dark like a movie theatre, making the stage the definitive focal point. The stage was well lit and, as the dancers entered under the lights, they tapped their sexy heels down a long flight of black and white marble stairs and then down onto the spacious stage. The girls would perform for three songs each; with each song they’d become progressively more seductive—and progressively more naked.
Dirty Stepbrother Page 26