Last weekend, I was singing at our regular gig at a bar called The Zone in Hoboken. I sing with four guys I’ve known for most of my life. During our break, a petite girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes strolled over to me and held her hand out.
“Hi, I’m Patti.” The way she measured me up immediately put me on the defensive. I was a pro at declining propositions from men, but getting hit on by a woman would be a first for me.
Cautiously I introduced myself, while I shook her hand. “Leila.”
She smirked and answered, “Of course you are…that’s just perfect.”
Thinking…what the hell does that mean? I smiled politely and slowly extracted my hand from her grip. The wacko alarm was ringing loud and clear in my head.
“Excuse me…I have to use the lady’s room.”
She grabbed my wrist and said, “I’m dating Scott Malone. He’s the guitar player in the band Devil’s Lair. Do you know them?”
The mention of Devil’s Lair snapped my focus from her hand up to her pretty face and captured my attention.
“Yes, I saw them perform in the city last year. They are fantastic.” I chose not to divulge how obsessed I actually was with this band, especially with the lead singer.
“Well, they’re looking for a female back-up singer. I’m here with friends tonight, and I saw your show. I think you’d be perfect. In fact, they are holding auditions next week. Would you be interested?”
OH MY GOD!
I was trying very hard not to bend over and start hyperventilating in front of this total stranger. I secretly said a silent prayer thanking the bar gods for sending Patti to The Zone this night. Maybe a guardian angel was responsible…or perhaps it was fate? Either way, a higher power was involved.
Patti gave me her phone number and asked for me to call her on Monday. So, here I am three days later and about to audition as back-up singer for Devil’s Lair.
Hopefully it will open some doors for me and give me the kick in the ass I need to make my dreams come true.
My dad wishes that my dreams weren’t so ambitious. He feels that as long as I’m choosing singing as my profession, my voice is perfect for Broadway and is constantly trying to push me in that direction. Dad tries hard to be supportive. Being his only daughter, he is naturally over protective. Inexcusably, he still uses every opportunity he has to sway me. To quote him verbatim, “Living a quiet life in New Jersey while commuting to Manhattan to star in a successful Broadway show would be a very honorable way to make a living, Leila.”
Ugh!
A tiny, tiny part of me can’t blame him for trying. Having done the school glee club thing, the church choir thing, and having really good range, my voice can easily acclimate to any musical genre…whether it’s rock and roll or Broadway.
Dad finally conceded that he lost the battle. All things considered, he is taking it fairly well. Other than my decision to skip college and my career choice, I’ve rarely disappointed him. Dad wanted me to go to college to get a degree and have a back-up plan. I simply couldn’t justify having him spend all his money on exorbitant college bills. I wouldn’t have learned anything that I didn’t already know. I know I can sing, and I don’t want or need a back-up plan. Cocky as that may sound, I’m good at what I do. Whether it’s as a famous rock singer or its continuing on the path I’m on now as a back-up singer in a bar band, it’s what I want to do.
P.S. – for the record, the famous rock singer would be my preferred choice.
Unsurprisingly, Dad wasn’t very happy hearing about Patti’s fateful visit to The Zone. I dropped it on him during our weekly Sunday brunch. I know he loves me, and that he’s happy for me, but his eyes couldn’t conceal his trepidation. I’m a master at interpreting my dad’s looks. After spending way too much time explaining whom Devil’s Lair was, I decided to show him a video clip that I took of them a few years earlier, and a few songs I have on my iTunes account. He reluctantly admitted that they had talent.
Coincidentally, my friend Evan and I saw Devil’s Lair perform in a dive bar in lower Manhattan. We were as far back from the stage as you could get and it was dark. Even from a distance, the lead singer Jack Lair looked edible. Looks aside, his voice had me swooning. His voice oozed sensuality. At the time, if you would have told me that I’d one day be auditioning for them, I would have said, “Shut the eff up.”
I’ve seen a lot of bands perform, but none have impressed me as Devil’s Lair had that night. I became a touch obsessed at the time. It wasn’t the kind of obsession that had me searching where he lived or stalking him. It was the kind where all I wanted was to listen to his voice while imagining all sorts of other stuff. What can I say? My sex life has been somewhat stagnant.
Jack finally strolls into the lobby and walks over to where I’m sitting.
Holy hell…he is gorgeous!
I am really nervous, and my nerves are already wreaking havoc on my insides. Unfortunately, as I stand here and stare at this breathtaking specimen, I can now also throw my raging libido into the fray. The combination has my stomach roiling and my lady parts throbbing…definitely not a good mix.
Seeing him on stage was nothing compared to seeing his beauty just a few feet away. In the flesh, he is simply stunning.
“Are you Leila?”
“Um, yes… I’m Leila.” My response sounds completely winded.
Sweet Jesus… he is so pretty.
I’ve never been hypnotized before, but I’m guessing this is as close as it gets. I literally fall into a trance, staring at Jack. He pins me with his penetrating gaze. A few seconds later (or maybe even minutes?), my stupefied state causes him to call my name for the second time.
“Sorry…yes, I’m Leila. Um…my dad loves Eric Clapton, but mine is spelled differently, my mom didn’t like Clapton’s spelling…” I pause uncomfortably. “Um…sorry. Yes, I am here for the audition.”
Oh crap! Shut up Leila! A stinging blush rises from my toes and creeps up my entire body.
Smirking he says, “So do I.”
“Excuse me?”
“Love Clapton.”
“Um…oh.”
Um…oh? Really?
I sound like a complete moron.
He’s got me all flustered. Using the word handsome to describe Jack Lair seems inadequate. Dark brown hair that is shorter on the sides, and is floppy, sexy, and screams touch me on top. I have to hold my hands behind my back to avoid the impulse of doing just that. His eyes are just WOW. They are a smoky grey and completely mesmerizing. The light stubble on his face subtly defines the cleft in his chin, which is square and masculine. He’s absolutely gorgeous.
I continue to devour him with my eyes and commence a mini sex dream that plays in Technicolor glory in my mind.
His body is long and muscular. I’m guessing he’s six-two or three? His long legs seem to go on forever in his dark denim jeans. Levi’s…God, I love Levi’s on a man.
Bulging biceps are straining the sleeves of his t-shirt, which is charcoal grey and a shade darker than his eyes. It also happens to be tight enough to show a spectacular upper torso. There is a tattoo that is barely visible under his left sleeve and I’m dying of curiosity to know what it is.
Jack smiles kindly and asks, “You ready to get started?” Not trusting my voice to respond in a calm and normal manner, I simply nod.
Somehow remembering how to walk, I follow Jack out of the lobby and down a long hallway with posters of famous bands covering the walls. The band I am auditioning for today is on the precipice of fame. They just signed on for a three album record contract. They have a tour starting this fall in North America only. The shows are at small to medium sized venues. With Jack as their lead singer and the way they sound, they are going to be huge. It’s definitely a great time for me to get on their bandwagon, so to speak? That’s if I get this job. Which I now sincerely doubt since I just basically eye-fucked the lead singer in the lobby.
At the end of the hall is a small recording studio whe
re three guys are patiently waiting for our arrival. Behind the drum set is a really cute guy with spiky light brown hair. His one ear is heavily pierced. He has a lip piercing and he has a really nice smile, too. I think his name is Hunter.
To the front, left side of Hunter is a tall, very rocker looking dude. He has lots of tattoos and is dressed entirely in black, even sporting black sunglasses, black hair pulled back into a short ponytail, and a black bass guitar. I don’t remember his name, and maybe that’s because when I saw them perform, he scared the hell out of me? I doubt this is Patti’s boyfriend. They are the yin and yang to each other in looks.
To the right is a guy of average height who looks more suited to be Patti’s boyfriend. Clean cut, strawberry blond hair, nice smile, and he is holding a guitar. It’s probably Scott. It’s funny though, he does not look the rocker type at all.
Jack strolls right over to a microphone that is facing a plate glass window that separates us from the control booth. A few guys are sitting at a huge panel with all sorts of buttons and lights. Unfortunately they all look bored and it makes me nervous. I have no idea what number I am in the revolving door of auditions and I hope they haven’t been doing this for days.
Standing behind them is a stunning blonde who is assessing me coolly with piercing blue eyes. She looks like a runway model in a black fitted suit without a blouse underneath. The way her arms are folded effectively displays her impressive cleavage.
Noticing another microphone positioned next to Jack, I can only assume it’s meant for me. Panic stricken, I stand frozen. My feet won’t cooperate and they feel like they’re cemented to the floor.
“Leila, do you think you can actually stand in front of the mic so we can hear your audition?” Someone provokes Jack to laugh by chuckling, which then causes my face to turn tomato red.
Turning back to me he says, “None of our songs have back-up vocals, so we’ll try something else. Do you know Come Undone, by My Darkest Days?”
Thankfully, I know this one. “Yes, I know it.”
Jack signals Hunter, who hits his sticks together twice. This prompts Scott to start playing his guitar. The song begins with a short guitar intro, and then Hunter and the bass guitarist join in when Jack begins to sing. Goosebumps appear all over my body from hearing these fantastic musicians playing a few feet away. I’m captivated as I watch Jack’s reflection in the glass. He has both hands on the mic, and his eyes are closed. He looks like he is making love to the music.
During the chorus, the female vocalist sings a solo and I smoothly pick up at my mark. Jack intently watches me in the reflection of the glass as I’m singing. It’s a bit unnerving, and I keep looking away…but he never does. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.
The song ends with Jack and I singing vocals together as the music fades. Turning toward me, a grin slowly spreads across his face revealing his…DIMPLES?
Of course he has dimples! Are you freaking kidding me?
My crotch clenches instantly!
How can a smile make my crotch clench?
Moreover, how have I not noticed his dimples before?
There is no way I wouldn’t remember them because dimples are a complete turn on for me.
“That was good Leila, really good.” He continues to stare into my eyes while smiling. Everything north of my belly buttons goes numb and everything south bursts into flames.
I vaguely remember Jack complimenting me, and I manage to mumble a pathetic “Thank you.” Every eye is focused on me and I feel like I am standing here with nothing but a red nose and clown shoes on.
“So, Leila, can you sing something else? Something that can show us your range?”
Oh crap.
Crap…Crap…Crap!
As I look around the room, the guys are blatantly checking me out from head to toe. Deciding to change my strategy, I try to envision them all naked instead and this seems to work.
“Of course, what would you like me to sing?” I’m clearly stalling for time.
“What do you know?”
Ok, that is easy…I have a song I can belt out with no problem. “Do you guys know Dream On by Aerosmith?”
Jack smirks, “Dream On? You can sing that song?” It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me.
“Yes…is that ok? It’s one of my favorite songs.” His doubt in me hits a nerve. I’m about to wipe the smirk off his face.
“Um, yeah, absolutely.” Jack shakes his head and adds, “Ok, let’s do it.” He grabs the mic stand with one hand, and glances back at Hunter to give him a signal. Hunter nods and hits his drum sticks together twice, leading the band right into the song. These guys are very much in tune to each other. I quickly take a few deep breaths trying to corral my nerves.
Closing my eyes, mainly to avoid eye contact with Mr. Sex God, but mostly to channel my talents, I sing my song choice like my life depends on it. Not far into the song, I morph from the dim-witted dork to the rock singer I am meant to be. This is my opportunity to nail it.
Feeling confident enough to open my eyes, I quickly scan the room for signs of disapproval. What I see instead is complete awe. I think I AM nailing it. I can tell by the faces in the control booth, (except for the hot blonde). I can tell by watching Jack’s reflection in the glass. I can tell by the goosebumps that run all over my body. I feel that I am making quite an impression. I hold nothing back and let it all out.
Toward the end of the song Jack surprises me by joining in. His reflection once again watches me while showing his CCDS smile. From here on in that’s how I will refer to the Crotch Clench, Dimple Showing smile. I really wish he would look away because internally I am freaking out.
After what feels like hours later, Jack breaks our eye contact and turns to face his band still grinning like a fool.
“Dude that was so fucking outrageous! I’m hard from that song.” Words of wisdom from Hunter. The guys start laughing and my jaw drops.
Jack turns back to look at me and laughs when he sees the expression on my face. “That was most definitely a compliment Leila. Hunter’s right. It was very impressive. Actually, I’m blown away.” He turns toward his band. “Have you guys heard enough?”
They all agree and Jacks asks me to leave my contact info with Sally at the reception desk. “We will be in touch.” Smiling, he puts his hand out toward me. A tiny seed of optimism begins to cultivate as I shake Jack’s hand.
His touch sends a jolt right through every internal organ I have. His hand is warm and his grip is firm as his long fingers wrap around my entire hand. Shit…I never want him to let go.
One handshake has me yearning for more of his touch. How can a complete stranger have such an effect on me? The pull I feel toward this man doesn’t make sense. This is the most bizarre thing I have ever experienced in my life.
“Thanks for the opportunity.” I murmur quietly as Jack releases my hand. My body feels like it’s been doused with lighter fluid, and someone struck a match. Just as I turn to leave the room, my heel catches on an electrical wire and I stumble backwards.
He immediately reaches out and pulls me flush to his body with his strong grip, his eyes showing unmasked concern.
“Careful, are you ok?”
I can’t speak and instead barely nod while gnawing on my bottom lip. Our faces are inches apart and I have an overwhelming impulse to close the distance between our lips. The buzzing sensations that are coursing through my lower region continue and shoot straight up, accelerating my already pounding heart. My breath expels loudly in short pants.
I step back, but he is still gripping my arms. He leans in and whispers “Don’t sweat it. You did really great today.”
Managing a very weak smile, I pull away from his hold and thank him again before bolting out the door. I sprint down the hall and break right in front of Sally, the scary girl at the reception desk. She has midnight black hair with a single purple streak, a nose-ring and a tattoo on her exposed cleavage. She looks very bored as she reads a magazine an
d barely glances up at me.
“Hi, I’m Leila. I need to leave my contact info with you.” She wordlessly passes me a piece of paper and a pen that I use to scribble my name and cell phone number on. She then takes it from me with a look of complete disgust and resumes reading her magazine.
She is scary as hell.
I mutter a thank you and then sprint out the front door to make my way to my car. Once inside, I slam my head against the steering wheel and set off the horn. The hysterical part is that I am parked directly in front of the studio, and I can see Scary Sally watching me out the front door. Ha…Ha, right?
Could this get any worse?
As I drive my humiliated ass back to Hoboken, I try to analyze what the hell happened in that studio. I’m almost afraid to hope for this job. Let’s fast forward and assume I get hired…then what? Can I survive being in his presence daily, when I couldn’t make it through a twenty-minute audition?
What am I saying? Of course I want this job. Plus, I don’t even know this man. He probably is a complete jackass. As I try to convince myself that Jack is indeed a jackass, a tiny voice in the back of my demented brain says, “You’d better hope so.”
It’s now Friday, day three of waiting for “the phone call.” I’m sitting at my little table poking my phone, actually willing it to ring. We have another show tonight, and I’ve been sitting here for four, five, eight hours? I have no clue. Since Tuesday, I have completely lost track of time. I know I have to go on with my life or I can simply call them. But after my embarrassing behavior, I would rather stick needles in my eyes.
I’m running late again, so for the third night in a row I mechanically go through the motions of getting ready for our show. I feel like a zombie sucked my will to live and has turned me into a zombie. The audition and waiting for them to call me has me completely unhinged. I have never been so consumed by my thoughts as I have these last three days. My anxiety has festered into a constant pounding in my chest. I know I impressed them, but I guess my ridiculous conduct overrode my performance.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7) Page 85