“It was fine, he calmed down.”
Tony leaned over to make me look at his face. I looked up at him and he said,
“Are you sure? He seemed like the type who would leave and come back with an automatic rifle and take us all out.”
I laughed. “I doubt it,” I told him. “He was really fine by the time he left.”
Tony didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. After he walked away, I thought about what he’d said about the automatic rifle. I laughed to myself again. The thing about Tristan was that I got the impression that he genuinely didn’t care enough about anyone or anything to go to that much trouble. That was a sad fact.
Chapter Seven
Tristan
I woke up the next morning determined to write that fucking show off. I wasn’t going to waste any more time or energy worrying about those fucking talentless haters. It was like a glorified game show and I had more talent in my little finger than all of those hacks had put together.
I called my agent as soon as I got up,
“Hey Mitch, what have you got for me that’s good?” I was trying to start the conversation out upbeat. Mitchell and I hadn’t been getting along that great lately. I honestly couldn’t stand him but I couldn’t find another agent willing to take me on either.
“Sorry Tristan, I haven’t even really been looking. You’ve been doing so well on Fresh Voices. I just thought you’d want to concentrate on that.” I really was planning on being nice, but the first sentence out of his mouth had already pissed me off.
“And what if I get eliminated, then what? You know if I don’t make any money you don’t either, right?”
“Yes Tristan, I realize that. I really thought you were focused on the show. If you’re not and you’d rather I book you a bar…”
“What I would like is for some fucking body to do their job for a change. Your job is to book jobs for me not to sit around and hope I win some stupid rigged ass contest and you get your cut of a million bucks.” He started to say something else and I just hung up on him. He’s as useless as the rest of them. I’d be better off representing myself.
I went and got the box under my bed where I kept my Acapulco. I was getting low; I’d have to go see my guy this week. I needed to make some cash first though. I’ll have to call Huggy’s myself and see if they’re looking for a band this week. That’s an easy three hundred plus tips. I took out a little baggie full and took it over to the couch. I had to dig for the glass pipe under a bunch of laundry. I wasn’t lazy, I hated living like this. I just can’t remember if the laundry is clean or dirty most of the time. I don’t want to wash clean clothes and I don’t want to hang up dirty ones…I’d rather waste my energy on something else.
I put the red in the pipe and lit it. I took a long, slow drag and leaned back into the couch. I sat there like that most of the day, still in the same clothes I’d worn the day before, clicking through the channels. Daytime television is crap, soap operas, game shows and talk shows where a bunch of rich nosy women sit around and talk about things like they know two rat’s asses about it. I was going from one station to the next when I saw the advertisement for tonight’s results show. They flashed the contestants across the screen and I saw my face. I changed the channel again. I didn’t want to think about it. I wasn’t going to go. If they were going to run me off the show, I was going to do it with as little humiliation as possible and not in front of twenty million people. I’d already had to talk to a couple of the guys in my band last night.
After the show aired they called to say, “Sorry man, tough break.”
Tough break my ass. I still think the fucking show was rigged. People piss me off too, just assuming I was getting voted off because of three fat-assed judge’s opinions. I probably would have had better luck going on “Dancing with the Stars.” That show was great for “Where are they now?” faces like mine.
I laid my head back and took another hit off the pipe. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind of all the crap that I really didn’t want to deal with. By the time I’d smoked it down to ash; I was feeling a lot better, a lot calmer.
I suddenly felt like I was starving. I looked up at the clock and was surprised to see that it was after three o’clock. I couldn’t really remember the last time I ate and the weed gave me the munchies. I didn’t even look in my refrigerator; I knew that I didn’t have a damned thing to eat in the apartment, so I finally forced myself to get in the shower and change. Maybe subliminally I knew that I’d end up going tonight because for some reason I put on a nice shirt and my new jeans. I ran some gel through my hair and slipped the cross over my head and watched in the mirror as it landed around my neck. I touched it when it hit my chest and for a fraction of a second my drug-addled brain let me wonder…what if things had been different and the band had never broken up? What if I’d kept singing without them….what if I’d had parents who hadn’t pissed it all away? The thoughts were gone as quickly as they had appeared, tamped down into the furthest recesses of my memory. I grabbed my wallet and my keys and walked down the street to the little café on the corner.
I sat there and ate a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips trying to decide if I was going to hit the show tonight or not. I was definitely feeling a lot better about it now. I was so calm that even if they told me they’d rigged it I probably wouldn’t have gotten pissed off. I guess I can probably thank the weed for that. I finally decided that since I didn’t care either way, I may as well go and see what happened.
I caught a cab to the studio and as soon as the guy who ushered the contestants in saw me he rushed me through. I guess I was late. We passed Elly and I tried to smile at her, but she gave me the cold shoulder. I guess I was kind of a dick to her the day before. You think she’d understand that it wasn’t about her, I was just pissed.
I took my seat on the stage next to the other contestants. I hadn’t found a single one yet that I had anything in common with. I wouldn’t mind doing a couple of the girls that were actually over eighteen if the opportunity arose, but I didn’t have a single desire to be friends with any of them. I avoided their silly, juvenile “get-togethers” and “chats” in the waiting room. I built an invisible wall that most of them were smart enough to recognize and respect. As the overly dramatic emcee called each contestant out and told them they were either safe or in the bottom three they showed a clip of the previous night’s show on the big screen above the stage. I cringed when it came to my turn and I had to listen to the three assholes tell me how bad it was all over again. I would never admit it out loud, but now that I heard it back on tape, it did sound like crap. The two girls who were sitting in the bottom spot deserved to be there too though as far as I was concerned. One of them was a wanna be Rhianna and the other was just…I had no words for her. When they finished humiliating me once more, the emcee had to go on and ask the judges if they stood by their opinions about me from last night. I’d like to take his pretty boy ass out back and show him how I stood by my opinions of him.
The Diva gushed again about how much she liked me and how she knew I was just full of talent. Her goody-two-shoes attitude was nauseating.
Although I hated Country music, country boy at least sounded sincere as he said, “Everybody has a bad night.”
When pretty boy finally got around to announcing it, I was in the bottom three. I was beginning to re-think my decision to come back tonight. If they voted me off and then expected me to sing…Let’s just say that wasn’t going to happen.
For the next twenty minutes we watched a past winner of the show perform. She was kind of a pop singer and she was pretty good. I was sure the fact that she was also really hot had something to do with the reason she’d won. Then we watched clips of “what was to come.” Each time we went to commercial break, the camera panned across the faces of those of us in the bottom three. One of the girls, a teeny bopper of about sixteen who still had her braces on, folded her hands and looked at the camera. Her eyes were begging as if the v
otes weren’t already in and counted. It was kind of pathetic, and even my cold heart was affected by it…just a little.
The other one was surer of herself. She was undoubtedly the most popular girl in her class and Daddy’s little princess. She smiled and waved at the camera. When it was my turn, I just acted like it wasn’t there. During the breaks, the producers tried telling me that if I didn’t present a “more likable” persona that America wasn’t going to vote for me. Fuck America, I wasn’t putting on any shows.
Finally after what seemed like hours, the emcee called the confident girl back to her seat. I guess she knew what she was doing. She didn’t look like a girl who was used to being told no about anything. We went to commercial break…again and after another eternity, the emcee had them “dim the lights” again. Then of course he had to make it all dramatic.
“Last night, the two people here in the bottom two had their worst nights so far. Tristan was told by all three judges that his performance was, “terrible” and they “hated it.” I can’t imagine what was going through his mind when he heard those words.”
Damn straight he can’t imagine it. The little prissy son of a bitch probably didn’t have a shred of talent in his body. People that aren’t artists and have never done anything creative had no idea what it felt like to have something you’d poured your fucking soul into torn into shreds before your eyes. I don’t have a kid…thank God, but that’s what I think it might be like. Not for my parents of course, but for real parents who love their kids…imagine someone telling you your kid is “awful” or “terrible” or “ugly.” That’s what it felt like to have your creation criticized and there was no explaining that to anyone who’d never been in that position.
He’d moved on to the little girl next to me. I know I said she deserved to be here, but while he talked about how bad they hated her performance too, I watched her face. I could actually understand the emotions I saw there. At least I was older and I’d been through this kind of shit before. Here was this sixteen year old kid that was being told something she’d poured out from her soul wasn’t good enough. It would be a miracle if she went on and did anything after this if they kick her off.
The bag of wind finally brought his re-cap of last night to a close. It had all been for purposes of drama and filling a time gap. No one here gave any thought to how their words were affecting the two flesh and blood people who were sitting here on the stage. This kind of thing is why I just don’t give a shit about anyone. Everyone is out for themselves, and every moment of everyday people do things for the sole purpose of making their own lives better.
I was lost in my thoughts when I heard my name. I was a little disoriented, unsure if he had said I was staying or going. I looked at the girl next to me. She’d dissolved into a puddle of tears. I had to assume that meant she was going home. I reached over and pat her shoulder. I genuinely felt bad for her. I knew what she must be feeling right now and it was a whole big mixture of shit. I finally got up and went back to my spot, leaving her there to deal with it on her own. I had made it through this one, barely. While I’d been sitting there waiting I had decided that if I wanted to move on, I’d probably have to do it their way. I at least didn’t have to fake what I was feeling as I watched the little girl sing her last song with tears flowing down her cheeks. I even had to admit that she was a better man than me…figuratively speaking. I honestly think I would have given them the finger and walked off the stage. I guess I still have a few rounds to find out.
Chapter Eight
Elly
It was Saturday and I had the day off, thank God. I was exhausted. It had been a really long week of sixteen hour days. On top of that, I had to study for my exams every chance I got. I’d gone to see Jake again and he wanted to tell me that it was looking good for me getting hired on to travel with the top ten contestants. He wanted to know if I’d considered it at all and I told him I had and that I’d be willing to do the rest of my classes online and take the job.
I’d spent most of my day off running errands. Susie and I didn’t have any food or anything to drink in the apartment so I’d went shopping. I paid bills while I was out too and stopped at Starbucks to meet Molly for coffee. She wanted to talk about Tristan.
“So, any new developments with you and the Wild Child?” That’s what they started calling Tristan after his fit in the waiting room.
“No. I haven’t talked to him, but I’m not going to see him anymore.”
“It was just a little tantrum. I’ve seen worse. He redeemed himself on the results show.”
I laughed, “It’s not because of that, although that was not very becoming at all and only children think they can throw a fit like that and then come back and act like nothing happened. The reason I’m not going to see him again though is that I can’t risk my job. Then there’s the fact that he has a real chance at winning this thing. I like myself, but I don’t think I’m worth giving up a million bucks and a record contract for. Hell, I’d sell myself out for a million dollars and a record contract.”
“You’re worth it if he loves you,” Molly the romantic told me. She wanted so badly to see something there that wasn’t.
“Molly it’s not like that between Tristan and me. It was always just my infatuation with him and then the sex…really good sex.”
She smiled at that and said, “You don’t have any other feelings for him than that, really?”
“No, I don’t, really,” I had told her, confidently. She didn’t look like she believed me, but she didn’t push the issue. The truth was I did have feelings beyond that. I was defensive when it came to him and I felt bad when he was hurting. I was feeling his pain for some reason. I barely knew him though, so it most definitely wasn’t love. To call it like would even be playing it fast and loose with that word. No, for now it was just sex and unless he suddenly became communicative…and nice, that’s all it will ever be.
I’d just gotten home and started cutting up chicken for stir-fry when my phone rang. I looked at it and saw that it was my mom. I’d forgotten it was Saturday and time for her weekly call.
“Hi Mom,” I answered as I turned the heat on underneath the rice.
“Hi Elly. How are you, sweetie?”
“I’m good, Mom. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week with the show and all.” I had the phone tucked under my chin as I finished cutting the chicken into cubes.
“We’ve been watching it. I told your father the first night that the kind of hippy looking boy…Trent or…Tristan, that’s it, he looked so familiar to me. It took me until last night to realize where I knew him from. He was in that band you were so crazy about.”
“Yeah, that’s him,” I told her. “I’m surprised you recognized him.”
“Well, he was all over everything in the house for a few years. I would be a terrible mother if I hadn’t recognized him after all that.”
“You could never be a terrible mother,” I told her, honestly.
“I bet you were so excited when you saw him there! Do you get to talk to him? Did you tell him about your crush?”
“I was excited at first,” I said, “But after a while you just realize that even though we think they’re stars, they’re really just like everyone else. Yes, I have to talk to him and no, I didn’t tell him about my crush,” I lied just a little.
I finished cutting up the chicken and put it in the pan to brown while I mixed up the glaze for it. I put the soy sauce, brown sugar and corn-starch in a bowl and whisked it up.
“Well, that’s a good attitude to have honey,” my mother was saying, “If you’re going to be in the business. You can’t be getting starstruck….it wouldn’t be fair to the other contestants.”
She cracked me up when she said things like, “in the business.” I didn’t laugh at her though, I let her think she was cool and hip. “Very true, Mom. How is Dad?”
I poured the ginger, garlic and red pepper into the bowl and whisked it again while she talked.
“
Oh, you know your father. He’s as ornery as ever. Last night when we were watching the show he kept saying, ‘Where is she? I don’t see her.’ I said, ‘Hank, she’s a producer not a performer. She’s behind the scenes’.”
I laughed as I dropped the chicken into the glaze. I mixed it up and then set the bowl in the refrigerator. I could hear my parents having that conversation. They were so funny together. Someday I wanted to have a relationship just like them. They’d set a really good example for a girl who made such really bad decisions. I missed them, some days more than others. I had given a lot of consideration to how far away from them I’d be when I moved out to California almost four years ago, but being a producer was something I’d wanted to do so badly I could taste it. I had pretty much two options, New York and California. I was from the Midwest, so I had been hoping California wouldn’t be such of a culture shock. I also have to admit that living in the same city as most of the stars in the U.S. was also a draw. I will honestly say that bumping into Tristan had crossed my mind. I wasn’t thinking it would quite go like it had. I’ve adjusted to L.A. now though, and I can’t imagine working anywhere else.
“Are you enjoying your work, honey? Are they nice people to work for?”
“I am. I like it a lot. They are super nice people, and as a matter of fact, the Executive Producer of the show has offered me a position touring with the top ten contestants next year. I’m seriously considering it. I’ve already checked into taking my classes online for my last semester.”
“Wow! That’s great, honey. Maybe you can stop by and see us.”
I laughed again, “Maybe, Mom, we’ll see.”
“How is Susie?” she asked. On my parent’s trip out here last summer they’d met Susie. They had both fallen in love with her. I think if they were asked to choose between us, it would be a difficult choice for them now. I’d gotten lucky finding Susie to room with. She and I had a few classes together our first semester and we both lived in the dorms. We weren’t really friends, but I heard her talking about finding her own apartment one day and I asked if she needed a roommate. We talked about it for a while and found out that we had a lot in common. We were both neat freaks, neither of us were party girls and we were in the same program so we could study together and help each other out with our classes. It’s been over two years now since we shared our apartment and it’s still working out great.
Dirty SEAL (A Navy SEAL Romance) (The Maxwell Family) Page 33