Finding My Way (24 page)

I peek at my watch and see that we’ve been here for an hour and half already. It’s funny how fast time moved when I thought it was slowing down and torturing me. As Sam shows us around the building and introduces us to the people we’ll be working with, everything comes down on me tenfold. Just over a year ago I played a song for my girl only to have her look at me like I had two heads. Without words she made me feel like I was doing something taboo. She made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. In hindsight, I should’ve helped her see what I was trying to do instead of surprising her. I want her by my side. I want her holding my hand today, but that’s not possible. She couldn’t bring herself to understand that I was suffocating in the life I had. Since I’ve been in Los Angeles, despite the smog and pollution, I can breathe easily. The freedom I’m afforded to be myself allows me to be a new me.

Sam knocks and opens a door, ushering us in. Anthony Moreno stands and greets us. I met him at my grandma’s during her holiday party, but this meeting is different.

“Come in and sit down.” He motions to the open seats in front of his desk. “So I hear a welcome is in order?”

The man I remember at my grandma’s party stands in front of us. He looks different today, more businesslike and not like he’s schmoozing at a party.

“Yes, thank you for the opportunity,” I reply, grateful that I’m here today.

He leans back in his chair and makes a teepee with his fingers. He’s appraising us, watching for a sign that we’re about to crack. I’m stoic. Reserved. I refuse to crack again. I did that once, but it’s turned out for the best.

“Sam will treat you fellas right. She’s young, but hungry and wants to climb the corporate ladder. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

“Yes, daddy. I already have big plans.”

“Excellent that’s what I like to hear. Welcome aboard boys, you now belong to
Moreno Entertainment
.” He stands and shakes our hands, effectively excusing us from his office. His last words resonate. I don’t want to belong to anyone but myself and now doubt runs through my mind. Did we make a mistake?

Chapter 36

“O
kay here’s the deal.” Sam throws open the studio door and tosses a stack of papers down on the table. Her cell phone is attached to her ear and she’s clutching a
Starbucks
cup in her hand like it’s a lifeline. In the months that we’ve been working with her we’ve learned a few things: Don’t mess with her talent; she loves her
Starbucks
; and she’s always in heels. We’ve also learned that each and every one of us gets her undivided attention and she’s a spitfire. Everything that she said she was going to do for us, she’s done. We’ve been in the studio since we signed and our first EP is coming out in the next few weeks.

Tomorrow we’re having our first performance or as Sam’s calling it, our first gig. Harrison balked, but she reminded him that we aren’t being paid, we’re trying to gain a fan base. I don’t care either way. I just want to play and we’ll be playing in front of thousands of people at a huge music festival. It will be our first time performing at something of such a grand scale, and to say I’m scared shitless is an understatement. I don’t think I’ve slept in days and the closer the day of the performance gets here, the more my anxiety builds.

Sam continues to yammer in her phone. Her coffee cup is now on the table, which is good since her hand is flying around wildly. I strum my guitar quietly. She interrupted our practice session when she busted in here.

I look at Way Johnson, the ole timer who Sam picked up to round out our band. He’s been around for a long time and says he knew my grandfather, but never had the opportunity to play with him. Says it would’ve been a great honor and is more than humbled to be playing with his grandson. It’s times like that when I wish I had known him, even if it was only in memories. Way plays every instrument you can think of; the piano, bass, cymbals and he can play multiples at the same time. He performs in a suit or African grab and a hat. He also moves like he’s blind, even though he isn’t.

Way brushes his finger across the cymbals and gets Sam’s attention. She looks at him, rolling her eyes. He laughs, but I know it pisses him off when she does this. We only have tonight left to practice and she’s wasting valuable time. There’s no reason she can’t be behind the glass having her conversation.

She finally closes her phone and sighs. “Sorry to interrupt. I thought he’d shut up as soon as I told him I was walking into the studio.”

I pull a stool out and sit down, waiting for her to finish.

“Anyway, tomorrow you’ve been moved to the main stage. The time slot is 5 p.m., but it’s an all-day show so the crowd will be exceptional. The organizers want a band name and frankly I don’t know why I didn’t of this sooner. Here are my suggestions: The Liam Page Band or Page.”

I look from Harrison to Way and back at her before looking at the laces on my
Doc Martens,
my first purchase when we signed our deal. It’s the first time I’ve used any of my savings. I thought after I dropped out of school my dad would cut me off, but he hasn’t. My inheritance from his parents is still being deposited monthly. I’m trying not to spend it, at least not too much at once. The last thing I want to do is raise any red flags with him.

I don’t like any of the band names. If this was just me and I hadn’t brought Harrison, maybe I’d go with The Liam Page band, but he and I are together. Way, is employed by
Moreno Entertainment
and floats from group to group. He’ll be performing with someone next week or whoever needs an all-round musician and percussionist on tour. But Harrison and I are in this together.

“I hadn’t thought of a band name, have you?” I ask him. He shakes his head, his lips in a thin line. “Do you have an idea?”

“Nah, not really.”

“What’s wrong with the names I gave you?”

I shrug and feel this could’ve been handled a month or so ago when we were told we’d be performing. “It’s not just my band; I think a name should encompass both of us.”

Sam throws her hands up in the air before picking up her cup of coffee. “Pick something. I don’t care, but just make it good,” she says before raising the paper cup to her red painted lips. There’s never a chance of mistaking what cups are hers around here, anything that has lip paint on them, regardless of the color, belong to her. My grandma says she must go through a tube of lipstick a week.

“What about 4225 West?” I blurt out.

“I like it,” Harrison says as he hits his drums.

“What does it even mean?”

“Um…” I run my hand through my hair. “The date and time we’re playing?”

“Are you asking me, Liam?” Sam says, incredulously.

“N-no,” I stammer. “I think that should be our name.”

“What’s the West part?”

My last name so
she
can find me, I want to say, but don’t. I have no idea if she’s looking for me or if she even cares since so much time has passed. “Harrison and I met on the west coast.”

Sam looks at Harrison who nods. She huffs. “Whatever you want.” Sam waves her hand as she walks away from us and into the other room, signaling for us to continue practicing.

Harrison starts laughing as he bangs on his drums and Way hits a few keys on the piano. I strum my guitar and stand in front of the microphone. I hum to get my vocal cords warmed up. Tomorrow at this time, I’ll be in front of thousands of people and they’ll all be staring at us, waiting for me to mess up. They’ll either love me or hate me.

T
he sun is beating down and right in my line of sight. Sweat is dripping into my eyes and nothing I can do makes it stop. Sam had me dressed me in all black. Big mistake. I’m sweaty and miserable.

Harrison is the smart one and why he wasn’t given a dress code is beyond me. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a tank top. He has a few new tattoos showing and I keep thinking that I want one, but I don’t know what I’d get. The typical rocker tattoo of a heart and the word “mom” on my arm definitely doesn’t appeal to me.

“How can you wear that hat?” I ask. I’m sitting here sweating my balls off and Harrison has a damn beanie on his head. It’s scorching out there and his head is dressed for winter.

“I’m used to it I guess.”

“Used to what, the hat?”

He shakes his head as he puts a cigarette in his mouth. “The heat. I’m used to it. I’ve lived here my whole life and you’re a newbie. You’ll get used to it.”

I roll my eyes. “I doubt it. And why are you wearing shorts?”

He looks down at his clothes and shrugs. “Why aren’t you?”

I throw my hands up. “Sam told me to wear this.”

Harrison takes a drag and blows the smoke in the air. “Sam doesn’t care what I wear. You’re the talent, the sex God that’s going to sell records. I’m just the guy behind the drums.”

I choke on my tongue. “Sex God?”

“Yeah that’s what I heard her call you the other day. I’m cool with it. It means I won’t have any extra duties and I won’t be called to do any press conferences.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Believe me when I say I’m so very okay with this role. I just want to play music and I am because of you.”

I scoff. “I’m no sex God.”

Harrison leans back on the wooden divider that’s blocking us from the stage and points out into the crowd. “All those women are going to go nuts for you. Just remember to keep your clothes on.”

“No problem there,” I say, never intending to strip for the audience. “Hey” I say, changing the subject, “I was thinking of getting a tattoo.”

“Yeah? That’s almost like a rite of passage for rockers. We’ll go after the show. I need a new one anyway.”

Before I can respond, our name is called and Harrison walks away. There’s a roar from the crowd that reverberates through me. This is what I’ve been waiting for, dreaming of. This is why I left my life and my girl behind. I wanted to feel this moment. I want to see if I can entertain people like they’re entertaining me now.

I step out onto the stage accompanied by Harrison’s drumbeats. Way follows stealthily behind me and hits his notes on the piano. My guitar hangs at my side. I stop in front of the microphone stand, my hand holding onto the top of it as I turn and look at the crowd.

“I’m Liam and we’re
4 2 2 5 West
,” I yell into the microphone.

“I love you, Liam,” someone yells back and as much as I want to tell them that I love them too, I won’t. I’ll never utter those words to another person as long as I live. I can’t see myself loving anyone but
her
and unless she’s out there yelling at me, I’m not saying it back.

“Thank you,” I say, instead. “We want to play a few songs for you and we hope you like them. If you do, our CD is for sale and if you don’t like it… well you can buy it and give it your enemy or something as a nice gesture.”

Harrison plays
ba-dum-tsh
on the drums and everyone laughs. Perfect, they think I’m a comedian. I glance over at Sam who is shaking her head and moving her hand in a circle, telling me to get things going. I nod and look over my shoulder as Harrison begins the beat to the song I wrote for my girl. I didn’t want to record it, but he encouraged me to. I changed some of the lyrics, but it’s still her song.

“Here’s our first single,” I say into the microphone to the excitement of the crowd. We’ve had some airplay on the major station in Los Angeles to get us ready for today’s show. Not gonna lie, as soon as I heard my voice on the radio I had to pull over, roll up my windows and turn it up. Chills enveloped my body as I sang the words that have haunted me for almost a year.
Her
face flashed before my eyes, her sitting on my bed with her arms crossed over her chest, watching me, wondering what the fuck I was doing.

As the lyrics take shape in my mind I look out at the crowd and look for her. Is she here and if so, will she try to talk to me? Will she make her presence known? Most importantly will she tell me that it doesn’t matter what I am or what I do for a career, she’ll love me for me?

I can only hope.

I strum my guitar, my hand and fingers moving fluidly. That is one thing I’m very appreciative of Sam for because she had me take lessons. I can play comfortably now and have been learning to play the piano as well. I used to think music calmed me, but now I feel like I’m in a trance-like state. I love the way each note, whether from the guitar or piano, makes me feel, the way the sound works its way into my body, into my soul.

Before I open my mouth to sing, I spot my grandma off to the side of the stage sporting a
4225 West
t-shirt. I have to laugh at the pure sight of her not dressed to impress, but dressed like a groupie. It dawns on me that I have a groupie and regardless of who she is or how old she is, she’s mine.

I belt out the lyrics that mean so much to me. Hell, each song I’ve written is about her. I have a feeling Harrison thinks I’m a sap, but oh well. When your heart beats for one and that one isn’t with you, nor do you know how to stop her from consuming you day in day out; what else can you do? Nothing, that’s what. Your life takes on a different meaning when you break your own heart.

The last verse bellows from my mouth and I’m surprised and humbled to see fans singing along. Is that a sign? If so, I’m taking it and running with it. If I can create something that others can relate to maybe this is my destiny.

The first thing you’re gonna see with the sunrise

Is my arms wrapped around your body so tight

As we reflect on the love we shared

We’ll realize it’s not a one night love affair.

Girl I never wanna leave your side

Don’t want to be strangers in the night

I let my last word trail off and the roar of the crowd is deafening. I can’t help smiling My grin is spreading across my face like wildfire as I look back at the crowd. They’re clapping, some are jumping up and down and there are even a few who are locked in embraces with their significant others.

I own this moment.