Sold Out (14 page)

“You can? You don’t think I’m being stupid?”

“No. I think you’re being a good friend. Taylor definitely has a reputation with the girls.”

“As in a use-‘em-and-lose-’em reputation?”

He nods again. “Man, if you girls only knew half the stuff that’s said in the locker room.”

“I hate to even think about it. But Allie’s not stupid. I’m sure she’s heard about some of that stuff. I know I’ve suggested that Taylor’s a jerk more than once.” I glance at Cesar. “Do you think that’s wrong? Am I being too judgmental?”

“Not when you know Taylor and his problem with ADD.”

“You mean attention deficit disorder?”

“Yeah, but only when it comes to girls. He has the attention span of a termite when it comes to hanging in there with a relationship. Anyway, you probably won’t have to worry about him for too long. Especially since you guys will be gone in a few days. By the time Allie gets back he’ll probably have a new girl.”

“Poor Allie.”

“So, is that the only thing bugging you tonight, Chloe? You seem kind of down.”

I shrug. “I guess that’s mainly it. There’s just so much going on right now. It’s like I can hardly wrap my mind around everything all at once. It’s pretty overwhelming.”

“Yeah, I suppose I should back off too.”

“Back off?”

He sets his cup down. “You know, give you some space. Not be one of those guys pushing into your world right before you become a superstar.”

“If I hear that word one more time tonight, I might do something really scary.”

He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. But I think you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do. What exactly are you saying?”

He glances around now, as if to see if anyone is listening. “Chloe, you know I’ve liked you since the first day we met. And you’re constantly doing this push-pull thing with me. Like you don’t want to date, and that’s okay, but then you want to be friends, and that’s great, but then you start to act like maybe there could be something more, and…”

I feel my cheeks growing warm now. Had I really sent all those mixed-up signals? And even if I had, how perceptive is Cesar to actually catch and process them like that? And they say guys aren’t sensitive. Well, I’m pretty impressed. I take a deep breath. “Okay, if I’m hearing you right, you’re saying that you’re confused.”

“Yeah, that pretty much describes it.”

“Well, so am I.”

He smiles. “So we’re at the same place then?”

“Maybe.” I take in a deep breath and decide to
give this a shot. “Okay, the best relationship I can have with anyone is when I can be totally honest.”

“Feel free.”

“Okay, I really do like you, Cesar—”

“But—”

“No…” I look at him, noticing how nice he looks in his black T-shirt. “No buts. I really do like you. I’m just not sure what to do with it. And there’s so much going on with the band and Nashville and—”

He brightened. “But you really do like me?”

I look into his eyes now and suddenly feel as if I’m getting lost in there—those deep brown pools—it’s like I’m fighting to catch my breath. “Cesar,” I say, trying to calm myself. “I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know what to—”

“But you really do like me?” He persists with this sweet crooked smile.

“Yes. I really do like you—a lot. And I guess it actually scares me a little.”

He reaches over now and, to my surprise, takes my hand. It’s such a tender gesture, and I feel this warm rush go through me—it’s almost electrical, and good, but slightly frightening. “I really do like you too, Chloe. And I’m willing to leave it at that for now. Honestly, I don’t want to pressure you. I know you have a lot on your plate
right now, I just want to be here for you.”

My eyes grow wide. “You do?”

“Yeah. That’s enough for me for the time being.”

“Cool.” Now I’m thinking, “I think I love this guy!” Okay, slow down, Chloe girl. Take a deep breath. Just breathe and chill.

“Yeah,” he continues, “And if I do anything that puts pressure on you, I want you to tell me to knock it off. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

And so, with that out of the way, we just sit there and gab. He tells me about his parents. How his dad worked his way up to a management position at an accounting firm and how his mom works part-time in a florist shop. He explains how his little sister Abril despises middle school and thinks everyone there is childish and immature. I tell him about how much I hated my last year of middle school and how my so-called friends betrayed me. Then I go on to tell him a little more about my family, even about Caleb. I don’t usually talk about him—not to anyone.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Wow, let’s see…I’d say it’s been at least three years. I remember it was really a bad scene. My parents were fed up and told him not to come around anymore until he cleaned up his act. They
called it tough love at the time. But it seemed pretty harsh to me.”

“Maybe, but don’t kid yourself. Drugs are pretty harsh too. I’ve seen too many people totally mess up their lives with drugs. I don’t think there’s any real easy answers there.”

“Yeah, but I just wish I could tell Caleb that I love him.”

“Maybe you’ll get the chance.”

We talk on and on about dozens of things. And it’s strange because it seems we could go on like this forever—fortunately for me, since I decided early on to stay until closing, or until Taylor leaves, whichever comes first, to make sure Allie doesn’t do something stupid. Finally, Mike is hinting that it’s time to call it a night. But Taylor’s still here. Cesar knows about my plan, and he gets up and says good night, then I go over to the counter where Allie is wiping down the big copper machine.

“Need a ride home, Al?”

She tosses me a look as if to clue me in that something’s up, then she nonchalantly says, “Not tonight, Chloe. Taylor offered to take me home.” Just like that happens all the time.

Okay, I’ll admit I’m being overly protective of her. Why is that? Even though she’s younger than me and on the petite side, she’s not a child. And yet she seems so innocent and vulnerable sometimes. I
can’t really explain it. “Are you sure?” I ask, sending her, I hope, a message that says this might not be such a good idea.

But she just laughs. “Of course. He’s right there waiting.”

I look over and he nods at me. And I’m thinking he’s thinking, “Just beat it, chick.” And so I do. But even now I feel bad.

I can’t believe it; it’s finally happening. We’re on our way to Nashville—first class too! Willy and my dad are sitting together and Laura’s with her mom. Meanwhile, Allie and I are sitting by ourselves in front. We’re wearing these wire-rimmed sunglasses and pretending we’ve already made it to the big times, acting as if we’re trying not to be recognized by our admiring fans. Kind of dumb, but fun. Besides, this might be as good as it gets—our return trip might be all gloomy and sad if we don’t get offered a contract. So we’re thinking, hey, we may as well enjoy what we have right now. Ah, the beauty of living one day at a time!

“Taylor called me this morning to say goodbye,” Allie informs me shortly after we board the plane.

“Really?”

She nods, suppressing, I can tell, great excitement. “Every single day since Saturday, we’ve either done something together or he’s called me on the phone.”

“Uh-huh.” I flip through my magazine and hope to appear uninterested.

“Is that all you can say? Uh-huh? Sheesh, I wish I was sitting with Laura now.”

“Okay, so what do you think is happening between you guys?”

She smiles in a dreamy way. “I think he’s got it bad for me.”

“Uh-huh.” I’m glad she can’t see me rolling my eyes beneath these shades.

“There you go—”

“Sorry. So, he’s got it bad for you. How do you feel about him?”

She leans back into the comfy leather seat and sighs. “Pretty good.”

Now I’m thinking…what to do here? Tell her what Cesar said about the locker room, that I think Taylor is a major jerk? What?

“Taylor says that I’m not like any other girl he’s ever known.”

“That’s nice.”

“Nic??” She turns and even from behind her sunglasses I can feel the glare. “Is that the best you can do, Chloe?”

“I don’t know, Al. I’m not sure what I think about Taylor.”

“Oh, don’t start getting all judgmental on me now.”

“I’m not being judgmental.”

“Then what is it? Do you really know Taylor? I mean, it’s obvious he doesn’t look like the kind of
guy
you’d
be interested in, but that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him. Besides, you’re the one always going on about not judging by appearances.”

“It’s not his appearance…” But then I’m wondering if that isn’t partly true because Taylor does have those movie-star good looks. Tall, muscular, tan, with sandy brown hair and white teeth. In some ways, he reminds me a little of Josh. But that’s no reason to dislike him.

“Well, what is it then?”

“You know he sort of has a reputation—”

“I knew it!” She snaps her fingers in my face. “You’re judging him only because of gossip you’ve heard. Well, how fair is that? I mean, how do you like it when people go around doing that about you? Like how about that time everyone said you beat Kerry up and broke her nose? How’d that make you feel?”

“But it wasn’t true.”

“And you know for a fact that what you’ve heard about Taylor is true?”

I shake my head. I consider telling her what Cesar said, but I hate draggin’ him into this. “No, it’s just a strong feeling I have.”

Allie leans back now and folds her arms across her chest. “Well, it’s not fair, Chloe. You should get to know him personally before you write him off like that. I expected more from you.”

I consider what Cesar said about Taylor’s attention span and imagine him hooking up with some other girl while we’re gone. “Yeah, you’re probably right, Al. I don’t really know him.”

“So, you’re willing to give him a chance?”

I shrug. “Like it matters.”

She leans forward and tips up her glasses now and looks me right in the eyes. “It does matter. It matters to me. I want you to like my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?
But having some wits about me, I keep my mouth shut and turn the page on the magazine.

“Speaking of guys…” I hear the lilting tone of her voice and I know exactly where she’s going. “You and Cesar seemed pretty cozy on Saturday night. What’s going on with you guys these days?”

And so, relieved to change the subject from Taylor, I tell her a little bit about our conversation and how we’re open to what lies ahead, but in no hurry to rush things.

“Cesar is so cool.” She smiles. “And he’s deep too. He really thinks about things. I like that.”

Now I’m feeling all guilty like I should say something positive about Taylor. But what? I refuse to be a phony. “You know who Taylor reminds me of just a little?” I finally say in desperation.

“Brad Pitt?”

I laugh. “Wo. In some ways, he reminds me of Josh.”

This seems to please her. “Well, then you should like him.”

I nod, but I’m thinking, “I didn’t really like Josh when he was in high school.”

And so I’m sitting here writing all this down, all the while wondering about what’s going to happen in Nashville. We’ll arrive this afternoon and have a free day tomorrow. Then the big day is on Wednesday. It’s way too early to be this nervous.

Today was a good day for distractions. We toured the Grand Ole Opry, the old historic building that is, which is really much smaller than you’d think. It reminded me of a church with its wooden benches and stained glass windows. And even
though I’m not a country music fan, it was easy to feel awed to think of all those long-gone performers who once stood on that stage. People like Patsy Cline. I must admit to watching the movie about her life once, when it was on that women’s channel, and I thought she was, after all, pretty cool. And what a voice! Of course, I never admitted this to anyone else before.

So the day has finally come to an end, and we’re back at the hotel now—which is pretty nice. It’s actually an old train station that’s been remodeled into this really cool hotel. The lobby is enormous with lots of marble and skylights and statues. You can just feel the history here. And everything in our rooms feels very elegant-even the soaps are French—and we girls have been enjoying our pretense of being rich and famous. Of course, this might all come to an abrupt end tomorrow. But for now it’s fun.

We’ve tried not to talk about tomorrow’s audition; it only seems to make us more nervous. And like Willy says, “What will be will be.” But it does seem weird that we haven’t practiced in two whole days. I’m trying not to worry about how this will affect our performance tomorrow. It’s not as if we ever used to practice every day before, but last week was kind of like cramming, and now it feels as though we’re slacking just a bit.

We just finished watching, of all things, this
goofy movie about a band that records one song and really makes it big. It was pretty funny, but at the same time a little depressing because the band ends up breaking up just when they start becoming really successful. I hope that’s not what happens to us. Although the mere thought of even making one song that’s a hit seems almost worth the breaking up part—but not really. Because I really do love Allie and Laura and don’t like the idea of losing our friendship at all. Anyway, we three agreed that we’ll keep our friendship above our music. More important, we will keep God as our number one priority.

I’m sure everyone else is asleep by now, but I’m too excited to sleep. And this worries me because I don’t want to be all worn out and frazzled when we audition tomorrow. And so I will sign off and pray for slumber.

The big day is now over. Tah-dah!

We toured the recording company and met so many people that I’ll never possibly remember all those names. Not that I’ll need to. I’m sure that I don’t need to, since I’ll probably never see any of them again. Okay, I don’t know this for certain. We know nothing for certain. All we know is that, “We’ll be getting hold of you.” That’s what Eric Green said as he shook each of our hands after the audition.

The audition. Hmmm. I guess it went okay. Not perfectly. Not nearly as well as the memorial concert last month. But we did the best we could under the circumstances. It’s hard to be comfortable when it feels as though you’re under a gigantic magnifying glass. It didn’t help that I had a big zit trying to pop out in the center of my chin. You know the kind that are red and hard and feel like Mount St. Helens just before it erupts and wreaks havoc everywhere. Allie
insisted on putting a little cover-up on it and promised that it was invisible, although it felt very visible to me. But I won’t go on about that.

They gave us about an hour to warm up and get everything set with the sound technicians. And we were actually starting to relax a little, and I thought maybe this won’t be so bad after all. Willy was really hanging loose, cracking jokes, and basically keeping us light and on track—or trying to.

But then it was ten o’clock and here came six men and one woman, all in very expensive-looking dark suits. They all seemed to be about the age of our parents or older. Two of the men looked like they were close to sixty. And okay, I just don’t get that. Why were these old suit people making decisions about who did or did not get a recording contract? I mean, they’re not the kind of people who would ever go out and buy our kind of music in the first place, so why should they get to be the judge of whether it’s good or not?

It’s not as if I expected to see a bunch of kids our age walking in and offering us a record deal, but I guess I expected people who looked just a little more music-minded or even trendy. Now in Eric’s defense, he seemed more like a music guy. And he didn’t even have on a suit, just nice pants and a dark shirt. But here I go again, judging the book by its cover, and this is something I totally
dislike for people to do to me. Am I becoming shallow???

Maybe so. Because as soon as we met the suits, I started to feel a little uncomfortable with my “peculiar” hair color and piercings and stuff. I felt like I was standing in front of my mom—times seven! As if I was being scrutinized for every detail that did not, would never, measure up to what I’m sure they thought a decent Christian girl should be.

I was thinking, “Did I forget that this is a Christian recording company?” Who knows what they might’ve expected? Suddenly, just as we’re about to begin, I imagined that the last group in here was dressed in matching light blue suits and singing Southern gospel music in four-part harmony, and I thought, “What in the world are we doing here?”

Just the same, we played. And although we were understandably nervous, there was no barfing on guitars or stage fright or missed notes or false starts. In fact, we did okay. Willy said we played beautifully, but then he was probably just being nice.

The seven suits were all very polite and told us that we were good and certainly must have a bright future ahead of us, but their smiles were tight, and their handshakes stiff, and it felt as if they were covering something up. Like they
were thinking, “Eric Green, you are fired! How dare you bring this sorry excuse for a band in here! What were you thinking?” About that time, Eric delivered his line about him being in touch. I almost expected him to say, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.” Or, “Here’s your hat what’s your hurry?”

My dad and Laura’s mom both assured us that Willy was right and that we sounded great. “You did your best,” Dad said, putting his arm around my shoulders as we walked out to the two cabs already waiting for us. “You’ve got nothing to feel ashamed about.”

But as we packed our things into the trunk, I felt absolutely miserable. It was all I could do to keep from crying. I felt like this was our one big chance, and we simply weren’t good enough. We hadn’t made the grade.

I still don’t know how Allie and Laura feel about the whole thing. We girls rode together, and we were all pretty quiet on the ride back to the hotel. I’m sure everyone’s just tired. I know I was. And suddenly I wish we were going home today—I’d like to go hide in my room and have a good cry—but our flight home isn’t until tomorrow.

Back at the hotel, Willy and Dad invited us to go sightseeing again today, but we three girls declined. And Mrs. Mitchell looked relieved. I
had a feeling she was ready to go home too.

“Guess you ladies are all worn out,” said Willy.

And maybe that’s it. I know I, for one, am ready for a nice long nap. Maybe when I wake up I’ll realize that today was just a dream. That we haven’t done the audition yet, and we have another chance, and that somehow we’ll get it right this time. We’ll really wow them. Or maybe not.