“Here are the people waiting anxiously for your drum audition live and in person on my drum kit.” He pointed to the other side of the room.
Taylor was right. I was going to need to change my pants.
“Rand Topaz, bass.” Rand was skinny, jean clad with a green T-shirt on. His eyes were bright green, intelligent and his blond-brown hair was swept back in a short hair do.
“Ora Vitecchi, keyboard et al.” Ora was tall, lanky. Even sitting that was clear. He had blue-black hair that hung down his back in cared-for waves and his eyes were dark, dark brown. Along with his last name, his skin announced his Mediterranean ancestry.
“Lyle Holland, lead guitar.” Lyle was nearly polar opposite Ora, save their height. Lyle had big shoulders, hair so blond it was nearly white and blue eyes that looked like someone had poured pure Caribbean water in them.
“And, last and least, Maddox Jones.”
Soft brown hair fell around his shoulders with soft waves and curls—I’d always thought that he and Eddie Vedder had the same hair that I would give an arm to run my fingers through. His eyes were hazel, I knew, but in this light, they ranged toward green. He was defined, but not built and his long fingers were steepled in front of him.
“Noswaith dda, shw mae?”
The words were a lilting, lyrical language that flowed off his tongue like water and hit parts of me that I hadn’t had hit in a while. And then I realized I had no idea what he’d said. Or even what language that was.
“Stop freaking him out,twllt din,” Rand said, slapping his arm. “You get too much enjoyment out of torturing people.” He turned back to me, and smiled. “Maddox is one of the few people on this planet outside of Wales who knows and speaks Welsh fluently. He likes to show off. And he’s getting too much joy from this.”
Taylor grabbed my elbow and pulled me over to the massive, gorgeous DW drum kit with Zildjian cymbals that sat on that side of the room.
“Your…” I swallowed.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Taylor asked. “I’ve been slowly and carefully putting the beast together for about two years. This is my acoustic set and when we do in studio work, I have this broken down and brought to the studio. On tour, I use DW acrylics.”
“God…this set could pay my tuition for a year.”
“Damn skippy.” Taylor patted me on the back and gave me a little shove. “Seat is completely adjustable.”
I was intimidated. This was Phil-Collins-drum-set large, and I was used to bare minimums. I walked around the back and sat down on the seat. It was just a little shorter than I was used to, so I pumped it up a bit.
This was Robot Servant.
I was auditioning for one of the biggest rock bands on the planet. I could see my hands trembling after I let go of the handle on the chair. Sitting up straight I glanced around the room.
Robot. Servant.
And they hung out with Up Down Left Right.
Right then.
After taking another breath, I set my sticks down. “So, um…how do we do this? I usually audition and play with classical and traditional orchestral set ups.”
Bryce tinkered on the keys and Hailey slipped off the bench next to him. “Do you knowBound?”
“Who doesn’t?” I asked. It was one of UDLR’s biggest hits off their newest album. “On drums, piano, and cello.”
“Cello?” Austin asked. “I’d like to hear that.”
“We’re not here for cello.” Rand waved him off.
“Bound, then?” Bryce asked, tickling out the first three chords.
“Boundit is.” I nodded.
The drums on it were neither complex nor simple. It was a good warm up song, and then maybe I could find my balls and ask for a Robot Servant song, likeFire RageorGiddy Vengeance.
Robot Servant. Christ on a cracker.
