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Finally, everyone made their way up to the register and paid. Then things dropped off quite a bit after that. The store nearly came to a standstill, one that let me leave right at closing time.
I hurried to lock the door and leave the store, knowing that the sooner I got to Dante Street Massacre practice, the better, really. I could hardly wait to show the guys my new song and see what they thought. Thom had also texted that he had some very good news about our cellist search.
I wondered who he had found and whether he— or she— would be any good.
Chapter Four – Pauline
My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way to Dante Street Massacre’s practice space for my audition.
To say I was trying to focus as hard as I could would be an understatement right now, as I tried to catch up to Thom while he wended through the dark, rainy streets to the wherever it was that the band practiced. But that task was becoming more difficult with every bend in the road.
We’d gone back to my house to get my cello from the bar. By the time we’d started out on our way again, it was raining, so more crystal droplets now garnished the windshield of the Jeep that looked like it had gone through several wars and was considered ancient.
Buildings surrounded us like mountains on a pass as we hit the highway. Excitement was swelling up in me, but it was mixed with a bit of anxiety. Things soon became clear— it was either going to be the best night or the worst night of my life.
It was impossible to know for sure, but Thom surely did seem like a nice enough guy. Plus, Professor Hernandez had said the band members were good guys and I certainly trusted him.
All signs were pointing to “yes” in the Magic 8 Ball of my mind, but I was still trying to not get my hopes up too much. I didn’t want to be disappointed.
I started to recognize the area as we approached. It was out near where The Sanctuary was rumored to be. The exact address was known to only a few living souls. It was far away and isolated from any potential distractions.
Finally, we arrived, and I breathed a sigh of relief at having made it. But I soon wanted to vomit due to nervousness.
“Come meet the rest of the family,” Thom said, after I’d pulled up next to him in the small parking lot and gotten out of my car.
With trembling hands, I held onto my cello in a white-knuckle grip. I was used to playing in front of people but not nearly so intimately.
A dark recital hall was one thing. I could barely see any people in the audience, on the odd occasion I might look out. Most of the time I just kept my eyes closed, drowning myself to the rhythm of the music.
And often I was trying to keep from crying or hurling. Stage fright had been the bane of my existence for years, but I wanted to be a performer, so I fought through.
There were ways I’d learned to control things, but that didn’t necessarily mean that some of the effects still weren’t there. Particularly the dizziness beforehand.
It wasn’t being on the stage that caused my anxiety as much as it was the time right before I had to go on, which I often spent imagining everything that could possibly go wrong. And it all seemed to be rendered in HD surround sound.
Thom and I walked up to the entrance of the building together.
“The guys are cool,” Thom said, opening the door, “you’ll like them.”
Following him through the creaky old door, I hoped he was right, and that everything would work out well.
“Hey guys,” I said, by way of announcing my arrival.
“Hey there, how are–” someone started to say, but then stopped mid-sentence, and simply added, “Wow!”
I blushed as the men looked me over, feeling the heat of their gazes on my body. I was dressed relatively modestly but my figure spoke volumes, since I’d always been very curvy. Some might say voluptuous.
In turn, they were all devastatingly handsome. I could tell who played what mostly by observing what they were doing, of course. The two vocalists were working with microphone chords, while the bassist was strumming his instrument— at least until he saw me.
“Down, boys,” Thom commanded. “She’s here to audition. She could be in the band and what do we always say about the band?”
“They’re like a family,” the trio chorused in lovely harmony, “and you don’t fuck your sister.”
“That’s right. Guys, this is Pauline Guthrie, Cellist.”
The band members murmured their “hellos” to me.
“Pauline, this is Hank, Jim and Adam,” Thom said, indicating the two vocalists and the bassist, respectively.
