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Breathe, Devyn, I whispered silently.
Jesus, my fucking hands were shaking.
What was happening?
It wasn’t like I had a snowball’s chance in hell anything would come of it, so why did it feel like my entire future was riding on this all of a sudden?
This audition was a big deal, of course, but I harbored no illusions that I’d get the job. There was no way Onyx Knight was hiring me to replace the one and only Carter Ambrose. He’d been a legend, and our brief friendship had ended practically before it started, but I had no doubt he was the only reason I was here. Somehow, some way, he’d dropped my name, and the band was honoring his wishes or something by inviting me to try out.
Like they would hire someone like me.
I almost snorted at the thought.
It would never happen.
I’d learned that the hard way over the years.
But I was a professional, and while I figured this was nothing but a formality, I would absolutely show them who I was and what they’d be missing out on by not hiring me.
So I played “Judgement Call,” which was one of their early hits. It was a raw, gritty tune without the polish they’d added to their sound over the years, and it was one of my all-time favorite songs. That first album, “Shiny Pieces,” was probably my favorite too, although I loved all of their music. I thought it was ironic I was auditioning for one of my favorite bands, and my Greatty—which was what I called my great-grandmother—had jokingly told me to get pictures for her scrapbook.
Yeah, right.
She was hilarious sometimes.
Though if I did manage to get pictures, I had no doubt they would end up on a scrapbook page.
“Would you play something else?” Kingston called out. “Not one of ours.”
I hesitated.
There was so much to choose from.
Old-school songs from the likes of Led Zeppelin—I loved John Paul Jones, their bassist—to newer bands like Halestorm and everything in between. Nirvana? Metallica? Nickelback?
I’d honestly thought they’d only want me to play their stuff.
Since I didn’t have a lot of time to decide, I opted for Nirvana’s “Come As You Are.” It started slow and built into a steady hard rock rhythm, and while the bass line wasn’t intricate, it wasn’t simple either. If nothing else, it would let them see I had versatility since it was nothing like “Judgement Call.”
“That was awesome,” Kellan said, looking at Z, who glanced at Kingston.
I wished I could tell what they were thinking.
“Can you do the ‘Immigrant Song?’” Tommy asked after what seemed like a long, strange silence. Then he got up and headed for the small stage I was on.
“Uh, sure.”
To my surprise, Z followed Tommy, and Kellan and Kingston pulled up the rear, joining me on the stage.
Holy shit.
Were we going to jam?
I’d been lurking in the lobby for over an hour, curious as to who was auditioning before me and how many songs they would be asked to play.
And they hadn’t jammed with either of the last two guys.
I didn’t know what this meant, but my heart rate kicked up a notch as I waited for them to get situated.
