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As I followed Jude through the red door, I tried to work it out. I’d planned to play “Voodoo Child,” a song that not just any fool with a guitar could pull off, because I knew I could kill it.Andbecause I knew Zane would be impressed with the ego it took to kill it, Jesse would be impressed with the guitar work, Dylan would be cool with pretty much anything Zane and Jesse were cool with, and Elle fucking worshipped JimiHendrix.
So much for that fuckingplan.
But I didn’t have much time to put together another one. The mood of backstage hit me immediately, familiar and unsettling, as I shadowed Jude. The backside of the building was a network of hallways, offices, and storage rooms that snaked behind the main room of the bar. Between the auditions and the filming of the auditions there were a lot people, security, crew, and others who worked for the band or the bar, all bouncing around in a very tight space, kinda like pinballs. Hurried butunhurried.
I found myself looking for familiar faces. Wondering who I’d run into first—and how pissed they’d be atme.
Though not everyone in the Dirty universe was pissed atme.
Jude wasn’t the only one whomighthave my back, when it came down to it. I knew that, and yet, as I looked around… I had to wonder. The truth was, I really had no idea who might be cool with me and who might tear me a new one. In part, this was because, as far as I knew, most people didn’t reallyknowwhy I was fired from the band this last time. It wasn’t exactly madepublic.
But mostly it was because I had trouble remembering, even on the best of days, how things had ended thefirsttime I was fired, with most of the people I’d once loved likefamily.
It was embarrassing—fucking shameful, actually—to have to admit that to myself, but right now, I couldn’t hide fromit.
I’d been clean and sober for almost four-and-a-half years now, since finally getting rehab to stick, but my recovery was definitely ongoing. My feet were on the ground, but my head still wasn’t right. Most of my memories from the years when I’d been using were not wholly intact or clear; the ones that had gone and later come back to me were often in disparate, discordant fragments. There were memories that had taken years to come back, and I knew there were some that would never come back at all. And I had to live with that, everyday.
It was incredibly off-putting, this feeling… The sketchiness of my own memories, the lack of reliability of my own mind. My confused emotional associations to my old crew, my oldfamily.
I knew I’d disappointed a lot of people with everything that had gone down. Hurt people. People who’d once cared aboutme.
Even if I couldn’t rememberit.
But as I passed through the halls, my chest tight, meeting the eyes of anyone who glanced my way, my aviators still on… I didn’t recognize a singleface.
And somehow that made me even moreuncomfortable.
I could face up to my mistakes. I could look people in the eye and take the accusations or the disappointment or the anger, no matter how hard it would be. I was ready forthat.
As ready as I couldbe.
But seeing all these people—strangers to me—working around the band… It just reminded me how much time had passed between us, how much things had changed. Not just for me, but forthem.
And for the first time since setting out for this audition, I doubtedmyself.
Would I really fit in with them again, even if they gave me the chance, like I’d convinced myself Iwould?
Jude led me directly toward an office, and it was at the threshold, just as I was about to step inside, that I glimpsed the first familiar face in the hallwayoutside.
Katie.
Jesse’swife.
I’d met her, briefly, at the reunion show in Vancouver. Sweet girl. Big blue-green eyes that were staring at me now. Which meant she recognized me,too.
I paused and slipped my sunglasses onto my head. She snapped her mouth shut, like she’d just realized it was hanging open. She was standing by a table of food with a few other girls I didn’t recognize; none of them were looking at me. JustKatie.
I nodded ather.
She crossed her arms and looked unsure. Then she noddedback.
Then she turned away, her dark hair falling over her face, and I followed Jude into theoffice.
He was arguing with someone as I set my guitar cases down. A woman. Petite and pretty, she had long, sleek dark hair, and I knew who shewas.
Maggie Omura, Dirty’s assistantmanager.
I’d never worked with Maggie. She’d come to work with Dirty after I was fired, but she’d been with the band a long time. Longer than I everwas.
