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He stopped dead. “You’re shittingme.”
“Nope.”
He absorbed that, looking me over from head to foot. I did the same with him. Jet-black surfer-dude hair, piercings, tattoos that seemed to multiply every time I saw him. A serious, pensive look in his blueeyes.
I had no idea what he was thinking. I didn’t know Ash all that well, though I’d met him a few times over the years. He’d told me at the reunion show that he looked up to me, musically. Called himself “a fan.” Pretty humble that way, because the guy could play guitar, he could write, and he could definitely sing way the hell better thanme.
“You here withDylan?”
“I’m here with the band,” he said. “House band. All-star lineup.” A smirk crossed his lips. “We’ve got Raf out there. My man Pepper. We play with the kids auditioning, try to make them sound good. Or bad.” The smirk turned devious. “Gotta tell ya, a lot of shit out there.” He looked me over again, like he was still processing mypresence.
“Today?”
“All fucking week.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You serious? You’re here toaudition?”
“Yes.”
“You pick asong?”
Yeah, I’d picked a song. Wasn’t easy to do, since it had to somehow showcase what I could do, impress Dirty, and satisfy Jude’s bullshit request for Metallica. But I’d learned, from experience, how to slay even the most ridiculous of Jude’schallenges.
“You guys know ‘Stone Cold Crazy’?” Ianswered.
Jude never specified it had to be a songwrittenbyMetallica.
Ash looked impressed, so at least I was on the right track. “Fucking right,” he said, glancing at my guitar, like he was making sure I was ready for this. “You want Queen, orMetallica?”
“I want Ashley Fucking Player,” Isaid.
At that, the smile blazed across Ash’s face. He shook his head. “Alright.” Then he took a step toward me, clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Be careful what you askfor.”
“You’reshittingme.”
The female voice came from behind Ash. He turned, revealing Jude and Maggie in the doorway… and a small, pixie-like woman with short brown hair and glasses, wearing a grandma sweater with jeans and combatboots.
Ash grinned. “That’s what Isaid.”
“Hey, Liv,” I greetedher.
Liv just stared at me, but I could see her shrewd mind going a mile a minute behind her littleglasses.
“We filming this or what?” Ash looked from Liv to me. He was starting to get pumped up; I could feel his lead singer’s ego blooming with the challenge of the song I’dchosen.
“Uh, yeah. We’re filming this,” Liv said. “Get your asses out there.” And then she was on her cell, Ash was barreling down the hall, and Jude was beckoning for me tofollow.
Maggie sighed and muttered, “Oh, dear God,” then disappeared through a door along thehallway.
Ash went through another door, which had been spray-painted with a single word: STAGE. I was at the threshold, about to follow, when Jude’s big hand clamped down on my shoulder and Ipaused.
“Do me a favor,” he said, looking me in the eye. “Don’t shit the bed.” Then he releasedme.
I nodded, swallowed, then stepped through the stage door, alone. The door was heavy, sound-proofed, and it slammed shut behind me with a resoundingbang.
I walked out onto the black stage, the overhead lights in my eyes. The stage was literally black; painted black and equipment-battered. It was a rock bar that had been converted to a dance bar; sometimes bands still played here, sometimes a DJ held court over the crowd. Right now, I was the mainattraction.
Though no one could seeme.
I heard voices, indistinct beyond the mellow classic rock music playing over the bar’s sound system. It was The Guess Who’s “Undun.” Which made sense if you knew that Burton Cummings was one of Zane’s all-time vocal heroes, and also, that Zane liked to play DJ wherever he could, even in Dylan’s bar,apparently.
