It was hard not to. The minute I saw the notice for the auditions, I had to try. This wasn’t my dream exactly, but it was a chance to learn from one of the greatest rock legends in the world: Hank Walker. He was also my dad’s idol. When Mountain View Theater announced Hank’s summer appearance, my dad flipped out. Hank hadn’t performed in five years and here he was going to be in our backyard.
Then Hank announced he’d be hiring local musicians and backup singers. Dad picked up his guitar and tried. He tried so hard to play. The stroke that had left him partially paralyzed two years ago ended that dream. All he could do was strum a few cords before his hands locked up on him.
It was up to me.
“Okay, ladies,” the woman said from the doorway. “They’re ready for you.”
I glanced around, meeting the eyes of several other singers whose fear was as visual as mine and avoiding the few who knew they had nailed it. My throat constricted and tears prepared themselves at the corner of my eyes. Just in case.
Together we stood and made our way to the stage. It felt like a cattle call. We were being presented only for slaughter. I stood near the back, ready to make my escape.
“Ladies, thank you for coming out,” a different voice said from the seats. I still couldn’t see anything but the glaring spotlight in front of me. “We’re thrilled with the talent Branson has to offer, but we only need two singers. Please don’t take this personally. We took in a lot of factors when finalizing our choices. All of you sang beautifully.”
The voice paused and the first voice took over, “Crystal Hart.”
Crystal stepped forward, grinning like she’d won the lottery. The last sliver of hope disappeared.
“And Cameron Harris,” he added.
“What?” I said, a little too loudly. Several of the girls snapped their heads my way. “Sorry,” I mouthed.
If the voice heard my little squeak, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Thank you, ladies.”
That was it. I was in?
It didn’t seem real or even right.
The rest of the girls filed off the stage and I stood there dumbstruck. Crystal stood at the front, but I couldn’t get my feet to move. I wasn’t sure if I really believed I should. The lights dimmed on the stage and the seats came into view. A tall man walked down the aisle. While I couldn’t see his face past the stars dancing in my eyes, I knew it was Hank Walker by his swagger and his trademark black leather vest.
His heavy boots rattled the stairs as he stomped up them and strolled over to Crystal. They shook hands and chatted while I stayed rooted to the floor. Crystal looked equally awed, impressed, and professional. My stomach churned.
Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up. I prayed repeatedly as Hank’s gaze shifted toward me.
He stalked toward me, head down and eyes lasering through me. My breath caught in my throat.
“You, I didn’t pick. So don’t make my son look like an asshole.”
I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. It didn’t matter anyway. He marched away, disappearing behind the stage.
CHAPTER TWO
I stood on the stage in shock. What else was it? Humiliation? Anger? Hurt? All of the above, really. It wasn’t what he said, although that wasn’t nice either, but how he said it. There was an underlying venom. And underlying disappointment. I didn’t know how to take it.
“Excuse me?” an older woman said. She waved a small stack of papers in front of my face until I focused on her. “Hi, I’m Pamela, Mr. Walker’s assistant.”
“Oh, sorry, hi,” I mumbled. My cheeks heated and I ducked my head down to hide it.
“It’s okay. He can be a bit... abrasive at times.”
I lifted my head to meet her gaze. “A bit?”
Pamela laughed. “Fine, he can be a downright asshole, but don’t let it bother you or he wins.”
“How long have you worked for him?” I asked, more than a little surprised at how old she was. Like Crystal, she’d worn makeup to make her appear younger. Unlike Crystal, it worked for her. Pamela was around my mom’s age, mid-forties, and had beautiful red hair and striking almond shaped eyes. Her clothes were more office casual than rockstar assistant.
“About ten years.” She leaned in as if sharing a secret. “I’m his niece so he has to put up with me. Uncle Hank’s a big believer in family first.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” What else could I say to that?
Pamela laughed again. “Don’t worry. You won’t see me around much. I’m managing everything from L.A. after the first week or so. He’s still got a lot going on back home that needs to be taken care of. Mr. Reynolds has an assistant lined up to help him after I leave and until I come back. Poor girl. At least, my frequent flyer miles are going to skyrocket. Tahiti, I’ll see you soon.” She shook her head from visions of Tahiti and held out the papers. “Here’s the rehearsal schedule for the next week. You’ll have to work with Ruth a lot—”
“Ruth?” I asked as I stared at the pages.
“Crystal’s her stage name.”
“Um, Pamela?” The schedule shook in my head. I couldn’t do this schedule. Not with school. There was only a week left, but I couldn’t just not go to class. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?” Panic sharpened her tone.
“This,” I said showing her the schedule. “I’m... I have to go to school.”
“Jesus, I thought you were eighteen.” She slapped the file in her hands against her thigh. “You signed a waiver.”
“I did. I mean, yeah, I am eighteen. I didn’t lie.”
