My Rock #2 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #2) (5 page)

I called my agent as soon as I got up,

 
“Hey Mitch,
what have you got for me that’s good?” I was trying to start the conversation
out upbeat. Mitchell and I hadn’t been getting along that great lately. I
honestly couldn’t stand him but I couldn’t find another agent willing to take
me on either.

“Sorry Tristan, I haven’t even really been looking.
You’ve been doing so well on Fresh Voices. I just thought you’d want to
concentrate on that.” I really was planning on being nice, but the first
sentence out of his mouth had already pissed me off.

“And what if I get eliminated, then what? You know
if I don’t make any money you don’t either, right?”

“Yes Tristan, I realize that. I really thought you
were focused on the show. If you’re not and you’d rather I book you a bar…”

“What I would like is for some fucking body to do
their job for a change. Your job is to book jobs for me not to sit around and
hope I win some stupid rigged ass contest and you get your cut of a million
bucks.” He started to say something else and I just hung up on him. He’s as
useless as the rest of them. I’d be better off representing myself.

I went and got the box under my bed where I kept my
Acapulco. I was getting low; I’d have to go see my guy this week. I needed to
make some cash first though. I’ll have to call
Huggy’s
myself and see if they’re looking for a band this week. That’s an easy three
hundred plus tips. I took out a little baggie full and took it over to the
couch. I had to dig for the glass pipe under a bunch of laundry. I wasn’t lazy,
I hated living like this. I just can’t remember if the laundry is clean or
dirty most of the time. I don’t want to wash clean clothes and I don’t want to
hang up dirty ones…I’d rather waste my energy on something else.

I put the red in the pipe and lit it. I took a long,
slow drag and leaned back into the couch. I sat there like that most of the
day, still in the same clothes I’d worn the day before, clicking through the
channels. Daytime television is crap, soap operas, game shows and talk shows
where a bunch of rich nosy women sit around and talk about things like they
know two rat’s asses about it. I was going from one station to the next when I
saw the advertisement for tonight’s results show. They flashed the contestants
across the screen and I saw my face. I changed the channel again. I didn’t want
to think about it. I wasn’t going to go. If they were going to run me off the
show, I was going to do it with as little humiliation as possible and not in
front of twenty million people. I’d already had to talk to a couple of the guys
in my band last night.

After the show aired they called to say, “Sorry man,
tough break.”

Tough break my ass. I still think the fucking show
was rigged. People piss me off too, just assuming I was getting voted off
because of three fat-assed judge’s opinions. I probably would have had better
luck going on “Dancing with the Stars.” That show was great for “Where are they
now?” faces like mine.

I laid my head back and took another hit off the pipe.
I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind of all the crap that I really
didn’t want to deal with. By the time I’d smoked it down to ash; I was feeling
a lot better, a lot calmer.

I suddenly felt like I was starving. I looked up at
the clock and was surprised to see that it was after three o’clock. I couldn’t
really remember the last time I ate and the weed gave me the munchies. I didn’t
even look in my refrigerator; I knew that I didn’t have a damned thing to eat
in the apartment, so I finally forced myself to get in the shower and change.
Maybe subliminally I knew that I’d end up going tonight because for some reason
I put on a nice shirt and my new jeans. I ran some gel through my hair and
slipped the cross over my head and watched in the mirror as it landed around my
neck. I touched it when it hit my chest and for a fraction of a second my
drug-addled brain let me wonder…what if things had been different and the band
had never broken up?
 
What if I’d kept
singing without them….what if I’d had parents who hadn’t pissed it all away?
The thoughts were gone as quickly as they had appeared, tamped down into the
furthest recesses of my memory.
 
I
grabbed my wallet and my keys and walked down the street to the little café on
the corner.

I sat there and ate a turkey sandwich and a bag of
chips trying to decide if I was going to hit the show tonight or not. I was
definitely feeling a lot better about it now. I was so calm that even if they
told me they’d rigged it I probably wouldn’t have gotten pissed off.
 
I guess I can probably thank the weed for
that. I finally decided that since I didn’t care either way, I may as well go
and see what happened.

I caught a cab to the studio and as soon as the guy
who ushered the contestants in saw me he rushed me through. I guess I was late.
We passed Elly and I tried to smile at her, but she gave me the cold shoulder.
I guess I was kind of a dick to her the day before. You think she’d understand
that it wasn’t about her, I was just pissed.

I took my seat on the stage next to the other
contestants. I hadn’t found a single one yet that I had anything in common
with. I wouldn’t mind doing a couple of the girls that were actually over
eighteen if the opportunity arose, but I didn’t have a single desire to be
friends with any of them. I avoided their silly, juvenile “get-togethers” and
“chats” in the waiting room. I built an invisible wall that most of them were
smart enough to recognize and respect. As the overly dramatic emcee called each
contestant out and told them they were either safe or in the bottom three they
showed a clip of the previous night’s show on the big screen above the stage. I
cringed when it came to my turn and I had to listen to the three assholes tell
me how bad it was all over again. I would never admit it out loud, but now that
I heard it back on tape, it did sound like crap. The two girls who were sitting
in the bottom spot deserved to be there too though as far as I was concerned.
One of them was a
wanna
be Rhianna and the other was
just…I had no words for her. When they finished humiliating me once more, the
emcee had to go on and ask the judges if they stood by their opinions about me
from last night. I’d like to take his pretty boy ass out back and show him how
I stood by my opinions of him.

The Diva gushed again about how much she liked me
and how she knew I was just full of talent. Her goody-two-shoes attitude was
nauseating.

Although I hated Country music, country boy at least
sounded sincere as he said, “Everybody has a bad night.”

When pretty boy finally got around to announcing it,
I was in the bottom three. I was beginning to re-think my decision to come back
tonight. If they voted me off and then expected me to sing…Let’s just say that
wasn’t going to happen.

For the next twenty minutes we watched a past winner
of the show perform. She was kind of a pop singer and she was pretty good. I
was sure the fact that she was also really hot had something to do with the
reason she’d won. Then we watched clips of “what was to come.” Each time we
went to commercial break, the camera panned across the faces of those of us in
the bottom three. One of the girls, a teeny bopper of about sixteen who still
had her braces on, folded her hands and looked at the camera. Her eyes were
begging as if the votes weren’t already in and counted. It was kind of
pathetic, and even my cold heart was affected by it…just a little.

The other one was surer of herself. She was
undoubtedly the most popular girl in her class and Daddy’s little princess. She
smiled and waved at the camera. When it was my turn, I just acted like it
wasn’t there. During the breaks, the producers tried telling me that if I
didn’t present a “more likable” persona that America wasn’t going to vote for
me. Fuck America, I wasn’t putting on any shows.

Finally after what seemed like hours, the emcee
called the confident girl back to her seat. I guess she knew what she was
doing. She didn’t look like a girl who was used to being told no about
anything. We went to commercial break…again and after another eternity, the
emcee had them “dim the lights” again. Then of course he had to make it all
dramatic.

“Last night, the two people here in the bottom two
had their worst nights so far. Tristan was told by all three judges that his
performance was, “terrible” and they “hated it.” I can’t imagine what was going
through his mind when he heard those words.”

Damn straight he can’t imagine it. The little prissy
son of a bitch probably didn’t have a shred of talent in his body. People that
aren’t artists and have never done anything creative had no idea what it felt
like to have something you’d poured your fucking soul into torn into shreds
before your eyes. I don’t have a kid…thank God, but that’s what I think it
might be like. Not for my parents of course, but for real parents who love
their kids…imagine someone telling you your kid is “awful” or “terrible” or
“ugly.” That’s what it felt like to have your creation criticized and there was
no explaining that to anyone who’d never been in that position.

He’d moved on to the little girl next to me. I know
I said she deserved to be here, but while he talked about how bad they hated
her performance too, I watched her face. I could actually understand the
emotions I saw there. At least I was older and I’d been through this kind of
shit before. Here was this sixteen year old kid that was being told something
she’d poured out from her soul wasn’t good enough. It would be a miracle if she
went on and did anything after this if they kick her off.

The bag of wind finally brought his re-cap of last
night to a close. It had all been for purposes of drama and filling a time gap.
No one here gave any thought to how their words were affecting the two flesh
and blood people who were sitting here on the stage. This kind of thing is why I
just don’t give a shit about anyone. Everyone is out for themselves, and every
moment of everyday people do things for the sole purpose of making their own
lives better.

I was lost in my thoughts when I heard my name. I
was a little disoriented, unsure if he had said I was staying or going. I
looked at the girl next to me. She’d dissolved into a puddle of tears. I had to
assume that meant she was going home. I reached over and pat her shoulder. I
genuinely felt bad for her. I knew what she must be feeling right now and it
was a whole big mixture of shit. I finally got up and went back to my spot,
leaving her there to deal with it on her own. I had made it through this one,
barely. While I’d been sitting there waiting I had decided that if I wanted to
move on, I’d probably have to do it their way. I at least didn’t have to fake
what I was feeling as I watched the little girl sing her last song with tears
flowing down her cheeks. I even had to admit that she was a better man than
me…figuratively speaking. I honestly think I would have given them the finger
and walked off the stage. I guess I still have a few rounds to find out.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

ELLY

It was Saturday and I had the day off, thank God. I
was exhausted. It had been a really long week of sixteen hour days. On top of
that, I had to study for my exams every chance I got. I’d gone to see Jake
again and he wanted to tell me that it was looking good for me getting hired on
to travel with the top ten contestants. He wanted to know if I’d considered it
at all and I told him I had and that I’d be willing to do the rest of my
classes online and take the job.

I’d spent most of my day off running errands. Susie
and I didn’t have any food or anything to drink in the apartment so I’d went
shopping. I paid bills while I was out too and stopped at Starbucks to meet
Molly for coffee. She wanted to talk about Tristan.

“So, any new developments with you and the Wild
Child?” That’s what they started calling Tristan after his fit in the waiting
room.

“No. I haven’t talked to him, but I’m not going to
see him anymore.”

“It was just a little tantrum. I’ve seen worse. He
redeemed himself on the results show.”

I laughed, “It’s not because of that, although that
was not very becoming at all and only children think they can throw a fit like
that and then come back and act like nothing happened. The reason I’m not going
to see him again though is that I can’t risk my job. Then there’s the fact that
he has a real chance at winning this thing. I like myself, but I don’t think
I’m worth giving up a million bucks and a record contract for. Hell, I’d sell
myself out for a million dollars and a record contract.”

“You’re worth it if he loves you,” Molly the
romantic told me. She wanted so badly to see something there that wasn’t.

“Molly it’s not like that between Tristan and me. It
was always just my infatuation with him and then the sex…really good sex.”

She smiled at that and said, “You don’t have any
other feelings for him than that, really?”

“No, I don’t, really,” I had told her, confidently.
She didn’t look like she believed me, but she didn’t push the issue. The truth
was I did have feelings beyond that. I was defensive when it came to him and I
felt bad when he was hurting. I was feeling his pain for some reason. I barely
knew him though, so it most definitely wasn’t love. To call it like would even
be playing it fast and loose with that word. No, for now it was just sex and
unless he suddenly became communicative…and nice, that’s all it will ever be.