The Sister Code (D.O.R.K #2) (11 page)

Chapter 18

September 18, 2015

Week One Update

My first week at school is over. I officially survived a week in a high school after spending my entire life doing homework in my pajamas. I’m pretty proud of myself right now. I didn’t die, I made a couple of friends, and I showed the world just how well I can sing. Not too bad for a week that started out horribly wrong.

My viral Chorus video has done even better than my drunk singing video. People really love my actual singing voice. I’m on cloud nine over all the positive comments I’ve been receiving. I don’t know if people even realize they’re pulling me out of a pit of despair with those comments. I feel like a real musician now that people have heard me and are asking for more.

The only problem is Raven has it in her head I’d make a better pop musician than a rock star. I keep telling her I am never going to sign a solo deal, but she tells me I’m being stupid and that I could make a killing off being a pop star. No matter how much I tell her I don’t care about the money or fame, she doesn’t believe me. The only thing that gets her to shut up is reminding her Dad isn’t going to let me sign any contract while I’m still in high school.

I’m a little freaked out about her insistence on this. Is it possible she could force me to sign a solo contract someday? I seriously doubt it, but I wouldn’t put it past her to try. I’ve committed to Dalton and this band against her wishes. She was already unhappy about it, and now she’s determined to change my mind.

Her desire is to rise to the top in fame and fortune. My desire is to survive in Los Angeles and realize my dream of being a rock star. Can those two desires coexist, or is one of us bound to end up disappointed? A part of me was hoping we could actually connect on something, but so far I’m finding we could not be any more different where it counts.

Right now, I’m going to focus on tomorrow’s auditions and unwinding with Logan after it’s over. He is a judgment-free, stress-free zone for me. Actually, this whole band is. I just need to get absorbed in my dream and forget all the drama.

Can’t wait to find a bass player tomorrow so we can get this show on the road. Literally.

Ttyl,

Mads

***

Saturday morning, my family and I walk into the rehearsal studio with high hopes. Dalton and Logan are already waiting for us on the couches when we enter the room. Both of their faces explode into grins at the sight of me, and I soon find myself engulfed in two bear hugs. I giggle against them, loving the open, affectionate nature of the Jacobs-Caldwell family. I never have to doubt whether or not they like me.

Dalton asked me to bring my guitar last night so we could play along with any candidates who impress us. The front of the room is fully set up with mikes, amps, and a drum kit. Seeing the setup we’re going to have for the rest of our time in this studio makes my eyes water. Every time we meet here, things get a little more real.

***

Three hours into bass player auditions, Dalton, Logan, and I start to give up hope. Our ears are bleeding and we’re starting to lose faith in humanity. Not one of the people who responded to Dalton’s ad can even keep up with us. They sound fine on their own, but once we play together, it unravels into chaos. When the final unsuccessful auditionee leaves, the five of us burst out of the studio for fresh air, glad to finally be free from our torture chamber. We decide to go get some dinner downtown since we just wasted an entire afternoon and need a pick-me-up.

We get out to the cars and I start to get in the Tesla with Dad and Cass, but then Dad shakes his head at me and points to where Logan is standing by his car.

“Logan’s new in town,” Dad reminds me. “He doesn’t have anyone to ride with him. Why don’t you keep him company and make sure he gets to the right place?”

My heart skips a beat. I’ve never really been alone with Logan before. I glance over at Logan, who stayed outside his car to listen to our conversation. A smile is growing on his handsome face. I return the smile and nod at Dad.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

I climb into Logan’s modest black rental truck and settle into the pleasantly warm, tan leather seat. He cranks the key and the engine purrs to life. I breathe in the new car scent that lingers in the air around us and sigh with contentment.

“I really like this truck,” I say.

“Me too.” Logan pulls out of the parking space and follows closely behind Dalton’s restored ’69 Mustang. “Too bad I can’t keep it. I’ll probably have to settle for some piece of crap from a used car lot.”

“Not if Dad has anything to do with it.” I watch him as he focuses on the road in front of him, squinting and furrowing his eyebrows in a way that could only be described as adorable. “Now that you’re one of us, expect to get spoiled like you’re his son. I wouldn’t be surprised if he bought a car for your girlfriend too.”

Logan’s mouth bursts into a grin. “That’s amazing. I really can’t accept that, though. My mom taught me never to take handouts. I need to earn things for myself.”

“You’re a real Momma’s boy, aren’t ya?” I grin back at him.

“Well, she was all I had for eighteen years of my life,” he says in all seriousness.

“I get that. Dad and Nana were all I had until I moved here.” I tuck stray hairs behind my ear, glancing out at the road. We’re getting into the downtown area but don’t quite need to turn off the highway yet.

“That’s right, you weren’t always in L.A.,” Logan remembers out loud. “It’s easy to forget just looking at you. You look like you were raised here.”

I shrug and meet his gaze. He glances back out at the road. “I had a lot of help getting settled here. Also my best friend is an aspiring model, so she and Cass made sure I looked the part.”

“Gotcha.” He moves his hand down to turn on the radio, and then he grins as if he’s getting an idea. He pulls his hand back to hold the steering wheel. “Pick a radio station.”

“Okay…” I tune the radio to a rock station and start humming along to “Again” by Flyleaf.

“Don’t hold back,” Logan says. I look at him questioningly and he nods to the radio, like,
Go for it.

I smile and let my voice ring out with the song. It’s one of my favorites by a female artist. Logan keeps encouraging me until I’m belting it out, not even caring that we’re getting close to our destination. He turns the volume on the radio down just so he can listen to me. As I sing, my soul catches fire, and I let the music consume me and set me ablaze. My voice rips out of me, filling the small space to capacity and begging for more.

After the second chorus, I have to stop to direct him in to the restaurant we’re eating at. It’s a little bistro downtown that Dad, Cass, and I discovered back in the summer. It’s not extremely popular, but there are usually indie musicians performing in front of it that are surprisingly good. We enjoy discovering new talent. Dad and Cass usually offer some word of advice or encouragement and some money before going on our way.

Logan pulls into a parking garage behind the others and waits until we’re parked to let out a long breath he was holding in. “Man, driving in this city is a lot different from New York.”

“I noticed traffic was different over there,” I say.

Logan turns to me and snags my attention before we join the others. “Hey, thanks for singing for me. That was awesome.”

The sheepish yet delighted smile on his face warms me from the inside out. I feel a blush creep up my neck. I’m not used to people gushing over me in person like this, and it feels good, but it also makes me really embarrassed for some reason.

“Thanks, Logan. Let’s go join them before someone gets suspicious.” I wink and turn around to exit the vehicle before he can reply.

We join the others and walk down the street a short distance toward the bistro. On the way, we pass a young Asian guy setting up a guitar and amp. Dad and Cass stop and hold their arms up to keep the rest of us at bay. I groan, irritated at their insistence on hearing every street musician we run into on this route. Some of them are great, but my stomach is starting to rumble so loudly I’m afraid it will upstage the music. I press up on my tiptoes to complain in Dad’s ear, but he brings his index finger to his lips and shushes me. Then he points back to the guy with the guitar, and I follow his finger.

I squint and notice there’s something different about this guy’s wireless electric guitar.

One, two, three…

“Holy shit, guys…” I lean over to Dalton and Logan, and they bend down to listen to me. “His guitar only has four strings.”

All of us watch in rapt silence as this young, thin guy prepares to play a four-stringed guitar as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He tests the strings he has and tunes them, and I recognize that the two he’s missing are the upper two strings. Before long, he closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath, and starts into the smoothest bluesy bass solo I’ve ever heard.

Dad and Cass smile and bob their heads, clearly enjoying this deviation from their usual music fare. Blues music has never been my thing, but even I have to admit this is pleasant to listen to. The fact that his original composition is so complex and flawless on a four-stringed guitar is impressive in itself, but when the music spikes to a faster tempo and his fingers begin to fly up and down the neck of his guitar, all of us gasp with excitement. There’s something extraordinary about this guy. We can all feel it. I can see it written all over Dalton and Logan’s hopeful faces. Maybe today won’t be such a loss after all.

Maybe the audition we really needed to hear wasn’t at the studio.

We approach the bass player and greet him with obnoxious clapping and whooping when he plays his last troubled note. His dark eyes grow wide with recognition at the sight of Dad and Cass. I notice him pull back a couple of steps in alarm.

“Sorry for the ambush,” Dad says to the talented stranger. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

“I’m self-taught.” He draws himself up straight and looks us right in the eyes. I can tell by the way his Adam’s apple pulls up and down that he’s still nervous, but he’s hiding it well.

“That was very impressive,” Cass compliments him.

“Thanks.” His reply is purposely short. He forces a tight-lipped smile.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Max. Max Li.”

“Can I ask why you’re playing a guitar with only four strings?” Dalton asks.

Max’s dark eyebrow twitches slightly. His expression deadens and his voice flattens. “Oh, you know, I just prefer it this way.” He thumps his palm on the body and another string pops free and nearly whips him in the face. “Dammit…” Max continues to curse under his breath as he attempts to re-attach the string to no avail. It’s broken just like the others obviously were.

“Max, would you consider comin’ to dinner with us at that bistro just down the street?” Dad nods in the direction of the restaurant.

Max drops the guitar in shock. Thankfully it was strapped around his shoulder or he’d likely be out three strings and a neck. “Uh…sure. Yeah.”

Max hesitantly packs up his equipment and lets the guys help him carry it down the street to the old-style bistro. Once inside, he awkwardly joins us at a table and sits silent and wide-eyed as the rest of us order. Dad and Cass have to wheedle him into ordering something, and even then he requests only a cup of tea. After our drinks are brought to the table, Dad and Cass start questioning him about his life.

“I just graduated from Geller High last year. My parents run a Chinese restaurant down on Weston Boulevard,” Max informs us. “It’s not doing too well. My music is what’s keeping us alive right now.”

“So you make enough to support a family?” Dad asks.

“Not enough,” Max admits. “We barely have enough to live from week to week.” He hangs his head with downcast eyes, clearly humiliated at having to admit this to my family. I almost feel bad about this interrogation. Maybe it would make him feel better to know what we’re thinking of.

“These guys and I—” I gesture between myself, Logan, and Dalton. “—are trying to start a band. We only need one more person, and that’s a bass player. Have you ever considered playing in a rock band?”

Max’s mouth falls open. “Wha…me? Yeah, sure, but I never thought I’d get the chance.”

Dalton leans forward with his arms crossed on the table in front of him. “You have just the talent we’re looking for. We’re hoping to make it big.”

“They have us backin’ them up,” Dad adds. “Would you consider auditionin’ for us down at our rehearsal studio sometime?”

Max draws back in his seat, looking almost horrified in his mind-blown state. “Wha—you…you really want me?”

“We’d like to hear you with the band first, of course,” Cass reminds him.

“Uh…yeah, sure. When?”

We decide to meet up with him tomorrow afternoon. As specifics are discussed, tenuous excitement builds inside of me. Could this be it? Is this our final step? I guess we won’t know until tomorrow.