Jesse's Girl
Page 71
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“So how long are you in town?” Jesse asks me, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“’Til I get kicked offstage,” I reply nervously. “How long are you here for?”
“We’re supposed to wrap up these auditions this week. Then I gotta head back out on tour. I’m in London next.”
I cover his hand with mine. “I’ll miss you.”
A smile blooms on his face. “I’ll miss you too. It was a nice surprise to see you here.”
A few minutes later, a stagehand announces we need to return to the auditorium. Jesse escorts me back to meet up with Sam and Mom, who grabbed lunch at a pizza place nearby. Sam had been dying for a slice of real New York style since we left Tennessee.
Jesse takes Mom’s elbow. “Can I have a moment?”
“Okaayy…” Mom narrows her eyes at me, then follows Jesse backstage. She reappears a few minutes later with a big smile on her face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She struggles not to laugh. What is going on? “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you up on the stage.”
Only seven singers stand between me and the biggest moment of my life. I wipe my upper lip with the back of my shaking hand as we line up backstage. Of the seven singers, six are immediately bathed in darkness, and only one girl moves on to the next round.
Leaving the stage, she breezes past me and says, “Good luck!”
I breathe in and out, closing my eyes as the stagehand calls my number.
I crack my knuckles and walk onstage with my guitar around my neck. The lights are so bright, I can barely see beyond the stage. Cameras are everywhere. I plug my cord into the amp and check the settings on the distortion. All set.
I smile down at the judges, and Jesse grins back at me. I grab the mike with one hand and shout, “One, two, one, two, three, four,” and dive into the opening riff of “Another One Bites the Dust.”
Instead of using my lucky pick, I take my cue from Queen’s guitarist Brian May and use an old penny to strum the strings. Under the bright lights, it feels like the heat from a million tiny suns. I remember to sing from my stomach, recalling everything Jesse and Holly taught me. What’s crazy? Contestants in the audience clap and dance. I thought they hated me.
About ten seconds in, part of the stage goes dark, but I keep jamming like I normally would. Another set of lights goes out. My heart chugs along—it might stop.
Please don’t let the middle lights go out. Please. I love performing on this stage. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
When the stagehand in the wings gestures that my time is up, my knees nearly buckle. The other contestants clap and scream. I take a bow. I’m going to the next round!
That is, if the producers let me.
Adrenaline pulses through me as I take off my guitar and wait to see if the judges will make any comments.
“Your performance was fun,” Annie Lennox announces. “Great outfit.”
I blow a kiss at her because I just can’t help myself.
“I think you need more experience,” Dave Matthews says. “Your voice isn’t there yet, and I don’t know if it’ll ever be good enough to make it in the business.”
Ouch. I nod at him and say thank you anyway.
Joel Madden says, “I agree with Dave, but I did enjoy your tone. And I love the purple boots.”
Jesse leans into the mike. “Thanks. Don’t I have great taste?” The other contestants groan and murmur. Him being a judge and me being a contestant really isn’t fair, is it?
Jesse then turns serious. “Your performance wasn’t bad, Maya, but you need to open your mouth more so the sound will be fuller. You also got way into the moment, sped up, and missed some beats.”
I thank Jesse and smile at him, even though he basically clobbered me over the head with a Fender. I unplug my guitar and exit the stage. The judges’ critiques are whirling around in my mind like a tornado.
“They didn’t turn all the lights off! I sorta sucked, but that was awesome!” I exclaim to anybody who’ll listen. “I just played in Radio City! Woooo!”
Mom and Sam come rushing up to congratulate me, and Mom kisses my cheek. Smiling, I pull away to find Mr. Logan standing there with an older man dressed in khakis and a polo, as if he just left the green.
“Good job, Maya,” Mr. Logan says, patting my back.
“That was so fun,” I reply. “Even if it was my only chance to compete, right? I won’t let Jesse get into any sort of trouble ’cause of me.”
The smile disappears from Mr. Logan’s face. “I’m hoping Charles here will be able to work something out.”
“’Til I get kicked offstage,” I reply nervously. “How long are you here for?”
“We’re supposed to wrap up these auditions this week. Then I gotta head back out on tour. I’m in London next.”
I cover his hand with mine. “I’ll miss you.”
A smile blooms on his face. “I’ll miss you too. It was a nice surprise to see you here.”
A few minutes later, a stagehand announces we need to return to the auditorium. Jesse escorts me back to meet up with Sam and Mom, who grabbed lunch at a pizza place nearby. Sam had been dying for a slice of real New York style since we left Tennessee.
Jesse takes Mom’s elbow. “Can I have a moment?”
“Okaayy…” Mom narrows her eyes at me, then follows Jesse backstage. She reappears a few minutes later with a big smile on her face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She struggles not to laugh. What is going on? “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you up on the stage.”
Only seven singers stand between me and the biggest moment of my life. I wipe my upper lip with the back of my shaking hand as we line up backstage. Of the seven singers, six are immediately bathed in darkness, and only one girl moves on to the next round.
Leaving the stage, she breezes past me and says, “Good luck!”
I breathe in and out, closing my eyes as the stagehand calls my number.
I crack my knuckles and walk onstage with my guitar around my neck. The lights are so bright, I can barely see beyond the stage. Cameras are everywhere. I plug my cord into the amp and check the settings on the distortion. All set.
I smile down at the judges, and Jesse grins back at me. I grab the mike with one hand and shout, “One, two, one, two, three, four,” and dive into the opening riff of “Another One Bites the Dust.”
Instead of using my lucky pick, I take my cue from Queen’s guitarist Brian May and use an old penny to strum the strings. Under the bright lights, it feels like the heat from a million tiny suns. I remember to sing from my stomach, recalling everything Jesse and Holly taught me. What’s crazy? Contestants in the audience clap and dance. I thought they hated me.
About ten seconds in, part of the stage goes dark, but I keep jamming like I normally would. Another set of lights goes out. My heart chugs along—it might stop.
Please don’t let the middle lights go out. Please. I love performing on this stage. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
When the stagehand in the wings gestures that my time is up, my knees nearly buckle. The other contestants clap and scream. I take a bow. I’m going to the next round!
That is, if the producers let me.
Adrenaline pulses through me as I take off my guitar and wait to see if the judges will make any comments.
“Your performance was fun,” Annie Lennox announces. “Great outfit.”
I blow a kiss at her because I just can’t help myself.
“I think you need more experience,” Dave Matthews says. “Your voice isn’t there yet, and I don’t know if it’ll ever be good enough to make it in the business.”
Ouch. I nod at him and say thank you anyway.
Joel Madden says, “I agree with Dave, but I did enjoy your tone. And I love the purple boots.”
Jesse leans into the mike. “Thanks. Don’t I have great taste?” The other contestants groan and murmur. Him being a judge and me being a contestant really isn’t fair, is it?
Jesse then turns serious. “Your performance wasn’t bad, Maya, but you need to open your mouth more so the sound will be fuller. You also got way into the moment, sped up, and missed some beats.”
I thank Jesse and smile at him, even though he basically clobbered me over the head with a Fender. I unplug my guitar and exit the stage. The judges’ critiques are whirling around in my mind like a tornado.
“They didn’t turn all the lights off! I sorta sucked, but that was awesome!” I exclaim to anybody who’ll listen. “I just played in Radio City! Woooo!”
Mom and Sam come rushing up to congratulate me, and Mom kisses my cheek. Smiling, I pull away to find Mr. Logan standing there with an older man dressed in khakis and a polo, as if he just left the green.
“Good job, Maya,” Mr. Logan says, patting my back.
“That was so fun,” I reply. “Even if it was my only chance to compete, right? I won’t let Jesse get into any sort of trouble ’cause of me.”
The smile disappears from Mr. Logan’s face. “I’m hoping Charles here will be able to work something out.”
