Southern Rocker Showdown Page 6

  Likewise Vanni sat in that first row. He gave her a thumb’s up gesture to show his approval after the last note faded. She nodded at him and then made way for the next contestant to perform. He met her at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re going to sail right through with that one,” he promised.

  She fidgeted in the tight dress. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I’m telepathetic,” he grinned. She shook her head and turned for the exit. She had to return the dress to Jorge before he had a stroke.

  Tony Paul jogged to catch up, falling in step beside her. He was out of breath when he spoke. “That was really impressive what you did back there.”

  She glared at him. “Save your compliments. I can tell you’re full of shit.”

  “No, really,” he insisted. “But I really think we should talk about it.”

  She scoffed. “Talk about what?”

  He stopped her in the middle of the darkened studio back lot. “That song,” he answered. “The way you sang it. It was meant for someone.”

  She twirled away, which was admittedly more fun to do when she had ruffles and lace swirling around her legs. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered.

  The truth was that she did sing it for someone. There was someone she wished could undo the past and give them a brand new beginning, but it certainly wasn’t Tony Paul Hollis.

  His hand tightened around her elbow to hold her back. “Lacy,” was all he said.

  She glared up at him. “What do you want me to say, Tony? That I’ve pined for you these last four years? That I’ve done what I could to leave the door open for you, so that you can just waltz right back into my life and Cody’s life like you never left?”

  “If it’s true, you can tell me anything.”

  She shook her head with a humorless chuckle. “’If it’s true,’” she repeated. “Convenient stipulation for everyone who isn’t you.”

  He stepped closer. It made her take a step back. Those familiar blue eyes were dark and cloudy as he stared down at her, taking in her elegant hair and snug dress, which clung to her body like a second skin. “You can have everything that you want. All you need to do is say the word, baby girl,” he murmured.

  It was the wrong thing for him to say. She jerked her hand back. “I want you to leave me the fuck alone. You had your chance. And you blew it.”

  He closed the gap between them. “Did I?” he asked.

  She felt the warmth of his hand on her cool skin a millisecond before he pulled her into his arms. He held her strong as his head lowered towards hers. Before she knew what was happening, his mouth opened over hers and his tongue shoved its way through her clenched lips, to take a kiss she would never have offered.

  It was eerily familiar.

  She flashed back to Doyle Quinlan, the pervert who had tried to accost her in a dressing room at the Golden Armadillo when she was only fourteen. It made her skin crawl instantly. She used the heel of the Mary Janes she was wearing to stomp on his foot. He stumbled back, yowling in pain. “What the fuck was that for?”

  “Consider it a warning,” she hissed.

  His mouth formed an evil little smile as he stared at her. “So that song was for somebody, but it wasn’t for me. Lemme guess. You’ve graduated to the big leagues with that Vanni guy.”

  “What?” she exploded.

  “Admit it, Lacy. Every gig you ever got was because some guy thought you were cute. Apparently this isn’t all that different. You’re just making it work for you instead of against you.”

  “Fuck you,” she said as she spun away.

  “Nah, fuck you, sweetheart.” She stopped dead in her tracks to glare at him. “Look in a mirror, Lacy. You dressed up for him. You sang to him. And he rewarded you with all the praise your little heart desired.” She hated him the more he talked. And he wouldn’t shut the fuck up. “Admit it, baby girl. You’re playing the game just like the rest of us.”

  Her blood boiled as she stared into his hateful face. She couldn’t believe she had ever let this man defile her. “I learned from the best,” she snapped before she stomped all the way to the lot where the rented cars waited to take contestants back to the house.

  Chapter Five

  By the time Monday rolled around, Lacy had made some necessary changes without telling anyone but the studio band.

  She also had a brand new tattoo, which she had sneaked out of the house to get that Sunday afternoon. To her surprise, a large, jovial man named Sylvester joined her. He was itching for new ink as well, so he was game when she enlisted his help that afternoon to cover for her.

  Instead Shiloh offered to cover for them, since he had some finishing touches to put on his song there at the house studio.

  Lacy discovered two things as she wedged into the car next to the gentle giant. Sylvester Turrell couldn’t help but sing. He sang everywhere, for any reason. He was either humming, or would launch into a song based on what was being discussed around him. He loved Motown, since he was from the Motor City, so he was always crooning some be-bop, doo-wap number from an era long past.

  The second thing she noticed was that she liked that odd little quirk. She liked it a lot. It was like living in their very own musical, where the crowd around them could spontaneously break out into song at a moment’s notice.

  He was an instant friend.

  He was also completely benign because he was one-hundred-percent, grade-A, certified gay. With a capital G-A-Y.

  “So what are you getting?” he asked as he leaned toward her. He couldn’t help but lean toward her. He was a massive man and she was a tiny woman. He was everywhere in that car around her, both in flesh and in spirit. But she wasn’t intimidated in the least. Instead, he was like her own personal teddy bear.

  “A rusty musical eighth note that is hanging on by a thread,” she said.

  “Not exactly subtle,” he commented. “But then again, neither are you.”

  “You’re one to talk,” she pointed out with a teasing grin. “So what are you getting?”

  “A teddy bear,” he said.

  As it turned out, it was a zombiefied teddy bear with a knife plunged into its chest and an angry evil look on its decaying face, which included torn thread and spilled stuffing. “You’re deranged,” she giggled from the other chair.

  “Look,” he started in good humor, “I’ve gotten a teddy bear each year for the past five years. I had to get creative or else some kid at the mall would mistake me for a shelf of toys.”

  She laughed even harder. “Well, your secret is safe with me,” she promised, which inspired him to launch into an 80s song about rumors.

  He was like a walking encyclopedia of music, ready to throw down the most random tunes at a moment’s notice.

  They sang all the way back to the house.

  By Monday they were inseparable. Sylvester bunked with Shiloh and Jonah, so they joined her in the car on the way to the studio that morning. Jonah watched her silently, hiding behind those eyes that still left her weak in the knees. Shiloh was a bit more forthcoming, but it was Sylvester who dominated the conversation. He started making up lyrics and melodies the closer they got to the lot. Despite all his confidence, he was nervous how he would be received. They all were.

  All but Lacy anyway. By the end of that night, she hoped to establish herself firmly in the minds of the viewing audience by pissing everyone off. Whether they voted for her or against her, they certainly wouldn’t forget her. That was her only objective.

  They wanted Fierce? They were about to get it. She flipped her bitch-o-meter from PMS to Honey Badger, ready to throw down the gauntlet to anyone who thought she was a commodity to sell.

  She didn’t bother with Jorge. She dressed herself in one of the trailers, where she also applied her own makeup. She wore leather pants, studded biker boots and a ripped T-shirt she’d purchased from the tattoo parlor. Her lipstick was black, as was her eye makeup. By the time she was done, there was nothing soft or feminine about her.

/>   There was something desperately wrong with the world she was living in. Just like all the malcontents that had come before her, she was going to thrust her fists up into the air and head out onto that stage with a battle cry.

  She changed the song back to its original arrangement. Alan White, the music director, was extraordinarily put out by the change, given how hard they had worked the days before to do something different and interesting with it.

  Now it was just another cover, and not a particularly good one. “That’s just bad karaoke,” he informed her as she stalked off the stage.

  “We’ll let the audience decide,” she smiled sweetly before she headed for the water bottles lining the table back stage. Alan momentarily considered putting her at the beginning of the show, rather than ending on such a sour note. But it seemed pointless to screw everyone else up in the process.

  He had twenty-four quarterfinalists to manage, not just one.

  He’d already done the diva thing. Quite frankly, he was over it. She’d crash and burn and go back home, tail tucked firmly between her legs. But she’d learn. A little too late, maybe, but she’d learn.

  They always learned.

  He had to put on a two-hour show. He couldn’t worry about her. There were twelve other women who deserved his full attention, and they had actually shown up to perform. Courtney channeled Faith Hill. Maddie performed a Blondie hit, including the iconic rap in her ninety seconds to show the whole world she wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Harper sashayed her way through a current Top-40 hit, as did Sydney. Sydney’s was easily the more superior of the two. She kept her identity intact, a perfect fourteen-year-old girl singing an anthem about being one’s self, taken from a popular animated movie.

  With each performance, all three judges agreed that everyone had brought their A-game for the first live show of the season. There were no real blunders, but no real standouts either. It was probably way too early in the season for that. These amateurs were clearly still finding their way.

  There was a knot in Alan’s stomach before their hostess, a beautiful Cajun goddess named Dominique, introduced their final act for the evening. Jonah sat between Sylvester and Shiloh. He watched as Lacy exploded onto that stage, channeling Blaze, her stage persona from Austin, as she sang the familiar song.

  She wouldn’t even look his direction.

  In fact, she didn’t look in any direction except the camera. She avoided all the guys sitting on stage, watching the girls perform. She didn’t even look at the judges.

  And she absolutely refused to look at her mom, who watched her daughter’s performance behind a steely, expressionless mask.

  Lacy was sure she knew what she was doing until she looked into the familiar faces that surrounded her. As each face fell, her confidence flat-lined. Even the audience, some of whom holding up glittery signs that said “Lacy” on them, couldn’t watch the train wreck before them.

  The worst of it, though, were the smug faces of Gay and Jacinda Hollis, who delighted in her stumble as they watched from the section in the audience where the families sat. They delighted in her misery for sport, but this time every mistake she made hand-wrapped the grand prize for their beloved Tony Paul.

  After the last notes faded and Lacy joined Dominique in the middle of the stage, the judges were speechless as they tried to put their thoughts into words.

  “That was a little different than what we were expecting,” Allison Ewing started. “What made you change your mind about the direction of this song?”

  She could feel Tony Paul’s eyes boring holes in the back of her head. She held her head high. “It’s a song that means a lot to me. It has a lot of personal history. I wanted to do it justice since it’s perfect the way it is.”

  “Sadly, that performance was far from perfect,” Ryder Reed chimed in. “Your notes were all over the place, either sharp or flat, like you hadn’t rehearsed the song at all with the band.”

  “I had arranged it a little differently,” she admitted, her voice tight with unshed tears. She was used to people critiquing her work. But it never felt good to be criticized, especially in such a public forum. All eyes focused on her until her skin burned.

  “Why did you change it, Lacy?” Vanni asked her in a soft, disappointed voice.

  She willed herself to stay strong. “I wanted to send a very clear message,” she answered at last.

  “I think we got it loud and clear,” Vanni replied. “I hope for your sake it isn’t the last thing people hear from you. Because that would be a shame.”

  When she turned away from the judges, she spotted Tony Paul, who had the same smug glint in his eye that his mother and sister did. She ducked her head and scurried off stage. Jonah’s heart ached for her as he watched her leave.

  Tony Paul leaned towards him. “That song just sent her home. Hope it was worth the message she was trying to send to someone.”

  It only made Jonah feel worse. He was in no mood for the premiere party that night, but he wasn’t about to leave her unattended either. They sent four limos to transport all the contestants to the posh hotel where the party was being held. She crowded in with five other girls, leaving him with his roomies, as well as Richie and Lila Cruz, a brother and sister from the Bronx who were competing against each other, though it was easy to see how close they really were. They were Puerto Rican and wore some extra padding around the middle thanks to their voracious appetite for all the finer things in life, like good food and every single celebration to eat it. They were also the life of the party the minute they scooted into the car together.

  Everyone wanted to know how it was for Lila, who had performed for the first time for a large audience. She sang a show tune, a Broadway baby to her core. “I was nervous,” she confessed easily. “The Curse of First and all.”

  “What’s the Curse of First?” Jonah asked.

  “If you go first, people forget you. You have to have a really memorable performance to stick in their memory so they can remember to vote for you. And we had twelve girls sing tonight. I’m so screwed.”

  “You were great,” Richie reassured. “Not like that train-wreck who closed the show.”

  “Oh, my God, right? What a waste of the pimp spot. But I hear one of the judges really likes her, so I doubt she’s going anywhere.”

  “Which judge is that?” Tony Paul asked.

  She smirked. “Who do you think? Mr. Leather Pants himself, of course. Giovanni has a reputation with the ladies.” With a tug at his gut, Jonah thought about the close chat he’d witnessed between Vanni and Lacy. “He got married and has some kids, but you know how rock stars are. They can get away with anything.”

  Tony Paul snickered. “Yeah, I don’t buy that marriage for a second. They were just whitewashing his image. He’s had two big scandals, drug abuse, baby mama drama. That guy’s a player, plain and simple.”

  Jonah turned his gaze on Tony Paul. “You don’t think people can change?”

  “Why would he have to?” Tony Paul shot back.

  “Because he’s married?”

  Again Tony Paul chuckled. “Have you seen the wife in question?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jonah saw Lila bristle. But Tony Paul didn’t seem to care. “Look, I met this joker four or five years ago, when he came to play at my Mama’s club in Austin. This same girl was with him then, working as his assistant. I didn’t believe he was with her then. I don’t think he’s really committed to her now.”

  “Why not?” Lila asked, her voice cool. “Because she’s fat?”

  Jonah sensed she was about to throw it down if Tony Paul admitted it. Again, Tony Paul was nonplussed. “Yes.”

  Her mouth fell open as she openly scoffed. “Really?” she said as she glanced him over. “You can actually say that?”

  “Don’t get mad at me, I didn’t make the rules. I’m here same as you, for the same reason. You think girls are going to flock to vote for me after I show up after Mr. Six-Pack Abs here?” he asked, pointing to Jonah. “It’s
not fair, but that’s the way it is.”

  Silence fell over the car as they all rode the short distance between the back lot and the hotel. Except for Lacy, they were the least jovial bunch who exited the cars to walk the red carpet toward the party.

  The contestants were mostly amateurs, so for many posing for pictures was awkward at best. Only a few really responded well to it. There was Tony Paul, of course. Despite his comment in the car, he knew how to play a crowd, whether he weighed a hundred and sixty pounds or two hundred pounds. Likewise, Harper Clark knew just how to stand and strut and hold a sexy pout. Courtney wore a sunny smile for every camera, waving like a homecoming queen to the screaming crowd behind the line of photographers, and Beatrix Fontaine prowled down the red carpet like the true Cougar she was. She purred to each of the photographers who shouted her name. Her only match was Amos Tucker, who had given up a successful career as a female impersonator in Vegas to start his own career. He was slight and feminine and fierce as hell.

  Everyone else ranged from resting bitch face (Sage Bruski and Penelope Crane,) and those who accepted that this kind of attention was part of the package, even if they didn’t particularly like it, like Shiloh, Lacy and Maddie. They practically sprinted down the red carpet like it was a hundred-yard dash.

  Jonah wasn’t sure where in the spectrum he fell. He offered the requisite smile and smolder he’d learned from his brief stint at Southern Nights, which seemed to please the paparazzi. He accommodated their requests, which endeared him to them even more.

  It was a chore, though. All he wanted to do was get inside and see his mama and his sister. He’d spent a week without them and it had been hard as hell. Every night he had woken up with a start, worried that Leah was having another coughing fit and he wasn’t there to make it better for her.

  They practically jumped into his arms the minute he disappeared inside the door. He swung Leah around in his big strong arms. “Look at you, girl,” he said. “You’ve grown a foot. Don’t tell me you’re married with children now.”

  She giggled as he set her back on the floor. “You’re such a goof.”