My Rock #2 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #2) (4 page)

“Get out, and please don’t come back. I really don’t
want to do this again.”

They limped out together, old and broken before
their time.
 
My mother turned around and
looked at me one last time and that was when I got in my last word…I wanted to
make sure that she knew her guilt trip was lost on me. “You happened to me,
Mom. I’m a product of your raising.” She started crying again. I didn’t give a
shit. It wasn’t my fucking problem. I had my own crap to worry about.

Their surprise visit had pissed me off so bad that
now I was all amped up and I couldn’t fucking concentrate. I opened the fridge
and was at least happy to see I had a couple of beers left. Other than a lime
and something that I think used to be cheese, that was all that was in there. I
grabbed one and twisted off the top, drinking half of it in that one big gulp.
I fucking hate that I’ m related to those losers. I took another long swig off
the beer and then tried to refocus on the music I’d been writing before I was
so rudely interrupted.

I sat down on the barstool and picked up my guitar.
I played a few notes of what I already wrote but my head just couldn’t let all
the crap with the parental units go. I got it in my head then that maybe I
should write a song about that. Maybe it would be cathartic to release some of
the anger and frustration I felt towards them in a song.

I started writing and within a half an hour, I had
written the most dark, depressing song in history. I set it to the melody of
another song I’d written not too long ago and I sat there, alone in my crappy
apartment and sang the song I’d written about my crappy life. When I finished
it, I was more depressed than before I started. I always tried to tell those
freaking stupid therapists in rehab that talking about depressing shit didn’t
help. It didn’t change anything and it only served to remind me of what a
crappy hand I was dealt. They used to tell me that it would destroy me if I
kept it inside. I always thought it was a bunch of bullshit and this is proof
as far as I’m concerned.

It took another beer a few good hits off the bong
and another hour to get my head back where it needed to be. I tried to put the
parents back where they belonged…at the bottom of the shit pile in my brain and
I set about finishing what was important…my song for round three.

CHAPTER
SIX

ELLY

Tristan actually acted somewhat normal today while
he was in the contestant waiting room. He didn’t touch me or kiss me. He
actually barely acknowledged me. He said hello and talked to a few of the other
guys before finding a quiet spot in the back of the room and going over his
sheet music. I did my best to not look over at him every two minutes, but it
was hard. He looked really good. He’d showered and worn a black muscle T that
showed off his tat’s with a pair of jeans that showed off the rest of his
assets. His hair was clean and styled and he had just a spattering of a five
o’clock shadow that looked really hot. I couldn’t help thinking about the sex
in the janitor’s closet. My belly was full of butterflies and my pulse raced
and I felt tingly between my legs when I remembered how he felt….

“Earth to Elly!” It was Keith. He’d been trying to
get my attention, I guess. Tristan is finally behaving and I’m going to act
stupid and screw it up.

“Yeah, sorry Keith, I was deep in thought.”

“I can see that,” he said. “Hey Jake called the
trailer and he said to ask you if you can come see him when you get here
tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure…thanks.” I wondered if Jake was going to
offer me the production job when the top ten went on tour. I’d all but decided
that if he did, I was going to take it.

“You okay, Elly?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Keith.” He looked like he
wasn’t ready to let it go, but the stage manager’s voice floated through my
earpiece…

“We’re ready for Tristan,” she said.

I stood up and told Keith, “I have to get back to
work.”

“Okay, Elly. Let me know if you need to talk.” I
smiled at him; it was nice of him to worry but Keith and I were definitely not
close enough to talk about what was worrying me.

“I will thank you.” I told him with another smile.
Then I walked half-way over to where Tristan was at.

He still had his head down and I had to find my
breath before I said, “Hey Tristan, they’re ready for you on set.”

He got up and for the first time all morning he made
eye contact and smiled at me. I smiled back, that was acceptable I think I
smiled at the other contestants all the time.

He looked a little nervous and before he stepped
through the door I said, “Good Luck.”

He took a deep breath, winked at me and went on.
That little wink sent shock waves through my body. I closed the door and went
over to the television monitor where I could watch. Tristan had a full band, a
piano, bassist, drummer and banjo player. He played his guitar along with them,
and at first the music was beautiful. Then he started singing and I was taken
back to that bar the first night I’d seen him after so many years. I think I
may have actually grimaced. He wasn’t singing…he was yelling. It was a rock
song and it called for the yelling, I guess but I was cringing inside because I
knew that it wasn’t something our judges were going to care much for. The
purpose of this show was to showcase talent…vocal abilities. This song didn’t
do that at all. It also seemed to go on and on and on.

When he finished, he looked confident. The judges
were all looking like they didn’t want to be the one that had to talk
first…that wasn’t a good sign. My chest ached a little because I knew what they
were about to say and he looked like he had no idea. I think it would have been
easier if he’d known how bad it was. The country star got stuck with the short
straw.

“I’m sorry Tristan…for me that was…I just didn’t
like it at all.” I had my eyes trained on Tristan’s face on the screen. He
flinched a little, but that was it, he didn’t say anything. “The music didn’t
seem to match the lyrics and the lyrics were hard to understand because you
weren’t actually singing them…you were yelling them. You have a great voice,
but this just didn’t showcase that in any way.”

The “Diva” went next. She looked like she was going
to cry as she said, “I really like you, Tristan. You’re one of my favorites and
you have so much talent. Wow, I hate having to say this baby but…that was just
all bad. You were all over the place….” She stopped there and said, “Sorry
baby.” Tristan had kept his eyes on her the whole time, but his facial
expression didn’t change at all. He looked at the last judge then, the harshest
one.

The aging record producer simply said, “I hated it.
It may well have been the worst thing I’ve ever been forced to listen to.”

The country singer started saying something else. I
think he was going to talk to him about the importance of song choice, but
Tristan wasn’t going to listen to any more of it. He picked up his guitar and
walked off the stage. He came out the wrong way, back towards me. I’m guessing
he didn’t want to ham for the cameras and answer the emcee’s stupid questions.
I don’t think he was making a lot of points with my colleagues. I tried to say something
to him as he walked by. I just wanted to tell him that there was always next
week…but he brushed past me like I wasn’t even there. Before he went out the
door into the hall, he slammed his guitar into the wall, hard. Pieces of it
went flying.
  

The assistant producer, a man named Tony ran after
him.

“Tristan, man calm down. Their opinions aren’t
always what matters man. All you can do is your best and then wait and see what
happens with the votes.”

“Fuck that! I did my best. That was a fucking great
performance! I wasted my whole week working on that just to be told it was
awful by three tone deaf mother fuckers! This damned show is rigged. They all
have their little favorites and they’re trying to skew the audience in their
favor by talking shit to the rest of us.”

The A.P. chuckled and said, “Come on, Tristan, you
don’t believe that.”

“The hell I don’t. Fuck this stupid ass show and
fuck you!”

He turned to storm out again and I said, “Tristan,
wait!”

I hated seeing him like this. I felt so bad because
even though that kind of music wasn’t for everyone, and it wasn’t what he did
best, I could tell that he’d worked hard on it. I went over and put my hand on
Tony’s arm. I had a feeling that Tristan related better to women.

“You should get back out there, Tony. I’ll talk to
Tristan, okay?”

Tony looked at Tristan and back at me. I could tell
he was worried that Tristan was going to get violent.

“It’s really okay,” I told him.

“Alright,” he said, finally. “Remember security is
right outside.”

“Oh fuck you!” Tristan yelled at him. “I scared you
ya
big pussy? You have to call security on me?”

“Tristan, hush!” I said. He was his own worst enemy
and he didn’t even know it. I turned back towards the P.A. and said, “Go ahead
Tony, I’ll be fine.”

Tony reluctantly left and I said, “Come with me,
Tristan.” He continued to stand where he was. I think he was already pissed at
me telling him to hush. I softened my tone a little and I said, “Please.”

He grudgingly followed me into the conference room
and I closed the door. “Tristan, you really need to calm down. If they feel
threatened by you, they can kick you off the show. It doesn’t matter how far in
you are….”

“Let them kick me off. I don’t need this shit. This
show is a fucking joke anyways.”

“Oh come on, Tristan. You can’t just give up. Surely
you’ve had constructive criticism before.”

“Constructive? They said it was terrible…on live
television. You don’t think that’s going to skew the votes?”

“Sometimes, it works the opposite way. People get
pissed at the judges and vote for the one they like whether or not the
contestant did well. The general public is smart enough to know that sometimes
even professionals have an off day.”

“Whether or not they did well? An off day? You sound
like you have an opinion of your own.”

“No, Tristan please stop. We are not all against
you. The judges had an opinion, it’s not fact. And okay, I have an opinion too,
it isn’t my favorite kind of music and I like…no, I love your voice when you
sing the softer stuff. It just seems to suit you better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. This whole time I thought you were
just a behind the scenes lackey. I didn’t realize you were some kind of music
expert.”

“Tristan…” His attitude was pissing me off. I don’t
know why he thought it was necessary to be rude to me. Instead of focusing on
that though, I was doing my best to keep it professional. We had more than one
class on handling difficult artists and I was trying to put some of that
education to good use.

“I need to get out of here,” he said. “I can’t
breathe in here. This is all fucking pointless anyways. None of you know
anything about music, you all make me sick.”

“Tristan!” My voice landed on the closed door as he
slammed it in my face. He wasn’t going to give me a chance to show off my
education, go figure. This was the man I haven’t been able to stop thinking
about for even a second in the past twenty-four hours. My judgment in men had
gone from questionable to: What the hell were you thinking?

I sat there for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure
before I went back out and had to face everyone. Taking several deep breaths to
calm my nerves I finally pulled the door open and went back out into the
contestant room. Molly and Keith were awesome, they’d jumped in and handled
things for me while I was dealing with Tristan the tyrant.

“Are you okay?” Molly asked me.

“I’m good, thanks,” I lied.

I got back to work and a few minutes later when
there was a break in the action out on stage, Tony came back out.

“How’d it go with Tristan?” he asked me.

I had a clipboard in my hand with absolutely nothing
I needed to look at on it. I looked down at it like it was super important
work, hoping it would ward him off.

“It was fine, he calmed down.”

Tony leaned over to make me look at his face. I
looked up at him and he said,

“Are you sure? He seemed like the type who would
leave and come back with an automatic rifle and take us all out.”

I laughed. “I doubt it,” I told him. “He was really
fine by the time he left.”

Tony didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. After
he walked away, I thought about what he’d said about the automatic rifle. I
laughed to myself again. The thing about Tristan was that I got the impression
that he genuinely didn’t care enough about anyone or anything to go to that
much trouble. That was a sad fact.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

TRISTAN

I woke up the next morning determined to write that
fucking show off. I wasn’t going to waste any more time or energy worrying
about those fucking talentless haters. It was like a glorified game show and I
had more talent in my little finger than all of those hacks had put together.