Chapter Eleven
Elly
We were off on Monday, which turned out to be a good thing. Once I’d gotten home from Tristan’s and showered, scrubbing every inch of my body twice, I didn’t really have the energy or the motivation to do anything but lay in my bed the rest of the day. The rest of the crew was gearing up to start heading out East and those of us staying behind would be free for a month and a half or so.
While I wallowed in my bed, Susie knocked a few times but I ignored her. I knew she meant well, but she was going to want to know how things went and I wasn’t in the mood to either lie or admit what a skank I had become. I couldn’t believe that I was actually having sex with a guy like that. If you put aside the fact that he was Tristan Rogers and once upon a time he was famous, there was really nothing else there. He was obviously self-centered, from the looks of his place he was both broke and a slob, I was sure he was an alcoholic, and I suspected that he was using a lot of drugs as well. What the hell was I thinking even going over there in the first place? I never should’ve gone to the bar the first night.
The sex was good...no, great. I hated to admit it, but there was no way I could deny it. It had been the best I’d ever had, both times. Had it been worth the shot to my self-esteem though? My face still stung every time I re-lived the humiliation of him telling me to leave. Not a good-bye, not a kiss, not a fucking, just a, “Thank you, have a nice day.” Who acts like that? I can’t even imagine treating someone that way, much less someone that you’d just had sex with and slept cuddled up next to all night long. God, I wished I’d just left last night.
Around three in the afternoon, my phone rang. It was Jake. Why was he calling me? I thought I was supposed to call him? He probably got my number from someone working on the show.
“Hello,” I said, trying to sound winded. That way if he wanted to do that coffee today and talk about my career, I could say I was right in the middle of my workout…or something. I didn’t think that I could go out in public and act like a normal person that day.
“Hi, Elly, it’s Jake Gilley.”
“Hi, how are you?”
“I’m doing well, but I wanted to apologize for not calling you this weekend. It’s crazy right before we go on the road. Anyways, I thought maybe we could get that coffee tomorrow before I leave for Oregon. My plane takes off around eleven…I think, so maybe we could meet around nine?”
I sat up in bed, trying to switch gears from thinking about my horrible morning to thinking about my shiny career. The one that I’d put on the line last night. I cleared my throat and said, “Tomorrow morning would be perfect.”
“Great!” he said, sounding happy. “How about we meet at the Starbucks off of Grand, across from the library?”
“I will be there,” I told him. “Thank you, Jake.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said. I hung up wondering why men like Jake, as attractive as I found him, didn’t ever seem to be the ones who really excited me. Was I one of those women who thrived on the drama in her life? I looked over at the photograph on my nightstand and my eyes filled with tears. I reached over as I sat the phone down and turned his face to the wall. I knew it was ridiculous, but I didn’t want him to see me like that.
I let myself ruminate over it all most of that entire day. I hadn’t eaten and all I had to drink was half a bottle of water that had been on my nightstand. Finally, at about eight in the evening, I was starving and I couldn’t wait any longer. I found my phone and ordered a pizza. When I heard the doorbell I put on my robe and I went out to pay for it.
Susie was sitting in the living room, studying again. She looked up at me and must have seen on my face or in my eyes that I absolutely didn’t want to talk about it. God bless her, she got up and poured us some diet coke and then ate pizza with me and made small talk about our classes and things that were going on with her and her boyfriend. We talked about registering for fall semester and about volunteering to help with the harvest festival—normal things. She didn’t utter the creep’s name or make any mention of our date.
* * *
Tuesday morning, I was feeling like a new woman. I was up at dawn and in the shower, excited about my meeting with Jake. He seemed really interested in helping me move forward in my career, and in this town, a helping hand that’s already grounded in the business was golden. I dressed carefully, wearing a pair of light brown slacks and a sleeveless tan silk shirt. I wore a pair of lacy-looking, tan Tom’s on my feet and put on just a bit of make-up. I pulled my hair back into a long ponytail at the nape of my neck, and, although it was warm outside, I slipped on the jacket that went with the pants. It was short-sleeves too, so it shouldn’t make me sweat too much.
When I went out to the kitchen, Susie let out a whistle. “Where are you going all decked out?” she asked.
“I have a coffee meeting with Jake Gilley,” I told her.
“Shut up!”
I laughed. “Nope,” I told her with a grin. “He thinks he may be able to help me further my career.”
“Good for you. Just be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“You know how this town is, nothing is ever free. Make sure you’re willing to pay whatever the price is that he’s tagged onto this help before you accept.”
“I don’t think he wants anything,” I told her.
She smiled and said, “Your naivety is cute. You want some breakfast?”
“No,” I said. Suddenly I was feeling sick to my stomach again.
* * *
Jake was waiting for me when I got to Starbucks. He had on a long sleeved silver shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his forearms and a dark gray pair of slacks. As usual, he was impeccably groomed and he looked good enough to eat. I noticed a few of the women around us glancing at him like they wanted to do just that, and glancing at me, wondering what my secret was.
“Hi, Elly,” he said, standing up.
“Hi,” I said, more shyly than I’d meant to. Suddenly, I was star-struck and I didn’t know what to say.
“What can I get for you to drink?”
“Um, just a regular coffee is fine,” I told him.
“Okay, have a seat and I’ll be right back.” I sat down and watched him go up to the counter. The barista was a young girl, probably not much over eighteen, but she was flirting with him shamelessly. He didn’t seem to notice, or mind. I was sure that he was used to it. Anyone who looks that good would have to be.
He came back with the coffee and sat down. I thanked him and then he said, “I have to tell you, Elly, since we talked the other day, I’ve done some research on you. Your professors all speak very highly of you and your GPA is better than mine ever was. You did an outstanding job with the first round of the show, your people skills are great, and you seem to me to have a lot of integrity.”
I was blown away by his praise. I could feel the color rising in my cheeks as I said, “Thank you, all of that means a lot coming from you.”
“You’re just so young, and it’s rare to find someone your age who is so focused these days.”
My mind flashed back to the torrid events of Sunday night and my mouth went dry as I tried to convince myself that no one would ever need to know about that. I’d definitely gotten Tristan out of my system.
“I’m really excited to be working on this show. It’s an amazing opportunity and I’m gaining a lot of experience. I’m really grateful to you for allowing me to do this.”
He smiled and said, “Again, you’re doing a great job. What I wanted to discuss with you is this; you know that after the finals are over and the winner is crowned that they commit to a year of touring before their album is released and then get their money and become a free agent, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I said.
“Well, I’m not sure how you would feel about traveling, but I think you’d make a great P.A. for the show on the road.”
I was stunned into absolute silence. I couldn’t have formed a word at that moment if my life depended on it. Jake saw the look on my face and chuckled. It brought me out of my trance and I finally said, “Wow, I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to say. That’s…I mean it’s an incredible offer. I still have a semester left to finish my degree. I think it’s only fair to tell you that…”
Still smiling he said, “Yes, I’m aware of that, Elly. I was thinking about it, actually, and as much as I’d like you to accept my offer, I wouldn’t want to impede your education. I do know that USC offers some of the classes online. I don’t know what you have left to do, but that may be an option if you’d be interested in going on the road with us.”
“I would, yes. Wow…I’m sorry. I’m just so blown away by the offer.”
He laughed and said, “Get used to it. Something about you makes me think that you’re going to go far in this town. That means a lot of good offers are yet to be had. Just keep that level head on your shoulders and don’t let this business ruin you, okay?”
“Absolutely,” I said. I could feel myself grinning so wide that my cheeks actually hurt.
Jake left to catch his flight and he didn’t ask me for a single thing in return for his kindness. In spite of all I had already been through at my age, I still liked to believe that people are basically good at heart.
* * *
The next eight weeks flew by. I finished my summer class and I got an A in spite of losing my focus and not studying much there for a while. I enrolled in the online course for the fall, just in case, and I didn’t see or hear from Tristan, which was a blessing. I was so over him, and my only regret about work starting back up would be that I’d have to lay eyes on him again. I wasn’t afraid I’d give in again; he had humiliated me enough that I could firmly say that I didn’t want anything to do with him.
I got a big paycheck from the first rounds, and I paid off some bills and bought some new, professional clothes; things were looking up.
We had a meeting scheduled for the day after the crew got back and the day before we re-started production in L.A. I got there early and hung out with Molly and Keith and got caught up on what had happened on the road.
“So Lena’s gone,” Molly told me.
“Lena, the stage manager, Lena?” I asked.
“Yep, the one who was married to Bob, the run crew manager.”
“She was married too? Jeez, you guys were only on the road for eight weeks. What happened?”
“She got fired for screwing one of the contestants,” Keith said.
“Oh my god, are you serious?” My chest suddenly felt tight and I was afraid I was going to have to explain why I suddenly had an anxiety attack.
“Well, that was the rumor anyways. No one actually saw them together, so who knows what the truth really is,” Molly said, shrugging.
“If they didn’t have a pretty good idea it was true, they couldn’t have fired her over it though, right?” I asked.
“Bob caught them making out in his RV in the set parking lot in Cincinnati. He wasn’t going to say anything at first, I guess, but then she started telling him that she wanted a divorce and she was in love with this other guy. She’s thirty-two and the guy is nineteen. The whole thing is crazy. Anyways, Clint and Jake met privately with the kid and he apparently confessed to the whole thing.”
“Wow,” I said, running through how many awful ways they could find out I’d slept with Tristan in my head.
“Aw, don’t look so depressed,” Molly told me. “I’m sure there will be plenty of scandal right here in L.A. Other than that, you didn’t miss a thing. The travel was grueling and we didn’t get to see any sights other than the inside of a warehouse or hotel conference room and Diva was in a bitchy mood the whole time, reaming out the entire crew.”
I forced a smile and said, “Glad I missed it then, but it’s good to be back to work.”
Clint and his assistant filed in and he called the meeting to order. Without mentioning names or job titles, like Molly and Keith had, he went over what they’d just told me. I saw poor Bob slump in his chair as if he was trying to make himself invisible. Clint emphasized the fact that one contestant had forfeited his chance at all the cash and fame and the employee had basically forfeited her career. Hollywood was a harsh place. If you were an actress or actor or even a model, one of the pretty people, you could get away with a lot; those of us behind the scenes, however, not so much. Once you were blackballed, you would play hell getting another production job in L.A.
Clint wrapped up the meeting and then we were in a scramble to get things ready for the final rounds. The first one that day was at ten, or as soon as the judges decided to shuffle in. The bad thing about being back in L.A. was that all three of them lived there; getting them out of a hotel room was much less trouble than prying them away from their mansions.
It was after eleven before Diva showed up. The other two judges were fit to be tied and talking all kinds of smack about her before she got there. As soon as she arrived however, everyone was back to kissing her ass. I guess some women were just born with that quality.
The good news was that things ran different for the final rounds. I’d be in the conference room with Molly, lining up the contestants from one through twenty-four. I told Molly I’d work the front of the line, since I checked and saw that Tristan had drawn number twenty-three. She was working the area where they were seated, sending them to me up front two at a time. I saw Tristan in the back and the way he was looking at me, like a wolf at a lamb, I was happy Molly was there. Even Tristan wouldn’t be stupid enough to do or say something that could put us both in jeopardy…I hoped.
The contestant’s got to sing a full three-four minute song that day, and the whole show was being filmed and would be fed out a few hours from now as being live. Later on, when we got down to twelve, it would actually be live. In the meantime, we would take advantage of the three-hour cushion between the East Coast and the West. Because of all of that, things were moving excruciatingly slow.
The contestants were served lunch and there was a table in the back laden with snacks and drinks for them to take at their leisure. It was for us, too, and I was dying for something to drink, but Tristan was next to the table. When he wasn’t madly texting on his phone, he was strumming his guitar and staring at me. I wondered what he was thinking; I couldn’t help myself. He didn’t smile or wave, he wasn’t glaring or looking angry—he was just looking at me. I didn’t want to walk over there and make him think I was in any way interested in talking to him.
He looked really good that day though. I guess either his agent helped him decide what to wear, or his brain wasn’t quite as muddled as I had thought. He had on a pair of nice designer jeans that were just mildly faded to give them a gently worn look. He wore a light blue t-shirt, and over the top of that, he wore a light-blue and tan plaid button-up that was left open down the front. I was surprised to see that he’d also worn that silver cross he used to wear all of those years ago. He’d gotten a haircut, and it was actually styled, and he was clean shaven. His dark eyes still didn’t have a real clear look to them, but he at least looked like a well-groomed stoner. I was personally wishing he’d shown up looking like shit. It would have gone far in cementing my decision to stay far away from him.
The room was clearing out by late afternoon and I took the opportunity when Tristan got up to use the bathroom to run over and grab a water and granola bar. There were only three contestants left besides him, two that would go before, and one after. The rest of the contestants had been set free for the rest of the day and would be back first thing in the morning for an elimination round.
I realized after I sent number twenty-two out that I was holding my breath. I really hoped that he just stood up there like the rest of them had, waiting his turn like a normal human. I should have known that Tristan acting like a normal human was a completely abstract concept. What he did when I called out his number was stroll up next to me like he was god’s gift to the world. I kept my eyes pointed out towards the stage, pretending that I was too busy to notice him. A normal person may have taken the hint, but not Tristan.
Tristan threw his arm around my shoulders and when I looked at him in shock he said, “Hey sexy,” with a grin.
I heard Molly clear her throat before I even had time to react. I threw his arm off of me and glared at him. The son of a bitch was still smiling. I’d almost missed that number twenty-two was finished and walking off the stage until Tristan asked, in a low, raspy voice, “How about a good luck kiss?”
I had my mouth opened to tell him that he’d lost his fucking mind when he stepped in, put his hand on my hip and kissed me full on the mouth. Then he casually turned and strolled out onto the stage, guitar in hand. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to process what the hell had just happened. I could feel Molly’s eyes boring into me from behind. I turned around slowly and with the best “What the Fuck?” look I could muster I shrugged my shoulders.
I didn’t really know Molly well enough yet to discern what the look on her face meant, but my anxiety riddled brain interpreted it as shock and disgust. I wanted to fade to black.
MY ROCK #2
Chapter One
Tristan
I alternated between loving and hating L.A. Today, I fucking hated it. I was stripped down to nothing but my jeans and I was still sweating like a fucking pig on a spigot. Supposedly you didn’t need air-conditioners in the City of Angels. Apparently the guy who came up with that idea was from out of town. It was hard to think when it was this damned hot. I had to be back on stage for the next “elimination round” for Fresh Voices in a couple of days and I wanted to knock their socks off. I had kind of thought I didn’t really care about that shit anymore. As long as I had a place to play my music a couple times a week and they paid me enough to pay my bills and have a little left over for recreation purposes, I was good. Then all of a sudden I was back on a real stage with the hot lights in my face and real equipment that didn’t fucking screech in the middle of your set….it was like I was suddenly back home. I ate up the applause, and knowing people were sitting at home watching me on television was addictive.
I reached for my blunt…this was the fantastic thing about living here in Southern Cali. Being so close to the border meant that I didn’t have to buy shit that some crack head grew in his kitchen or in his granny’s garden out back. This stuff was grown and cut by professionals in Mexico where it should be. They know what they’re doing over there. I didn’t smoke anything but Acapulco Red and it was some good shit. Sprinkle it with some high-grade coke and wrap it in a cigar and you got yourself one mother-fucking good blunt.
Damn! I really need to stop getting distracted with the heat and my smoke and write this damned song. I want to win this shit. I want a million fucking dollars. I’d never even seen that kind of money. I was sixteen when I started playing music so of course my parents decided to become “managers” like every other fucking child star’s parents in this shitty town. They did okay…for a while. Somewhere along the way the old man got me to agree to sign some paperwork that said he’d be my manager and the trustee for my assets and income until I was twenty-one. I was probably high at the time…and it was probably from something that mother fucker had given me.
I did my first stint in rehab at seventeen…before Uptown Boyz had even gotten famous. The record producer said if I didn’t clean up my act he would take steps to terminate the contract. The old man panicked at the thought of losing all that cash and he took me to some hide-away cult in the Santa Ana hills that called themselves a rehabilitation facility. I stayed there for a month with a few other “child stars” and I learned a lot. Most of it had nothing to do with staying clean, but when I got out, I kept that part to myself. For a while, I kept it together and acted like a good boy…I loved performing and losing that option was the only threat that worked on me. I didn’t have any real friends, what I had were followers…audiences…fans…I was lost without them. Those other shitheads in the band were straight-arrows. They all had mommies that followed them around and made sure they weren’t letting the over-night fame go to their heads. My mommy was busy doing other things….like the record producer and a couple of the daddies and God only knows who else.
While she was doing them and I was touring and earning fucking millions of dollars, the old man was “investing” my money. By the time I was twenty-one and the band broke up and I went to him and told him I wanted control back of my money there was about fifty grand left. My parents both partied like wild ass teenagers and by the time I relieved them of the paltry sum they’d saved for my future, Mommy was a crack-head and Daddy had gotten a taste for brown sugar in a syringe. Big fucking waste of oxygen, both of them.
I took another hit off the blunt and wrote a few more notes. My mind wouldn’t be still. I crushed out the blunt and picked up the bong. I needed to lay off the powder for now and calm my thoughts down so I could write.