Page 12 of Backstage

“You’re about as pleasant as a nasal swab. You know that?” I say to him before I leave, slamming the door behind me and hiding back in the recording room. This day feels like an endless nightmare.

I inhale deeply and try to calm down, gather my ideas and find a way out of this situation. To do it quickly, I use the only working method I have to relax: I grab an acoustic guitar and start singing “Jude,” which, despite everything, is one of my favorite songs.

“Is there anything you can’t do in a completely brilliant way?” Thomas’ voice brings me back to reality as I glance towards the open studio door. I have to learn to shut the door behind me every time, not just when I want to make a dramatic exit.

“Cooking. I’m a mess in the kitchen. I could set Brooklyn on fire all the way to Queens if you leave me alone at the stove,” I answer with my heart bouncing down my throat. It’s weird how knowing I’m dealing with a world-famous star completely alters my heartbeat. At the end of the day, he’s just a guy a few years older than me. I should be rational enough not to have a seizure, but here I am, with my palms sweating like a teenager in her first crush.

Thomas bursts out laughing and sits on a stool in front of me. “You know you’re a weird chick? You’re not afraid to put Damian in his place or joke with me, but you can’t get rid of this fucking fear of being judged by people,” he says, smiling and tilting his head to the side, studying me openly.

“I’m immune to all this celebrity charm,” I explain by waving my hand in front of his face.

He burst out laughing again. It’s a harmonious laugh, almost like a melody. “No, you’re not. I saw you drooling over Damian in there.”

I look up at the sky, trying to hide the undeniable attraction I have for his friend. “Only a crazy woman wouldn’t want to rip the clothes off all that good stuff, but I would be happy to punch him in the face when he’s an asshole.” I raise an eyebrow.

Thomas bursts out laughing again. It looks like I’ve become his favorite comedian. “Jesus Christ, I adore you already,” he admits, rubbing his hand on his face and covering his two beautiful blue irises for a moment.

“Because I say your friend is an asshole?” My eyebrow rises even higher than before.

He shrugs and nails me to my stool with those two magnetic eyes of his. “He has a hard time trusting people he doesn’t know, but when he melts, he becomes a little lamb,” he explains with a smile.

“I doubt it...it looks like he’s got a pole up his ass.”

I make him laugh again, but this time he doesn’t answer me. “I like the version of ‘Jude’ you did earlier. Would you let me hear it again?”

His request leaves me stunned, but I nod and start playing again, losing myself in the feelings this song evokes in me. Without ever taking my eyes off his, I enjoy every nuance of emotion I can tear from him. Using just my voice and an acoustic guitar allows me to give a sweet touch to a song usually sung with anger. For me, it’s a beautiful love story, and the feeling I instinctively convey in my voice is tenderness.

“Okay, that’s the best version I’ve ever heard,” he admits, impressed, and my chest swells with pride. “So you have no problem playing, or even singing in front of people,” he notes by wrinkling his forehead.

I shake my head. It’s hard to explain what goes through my mind when I get on stage. I’m not afraid to play in front of people, but music is what saved me when I thought the only solution left was to die. I’ve never doubted my abilities as a musician. The problem is when I obsess on my physical appearance, which I feel insecure about. Brad never blamed me for music, but he managed to make me doubt all the other aspects of my life.

“No, I often play in front of my friends or family, or in clubs. I’ve never been ashamed of my voice or my music. My problem is drawing attention to myself when it’s no longer music they see but a girl they can humiliate.”

Thomas nods. He seems to be thinking about what I just said. “I think I have a solution to your problem,” he says, standing up and holding out my hand.

I watch him for a few moments, trying to grasp his thoughts, but I can’t. So I simply decide to trust him and follow him back to the meeting room and sit in my place for the third time today.

“I have an idea,” he says, to everyone’s intrigued expressions. “Her problem is the media exposure that comes with being selected for this contest. If we simply announce the winners’ names, that asshole Brad will post all the pictures he wants of her from when she was fifteen because we don’t have any way to stop him. But we can anticipate it by showing what Lilly can do—to a huge audience. When they see her talent, people will get that Brad is nothing but a jealous asshole who has nothing in his hands but old photos. Because in reality, he has no contact with this Lilly, with the one we know now. We could make a video all together, the two bands, and highlight her, so the positive noise will drown out the voice of this Brad guy.”

I’m stunned by his proposal. “I thought you were the smartest of the four, but clearly, I was wrong. What the hell is it that you don’t understand? I can’t handle the pressure of media exposure.”

“The Jailbirds will front the whole thing. They’ll expose themselves for you, and their opinion counts a lot more than someone who has nothing going for him but a few followers,” Evan says as if caught by a sudden flash of lightning, the brilliant idea that turns both my and Damian’s head towards him.

“Are you fucking nuts?” Damian goes off, and this time I can’t blame him. “We put our reputation on the line for strangers?”

“Damian, the reputation you have right now is you sticking your tongue in three girls’ mouths. Do you really think it could get any worse?” Evan looks him in the eye.

Thomas chimes in: “Yeah, that would be perfect. Let’s pick a song that showcases Lilly, as well as Luke’s voice, and we’ll add our stage presence, our fame, to the performance. She’ll feel less eyeballed, sharing the attention between the three, and the audience’s opinion will be what we want it to be. I’ve heard her do a version of ‘Jude’ that even we couldn’t dream of doing.”

Everyone smiles except me and Damian.

“For sure! We even recorded it one day in the rehearsal room,” Luke adds, pulling out his phone and playing the song while I punch him in the ribs.

They all seem riveted by my voice. Even Damian seems surprised by my singing skills. Conflicting feelings are triggering inside my chest. I feel proud and also overwhelmed by the fear of the battle I’m about to lose.

“We could do the acoustic version of ‘Two Hearts’ in the recording studio,” Evan continues. “The song is about a woman torn between two men. Damian and Luke share the verses while Lilly sings the chorus. If we start now, we can get it done before dark and upload the video with the announcement tomorrow morning as promised.” He finishes as if he’s just snagged the deal of the century.

Everybody seems excited. Only Damian and I sit in our chairs looking like witches about to be burned at the stake. “No one wants to hear my opinion even though you’re planning something I mainly have to do?” he thunders furiously.

---