★ Warning Mature Content ★
Asher Kells is a Rock Star and Rapper, complete with tattoos on nearly every inch of his thickly muscled body. He has a badass ability to play the guitar, and he sang like crush diamonds, amber whiskey, and smoke. While I...
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The lights of the King's arena were on. We were the last dress rehearsals of the night. Tomorrow was the big show. Three teams doing a cover to see who would be the best. I couldn't say who would win after watching all the acts. Team Pop picked a popular song by Billie Eilish. The two blondes did a wonderful job with it. While Team Broadway picked an original song from Kyle's TikTok.
Our song was an Orchestral version of Ariana Grande's Imagine. Hopefully, it has some interesting harder notes to sing. On the brink of bubble pop, but it has a lot of depth to it. It's also not completely working out. In full dress rehearsal, it would suck to make changes this late in the game. But for some reason, Zoey wasn't feeling it on lead.
Zo's head dip near the end of the song. Her long dark hair falls in front of her face, but she sings the notes without stopping. Her husky voice hits these classic R&B sounds with husky rock overtones to them. With the reaction of the sponsors to the show, her on lead would be the better choice. Plus, I don't mind her on lead. Her floor-length black evening gown with black gloves looks good on her. She looks like a seductress in one of those old 40s movies. My gown is the opposite of her black one. In a white tight gown with what looks almost like feathers on the back train. White gloves to top the look off and my hair tied back in a bun to her flowing dark locks. I even had pearls and with the white gloves against my dark brown skin, the whole look pops. It's tighter and more revealing than I think I can handle, but it works so well I can't gainsay it.
The backing music stops. Zoey looks out into the empty seats, her brow furrowed. The backing music will be replaced with a live orchestra when it's show night. But tonight the backing track loops with ten-minute pauses so we can practice. The benefit of being last is we can stay all night to get this right. It's not good for the voice but we can do it and be ok. Zoey, he hits the last note. She pushes her long hair out of the way in obvious frustration.
"This isn't working," she finally said, the quiet part out loud. It was her fifth time singing the song.
"Let's try it one more time. We need it right if you're going to win." I answer her with a small, consoling smile.
Zoey's eyebrows lift at my words and her frown widens. "What do you mean, if I'm going to win? We're going to win and then we are going on tour together."
"Ya, we are going to win." I left out on Tour together because I don't think I want to go on tour. I want to get working with the music center. Get the teaching career started and my life in the whole adulting thing. Not saying that the being on tour together part at the end seems to be so loud without actually saying the words. Maybe I'm not going on tour even if we win.
I watch Zoey's smokey blue eyes pick apart my answer. It was as if her eyes saw the big fat hole in my words and searched for how deep the hole was. The frustration that was all over her face at the end of the song washes away. She walks over to me and takes my hand. It's a little odd because we are both wearing evening gloves. We look out together into the empty seats of the Arena.
"When we were kids, I dreamt of this." I lift my eyebrow at her. "Not the reality tv show stuff or anything else but us singing together on a big stage." Her smile isn't one of the Rock Star waiting to happen grins. No, it was the smile of my best friend. It's got so much warmth in it I can't help but smile back at her. "We both did remember?"
"No?..." I answer Zoey, a little baffled.
"The living room coffee table." She said the words definitively in that absolutely confident way of best friends. I knew. She was dead right. I remembered that coffee table with a book of sloppily written songs. With us playing like we were singers. When my grandma and mom would watch our little shows. I remembered it. Before the cancer, things really changed. When I felt like a kid in a safe world. Both Zoey and I in our play performance outfits. We even had a complete intermission section. My mom would make caramel popcorn for the second half of our show. My grandma's dark hands would come under my chin and give me a kiss on the cheek. Then grandma would ask for both our autographs. I grin at the memory.
Zoey pulls my gloved hand in hers and puts me in front of the lead mic. "You remember," she says. Yeah, I remember. The real question is, what changed? Zoey isn't asking it, but she's asking it loudly in her own way. I looked back at Zo on her mic and we switched our solos.
"Things are different now, Zo. We aren't kids anymore." The sadness that tinted my voice snuck up on me. There's almost a two years difference between us. But it's one of the few times her nineteen has felt like nineteen and my twenty-one felt ancient. But if I'm honest with myself, it wasn't just about age. She and I, no matter how we were raised together, are different. Zoey is from an upper-middle-class family. Her dad was a carpenter and retired navy. Her mother worked professionally before she passed. If she wanted to go to college, her dad put away the money, so she could attend the best universities on offer in the world. Without blinking an eye, things my mother could only dream of for me are within her grasp. Her brother is at this point in his life an acclaimed artist. She has room to fail and explore in ways that were never on the table for me.
I could become a music teacher like my mom and do well with my life. It's rewarding work. It pays so-so but steady. I remember when my brother was looking for a job waiting for firefighting to work out. He had a friend who had almost the same education level as him and on paper. The difference is my brother had a minor whereas his white friend didn't. That was the only difference between the two. It took my brother Maurice nearly two years to find a job. His white friend found a job in three months. They even applied for some of the same jobs. And like I said before, she has room to fail and be fine and I simply do not. When I look into Zoey's kind green eyes, it's a conversation we should have. We will have it someday. Really, she isn't the type to get all angry and offended about the conversation. It's not just one to have today. She can go out into the world and find herself, but I need to make it work right now this second. Whether I've found myself or not, people like me don't get second and third chances.
I reached back for her black-gloved hand. The sadness of the thoughts wasn't something I wanted to cross into my expression. It was sadness touched by a weariness that didn't have a place right now. No, not tonight. Zoey tilts her head to the side as she takes hold of my white glove hand. A part of me does what the song says. I take over the lead of the song and imagine what my life could be like if I took that path. A smile spreads tinting my dark face with warmth at the edges. The song's tone changes in the way it lifts from my voice. Sadness with some hope crossed with that bittersweetness you only get with the best dark chocolate.
What would it be like if I were a professional music artist? Zoey and I together finished that night's set. Maybe on the same tour as Asher. Finally, finish that amazing kiss he gave me. Following him back to his tour bus, or maybe mine. I bet if Zoey and I had a tour bus, it would be black and pink or black and red. Walking off the stage to the crowds' applause. Next, we would meet Asher on our tour bus. Then...........
Yeah, I could imagine.
Before the song came to an end, Zoey was in tears. "This is how we should do it," she whispers.
a/n: a short chapter going to drop on this after Noah gets posted so we don't get post clutter. ty for sticking with me :)
