Dusk & Dawn

Chapter 8

When I returned to the dorm, Lexi was already in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of pancakes for breakfast. The mouthwatering aroma filled the air, and I couldn't help but compliment her culinary skills.

"Smells delicious, Lex!" I exclaimed, closing the front door behind me. She shot me a proud smile, her fingers coated in batter.

"Did you have a good workout?" she asked, licking the excess batter off her fingers.

"It was... interesting," I replied, trying to maintain an unaffected expression.

"Interesting? How so?" Lexi inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"I kinda bumped into Mason. We ended up working out together," I blurted out the last part, attempting to rush past her into my room. Lexi froze, her wooden spoon clattering into the bowl as she turned to face me. Her mouth slightly agape, her eyes brimming with mischief.

"You 'worked out,' huh?" she said, squinting at me suspiciously. I paused in the doorway, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Not like THAT!" I squealed, tossing a crumpled piece of paper from the side table at her. She ducked and rose, her eyes peering over the counter.

"You like him. You want to kiss him. You want to love him. You want to bang him..." she continued teasing, her voice taking on a sing-song quality.

"Great, now it's stuck in my head!" I laughed, sinking down to the floor, pretending to be overwhelmed.

"Maybe you can use it as an audition song for work. I'm your muse. You're welcome," Lexi suggested playfully.

"Oh, man, I can't believe I forgot! I should start making those calls. Thanks for the reminder," I exclaimed, rushing over to the living room to grab my laptop and begin my cold-calling mission.

Lexi left shortly after breakfast, eager to see Zach again. Meanwhile, I spent the better part of the morning dialling numbers and reaching the end of my list. With each rejection, my hopes dwindled. I had called over 30 businesses in town, and it seemed like every door was closed.

"Sorry, no vacancies at the moment."
"You're still in college? We need someone more experienced."
"Are you willing to work without pay?"

By the fifteenth time, I had the speech memorized. Now I was left considering my last resort—performing music locally for the public. As I scanned through the ads, one caught my attention:

Female vocalist wanted
Performing twice a week at nights
Over 21s only
Call Chris

I stared at the phone number, feeling tears welling up. But I refused to let myself give in to failure. I had to make this call. I needed this job.

With determination, I picked up the phone and dialled the number on the screen. It rang three times before a man with a pleasant, low voice answered.

"Good morning, Christopher speaking."

"Hi, my name's Quinn. I saw your ad on Seek about the female vocalist position. Is it still available?" I tried to project maturity and seriousness, hoping my insecurities wouldn't betray me in my tone.

"Sure, doll. But I have to ask, are you over 21?" he inquired.

"Yes, I turned 22 last year," I answered confidently.

"Wonderful! Can you come in for an audition today?" Chris asked, his voice filled with a hint of excitement.

"Absolutely!" I replied, struggling to contain my joy. I mouthed a silent "yes" to myself.

"What time suits you best?" I asked eagerly.

"How about 1:30 PM on the dot?" he suggested with a lightness in his tone.

"It'd be my pleasure. Could you please provide me with the address?" After confirming the details, we bid each other farewell and hung up. I stood in the living room, performing a little happy dance. Squinting my eyes, I wore a ridiculous toothy smile and punched the air with alternating fists while swiveling my feet in rhythm.

I had so many songs in my repertoire, I didn't know what to do with them all. I felt prepared and excited that finally, something in my plan was falling into place. I dressed myself in a respectful manner, as one would for a job interview, and stood before the mirror. If only my parents could see me now.

Would they be proud?

One last check of the time, and I hurriedly gathered my resume, bag, and keys. As I glanced down to lock the door, I realized I had forgotten to cover my hands.

Gloves! First impressions are lasting impressions.

Slipping on my gloves, I felt a tinge of shame—a reminder of how I had failed back home. I shook my head, banishing the negative thoughts, and locked the door before setting off toward the venue.