I really didn’t like her. “Thank you for answering my question. A simple yes would suffice.”
Her eyes narrowed. I’d used my villain voice on her. That’s what Toni called it. I was going to call her as soon as this wasover and tell her all about Janice. She’d help me plot her demise, and it would involve fire ants.
“You think you’re clever because you got a starring role without a portfolio? Try to keep up with the other musicians, Pinkie. Just because you’re dubbed doesn’t mean that you don’t need to work. If you don’t earn it, you’ll make yourself and your fellow band members a laughingstock. Rehearse until twelve-thirty. Lunch will be catered. The day will end at six. You’ll be paid seventy per hour after the concert. Cash.” She turned and walked off.
Hawkins let out a low whistle once she was off the floor. “Janice doesn’t like you, or she’d be even ruder. Too bad she likes me so much. Relax, Pinkie. You’re surrounded by, well, not the best musicians in town, but most of the really gifted ones aren’t as reliable or good at working with others. We all know how to pull our weight and make allowances for the weaknesses of others. If you can’t handle a song, we’ll help you out. That’s what we do. And like she says, someone’s working on the dubbing while we speak, probably Phil. He’s good.”
I laughed and shook my head. Everyone thought that I got this gig by sleeping around. How bizarre. “Phil may be good, but live is better. Live is essential. We’ve got three days to get this down. We will kill it.”
They stared at me. I’d definitely used my villain voice at the end there, like I really would kill someone. I smiled brightly and started playing scales. They loosened up as we tuned up together.
They were too good for it to be called a disaster, but I struggled, trying to find a way to play around these other musicians when their group was already so tight. Yes, they sounded good and made me sound good by covering me up, but that wasn’t the point. I learned the songs, copying the keyboard when I got lost.
When we broke for lunch, I was no closer to finding my way to somehow stand out without sticking out.
Lunch was lobster. The other musicians got into it, making a real mess while I wished I had my briefcase so I could write notes in my music.
Hawkins leaned forward and smiled at me. “You’re a solid musician.”
I snorted. “No, I’m not. This entire performance is so generic. No wonder they need floating platforms. The music can’t hold its own.”
They all looked at me as if I’d personally insulted each one of them. I wanted them to work with me, so I had to work for them. “My performance. Playing a melody line doesn’t seem worthy of a solo.”
“You’re pretty, and no doubt the costume will show off your body,” Ziggy said. “What there is of the costume.” She sounded glum.
“If you want to wear a white suit, I’ll back you up,” I told her.
She glanced at me, eyes widening. “You must be in bed with someone good if you’ve got that kind of pull.”
Did Horse tell everyone that I was sleeping with him? No, he didn’t need to say it for people to assume that I’d sell my body to get what I wanted. Apparently, I just had that prostitute look. My stomach twisted into knots, but I forced a smile. “It’s more of a couch than a bed. You’ll get paid.”
She patted my pink hair. “If you can do that, you’ll have my respect.”
“So, you won’t touch my head? Why does everyone do that?”
She snorted and grinned at Hawkins. “I take it back. She’s not that bad.”
Hawkins elbowed her. “She was a little nervous about playing with a cellist.”
“Who’d slept her way to Heaven. I get it.” I still hated it, though. I dug into the lobster and ate enough that I was sluggish afterwards. It didn’t matter. We ran through all the songs, and it wasn’t difficult to find the melody and pick out a few harmonies. It wasn’t going to impress anyone, though. I had to make this something, to prove that there was something that I could sell other than my body.
At six, I went to retrieve the cello while a host of waiters and dancers came in wearing costumes as impractical as they were ridiculous. Gold arrow tip bras, anyone?
When I got to the garage, I had my stamped ticket, so I didn’t have to pay twenty bucks to leave. On my way out, I almost hit a pink hybrid.
My phone rang as I pulled out behind him.
“Hey, Pink. Fancy you running into me here.”
“I wish. Should I talk and drive? It seems distinctly uncivil.”
“Follow me to my place.”
“I have to figure out my music.”
“You need a break.”
“I need to figure out how to make generic metal hits into something worthy of my skills.”
