Claudia strained her eyes to see if the men of the band were in the audience somewhere, but beyond the first few rows, the theater was black. She suddenly felt too small and the stage too big, like she’d just downed the entire contents of a bottle labeled, “Drink Me.” The silence overwhelmed her senses, and she was desperate to leave this strange and frightening place.
A single cough sounded from somewhere in the middle of all that darkness. Could that be Zane himself? No. Not possible. He would only see the girls who got shortlisted. That’s how these things worked. “Claudia Crawford. ‘Faded Denim.’”
It was risky to sing The Vows’ biggest love ballad to them (if they were even there, which they weren’t), but she figured the only way they’d know if she could sing their songs was if she sang one of their songs. Her pulse sped up, her skin went clammy, and her stomach flipped. She positioned herdamp fingers on the guitar strings and began to strum, sending a quick prayer up to the heavens to help get her through this.
Her thumb slipped when she changed from the G to the C-chord, but she kept going because stopping was an immediate death sentence. When she opened her mouth to sing the first word, her voice cracked, and nothing came out. Panic filled her veins. Her head ached from shots of vodka she’d had to calm her nerves hours earlier. Her brain screamed at her to ‘Run off the stage, right now! Go!’
She stopped playing and wiped her hands on the back of her t-shirt, wishing she hadn’t worn a leather skirt. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”
“That’s fine,” the man said. “Do you want to try again?”
“Yes, please. This is … um, actually my last audition so I need to make it count. I promised my parents if I didn’t make it by the time I turned twenty-five that I’d go back home and work in their dry-cleaning business. I turn twenty-five in two days so…”
“I don’t need your life story. I just need to know if you can sing.”
“I can sing. I write, too… in case you’re looking for someone who can write. I’ve got about a thousand songs to play for you. At least two of them are good.”
“At the moment, I’m looking for someone who can follow directions.”
She held one finger in the air. “Right. You need me to sing.”
He gave her an exasperated nod.
Claudia took a deep breath and started over. She strummed gently and let her muscle memory of the tune take over, putting her heart into the lyrics. “It was a cold dayin June, and everyone else was looking at you, but you, you were looking at me… And I didn’t see what they were seein,’ because it wasn’t your curves or your legs or your smile, it wasn’t your lips or your long dark hair, it was the way you were staring… at me. With those faded denim eyes…”
Okay, this is going well. Keep playing. Keep singing. Don’t think.And with each word she sang, it was like she was consuming a tiny morsel of the cake left for Alice. Claudia grew taller, and bigger, and more sure that this was exactly where she was meant to be. She convinced herself thatshewas the one the band was looking for. The secret ingredient that had been missing all along. She imagined her voice filling every inch of the auditorium with magic, and any second, the chairs might burst to life, so they could dance and sway and spin. She was Madonna and Aretha and Cher and Whitney, and her name would one day be said among the legends. She felt each word of the song deep within her bones—adoration, lust, and an achingly perfect forever sort of love.
And when she let the last note ring out, she placed her palm over the strings of her guitar as if soothing a lover who had just come undone. She stood, wrung out and raw and filled with an infinite sense of pride because she had done what she came to do. She hadn’t hidden herself away or held a little back like she usually did. Finally, after twenty-four-years and three-hundred-sixty-three days, she let herself shine. But whether Dan or Don thought so, remained to be seen.
The silence that followed seemed like it could swallow up the entire theater, dancing chairs and all. She was suspended in an endless pause, her life in the hands of the man who was staring up at her while he tapped his fingers on the table. “You said it’s your birthday in two days?”
She nodded, a smile building deep inside, ready to burst onto her face. “Yes. The fourth.”
“Happy birthday. You made the cut.”
ONE WEEK LATER
Her mother called right as Claudia was finishing a bowl of Ramen noodles. She chased the last remaining piece of dehydrated onion floating at the bottom of her bowl, determined not to let it escape. By the time she caught it, the answering machine picked up and she heard her mom’s voice over the speaker. “I guess you must be in the shower or something. I called to wish you good?—”
Claudia, against her better judgment, picked up the phone, cutting off the message. “I’m here.”
“I’m glad I caught you. What were you doing?”
She glanced down at the empty bowl. “Just getting out of the shower.”
“Good, good. Give yourself lots of time so you aren’t rushing. You don’t want to show up all sweaty and frantic.”
Claudia heard the single chime of her parents’ cuckoo clock indicating it was the bottom of the hour. She could picture her mom sitting at their dark brown faux-wood kitchen table, her back against an upholstered chair in a pattern the salesman had called flower power. Glad she was here in Los Angeles, instead of in their burnt orange kitchen in Holdrege, Nebraska, she decided to try to be agreeable. After all, her mother had never had it easy. She at least deserved an agreeable child. “Yeah, for sure.”
An awkward silence followed, and Claudia knew Doreen was at war with herself about whether or not to correct herdaughter’s use of the word ‘yeah’ instead of ‘yes.’ Claudia waited to see how the battle would end.
“So? Are you nervous?”
“I am. I could hardly sleep,” she said. “In fact, I’ve barely slept since they told me I was shortlisted.”
Her mom made a little disapprovinghmphsound. “Do you actually believe you’re going to get chosen?”
Ugh, why did I answer the phone?“Obviously I think I have a shot. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have moved to L.A. in the first place.”
