Her cheeks heated. “Yes, sir.”
He laughed. “We also like to keep things informal. Call me Anthony.”
She nodded, unable to speak another word. The other woman looked at her and smiled. “I’m Amber Ferguson,” she said, reaching out her hand. “From Missouri.” They shook hands while Jerold Glass looked on.
“I’m Brianna Taylor, and local.”
Jerold’s eyebrows shot up. “Taylor? Wait, you’re the coffee girl, aren’t you?” And then he laughed as if to say she didn’t belong there.
Which did wonders for her ego.
“I’m Jerold Glass,” he continued without offering his hand. “But I’m sure you know me from my advertisements.”
Right. He owned a car dealership out on the highway on the way into town. Of course, she’d seen—and made fun of—those stupid ads just like everyone else did. Jerold fancied himself some sort of actor as well as a musician, and his TV ads always featured him driving his own cars like he was Tom Cruise chasing some international spy, his violin music playing in the background that Brianna hated to admit, was seriously good—and the only good thing about those ads.
“Sure, of course. The car ads.”
He smirked and went on to ignore her.
The rest of the first day went by in a blur after that. The instructors all introduced themselves, laid out the ground rules and the schedule for the upcoming week, and gave an impromptu group performance. Brianna as usual got lost in the music even as she watched and wondered how she’d ever be able to jam with the other contestants. The day ended early with the instructors telling everyone to go home and rest up because tomorrow was the day they’d start by playing for each other and then breaking into groups.
Oh, and the judges would be there again, watching and evaluating.
* * *
Now it was Brianna’s turn on stage and she was doing everything she could to not look at Jerold who’d started the day ‘joking’ about how he should send her off for his coffee. He too sat in the front row, trademark smirk firmly in place.
Jerk.
But beside him, Amber gave her a little thumbs up.
Sweet.
But shereallytried not to pay attention to Rachael Collins who surreptitiously sneaked in with the other two judges and sat toward the back.
Just be cool. Rachael started out just the same as you are. No need to freak out, but OMG there she is!
As Brianna did a quick last-minute tuning—okay, last-minute stalling—Jerold pulled out a granola bar with the world’s loudest, crinkliest packaging and started opening it just as she was about to draw her bow across the strings. She almost started again right as he took a big bite and filled the pavilion with crunching. Now people were starting to mumble.
He’s trying to throw you off.
Screw it. Screwhim.
She looked up to glare at him, but other movement at the back of the pavilion caught her eye.
Brock.
He was wearing a black polo that strained to keep his muscles in check. The arm holes stretched to the max over his huge biceps. She couldn’t make out the logo over the pocket but realized he must technically be at work, maybe guarding Rachael, though another man in the same polo had come in and sat down beside her.
Brock gave her a dazzling smile and nodded. And became her only audience.
Brianna plunged into her variation of Darol Anger’s ‘You Noticed Too’ which she thought showed off her technical skills, and was a hell of a rousing tune to boot. People started clapping to the beat—Rachaelstarted clapping to the beat—all except for good old Jerold, who decided to yawn loudly and open a second granola bar.
Don’t think about the rest of the audience. Focus on Brock.
Who was now walking quickly into the pavilion and toward the front. He stopped and entered the empty row behind Jerold and snatched the half-opened bar out of his hands.
Brianna grinned. Yeah, Brock was going to get a reward for that. Picturing the ways that reward could take form, she added a playful little tag lick to the end of her song—a quick run of notes up an octave from D—and hoped he caught the meaning.
