Chapter 42

The van dropped me off at the hotel, and I checked in. I was hungry and thinking about getting something to eat, but wanted to touch base with Kat because other than a quick text to tell her I’d made it okay, I hadn’t talked to her since the night before.

I dropped my bags on the floor of my hotel room and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“At hotel. Finished production meeting. About to grab dinner. Call you later.”

My phone buzzed almost as soon as I hit send.

“Hey,” she said when I answered. “Glad you made it there okay. I’ve only got a minute before class, but I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, the meeting just finished up. Everything’s about as expected, except we only get an hour to practice with the band and I don’t really have anywhere to practice on my own before tomorrow’s rehearsal. Really cuts down my practice time.”

“You’ll be all right,” she reassured me. “You know the song backward and forward by now. Other than getting your accompaniment in shape, you don’t have anything you need to practice. So get some rest tonight and don’t stress yourself out too much. You’re ready for this.”

I was actually ready. I knew what songs I’d do for the semi-finals and finals and had spent a lot of time working on them in the weeks since I got home from the prelims. Seth and Lyla had both really helped me work out the kinks in them, and it was a shame I couldn’t just bring them with me, but I guess they had to provide the same support to everyone to make it fair.

“Okay, I’ll try,” I chuckled. “What’s your evening look like?”

“I gotta get going, actually. I have swim practice soon and then I’ve got my last study group at eight to review for my finance final. I’ll call you later tonight when I’m back at the dorm and finished up, okay?”

“No problem at all. I’m just really happy to hear your voice. It’s made me feel better already. Good luck at practice and with the final tomorrow, too! Call me whenever you’re done with everything.”

“Thanks. And stop worrying so much. You’re doing great. Go get dinner, have an easy night, and try to relax. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I said, hanging up.

I stared at the phone for a minute, just thinking. She wasn’t wrong. I had gotten into my own head, and being off by myself like this wasn’t helping.

I grabbed my key card and headed down to the lobby.

“Hi,” I said to the lady at the front desk when she looked up. “Are there any good places to eat around here? I’m new to LA and not sure where to go.”

“Oh, lots of great places,” she said brightly. “But if it’s your first time in LA, you should check out the Venice Beach boardwalk area. It’s not that far away and it’s a real experience. Great people-watching and lots of funky little cafes and shops.”

“Okay. Thanks,” I said.

I was about to turn and wander out of the hotel to try and figure out how to get there when she took pity on me and gave me directions to call a rideshare service, and twenty minutes later, I was being dropped off near the entrance to the bustling oceanfront walk.

The boardwalk was crowded with an eclectic mix of street performers, tourists, locals out for a stroll, and vendors hawking everything from knockoff sunglasses to tie-dyed clothing. Surfers emerged periodically from the water, wetsuits peeled down to their waists and boards tucked under their arms. It wasn’t all that cold here, even though it had started to snow back home, but it was November and the water had to be chilly. I couldn’t imagine jumping into the cold Pacific water, but they seemed unfazed.

The sights, sounds, and even smells were so different from what I was used to back home. While not technically my first time, they’d kept us locked down between the studio lot and the cast house last time, so this was my first chance to see LA proper.

This was bright and energetic in a way nowhere else I’d ever been was.

I made my way down the boardwalk, dodging a rollerblader and stopping for a second to see a busker, underneath a big palm tree, doing some modern pop number that sounded pretty good, actually. Couples posed for selfies, backdropped by the neon-lined shops.

As much as I wanted to wander the boardwalk watching all the stuff that was happening, my rumbling stomach reminded me that I hadn’t actually eaten anything since the small bowl of oatmeal I’d made myself at four-thirty that morning when I got up.

I spotted a small, crowded cafe advertising organic bowls and decided to give it a try. The prices on the menu made my eyes bug out. No wonder everyone was so skinny here—you’d have to be rich just to keep from starving. But I only had a protein bar on the plane, so I sucked it up and ordered a bowl with quinoa and veggies.

Finding an empty patch of railing overlooking the beach, I leaned against it and dug into my food. Seeing the weird food the lady behind the counter handed me, I was surprised that it was actually pretty damn good, even if it barely qualified as a snack in my book. I watched the people wandering by as I ate, still marveling at how different everything was.

I’d expected it to be different than Wellsville, but I’d also seen all the places I’d traveled to with my parents when I was younger, when Dad was going from gig to gig. That had included some pretty decent-sized cities, so I had some other comparisons beyond small-town Appalachia. I’d also gone to New York that one time, which had been kind of like those other cities I’d gone to with Dad, just ... more.

This, though! This was its own world. It was like stuff you see in movies when the characters are at the beach before something crazy happens, just in real life. People here were colorful, flamboyant, and, apparently, completely carefree. It was interesting to watch.

I finished up my food and considered getting another, since it had barely quashed my hunger. At forty bucks for a small cardboard bowl, it wasn’t worth it. Instead, I headed back onto the boardwalk and just kind of wandered around, watching all of the people. The sun was starting to go down, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink that were breathtaking. Even with evening coming on, the activity on the boardwalk wasn’t slowing down. If anything, the crowds seemed to be getting a little thicker as people came out to enjoy the evening air.

I’d circled my way back around to the busker I’d noticed earlier. I paused to listen as he seamlessly segued into a Nora Clint song. Her range was really high, but he’d done a good job pulling it down into his range. The musician part of my brain couldn’t switch off as I watched him play. His guitar work was solid and his tone rich and emotive. He had some real talent.

When the song ended, I dug a five-dollar bill from my pocket and tossed it into the open guitar case lying at his feet, eliciting a nod of thanks. He took a long drink from a water bottle as I turned to go, but then called out to me.

“Hey man, you play?”

I glanced back, caught off guard by the question. “What makes you ask?”

He grinned, fingers idly strumming his guitar. The crowd had started wandering off during his last song, so it was mostly just the two of us talking at that moment.

“I saw you watching my left hand on the frets. Musicians tend to zone in on technique.” He raised an eyebrow. “So, do you play?”

“Yeah, a little,” I admitted.

“Very cool. What kind of stuff?”

I rubbed my neck self-consciously. “Mostly classic rock, with some country and pop thrown in. I have a band back home on the East Coast.”

“Right on,” he said. “It’s been pretty dead tonight and I’m bored as hell. Wanna throw down a few songs?”

My first instinct was to decline, but then I thought, what the hell?

“Sure, sounds like fun,” I said, moving to stand next to him at the mic.

The guy held out a fist. “Name’s Jesse.”

“Charlie,” I said, bumping it.

“Nice to meet you. So, Charlie from the East Coast. What do you want to play?”

I pondered for a moment before a bluesy riff I knew popped into my head. “How about some Ragwater? You know any?”

Ragwater was a classic rock band my dad loved when I was growing up. Lyla wasn’t crazy about their sound, so we didn’t cover them often, but I liked to play their stuff when I was warming up on my own. As guitar parts go, they’re not challenging, but that group had two singers and did a lot of back and forth, so it would work for the two of us. They even had some harmonies to really throw us a challenge.

Jesse grinned widely and said, “Hell yeah, I know ‘em. Used to play a ton of their stuff back in the day.”

He shuffled through his songbook, selecting a Ragwater classic called Bridge Over Tuesday.” He looked over at me and I gave him the thumbs up. That was one of the songs Dad liked, so I’d heard it, and played it, a lot.

“You want the first verse?” Jesse asked.

“Sure.” I stepped closer to the mic and Jesse counted us in.

As he strummed the opening chords, I came in singing the first verse. My voice blended nicely with Jesse’s higher range in the chorus harmonies. We played off each other well, trading off verses and ad-libs. A few people paused to listen. It wasn’t my best work ever, but we hit a groove that happens when the music is really good, and by the end, I’d started to shake things loose and get more into the pocket.

As the final chorus faded out, a smattering of applause broke out.

Jesse thanked the audience and said, “You’ve got some pipes on you, man!”

“Thanks, although I’m more of a guitarist than a singer, usually.”

While that wasn’t completely true, since I led most of the vocals in my band, I still preferred playing guitar, even when I was singing.

“No kidding? Wanna trade for a song then?” he asked, holding out his guitar to me.

“Uhh, sure,” I said, taking it and pulling the strap over my head. “It’s not classic rock, but do you know The Long Kiss by Nightshade?”

It was the first song I’d played with them in Nashville last year when I got the chance to cover for Brad. Since then, I’d played it hundreds of times, partly because I liked the song and partly because it kind of let me relive that moment, which had been amazing.

“Yeah, I know the words, but I don’t think I have the tabs,” he said, rifling through his music.

“It’s okay. I know it.”

“Oh, then sure, let’s go for it.”

It opened with a solid guitar riff, which was absolutely part of the reason I picked it. It would be a lie to say I didn’t want to show off, and this really let me showboat. As I tore through the opening lick, Jesse broke out in a huge grin and even whooped at one point before almost missing where he was supposed to come in.

He did a reasonable impression of Eli, and we really did this one a lot better than the last song. He leaned down at another guitar break and turned up the speaker a little bit, which I hoped wouldn’t get him in trouble. It did start to draw people in, with people walking from a little way down to find out what the music was. By the time we finished, we had a good-sized crowd and someone yelled, “Another!”

He looked at me and I shrugged and went into another Nightshade song. After a second, he started bobbing his head, which I took to mean he knew this one too.

We finished the song and I stepped back, flexing my fingers. Two fast, back-to-back songs like that could cause them to cramp slightly, which is why I usually did a small bit of patter in between each song.

“Another?” Jesse said as people from the crowd started dropping more money into his guitar case, piling up a lot more than he’d had there a minute ago.

I almost said yes, because I was having so much fun, but I looked at my watch. I’d been away from the hotel for two hours and I still had a big day ahead of me. I also wanted to be back at the hotel when Kat called.

“Sorry, man, I have to head back,” I said, pulling the guitar strap over my head and handing it back to him.

I felt a little bad, because the crowd we’d built started to disperse a little, but I didn’t want to jeopardize my chances for the next day just to have some fun.

“Oh, hey, no problem,” he said, taking the instrument back. “You are amazing. Like, you really shred.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, it was nice playing with you. Really shook things up,” he said, reaching down and starting to stack all of the money from the guitar case. “Man, we really raked it in, and I think most of that was because of you. If you want, we could split some of this.”

He held up a couple of tens someone threw in. I was actually surprised. This was the guy’s livelihood, and here he was offering me a cut of it.

“Nah, you keep it. I just came down here to grab some food and wander around. Playing was fun.”

“You sure?” He waggled the bills. “I insist.”

“Positive. If you really want to pay me back, I’m actually competing in a TV singing competition tomorrow night called The Stage. If you watch and vote for me, we’ll call it even.”

Jesse’s eyebrows shot up.

“No way, really? I knew you could sing, but damn. Okay, yeah, I got you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”