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The Girl In The Band - The Lead Singer - Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2022-05-13 14:18:30 +0000 UTCOTHER CHAPTERS | ALL STORY LIST
I was totally nervous and I don’t know why. I’d practiced my song all morning, but now standing in the recording booth, headphones on and staring at the microphone, I was shaking like a leaf. I looked over at the control booth and I could see Mom standing behind Mr. Johnson. She gave me an encouraging wave. Mr. Johnson’s voice boomed in my headphones, “Okay, Michelle. Let me know when you’re ready; we’ll start the music and I’ll cue you. Okay?”
There was a glass of water on a table nearby. I took a drink and swallowed audibly, “I’m ready Mr. Johnson.” The music started playing the intro. I watched for Mr. Johnson’s cue, and I came in late. The music stopped in the headphones. With patience and calmness, he didn’t have for the band, Mr. Johnson said, “That’s okay, Michelle. I know you’re nervous. Let’s do this just like we rehearsed it.
Let’s try it again.” Looking past Mr. Johnson towards Mom, I said, “I’m ready.” I bit my lip and closed my eyes as the intro played once more. This time I hit it perfectly. Mom gave me a thumb’s up as I sang my little heart out. Mr. Johnson smiled and said something to Scott. I sang through to the end without a glitch. Through the headphones, I heard Mr. Johnson say, “That was great Michelle.
Let’s try it one more time, with a bit faster tempo.” I sang that stupid song about three more times. Each time, Mr. Johnson had said it was great, but then wanted something different. Finally, he was satisfied. I ran into John as I stepped out of the recording booth. I was beaming and felt lighter than air, “John! Did you hear me? What did you think?”
John shrugged and said, “It was okay I guess. I thought on that last cut you were a little pitchy, but no, it was fine. I guess.” We both walked into the control booth while Mr. Johnson was talking. “Now that’s what I was expecting to hear today, Hal.” Mr. Johnson poked a finger into Mr. Winters’ chest, “Finally, someone who has their shit together.” John’s face twisted into a scowl, and he turned on his heel and stormed out of the control booth.
Mom started to say something, but I turned and ran after John. “John!” I called. “John wait!” He stopped and spun around to face me. “What the hell do you want?” Taken aback by his anger, I said, “What’s going on? Why did you get so mad?” “You don’t know? You can’t guess?” John sputtered. “Little Miss Perfect! ‘Oh, that was great, Michelle… that was perfect Michelle’, bullshit!” His eyes quivered with anger. “What did I do? Why are you mad at me?” I asked, taking a step back in case he tried to hit me. John shouted, “Why don’t you just go ahead and take over, huh? Sing all the songs solo!” He looked off for a moment then came back full force. “Dickweed in there loves you. He hates us! All he did was piss and moan about us.” I shouted back, “It’s not my fault you guys sucked today!” John yelled, “You’re just supposed to be eye candy! You’re only here because of us!” The acid in my voice, I shouted back, “No, John.
You are only here because of me! I’m the one the studio saw in the videotape. It was my voice they wanted. My image. Me!” John jabbed a finger at me and shouted, “Bullshit, man, bullshit! It’s my band, my sound that got us here. Shit, you’re not even a real fucking girl. I can’t believe you’re letting this go to your head!” Before I could answer, Mom, yelled from behind me, “Stop it you two! Stop this instant!” Mom was suddenly between both of us, taking hold of an arm on each of us. In a quieter voice, Mom said, “Stop this fighting now.
You’re embarrassing me and making fools out of yourselves.” “Mom,” John whined. “Mike is trying to show us up. He…” Interrupting, Mom said, “Michelle is doing no such thing. She just performed better, that’s all. John, I don’t know what your and the guys’ problem is today, but you’d better get over it. We’ll be here to dawn tomorrow if we have to, to get these two songs done. After a short break, Mr. Johnson is going to get you guys to try again. Let’s don’t blow it this time, okay?” John started to say something, thought better of it, and just nodded. Mom relaxed a bit and said to John, “Not to take anything away from Michelle, but she did have it a little easier than you guys. She just had to sing one song. She didn’t have to play an instrument and keep together with three other people. She’s not getting special treatment from Mr. Johnson.”
I just stood there a moment and watched John head back into the studio and Mom return to the control booth. As my anger subsided, I felt tears start to well up. I fought them back. I couldn’t understand John’s anger at me. I thought he’d be happy about me doing so well. I wandered back through the recording studio and found the reception area at the entrance. The receptionist looked up at me and said, “Hey sweetie.
Do you need something?” I shook my head and said, “Is it okay for me to sit out here for a while and read a magazine or something?” The pretty receptionist smiled and said, “Sure hon, knock yourself out” I sat down and picked up a magazine and pretended to read it. I looked at the pages without seeing anything. I was lost in thought. I closed my eyes and thought maybe I should quit the band if John was going to act like this every time I sang better. Maybe it just wasn’t worth it. The magazine slid from my fingers to the floor, but I didn’t notice. Without warning, I suddenly drifted into sleep.
Wednesday morning went a lot smoother. I had my make-up on before the guys finally tumbled out of bed. We coordinated our bathroom times better and everyone seemed less tense. Now that they knew what to expect, a lot of the cockiness had left the group. Except for John. I think he was born with attitude. The van to pick us up was already waiting when we hit the lobby.
There was a car parked behind the van and it flashed its lights as we approached. I looked over at it, and while it was too dark to see a face, I could tell it was a girl behind the wheel. She motioned for me to approach her. I hesitated since for all I knew it was some weirdo in the car. The passenger side window slid down and a familiar voice said, “Michelle! Get your butt over here!”It was Brooklyn Farrell. I hurried over to the opened window and stuck my head in.
“Hi, Ms. Farrell. What are you doing here?” I asked. She smiled and said, “You can call me Brook. Now get in; we have a lot to do this morning.” “Ms. Brook, I can’t go with you. We have to get to the studio.” “They do,” Brook said, pointing at the van. “You don’t. You have a photoshoot at ten this morning to get ready for.” “We all do. It’s our publicity photos. But we were going to try to lay down a voice track on our third song this morning,” I said. “That’s why you need to get ready! Now get in the car!” said Brook, looking flustered.
Puzzled, I asked, pointing at the van, “Shouldn’t they get ready too?” Brook dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “Nah, they’re guys. Will you get in now?” I gave up and said, “Well, let me tell my manager that I’m going with you.” Brook nodded. I walked over to the open van door. John said, “Well, Twinkle Toes, did you finally decide to join us?” I shook my head and addressed Mom instead of John.
“Mom, Brooklyn Farrell is here to get me ready for the photoshoot this morning. I won’t be going with you to the studio.” First, she looked surprised, and then Mom smiled and said, “That’s fine, dear. I didn’t think about it, but you probably should have another make-over. Have fun and we’ll see you later this morning.” John, looking indignant shouted, “What?! More special treatment? What’s the big fucking deal?” Mom grabbed John’s ear and pulled, and he let out a yelp.
“I guess it’s long past time to wash that mouth of yours out with soap! Michelle wants to look her best for the photo session.” “Ah! Christ, Mom. I’m eighteen! Stop pulling my ear. Aah!”Mom pulled his ear again. Frowning, Mom said, “Are you going to stop?” Fritz said, “What about us? Shouldn’t we get ready for the photoshoot, too?” Mom shrugged and said, “You’re guys.”
As we sped away in Brook’s car, she said, “I know this great place where we can get some breakfast. Then, we head back to the salon. I know you loved getting a make-over last time. You positively glowed afterward.” “I did?” I really don’t remember enjoying it, except for the attention, I thought.
She just nodded and said, pointing to the back seat of her car, “And I bought you a couple of new outfits for the photo session.” Frowning I asked, “More clothes? Don’t I have enough already?” Brooklyn gave me a ‘What? Are you kidding?’ expression, “There’s no such thing!”
The events at the salon were pretty much the same. And while I know they’re told to act that way, it still gave me a boost to hear them say just how absolutely thrilled they were that I had returned. I thought, no wonder celebrities are so full of themselves, there’s a whole industry devoted to stroking their egos. I lay in the chair with some strange goop covering my face and some form of vegetable matter on my eyes and someone tugging at my hands.
I knew Brooklyn was close by. I said, “Brook? Can I ask you a question?” I heard her take a few steps to stand next to me. “Sure. Like what?” “Doesn’t it bother you that here you are, helping other people become rich and famous while you’re neither?” I asked. She let out a short laugh then said, “Well, for starters, I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want the hassle. You’ll find out soon what I mean. As for being rich?
Well, I’m let’s just say I’m very comfortable. I’m good at what I do and I charge a lot for it. I have access to celebs that most people don’t. I’m invited to most of the same parties; I’m invited to their homes for private consulting. They even come to my house. No, I like my arrangement just fine. I get to hobnob with the rich and famous and get paid well for it.” I didn’t say anything and after a moment she continued, “I can’t sing and I can’t act, but I do know what clothes look good on someone and what don’t.”
Brooklyn parked her car in the studio parking lot. I opened the door and just sat there a moment, not sure how to get out of the car. I had changed clothes at the salon and was now wearing a short, black denim skirt, a black tank top (that covered enough to disguise the fact that I didn’t have any cleavage), and high-heeled boots. I was also wearing these really oversized hoop earrings, and my hair now loosely covered one eye. I looked at my hands while I pondered how to get out of the car without exposing my panties to the whole world. I guess they were this morning.
I looked around and didn’t see anyone who might take a peek so I just climbed out. I’m going to have to ask Mom what is the best way to get in and out of a car while wearing a skirt. I reached into the back seat and retrieved my (yet another new) purse and a light jacket. Apparently, the guys were just wrapping up their session before breaking for the photoshoot. I could hear Mr. Johnson say, “Good work guys. That was a thousand times better than yesterday.
If we put in another couple of long days, I think we can get this album finished.” Brooklyn and I walked into the studio, and all eyes turned toward us. Brooklyn is a beautiful woman, and I guessed the guys were all turning to ogle at her. Until Fritz said, “Holy shit! Michelle? I think I’m in love!” Smiling, Sammy said, “You look great, Michelle! I mean really, really great.” I felt my cheeks start to flush, and I looked over at Brook for some help.
She just smiled broadly. Mr. Winters said, “Brook, you did well.” He gave her a thumbs-up gesture. Mom walked up to me and exclaimed, “Oh my! Michelle, you are simply gorgeous!” My cheeks felt hot as I said, “Come on, guys. Stop it! Quit talking crazy! I’m just me.” I looked around the room, and every guy was staring at me, and I was very glad I couldn’t read minds right then. I could read their expressions though, and I started to feel sick.
I didn’t know what to think. All at once, I was revolted by the obvious lust in the faces of all the guys staring at me, and at the same time, I found myself excited at the attention and satisfied at suddenly becoming the focal point of the room.
Mr. Winters released me from their attention by saying, “All right guys. The van is out behind the studio. Let’s get in and get these publicity photos out of the way so we can get back to working on the album.” He whispered something to Brooklyn, and then she waved to me and left. As everyone started to file out to the rear of the studio, I pulled Mom to one side and said, “Mom, that was really weird. Everyone was staring at me!”
Mom looked me up and down and smiled before answering, “You’re beautiful, Michelle. Guys are going to react to that. Even as a boy I thought you were pretty, like I said, you look like me when I was a teenager.” Feeling somewhat shocked, I said, “Mom! Don’t talk like that! It makes me uncomfortable to hear my own mother call me ‘beautiful’.” Mom shrugged and said, “You better figure out a way to deal with it, honey.
Like it or not, you’re now presenting yourself to the world as a beautiful, young woman. You’re going to be treated differently. You’ll be much happier if you don’t resist being taken for a pretty girl and just enjoy the attention while it lasts.”
