CHAPTER I

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AN: Sup bitches!!! Hope you liked the prologue. Here's the first chapter. Don't forget to comment, it helps a lot. ;)

                                                                                                                                                        POV JAMIE

        “Oh my Jesus!” – I heard one of the judges shout as we walked to the middle of the stage. I could discern a few laughs scattered throughout the crowd. What was so funny? Was I wearing a big red clown nose that I wasn’t aware of?

        “What’s so funny?” - my thoughts fled Bowie’s mouth, as usual.

        “You, dear.” – an old man I’ve saw on the show before but had no idea what his name was said in a delicate English accent.

        “May I ask why?” – I asked.

        “You’re just so…”

        “Rocky?” - the judge who also was a girl Pop Star whose name also  didn’t ring a bell said. She was clearly amused.  I could see Bowie roll her eyes at her, making me laugh.

        “And you…” – she said now looking at me – “…look like some kind of teen girl Kurt Cobain.” – Bitch.

        “Hm… Thanks… That’s what I was going for.” – the crowd laughed.

        “So, what’s your name and age, please?” – Oh, yeah! That was Simon fucking Cowell, ladies and gentlemen! And my hands started shaking.

        “Jamie, 19.” – I said.

        “Lola, 18.”

        “Ash, 17.”

        “And Bowie, also 18.”

        “Bowie, huh? You got Cobain and Bowie in the same band?

        “Yeah, Sir. I think we’re just born to be stars” – Bowie said in her typical sarcastic voice.

        “Easy, Bo…” – I heard Lol whisper.

        “I see…  Well, you should quit the Sir, Bowie.”

        “Ok, Sir… I mean, Simon. ” – And there they are, laughing again… We migh sound like a freaking circus!

        “Where are you from?”

        “The big ol’ Rain city.”

        “Seattle? Not surprised… And what is the name of the goup?”

        “We like to be called pretty, but you can call us Last Riot.” – I joked.

        “Cool. And what you’re gonna play for us, pretty?” – The old guy asked.

        “A mash up…”

        “Mash upl? It’s better be good, than!” – Oh, hell!

        “It will be.” – Not snobbish at all, Bo.

        Ash picked the guitar pick from her necklace, took a deep breath and started the groovy .

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