Battle of the Bands: Full Disclosure {Wattys 2016}

Skyway Avenue and First Time Performances

Chapter 17

<Hendrix Ramone>

It's Friday and that means one thing: dress rehearsal. My friends and I are seated on the back of one of the buses with all of our instruments and some things to distract us when we aren't performing. Sadly, Riley is still the chaperone on this bus which means another nauseating bus ride watching him flirt with Beckham. Why do I care? She's just my friend. The bitterness in my thoughts must've registered on my face because Maddox chuckles and pats my shoulder as if to calm me down. Beckham and her friends get on the bus next, but she doesn't take the spot next to Riley at the front of the bus. Instead, she doesn't even look at him as she makes her way to the row right in front of me. Beckham plops down, her friend Antebellum sliding in next to her.

"Trouble in paradise?" I ask in my annoyingly innocent way.

"You could say that." She replies as she opens up the latest issue of Alternative Press.

Score one for Hendrix.

"Apparently he forgot to mention that the no romantic exploits rule applied to contestants as well as staff." Antebellum explains, much against Beckham's wishes.

"Ironic how Delilah was perfectly fine leaving him alone with me and calling me a romantic exploit without so much as mentioning the rule, but the minute something is about to happen, he hides behind it." Beckham mutters as she angrily flips the page.

"Beckham's convinced that he used the rule to avoid having to tell her that she was too young for him." Antebellum whispers from behind her hand, filling us in and keeping Beckham at bay.

"It's his loss, Beckham." I smirk and poke her shoulder. "He wasn't your type anyway."

"Oh, really? What is my type then?" She chuckles, turning around to face me with a gleam in her eye. "Friend..."

She says the last word slowly, reminding me of the agreement I made yesterday. C'mon, that was before he was such a jerk to her.

"Did she just friend-zone you?" Maddox snorts, clapping me on the back.

"It's complicated." I continue to smirk, maintaining eye contact with her. "And to answer your question, Beckham, I just didn't think your type was sappy and idiotic."

"Well, it isn't cocky and idiotic either." She winks and turns back around in her chair.

Touché, baby girl.

The rest of the bus ride is comfortably silent as opposed to the last one, which was uncomfortably tense. The bus driver pulls up in front of an arena in San Diego, our city of the week. My friends and I unload our equipment and follow the rest of the bands through the front entrance of the arena. It's filled with black chairs, a large stage centered in the middle of the room. Wires are taped to the ground with duct tape; they run under chairs and around the arena until they finally hook up to a sound board in the balcony. TV staff are busy rushing around, shouting into headsets and double-checking notes on clipboards like Delilah does. Cameras are being set up, lights are being tested and Delilah is leading the bands to the backstage area for yet another lecture.

"Today is your first dress rehearsal and for one band, it'll be your only." Delilah begins in a faux-cheery voice. "The line-up will be announced and then we will run this like the real show. You are expected to take this seriously and if you don't, then it won't serve you well tomorrow night."

She pauses while everyone takes in what she said.

"As far as tomorrow goes, you'll wake up at eight for breakfast before being put on a bus to the arena. Then you'll be taken immediately to hair and make-up. After that, you'll be whisked off to interviews and promotions with the TV network, then sound-check and then you'll be waiting until it's your turn to go on. The only time you'll spend at the hotel is for breakfast, so make sure to have some sort of backpack packed with everything you'll need while you wait around."