And it was all thanks to Erika Graham, who I was finally able to find through the blinding lights and see the big, encouraging smile on her face.
I wasn’t going to blow this audition.
I knew because I’d be performing for her.
Once my feet were planted in the ring, I lifted the guitar strap over my head and settled into playing position. A tech guy appeared from out of nowhere, clipped a microphone onto the edge of my guitar’s sound hole, and asked me to play a chord.
He got a thumbs up from the guy working the board in the booth, which made him scurry off stage.
“Hey, Troy,” Ardy said in his booming voice. He was sitting near Erika, both of them on the main floor center seats. “We’re going to start by having you introduce yourself.”
I glanced at the camera up on a tripod a few rows behind the team from Warbler. There was a second camera up on a guy’s shoulder, who stood in the floor aisle down below the end of the stage. I didn’t want to ignore the camera entirely, since the videos were what Stella would judge as she kept her tour going, but I needed to show how I performed live.
I lifted my chin and spoke clearly into the microphone. “Hi, I’m Troy Osbourne, from right here in Nashville. Today, I’m going to be performing U2’s ‘Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.’”
I’d been kind of a mess when I’d played for Ardy last week, and this was so much bigger than that. So it was shocking when a calm moved over me and took hold. I flashed a relaxed smile at the crowd, positioned my fingers for the opening chord, and readied my pick.
Three, two, one . . . go.
My hands moved easily, and I strummed with energy, letting the music keep me loose. Although I wouldn’t move from my spot during the song, I didn’t want the performance to be static. I filled my lungs with air to support my vocals and belted out the opening lyric. As my voice and instrument flooded the music hall, I gathered strength.
There wasn’t anything like the sound of it.
Everything I felt, I channeled into the emotion of the song. I knew all about being restless. About striving for something and not getting it. But for the first time, I found meaning in the song that was uplifting. I hadn’t found what I was looking for yet, but there was a promise that I could.
It was hard not to keep my gaze fixated on Erika as I sang. I was looking for even more from her than we had, and a spark ignited inside me. I could find whatever I needed to and convince her to truly give us a chance.
Her expression as she watched me was . . . intense. Captivated. She stared at me like how I was sure I’d gazed at her the night she’d sang ‘Power.’ The rest of the small crowd watched with different levels of interest. One of the other agents, a dude in the back, nodded along in time with the music, but stared at his phone.
The only person who seemed as mesmerized as Erika was by my performance was the girl who worked the front desk at Warbler. Charlotte, Erika had said her name was.
The girl gaped at me like I was naked. It wasn’t an entirely new experience for me. I’d had some girls legit toss their panties at me at bars, usually a bachelorette party where the women wanted to be wild and show off for their friends. Charlotte’s gobsmacked look didn’t hurt my ego either, but it also couldn’t compare with how Erika seemed to hang on each line I sang.
I could feel her with me on every note.
The three and a half minutes it took to play went so fast. I brought the song to a close, winding down the volume, the tempo, and power to demonstrate my control. Hopefully, I had the rest of the audience on the edge of their seats like Charlotte was. I sang the final refrain, struck the last note, and held still to let it wash over the crowd.
Their applause broke me from my daze and unleashed a smile from my lips.
“Thank you,” I said.
“How long have you been playing?” someone in the crowd asked.
I’d been told there was an interview at the end, and this was what I sensed Erika dreaded. My inexperience was a clear disadvantage. I relaxed my grip on the guitar neck and stood tall. “About five years.”
The next question came from a woman in the row in front of Erika. “Are you doing music full-time?”
“No, ma’am.” It was clear she wanted me to elaborate, and I struggled to maintain my smile. “I just finished school, so I’m taking as many gigs as I can get.”
“What do you do for work?”
“Sports training and some construction. Like, home remodels.”
“I thought you were a pool boy,” Ardy quipped.
I laughed to downplay my embarrassment. “Oh yeah. I do pools too.”
The interview turned serious. It continued with questions about what kind of show I’d like to put on if I landed the opening act. Who my musical influences were. If I were to perform a song from Stella’s library, which one would it be and why?
I was crushing my answers . . . all until the last question.
“What’s the largest audience you’ve performed to?”
The smile on my face froze and my voice wasn’t as solid as I wanted it to be. “I did a friend’s wedding that was, uh, probably four hundred people.”
This was Nashville, the music city, with venues on Broadway that could accommodate twenty-five hundred covers. Even more if it were outside, or in one of the auditoriums.
And it was likely my competitors had played them. I was up against people who’d moved to this town from all across the country with dreams of making it. Performers who had years of experience and far more skill than I did.
Hell, I’d met a guy one night at Blanche’s before my set who was a bouncer at Blake Shelton’s bar. He’d come from Vermont and taken the job only so he could fill in and do acoustics whenever they had a light entertainment week. Maybe he deserved to be up here more than I did. I hadn’t been hungry like that until recently.
But . . . wait. Fuck that. I hadn’t been hungry because I hadn’t believed it was even possible. Now that it was? I craved it with every inch of my soul. Standing on the stage felt right. I knew that I belonged here.
Although a lot of the people in the audience were looking at me like I didn’t. There was distrust in their eyes. This kid Troy from Nashville was unproven, and probably not a risk Stella should take with her brand.
“Can I say something?” I asked.
Ardy motioned for me to go ahead.
“I just wanted to thank y’all for letting me come out and perform today.” I glanced around the theatre, taking it all in. “It’s an honor to stand on this stage, especially for an unknown like me, and to get this opportunity. I don’t know if Stella sees this part of the process, but either way . . . I appreciate what y’all have done.”
I genuinely meant what I said, but I also hoped the words would reach Stella personally. She wanted to pay it forward and help someone launch their career, and she couldn’t find anyone more unknown than me.
“No, thank you.” Did Ardy sound this friendly and warm as he said goodbye to everyone else who’d auditioned? “We appreciate your time. Erika will let you know if we need anything else.”
The sound tech reappeared and unclipped the small microphone from my guitar.
Audition over, I exited the stage the way I’d come and walked in a trance-like state back to the green room where my stuff was. All the prep and anxiety over it, and the whole thing had taken less than twenty minutes. I wouldn’t find out how I’d done for weeks. The auditions would be edited together and posted to Stella’s website.