“You’ll be playing isolated bass on an MFB song of our choosing. We’ll be watching for who has the best technical skills and who’s able to put their own spin on our song without changing the feel. We have two mini-studios set up here in the house, and the assistant producers and a cameraman will be with you to help you record. We’ve already done a random draw for who will record their samples at what time and who will play which song. You’ll have thirty minutes to get us your sample once the challenge begins. Before the end of the day, we’ll eliminate another bassist.”
The MFB boys aren’t messing around.
They want their bassist, and they want her now.
And they probably don’t want to keep too many people around too long since it’s a grand a day per contestant.
That little tidbit comes back to me. It’s worth my efforts to stay in this as long as possible. I’ve already earned two thousand dollars just for getting through last night’s competition, and I’m nowhere near slowing down now.
We’re given our random numbers, and I’m in the second round. I won’t find out my song until I get into the mini-studio, though.
I head up to my bedroom. Unlike Eric and Decker, who are in the first round, I have thirty minutes to get into the right headspace, and I plan to take full advantage of that time.
I do some deep breathing exercises. I mentally run through my favorite MFB songs. I sniff my favorite sweatshirt to get the smell of cinnamon out of my nose.
And when it’s my turn, I freaking rock it. It’s a song I know, and I can’t help when I start singing along. I’m having fun, the song blasting in my ears as I play along with the bassline. It’s an incredible feeling, and I’m confident that I did well enough to pass through to the next round.
I ride the high of that confidence all the way until lunch, when I take a huge bite of my chicken salad sandwich, starving after all the effort I put forth this morning.
And when the flavor of rotten fish hits my tongue, I immediately know what happened.
“Ugh!” I yell, tossing my sandwich down.
“What’s wrong?” Tyler asks beside me.
“I asked for chicken salad. That’s tuna.” I hold a hand over my mouth because I’m a little terrified I might actually puke.
It’s not just the stinky smell. It’s the texture, the flavor...everything about it.
And the jerk across the table fighting so dang hard to hide his smile is most definitely guilty as sin.
CHAPTER 25: GAGE
“We’re sorry to say that Eric, you lost this battle. You won’t be MFB’s replacement bassist.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn’t my name in Dax’s exit announcement.
We say our goodbyes to the former child prodigy, and honestly I’m a little surprised it was him. I’m not sure who I was expecting it to be.
He heads upstairs with Miles, the assistant producer assigned to him, for his final interview before he packs and heads out the door.
As soon as he’s out of the room, Dax says, “He had great skill, but the rest of you in here blew him away on the MFB song. Will needs to head out to a gig, but Adam, Brody, and I are sticking around for the next half hour or so. The liquor has been restocked and you’re all still here, and that seems like a good enough reason to me to celebrate.”
His announcement is followed by cheers as the four of them move away from the fireplace where they stand when they make announcements. Will ducks out, and the others move around the room and join different conversations.
“Dude, did you hear about Colt?” Decker asks me. He’s quiet as he talks, and he avoids eye contact in favor of glancing around the room to see who’s within listening distance.
My brows dip down. I’m not one for gossip...but this is a competition, and if there’s something I should know that’ll give me a leg up, I’m not squandering that shot. “No. What about him?”
“Kane, the guy who we’re all fighting to replace, plays for Ruby Ray now.”
I nod. “Right.”
“Well, turns out Colt used to be Ruby’s bassist. I guess they used to date, and he fucked around behind her back with her guitarist. Kane was only supposed to be a temporary fit until they found someone permanent.”
“And now MFB’s entertaining Colt as a potential replacement?” I ask, and Decker nods. I whistle through my teeth. As far as gossip goes, well, that’s pretty juicy. “Wow. Slap in the face to Kane and Ruby if Colt gets it.”
Decker makes a face. “Nah, he won’t win. He’s good, but he’s not next level like you or me.”
I chuckle. We’re definitely not the only two at the top here. I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to watch the others play, but it’s easy to pick up a few things here or there.
Tyler’s fucking amazing, and I only know that because I’ve listened to Capital Kingsmen. I’m a fan.
Blaze is good, too, and John. Hell, everyone’s pretty decent. Everyone here has talent, or they wouldn’t be here.
And then there’s Lexi.
In a league of her own...and not just because she’s a chick.
But I can’t really imagine they’d choose Colt. Not because he isn’t talented, but because that would be a pretty big gut punch to the guy who left, and from what I understand, he was like a brother to the rest of these guys before he chose to leave.
We don’t get a chance to dissect that further because Adam joins our conversation. Decker immediately puts on an act. It’s just who he is—which is to say that he turns into somebody different every time someone new approaches. I think I might be the only person here who he’s actually himself around...and I can’t help but wonder how that gives me an advantage over him.
It feels good to mingle with somebody in the big leagues—and even better that this is the guy who personally invited me into this competition.
“How are you two feeling so far?” Adam asks.
“It’s going incredibly well,” Decker says, his voice brimming with confidence. Okay, so maybe it isn’t all an act for Adam. Decker does tend to be a fairly overconfident sort of guy.
“And you?” Adam asks, turning to me.
I can’t help when I glance over at Lexi. “It’s been an amazing ride so far,” I say.
Adam follows my line of sight, and then he turns back to me with a raised brow. I realize I just totally gave myself away, but Kat already knows, as do all the guys I’m competing against, so I’m sure the MFB guys know, too.
He leans in toward me. “Might I advise you to keep your eye on the prize?”
I chuckle. “My eye is firmly on the prize.”
He nods. “Good. And in some ways, even better if you can work under distraction. I’m not supposed to tell you guys this, but an upcoming challenge will test your ability to work that way.”
“Feel free to drop more hints,” Decker says, and we all laugh. “Who won the isolated bass challenge?” he asks.
Adam shrugs. “We couldn’t pick just one winner. But, interestingly, none of us chose the same performer we chose last night, so that tells you there’s a whole lot of talent in this room and it’s not going to be easy to narrow it down to just one of you.”