MY FAVORITE BAND, page 7
Once he’s on the track side of the fence, I open the cooler for Rascal. “Beer mile rules state that you must chug a can of beer that is no lower than five percent alcohol, run a lap, chug, run, chug, run, chug, and run. If you vomit at any time, you will have to run a penalty lap at the end. If your time exceeds fifteen minutes, you’ll have to do it again another night. Any questions?”
He shakes his head, his eyes narrowed at me as I hand him a can of Milwaukee’s Best Ice, courtesy of Brody’s shopping trip today. Rascal grimaces, and the rest of us laugh. I hand a less aggressive Miller Lite to Brody and Adam before cracking one open for myself—the three of us don’t have to chug, but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to watch this while enjoying something ice cold ourselves.
“The time will start when you pop the tab,” I say, pulling out my cell phone and opening the clock app to time him. “Ready?”
“What-the-fuck-ever, man,” Rascal says, and then he draws in a deep breath and cracks open the can.
I start the timer, and as he chugs, I hear cheers from the other guys. Brody and Adam chant, “Chug, chug, chug,” while Kane yells, “Go, go go!”
Rascal tips the can over to show it’s empty before he tosses it on the ground and takes off for his first lap. I set the next beer on the starting line. When Rascal makes his way back to us two minutes later, he’s already huffing and puffing.
We’re all cheering as we watch him, which is probably stupid since we’re trespassing, but it’s dark and we’re all half drunk—except for Kane, who volunteered to be the designated driver. Rascal cracks the next one and chugs, tips it over, tosses it, and runs off. It isn’t until he cracks open his last can and takes the first sip that he turns to the turf and throws up the entire contents of his beer mile.
“Ha ha!” Brody actually says the words instead of laughing as he points to Rascal while he vomits. “You have to do a penalty lap!”
I roar with laughter along with Kane and Adam, and that’s when it hits me.
I don’t want things to change.
I love my life. I love my friends—yes, even Rascal. I love hopping the fence at the local high school so we can watch our buddy run a beer mile.
I have dreams and aspirations, sure. We all do. I’d love to see MFB hit the big time. But I still don’t want things to change between the five of us, and I’m suddenly hit with a suffocating anxiety that it’s going to and I’m powerless to stop it.
Rascal finishes the mile in under fifteen minutes along with his extra lap, and then we head back to Kane’s truck and pile in.
“Dude!” Brody says to me once we tumble out of the truck back at home. “Night’s far from over, man. Let’s go to Emerson’s and find some pussy.”
“Not tonight,” I say. “I have too much shit to do tomorrow.” The truth is that I just don’t feel like it. I’m about to go on a reality dating show. It’s bad enough that I’m seeing Kylie in a different light when I’m not supposed to and she doesn’t feel it anyway. I don’t need to confuse all that shit with some other woman, too.
“First you pussed out on Autumn, now tonight? What’s happening to my bro?” he asks, swaying a little on his feet as the other guys head back into the house.
“I’m going on a television show next week. Remember?”
“Yeah, exactly why I need you to hang with me now. What if everything changes?” His voice borders on whiney, something it only does when he’s drunk, and I realize how nervous he is about things changing between us because of this show.
It’s funny how best friends can manage to hit on the very insecurities that plague our minds. “Things aren’t gonna change, man,” I say. It’s not very convincing.
“You don’t know that.”
I shrug. “It won’t change if we don’t let it.”
He glares at me. “It’s already changing. You’re already telling me you don’t wanna go to Emerson’s. You’ve never told me no before.”
I sigh with resignation even as I have to admit to myself that Kylie was right. Men are idiots. “Fine,” I say. “Let’s go.”
His face brightens immediately, and then we set off on our walk toward Emerson’s. Just because I’m going tonight doesn’t mean I have to take someone home. I’ll go with Brody and enjoy one of our last nights out together before the show starts.
As we walk toward the place that’s as good as a second home to us, I make a vow to myself.
No matter what happens on the show, things between my buddies and me will stay exactly the same.
* * *
The two weeks between the day I found out I would be appearing on Take My Heart and the start of production pass in the blink of an eye.
I spend a lot of time with the band practicing, because even though Kylie claims our practice schedule won’t really be affected, we still have a tour to prepare for. We finalize our set list without back-to-back ballads and run through it a hundred different times until we all feel comfortable with the order. I appreciate everyone’s dedication to accommodating my appearance on this show. Kane missed his two-year anniversary with his girlfriend in order to practice. Adam missed his sister’s family birthday party.
Everyone’s making a million different sacrifices so I can go on a television show, but they’re the same sacrifices we’ll all be making once we hit the road for Vail’s tour.
It’s a little surreal, but I have faith it’ll be worth it in the end.
I find myself facing Chris—one of the producers—and a camera, and I don’t feel like me. I’m wearing some dressy blue shirt instead of one of my signature tees. Someone dusted powder on my face so I won’t appear shiny in front of the cameras. I sit in a fancy chair with candles lit all around me in a bedroom in an enormous house in Hollywood Hills, lights shining in my face and blinds drowning out the natural light of the afternoon sun.
Chris prompts me for material they can use in the opening episode. “Let’s get started. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and I want you to respond like we’re just having a conversation. You can look wherever you feel comfortable but avoid looking directly into the camera. Remember to answer in full sentences and try to reflect the question somewhere in your response. Be candid and honest. Any questions?”
I shake my head, and Chris glances down at a piece of paper. “Tell me why you want to be on this show.”
I can’t answer that question honestly. I don’t know who might see my answer here. It could just be the women, or it could be all of America. If it’s the women, I want to appear open to a relationship so they’ll choose to keep me on. And if it’s all of America, I want to appear like the all-American man they could fall in love with as easily as the women.
“I want to be on this show because I’m looking to find that person who is my other half. When I was presented with the opportunity to appear on Take My Heart, I knew it was the chance of a lifetime. And here I am, ready to embark on this adventure that I hope will end in love.”
Chris nods encouragingly. “Talk to me about what you’re looking for in a woman.”
“I’m looking for someone who exudes confidence but is smart and kind. I love a woman with a sense of humor. I need someone who will stand by me and understand my career and all that comes with it. And of course I want someone who is beautiful on the inside and out. Long legs don’t hurt, either.”
“Anything else?”
“Nice tits.”
Chris laughs.
I shrug and grin. “You told me to be honest.”
“That I did. Next question. Where would you go on a dream date?”
I think back to the best dates I’ve ever had. Dinner in a quiet restaurant. A walk around town holding hands. One time I had a fun date at an arcade. Going big just isn’t really my style.
“A dream date for me would be something simple,” I say, reflecting his question back at him as requested. “You know, somewhere like Vegas for the night.”
That earns me another laugh from Producer Chris.
“I’m kidding. One of the best dates I ever went on was just a simple night where we talked over pasta and wine and then shared chocolate covered strawberries. We laughed and didn’t have a care in the world except spending time together.”
“The girls are going to go crazy for you,” Chris says. “But you know that dates on reality shows are usually more extravagant than that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I suppose you want me to say something like, ‘My ideal date would be venturing off in a helicopter and landing in the middle of a beach where we could enjoy a candlelit dinner and dip our feet in the water.”
Chris turns and looks at the cameraman, who nods. “Yes, and thanks for saying it that way. We can use that instead of your actual answer. But just for the record, the dates on our show will be simpler just because of the timeframe we’re working with.”
I put my hands up in protest, but Chris forges ahead with the next question. “Tell us about your career.”
I sigh. “I’m the lead singer of MFB, also known as My Favorite Band.”
“Why My Favorite Band?”
It’s another story I can’t really tell, so instead, I say, “When we were teenagers, we thought it would be funny if someone was coming to our show and they had to tell people they were going to see My Favorite Band.”
Chris sort of smiles, but not really. “How successful is your band?”
“We have a good following in San Diego, and our manager secured us a spot as the first opening act on Vail’s next US tour.”
“Wow. That’s big time.”
“It’s a huge break for us, and we couldn’t be more excited to get out on the road.”
“Will that leave much time for a relationship?” he asks.
I feel the urge to lie again. In all honesty, no. A relationship my first time on the road would, quite frankly, suck. The show will wrap, and a week later, we’ll be heading out on tour. I’ll barely know the girl I supposedly fell in love with on this show, and it’s not like we’ll have the time to get to know each other while I’m on tour.
Besides, I don’t want to be tied down when I have the chance to be with a different girl every night in every new city.
But I can’t say any of that to Chris. “It’ll be a busy time on the road, but if it’s a relationship worth pursuing, I’ll make the time.”
Chris asks me a few wrap-up questions, and then I’m released to Wardrobe to be fitted for the suit I’ll wear to meet the women.
This house has upwards of twenty bedrooms, each with its own purpose. The women will be arriving in a bit, and this is where they’ll live for the duration of the show. Some bedrooms are actual bedrooms for the women, and others are set up like the one where Chris interviewed me. And then there’s the wardrobe room, where I find myself staring at racks and racks of suits.
I hear voices, so I know I’m not alone. “Hello?” I ask hesitantly.
“Back here!” I follow the enthusiastic female voice to the back of the room where I find a large mirror on a platform with lots of lights pointed at it.
I recognize the man standing on the platform in a suit as the third baseman for the Cubs. “Danny Fisher,” I murmur.
Great.
He is my competition?
I wonder who the other two celebrities I’m up against are because I’m no match for this guy.
“The one and only,” he says with a grin, sticking his hand out in my direction. I put mine in his and feel his firm handshake. I try to squeeze harder. I realize it’s a stupid alpha move, but I can’t stop myself.
“Dax Hunter,” I say. “Lead singer of MFB and apparent reality show contestant.”
“Good to meet you, man,” he says easily. So he’s a guy’s guy on top of being a heartthrob for women everywhere. Fantastic. “Looks like we’re on the show together.”
“Good to meet you, too,” I say, going for a lighthearted tone when seeing this guy as my competition has me nervous as fuck.
“And I’m Karina,” a short lady with curly dark hair says. “I’m in charge of wardrobe. As soon as I get Mr. Fisher taken care of here, I’ll fit you for your suit. And then you’re off to meet the women!” She analyzes the fit of the suit he’s wearing, and I can practically see her swooning over Danny.
“So who are the other two men?” Danny asks Karina. I hate that he had the balls to ask while I stand back silently.
“I’m not allowed to say. Actually I’m supposed to be done with you already so you two don’t run into each other.” She gives a ditzy giggle. “Oopsies.”
“Can you give us a hint about their professions?” I ask.
She turns to look over both shoulders to make sure no one’s watching her. “One’s an actor and one’s a—uh—socialite.”
“Aren’t socialites usually female?” Danny asks.
She shrugs. “He’s the son of a well-known business mogul. He’s basically famous for being famous.”
So that’s what I’m up against.
Karina finishes with Danny and dismisses him, and then she has me step up onto the podium.
“Have you had your measurements done before?” she asks, and I nod as I think back to prom and the few weddings I’d been asked to stand in. “Good. Are you excited for this?”
I shrug while she wraps her arms around my waist to measure it. “Of course I’m excited. But I think I’m more anxious than excited.” It isn’t a lie. I am anxious about what to expect, about projecting the right image. I’m not worried about the things I’m supposed to be nervous about—like finding my soul mate and my happily ever after. It’s hard to be anxious about something you don’t care about.
“That’s natural. The other guys seem to feel the same.”
“Danny seemed pretty calm about things.” I hate appearing weak, but I don’t have anything to lose. This is wardrobe. There aren’t any cameras around, just Karina and her word.
“Between you and me, he was nervous about meeting the women tonight. He’s just really good at the act, you know?” She pauses. “You actually seem calmer than the rest. More collected. That bodes well for you.” She wraps her arms around my neck to measure me, and her eyes meet mine.
I smile. “Well thanks. I hope so.”
We make small talk as she finishes her job. She asks me questions about color preferences and what I usually wear. She isn’t thrilled with my choice of shirts.
She picks out a black suit, a charcoal undershirt, and a black and royal blue tie that she claims will make my eyes “pop.” She fits me into some shoes, and I’m off to hair and make-up.
Yep. The hair and make-up room for men.
There are two or three for the women, too, but this one is definitely for the men.
I’m assigned to a stylist named Becky, and she starts by giving me a haircut. She declares my stubble “perfection” and doesn’t bother grooming it. And then she dusts more powder on my face. I stop her when she pulls out the eyeliner.
“It’ll make your eyes bluer on TV,” she says.
“I don’t care.” I shake my head.
“Don’t you wear make-up on stage?”
“That’s different,” I say, unwilling to admit to anyone that I pull out the occasional eyeliner when the job calls for it.
“No, it really isn’t. Close your eyes.”
She’s demanding, and I don’t have much choice but to give into her.
When I’m done with my make-up, I’m led down to a holding area, where I sit for a few minutes. And then the popular daytime actress hosting the show appears.
“Dax, I’m Melanie Werther,” she says with a smile.
I smile back and stand in greeting. “I remember you from the interview.”
“Yes, of course.” She motions back to the chair. “Please, have a seat. It’ll just be a few more minutes. Are you ready to meet the women?”
“I’ve never been more ready.”
She smiles and takes a seat across from me. “Each of the men will meet each of the women separately, and then we’ll film a segment where you meet the other men.”
“I already ran into Danny Fisher,” I admit.
“Karina told me.” She smiles wryly. “Pretend like you don’t know he’s here.”
“You got it.”
“I’m expecting this to be a lot of fun. Just be yourself and know that I’m here any time you need to talk. If you feel we need to change the rules, or if you think something’s not going right, I’m your girl. Tell me and I’ll relay it back to the producers. Just beware that the cameras are always on.”
I nod as I appreciate her warning. “Thanks, Mel.”
She smiles at my nickname for her, her eyes lingering a little longer on me than they should, and then we hear a knock at the door. “It’s go time,” she says, and we both stand.
Nerves thunder through my chest. It’s time to meet the women whose affections I’ll be competing for on this reality show.
So why am I thinking about Kylie?
CHAPTER 9
Melanie leads me out to an enormous patio. A giant pool takes up the center, and palm trees decorate the perimeter. Lounge chairs surround the pool, and one side has a built-in barbeque. A bar complete with a bartender and stools sits next to the grill. Outdoor landscape lights hang from every available overhead surface, and candles glow with warmth all around me, a soft vanilla scent filling the air.
“This is where you’ll stand,” Mel says, pointing next to one of the palm trees. “Each of the ladies will meet the other men before they meet you. Once they’ve met all of you, we’ll film the segment where the men meet, and then we’ll have cocktail hour where you’ll have a chance to mingle with the ladies. This is where you sell yourself. You only have one hour to get as many of the girls as you can to vote for you to stay. Two of the men will be eliminated tonight. We’ll vote, count the votes, and announce who is staying before the end of the night. Any questions?”
I shake my head and draw in a deep, cleansing breath.
