MY FAVORITE BAND, page 8
“Great. It’ll be just a few minutes while we get the other men into place.” She points to a bench. “Feel free to sit there. One of the producers will be out shortly.”
“Thanks, Mel.”
“Break a leg.” She winks and then disappears behind the slider door into the house. I can’t help my gaze as it lingers on her legs even behind the glass door, and then I remember her warning.
The cameras are always watching.
“Jarrod Craig,” a voice to my left booms over my shoulder, snapping me out of my staring contest with Mel’s legs.
He approaches me and sticks out his hand for a handshake, and I comply. “Dax Hunter,” I say stupidly. Of course he knows who I am. He’s one of the producers from the interview, although I never would’ve recalled his name on my own.
He takes a seat next to me on the bench. “I’m assigned to you.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
“I’ll be running most of your confessional interviews, and right now I’m here to ensure the introductions go smoothly. Any questions?”
My first impression is that everyone here is helpful. “Nope. Mel explained it all.”
His phone buzzes, and he checks it. “Two minutes. Let’s get you into place.”
I nod, and he points out an X marked on the ground where I’m supposed to stand.
“When each woman comes in, she’ll pause over here,” he says, indicating another X. “We’ll get a shot of your first glimpse of her and her first glimpse of you. Then she’ll walk over to this X,” he points to the ground, “and introduce herself. We need you to face this direction,” he points to a camera, “while she introduces herself. Got it?”
I nod. “Enter, pause, introduce, face the camera. Done and done.”
He glances toward the door. “I’ll be right here,” he reminds me, and then he sits on the bench.
It feels like an eternity before the slider door opens and the first woman walks out. I committed the portfolios of the ladies to memory, so I know the first woman is Nicole, or as the producers labeled her, the Sweet One. She’s gorgeous, if a little too innocent for my tastes. I’d prefer a bit more cleavage on her pink dress or a higher slit up her thigh, but I remember she’s a teacher and figure she has an image to portray.
Maybe we have more in common than I first thought.
She introduces herself and sticks her hand out, and then I say, “Nice to meet you, Nicole. I’m Dax. What do you do?” I already know the answer, but I figure if I ask each girl a question about herself, she’ll be more likely to remember me as someone who cares.
“I’m a kindergarten teacher. You?”
“I’m the lead singer of a band.”
Her eyebrows shoot up as if she’s impressed. “I brought you a gift,” she says shyly. She hands me a piece of construction paper with all sorts of drawings and barely legible phrases like, “Miss you” or “I love you” or “Good Luck” scribbled all over it.
“My kindergarteners made a few of these for me before I left, and I wanted you to have one.”
I immediately get why she was labeled the Sweet One. “Thank you.”
She looks down at the ground shyly. “I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Likewise.” I shoot her my panty dropping smile, something I’m sure I’ll be pulling out more than once this evening.
She walks toward a producer on the other side of the patio, and I can’t help but check out her legs. Not bad, but not exactly on par with Hostess Mel or Kylie.
Kylie.
I shake her out of my head as Amber the bartender comes out next. She was labeled the Drama Queen, but to me she just seems like she’d be a hell of a lot of fun.
The others come along, one by one, each finding a way to stand out like Nicole did with the paper from her students. After the eighth girl introduces herself, I’ve already started piecing together who I like and who I’ll take a pass on. While all of them are gorgeous and have a lot going for them, it’s easy to see which ones I have the most chemistry with.
But it all depends on who the other three men are.
When Poppy “The Party Girl” appears, she holds two tequila shots in her hands. Before she even introduces herself, she hands one to me. “Ready?” she asks, giving me a wicked smile. If I have a panty dropping smile, hers is a boxer dropping one.
I have to wonder if she did this with each of the men, because that would make this her fourth tequila shot. I recall her job as a VIP Hostess and imagine she has a pretty high tolerance to alcoholic beverages...unlike my man Rascal.
I grin back at her as I take the glass from her. “You need salt or lime?” she asks.
“Salt’s for pussies,” I say, holding my shot glass up to hers in a toast.
“To this epic adventure!” she says, and then we both tip back our glasses.
She tosses her glass into a bush beside us. “I’m Poppy,” she says.
“Dax,” I say.
She throws her arms around me and plants a kiss on my lips then pulls back slightly. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says. Her breath smells like tequila, which makes me think of drunk sex. She’s hot, and she’s definitely into me.
Would it be wrong to sleep with one of the women on the first night? I mean, it’s part of the dating scene, right? If I’m supposed to fall in love, sex will inevitably come into the equation.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I say, trying to tell her with my eyes I’d fuck her in a second if we were alone.
Although she honestly seems like the kind of girl who doesn’t care if we’re alone. Or if there are cameras pointed at us.
After I meet all ten women, Jarrod the producer takes me inside to film the segment where I meet the other men.
We enter the slider doors Mel disappeared through earlier into a large living room. Three other men (including Danny Fisher) stand in front of the fireplace.
So this is my competition.
I recognize the other men right away. I’m definitely the least famous of this crew, and I fear it may lower my chances of actually being selected by the ladies. But if nothing else, just being on the show—even for only the first night—would still get the band some exposure.
Melanie looks into the cameras. “And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for! All the men are together in one room for the first time.” She looks at each one of us in turn. “We have television actor Anthony Ventura, hotel mogul Jonathan Crosby, baseball player Danny Fisher, and rock star Dax Hunter.”
We look at each other awkwardly, and I wonder if they went in this whole thing with the right intentions or if they’re like me and just wanted the exposure and the paycheck. It doesn’t seem like any of them need it the way I do, so I sort of doubt it.
“Nice to meet you,” I say first, breaking the silence and asserting my spot as an alpha male. They all reply with their own greetings, and then Melanie continues talking into the camera while we stand behind her.
“These men will be competing for the hearts of the women they just met, and we can’t wait to take you on the journey of love as these men hand over their hearts. Stay with us for the party, coming up next.”
The scene cuts, and then the producers come in to break the tension. Each producer appears to be assigned to one man, and Jarrod comes up to me. “What do you want to drink?” he asks.
“Anything?”
He nods.
“Just a beer.”
“Any particular kind?”
“Miller Lite.” I am who I am, and I’m not about to fake it for television even though I can’t help but wonder whether my order measures up to what the other men are having.
“You got it,” Jarrod says, turning away to fill my drink order.
Melanie makes small talk while the four of us wait for our drinks. “So no talking to each other about the ladies just yet. I’m here to keep you from doing that.” She lets out a giggle, and the four of us just stare at her. I wonder what the other men are thinking and which women they like.
“Once your drinks arrive, we’ll head out back for the party,” Melanie says. “The clock will run for exactly one hour, and you’ve each been assigned a cameraman to follow you and catch your interactions with the women.”
Our drinks arrive, and we follow Melanie out the slider doors. As we walk, I think about what needs to happen in order for me to stay tonight. I think of my top six women. I have to focus on the ones most likely to vote to keep me, and six would be the majority vote guaranteeing my spot.
That means, obviously, that I have to start with Poppy the Party Girl.
Except Anthony makes a beeline for Poppy the second Melanie releases us into the wild. Danny and Jonathan fall into quick one-on-one conversations with two other women.
There goes my well-developed plan. I need a new plan, so I do what I do best. I force myself into the limelight.
“Ladies,” I call out, getting the attention of the remaining women. “How about a song?”
They all look intrigued, so I launch into the refrain of one of MFB’s ballads. It’s over the top even for me, but I have to secure my spot as one of the final two men on this show. The lyrics talk about lost loves and broken hearts, and as I sing, a few women start to swoon.
I finish my a cappella solo of just the refrain, and the ladies clap. I glance over at Poppy, who’s focused on me rather than on Anthony. A rush of satisfaction races through my chest.
“That was amazing!” Amanda, the mom, says first.
Amazing, I think to myself, shaking my head. I wish she’d chosen pretty much any other word to describe my performance. It’s a generic word that has lost its meaning, and it’s a pet peeve of mine whenever I hear it.
Eden, the social media sales rep dubbed The Bitch by the producers, steps forward with confidence. She takes my arm and leads me over to an empty couch.
“Dax, that was a beautiful song.” Her voice is low and intimate as she speaks to me.
“Thank you. I wrote it about two years ago.”
“From personal experience?”
I nod and apply the rule of eighty-twenty I learned a long time ago when it comes to talking to people: let them talk eighty percent of the time, and I can talk twenty. “Tell me about you, Eden.”
She gives me a look that tells me she’s impressed I remember her name.
“I’m a social media sales rep from Santa Monica.” She leans in close to me, her breath warm against my ear. “I’m into yoga, which makes me extremely flexible.”
Jesus.
I clear my throat. “Can you teach me some yoga moves?” It’s admittedly not my best line, but it works.
“Oh definitely,” she purrs. “I’d really love to get to know you more. Tonight’s so short.”
“You’ve got the power, Eden. But, then, don’t women pretty much always have the power?”
“I like you, Dax. You seem smart.” She giggles.
I lean in, knowing it’s wrong to say what I’m about to say while the camera’s on me but suddenly not caring. “If you think I’m smart, you should see what I can do in bed.”
Words like that usually elicit a blush from women, but not from Eden. I may have met my match in her. She raises an eyebrow. “I hope to find out.”
Talia, the curator dubbed The Eccentric One, approaches us. “Mind if I talk with Dax?” she asks.
Eden gives her a dirty look but stands. “Talk later, Dax.”
She winks and I smile at her then shift my attention to Talia. I decided upon first impressions that while she’s very pretty, she isn’t in my top six...but it doesn’t matter. She still deserves my undivided attention in the small window of time we have.
“So, Dax. Why are you here?”
“I’m here to find love. Why are you here?”
“Really, though? Because you seem like the kind of charismatic guy who can sleep with any woman he wants. Why would you want to come on a television show to find someone?”
She sees right through me, and somehow I find that insanely attractive. “It’s unconventional. I wanted to try something different.”
She nods, and I’m not sure why I suddenly really want her to believe me. “Okay. I’ll buy that. But I’ve got my eye on you.” Her voice is a firm warning.
“I’ve got mine on you, too,” I flirt.
She rolls her eyes, and then she flashes me a smile and stands. “I’ll send another girl over.”
“You can sit,” I say, suddenly wondering why someone like her is vying for love on a reality show. “You don’t have to go yet. I want to know more about you. Why are you on a television show looking for love?”
She shrugs. “Guess if you’re still around tomorrow, maybe you’ll find out.”
She walks away, leaving me wanting more time with her.
She doesn’t have to send someone over, because Kristy, the mechanical engineer also known as The Guy’s Girl, sits beside me.
“Hi, I’m Kristy,” she says.
“Nice to see you again. Where are you from?”
“Seattle. Go Hawks.”
“Go Chargers.”
“You’re from Los Angeles?”
I shake my head. “San Diego. And I can’t stand the Seahawks.”
She chuckles. “Well then I guess it’s not meant to be.”
“Deal breaker?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It would take a lot of convincing for me to date someone who hates my Hawks.”
“If you keep me around, you can try to convert me.”
“Convincing argument. I guess we’ll see.”
We chat about football for a bit, and I wonder if she’d be better off with Danny since she loves sports so much. Even so, I do my best to convince her to throw her vote in my direction.
Melanie appears on the patio and stands up on a platform. I’m in the middle of my conversation with Lexy, The Girl Next Door and also the virgin, when everyone stops talking to hear what Mel has to say.
“Ladies, it’s time to vote for the man you’d most like to keep around. Please head inside the house for further instructions. Men, wait out here. Good luck to all of you!”
The producers shuffle the ladies inside. I size the other men up, feeling a little anxious regarding what’s about to happen. Either I’ll be chosen as one of the two men or I’ll be sent home. Either I’ll be giving MFB some crazy exposure to catapult us into a household name or I’ll be letting down my entire band.
No pressure.
CHAPTER 10
I order myself another drink while the other three men stand in awkward silence behind me, and then I size up my competition again since I have nowhere else to go.
Anthony Ventura has been in several television shows. He was popular two or three years ago, but the show that made him a household name isn’t on the air any longer. I wonder if the women still consider him as popular as he once was.
Jonathan Crosby is heir to the Crosby fortune, but I’m not sure he has much else going for him apart from that. I could see how the women might find him (and his money) attractive, but he comes off as a pretentious douchebag—to me, at least.
I figure Danny Fisher is probably my biggest competition. It’s the off-season, but I’m sure his schedule is more hectic than mine. I feel like I’m always seeing him in a commercial on television or in a print ad. He must make bank off those endorsements.
So why are these guys competing for love on a reality show?
I’m the most down to earth out of the group, but I also bring in the smallest paycheck. If these women are truly looking for love, I guess it shouldn’t matter what kind of money I make...but something tells me they aren’t all here because they want to settle for a guy like me.
Anthony finally breaks our awkward silence as he directs a question at Danny. “So how’s next season shaping up?”
“You a fan?” Danny asks. Jonathan and I exchange glances as we stand in silence.
“Who isn’t a Cubs fan?”
“A Cardinals fan,” Danny quips.
We all chuckle, including Danny, who’s a natural at breaking the ice in an awkward situation, and then the four of us fall into an easy conversation about baseball. I like Danny. He seems like the kind of real guy I can hang with as we toss back a few beers.
And maybe I’ll get to do just that if we both make it onto the show.
I can’t really see myself befriending Anthony or Jonathan. Anthony is a little older than the rest of us, a little too mature and serious. And Jonathan has that douchey thing going on. I wonder how they’ll be portrayed on television—the real way I see them? Or some other way to fit a stereotype?
Hell, I wonder how I will be portrayed on television. Will I be the down to earth musician I see myself as? Or will I be shown as a man whore who can’t stop checking out all the ladies’ legs—also an accurate portrayal?
I suppose I’ll find out when this first episode airs. I have to hope it’s the former and not the latter. If I’m shown as an asshole, it could be bad for the band.
Although, as Kylie likes to remind me, all press is good press. It’s just in the way it’s handled.
I wander over to a couch during a break in our conversation so I can send Kylie a text.
Me: Waiting to see if I’m one of the chosen ones.
Her reply is almost immediate.
Kylie: You will be ;)
A wink? She never winks at me. She’s obviously trying to make me feel good and build my confidence, but she isn’t here to size up the competition.
Me: How do you know?
Maybe she has some insider info. Maybe Shayna texted her to let her know that I’m in. Or maybe I’m nervous and reading too much into things since the votes haven’t even been cast yet.
Kylie: I can feel it. Who are the other guys?
I text their names back even though I’m probably not supposed to.
Kylie: Stiff competition but you’ve got this. Give them that sexy smile of yours and don’t be nervous. I’m rooting for you.
I smile at my phone but don’t reply. It’s reassuring to have her on my side, but it would be more reassuring to have her by my side instead.
