Back Beat Read online

  Back Beat

  Ryleigh Sloan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and organizations either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Ryleigh Sloan

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by A.K MacBride

  Dedication

  To those who fight, no matter what the struggle. For pushing through even when you think you can’t. For struggling to forge yourself out of granite instead of glitter. For never giving up, no matter what.

  This book is for you. For fighting against the odds, whether it be a disease, mental health issues, your space in this world, or for someone else. No matter what your fight, I see you. You are granite.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  More Work by Me

  Connect with Me

  1

  Blair

  “How you holding up?” Maddie rubs her hands up and down my arms as I flick my fingers, trying to get the feeling back. I take a few steadying breaths. If I don’t get my breathing under control, I won’t be able to sing for shit.

  Everything is riding on this. Everything. This is my one chance, and if it doesn’t pan out, I need to knuckle down at school and give it my all. My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps and become a vet so I can take over looking after the animals on our 2500-acre private game reserve. I don’t hate studying to be a vet, and I love helping my dad on the reserve, but performing is all I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s all I’ve ever wanted since I was three years old. I sing constantly and drive people crazy. Well, except Maddie and Papaw—they love it.

  Maddie frowns and takes a step back so she can extract her phone from her jeans. Her blonde hair skims her shoulder as she smiles at the screen. “It’s Papaw.” She hands me the phone, and I place it on speaker. It’s crazy loud backstage, and we both lean in.

  “Hey, Papaw!”

  “Hey, Bubbles, I figured you wouldn’t have your phone, so I tried Madison’s. How are you doing, kiddo?”

  “Oh, I’m good.” I can’t stop smiling. I know this call is costing him a small fortune, being all the way from South Africa to LA, and I want to hug the phone to my chest.

  “She’s lying. She’s wearing a hole in the floor with all the pacing.”

  My papaw’s booming laugh is clear as a bell over the din and helps steady the pterodactyls in my tummy.

  “Now, Maddie, you’re supposed to be keeping my Bubbles calm. I’m counting on you.”

  “I won’t let you down. Bubbles is in good hands.” She shoots me a wink, and her hazel eyes sparkle. I smile at the exchange between my best friend and grandfather. And more so, Maddie’s use of the nickname Papaw gave me when I was old enough to walk.

  Every Thursday afternoon, Papaw would fetch me and Maddie from school and take us to the Crazy Store—a discount store about twenty kilometers away from home where we’d get cheap bubble tubs for R2.20. We’d spend about half an hour or more deliberating the color matches for the tub versus lid like it was the UN’s answer to world peace. Papaw never rushed us while we tried to decide if it was best to have a green lid and an orange tub or a yellow lid with a pink tub. He’d point out other color combinations and even swap some of the lids out for us. When we’d made our final decision, we’d drive home and spend the afternoon blowing bubbles in the yard, while either giraffes or black rhinos would graze on the other side of the fence.

  Sometimes we’d chase the bubbles and pop them, and other times I’d watch them float away, envious of their freedom to fly off on their adventures while I felt trapped under family obligations. A weight I felt even then, even if I didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time.

  That is why this is so important; I need a judge to break out for me tonight, or hurting and disappointing my dad as well as leaving school will be for nothing. And the guilt is already stifling. The enormity of what I’m doing is daunting. I left my home and my family for an unknown amount of time for a dream. I could flunk out now or be here for months; it all depends on what happens tonight and going forward. Nerves threaten to overwhelm me, but I push them down and focus on what needs to be done every step of the way. Firstly, I need to sing my heart out to a panel of four judges, all hidden behind frosted glass. The purpose is to give us contestants a chance to be judged solely on our voices, but it’s intimidating thinking of going onstage and singing not only in front of a crowd, but also four people you can’t see. Sure, I know who the judges are, but I won’t be able to gauge their reactions until they break out—if they break out.

  I really, really want to be standing onstage and witness the full effect of the breakout. It looks incredible on TV, and my hopes soar as I imagine seeing firsthand what it will look like when the lights flash and the glass simulates cracking and breaking until it falls into a panel in the floor, revealing the judge. My mind gets carried away as I dream about choosing my coach and then practicing week after week for the battles and face-offs in order to obtain the votes from the viewers.

  “Bubbles?” My papaw’s voice breaks through my fantasy, one I’ve thought about for years but now I’m so close to this all becoming a reality. “Now you listen to me, Blair, because I want you to hear this.” I swallow at my papaw’s use of my real name. “I want you to forget everything, you hear? Forget about your father, forget about the last semester at school you’re missing, forget about everything except this moment. Those judges, the people in the audience, they are about to get the biggest blessing of their lives by hearing you sing tonight. I’m proud of you for getting where you are. You go get them now.”

  I clear the lump in my throat when I hear Papaw’s voice crack with emotion.

  “Blair McKenzie?” I look up to see a woman with a headset clutching a clipboard scanning the room.

  “Thanks, Papaw. I’m up. I have to go. I love you.”

  “I love you most, Bubbles.”

  I hang up the phone and hand it back to Maddie.

  “You heard him.” She wipes a stray tear off her cheek. “This is your time. Go get ’em.”

  I yank Maddie to me and hug her hard.

  She squeezes me tight, then takes a step back. “Oh, and I brought spare panties in case you need them. You know, for when Dean Carter hits the button.”

  I blush and look around to see if the lady with the clipboard heard. “Shut up, you!”

  Her throaty laugh follows me onstage.

  This is it!

  2

  Dean

  It’s been a long day. We’ve seen over twenty auditions, and they weren’t bad. When they get to this stage, they’ve already gone through a rigorous process and we only hear the voices that are good, not like the other talent shows. I’ve hit my button three times, but every time I lost out to Kade, lead singer of LP-45. He’s a good-looking mothe
rfucker, and the girls drop panties for him like inhibitions at a Christmas party.

  Music starts and I look over at the other two judges, Chantelle Prescott and Amanda Stinson. Chantelle shoots me a wink and Amanda leans in, and I know it’s definitely on. The competition between us has amped up over the last few days. All of us are ready to win this thing.

  The intro is a fairly long one, and I have to say I’m impressed. It’s not easy to stand onstage and have thousands of eyes on you while you wait out the intro. Then she starts singing. Fuck me!

  I immediately hit my button. Lights go crazy, and the special effects do their thing with the glass pane so it simulates breaking and falls into the panel, giving me my first view of the contestant; seconds later, Kade hits his button and so does Chantelle. Did I say “fuck me” already? The thing about the blind auditions is we judge solely on the contestant’s voice. We don’t judge a book by its cover which is what I love about this show. But shit, this girl has it all. She locks her eyes with me as soon as my glass disappears and doesn’t miss a beat. Usually, when they see us, there’s a slight change in the contestant’s voice; their breath catches as the realization hits they are getting closer to their dream, and for a moment they are thrown out of their performance, even if it is just a millisecond. But not this girl. She stares me down as she belts out the music. Her voice is crisp and edgy and so fucking sexy it hits you right in the gut. The way she moves, like the stage is her home, keeps me and everyone else in the room captivated.

  The song she chose is “I Did Something Bad” by Taylor Swift. She’s slowed the first verse down and is playing to the crowd. Usually, people choose a song and sing it as close to the original as possible. They don’t take chances in case it blows the opportunity. This girl is taking a hell of a lot of chances, and she’s nailing it.

  Chantelle leans over. “Close your mouth, Dean. You’re giving Rupert way too much ammunition.”

  She’s right. Rupert hates me and loves getting as many embarrassing shots on camera as possible, but I’m not sure I can close my mouth. I think I’ve lost the ability to breathe, and I’m counting on the fact my mouth is hanging to the floor to get oxygen into my system by default. She works the stage, strutting in her six-inch heels with straps that crisscross from her toes to her ankles. Long blonde hair swirling around her like a contrary halo, the soft gentle curls look more sheet mussed than show styled. The crowd is eating this up. She exudes confidence, and her voice carries over the speakers and doesn’t waver a bit. The song shows her range—and what a range she has! She moves to the edge of the stage, bad-girl attitude pulsing off her, but I’m not buying it.

  She moves back to the front of the stage and swivels her hips. Sliding to her haunches, she fixes her jade-green eyes on me again. I have to suppress the urge to squirm. Damn, she has intense eyes.

  The song comes to an end, and the crowd noise gets to a fevered pitch that actually hurts. Dropping the act, her shaking fingers fly to her mouth as tears track down her cheeks. She hops up and down on the stage, and damn it’s adorable. Yeah, I was right—this girl doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, but she sure knows how to act like it.

  It’s time for us all to try to get this girl on board. Amanda is beaming, and she’s clapping her hands so hard. “Girl, dayum, you’ve got it all! What’s your name?”

  She clears her throat and nerves roil off her. It’s strange that a minute ago she was lighting this stage on fire, her confidence at an optimum, but now that it’s all over, she looks like she can barely keep herself from throwing up. When she lifts the mic to her mouth and speaks, her voice is soft and sweet and has an undertone of husky. I’m toast!

  “My name is Blair McKenzie. I’m here from South Africa and loving America so far.” She smiles and it’s shy, and I get this odd twinge in my stomach. Jealousy—I’m freaking jealous that the shy smile this entire room just witnessed wasn’t just for me. I need to get a grip!

  Amanda leans forward. “Blair from South Africa, I have to tell you, I regret not breaking out for you, girl. You have it all—your voice makes me want to pack my shit and totally give up my career because it’s flawless. I’m guessing it’s natural talent, but I only have one slot left. I’m gonna kick myself, but I’m sure any of these coaches will be a great fit for you.” Amanda looks at me. “Do your thing, Dean.”

  I’m nervous and my mouth has gone dry. This girl is going to win the competition, I can tell. I can’t let her see my nerves, so I lean back in my chair and rest my ankle on my knee. I should reach for my water, but that’s going to make me look like I’m restless. Shit, now my body language looks indifferent. Fuck, I have to do something.

  I lean forward and steeple my fingers. “Hey, Blair.” She smiles and swallows nervously. I don’t miss the flick of her eyes as she takes me in. I also don’t miss the fact that she’s barely glanced at Kade. This is a first. “You’re crazy talented, do you know that?”

  Blair laughs and if I thought I was toast before, I don’t stand a chance after the sound that leaves her mouth. It’s breathy and sweet with a side of something I can’t put my finger on, and I’m captivated. I’m also a cheesy asshole and need to focus on my job. She deserves it. “I honestly don’t know why you auditioned for this show. You’re pretty perfect as far as I can tell, and I don’t think you need mentoring in the slightest. That said, I’d like to work with you because I think you could probably teach me a thing or two.”

  Kade snorts and gives me the side-eye, and I know what he’s thinking. I also know he’s going to give me a ton of shit for this. I don’t blame him; I just served my balls to this girl on a silver platter.

  She shakes her head ever so slightly, and I can’t tell if it’s disbelief at what I’m saying or if she’s disagreeing with me.

  “Pick me, Blair. We’d be good together.” My next thought hits me in the chest, and I think maybe it is better if she doesn’t pick me because I don’t think we’d be good together—I think we’d be amazing together, and I’m not talking in the professional sense. Which is crazy since I don’t know her. It also tells me how bad an idea this is.

  Chantelle leans in, and I know it’s on. I’m getting a bit panicked; she was on Amanda’s team in the second season and won the show for her. She has what I’ll never have—she can relate to Blair. “Blair, Dean isn’t wrong. You are by far our strongest contestant to date, and I will put my reputation on the line and go as far as to say you could win this show. But I think Dean is a little starstruck and might not be thinking clearly. You have a natural voice, and your stage presence is something I’ve only seen in seasoned performers. You say you haven’t really performed before?”

  She shakes her head again and offers a quiet, “No.”

  Chantelle looks over at me and then looks from Kade to Amanda. She shakes her head, a knowing smile on her face, and I know she’s going A-game. “I was standing right where you are a few years ago. I know exactly what you need to go straight to the top. Don’t let Dean make you comfortable and complacent. You need to always push yourself, and I’m the one to do that for you.”

  Fuck!

  Kade leans back, much in the same pose I’d adopted earlier, and rests his hand on his ankle. He looks relaxed and confident. “Chantelle’s right, Blair. You’ve got everything in spades, but the minute you lose that drive to be better, someone else is going to surpass you. If you know my style, you know how I love to shake things up. Be on my team—let me show you how I can push you to the top.”

  “Ooh girl.” Amanda whistles. “I’m glad I’m not having to make this decision. Who are you gonna go with?”

  “Wait!” I’m out of my chair and making my way to the stage, stopping two feet away.

  “No fair, man. No damn fair!” Kade raises his hands in the air. “He’s gonna make a move.”

  “Blair, I’m an idiot.” I run a hand through my hair. “I got swept up by your talent, and I tried to use flattery to win you over.”

&
nbsp; “Oh damn, Dean. What are you doing to yourself, man?”

  I look at Kade and almost flip him the bird till I realize we’re on live TV and Rupert will highlight it during the commercial breaks.

  “What I’m trying to say is that what I said was true—you have everything it takes to be a star, and I don’t think you need any of us to get you there. But if you give me a chance, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I take you to the top, and that you stay there. Because I believe you have what it takes.” I drop to my knees; it’s dramatic and she laughs. Kade groans and Chantelle and Amanda clap their hands.

  Amanda rubs a finger across her lower lip. “Girl, you can’t leave a man begging, can you?”

  I’m sending Amanda and Adrienne to a spa for a couple’s treatment. She just gave me a lifeline.

  I watch Blair chew on her thumbnail and look into the wings. Something happens that I can’t see, but she laughs and blushes, then looks back at me. She lifts her mic to her lips. “I can’t believe this is happening. And I really love and admire you all.” She swipes a hand over her face. “Agh, this is so hard.”

  My heart is sitting right behind my Adam’s apple, and I swear I’m starting to sweat.

  “I’m going to go with…” She chews on her lip, and I really wish she hadn’t done that. It makes her look innocent, and all I want is to do things to her that will prove she isn’t. Yeah, I’m a big fucking jerk! “I’m going to go with…Dean.” She blows out a breath, and I fall back on my heels for a brief second before I stand up and she throws herself into my arms.

  Oh damn! She smells so good. Like strawberries and a subtle perfume that hits you with a mix of sweet and spicy.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret it. I’ll work my ass off.”

  I bite my tongue before I can tell her I can’t have that—I’m rather fond of her ass. She makes her way off the stage, and I head back to my seat. Kade raises his eyebrow questioningly.