Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 06

The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Wednesday, March 28th, 12:13 a.m.

Tyler slowly moved the arm and then leg he had slung over my body as we cuddled while coming down from our sexual highs. The warmth of his skin on mine was mesmerizing to me, and I wondered if he felt anywhere near the same as I did. I watch him sit up, look back at me, and smile.

"I wish I could stay longer, but Dana will probably think I got abducted or something ridiculous like that... I'm sorry, I should probably go."

I reached for his arm and gave it a little squeeze. "Sure..." I replied quietly, almost as a question.

I didn't want him to go, but I was happy that it didn't feel like he was trying to run out of here right after we'd finished. We'd been lying next to each other for at least thirty minutes, and during that calm, there were a few kisses, some touching, and a comfortable silence. My mind was running on overload, and as much as I wanted to talk about what had happened, what it meant to me, how I wanted to see him again, we just held each other silently, and that probably spoke volumes. Could he sense how I was feeling?

Tyler stood and went about getting dressed. He had such a nice ass! OMG, what a nice ass!

He looked back at me while pulling his pants up and said, "You okay?"

Was I okay? Are you kidding me?! I was better than okay.

"Wish you didn't have to go...," I said at a whisper. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

He smiled and said, "It's already tomorrow... I'm sure we can work something out."

I crooked my head towards the alarm clock on the nightstand - 12:15 AM - I needed a shower and I needed to be asleep! I would need to be up at 6:00 AM to get a quick bite to eat and then meet Bill at 7:30 AM in the lobby for my half-hour final rehearsal at 8:00 AM. Augh, augh, and augh!

Right now, the competition means far less to me than the opportunity to meet Tyler again and repeat what we'd just enjoyed. Well, minus the bondage-like head-lock thing. After the fact, it was a bit scary but exciting also, I suppose. I hadn't processed it entirely, but I would probably mention it was a bit uncomfortable and ask if we skipped that kind of thing next time. Would he be disappointed in my not wanting to play so rough? Would there even be a...

"Come here, you...," Tyler said after dressing, reaching his hand out toward me.

When I took his hand, he pulled me gently to a standing position, then hugged me tightly. I felt his hand roam over my soft, giggly ass, squeezing firmly, causing me to grind my body into his. He leaned in to kiss me and, after a few seconds, pulled away.

"Thank you for not being too mad at me."

I looked into his eyes and said, "Please don't tell Dana about this."

"Ah, yeah, I don't need him kicking my ass," he chuckled.

There was one last peck on the lips, a soft gliding of his hand over my chest, and a light playful slap of my ass. I walked him to the door and hid behind it as he left, and as soon as the door shut, I felt very alone. It was very quiet, but my mind was racing. Where had all my inhibitions gone? I just had sex with a man I barely knew. What the hell!

Augh! I could beat myself up twenty ways 'til Sunday, but I needed to get to bed! Go, get ready for bed, and get ready for a big day - today! I'm sure I'll see him later. I hoped...

Wednesday, March 28th, 7:48 a.m.

Bill started talking as soon as we met in the lobby. I smiled a lot but didn't add much. He and Charles enjoyed the Blue Man show last night and had an amazing dessert in the MGM Grand on the way back to the hotel. I was dying to tell someone about my night, but I didn't want a lecture about how I needed to be on my game for the competition. Last night was certainly not me staying focused on being ready for tonight. I yawned unexpectedly.

"You didn't sleep well?"

"No, I slept deep; I just didn't get enough sleep," I replied, enunciating the word 'enough' like he was in on what had happened. Augh! Stop! Hold your tongue!

"Oh, well, you better get some down time before tonight. Are you ready for this," he asked, concerned.

"As much as I can be, I guess... I wish you were playing for me though; I don't have a good feeling about Brian."

"He's a pro Brea, he'll deliver - you'll see," he said, trying to encourage my doubts away.

Wednesday, March 28th, 8:10 a.m.

It took a few minutes to get settled into the first song. Mike dialed up my levels for 'Toxic, and as soon as Brian began to play, I had to stop him. Something wasn't right; it didn't sound right, and I asked Mike to check; he did, and Brian began again.

Okay, that's more... I got the first line out and had to stop again.

"Something isn't right with these IEM's (in-ear monitor); can we switch them out," I asked Mike.

"Sure. Hold on," Mike replied. He came on stage, unhooked the IEM I was wearing, and plugged in another.

I adjusted them in my ears as he watched.

"I'm really sorry, it just didn't sound right."

"No problem, Breanna; we want this to be right, so whatever it takes. We got you," he smiled and patted me on the back to let me know I was ready to go.

I hummed a few warm-up exercises; now that sounded better.

I turned towards Brian, "That sounds better, wanna go?"

He nodded, and the intro sprung from the piano, and I began singing, "Baby, can't you see... I'm calling... A guy like you should wear a warning..."

I looked out at Bill, watching from the center of the auditorium, and he held up two thumbs. It gave me the confidence I needed to plow through the rest of the song.

As Brian played the last haunting notes, I smiled, turned toward stage left, and gave Mike double thumbs up. When Brian stopped playing, I walked over to him and gave him a hug.

"That was perfect," I said, hoping I didn't sound too neurotic with the encouragement.

"Cool, I think I'm set. By the way, if you nail that song like you just did, you'll be in the finals. I'm not trying to play favorites or anything, and trust me, there are some amazing singers, but you are in a class of your own."

I was stunned by the compliment and hugged him again, saying, "Thank you so much, Brian."

He stood and headed off stage as Mike was in my IEM's.

"You ready for your next song?"

I held up a finger, indicating I needed a moment, and then walked to the edge of the stage where Bill was waiting.

"How was it," I asked.

"Good, a bit more gravelly than usual, don't you think? Is your throat bothering you or something?"

"No, not really..."

That was a lie. I woke up with a sore neck and a bit of a sore throat. I tried to get ahead of those issues with Advil and warm chamomile tea when I woke up and more tea with breakfast.

"If you say so... Watch your breathing. You got this," he said finally.

I'm not sure he believed me about my throat, but I wasn't going to get into any details he didn't need to know about. I'd be fine by tonight, I hoped.

In my IEM's, I heard Mike say, "Hey Brea, you've got about eight minutes. Are you ready for your second song?"

"Sure, let's go..."

Bill nodded, knowing I was being talked to from backstage. I watched him head toward the center auditorium as I returned to the classic condenser-style microphone that had the retro look I wanted for both songs tonight.

The void of vocal music began, and on cue, I began singing...

Wednesday, March 28th, 8:33 a.m.

"How was that last take," I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment, and then placed his fingertips gently at my jaw line.

"Sing Aaaaa, Bbbbb, Oooo...,"

I did as requested, not even questioning the request. When done, I asked, "What?"

"Something doesn't sound right; are you sure your throat isn't bothering you?"

Augh! "Maybe a little, but it's nothing. I'll be fine by tonight."

He looked at me concernedly and said, "You should have skipped this final check, Brea. Your vocal chords could have gotten unnecessarily strained. You were dialed in yesterday, and if you had told me before going in that you were having throat issues, I would have said to skip this session. Seriously..."

Bill looked disappointed.

"I'm sorry; I don't think it's that bad."

"There are going to be some trained ears listening to you tonight, and if you're not at one hundred percent, it's going to be obvious. Tea, Advil, limiting talking, and not practicing anymore today You know what you need to sing inside and out, Brea. Save yourself for tonight." He paused, "Then after the show, no alcohol, limit talking, go to bed early, and repeat tomorrow until the finale. Breathe, focus, and save yourself for the shows."

I respected everything he was telling me and expected no less from him. It was a bit uncanny that he could tell something was off with my voice. I hadn't thought that my voice was off because of last night, but now thinking about the gagging and severe coughing I did while choking on Tyler's... Yeah, that pretty much has to be the reason for the difficulties with my throat and with my voice.

"I understand... Thank you, Bill, for being here for me and believing in me."

"We love you, Brea... You can do great things with that voice of yours, and I think this competition will prove that to you. Now, go get some rest. No arguments, young lady," he said, smiling and giving me a hug before he headed off toward the casino to find Charles.

Wednesday, March 28th, 8:46 a.m.

I had just finished going to the bathroom when my phone jingled. I swiped the lock and saw it was a text from my mom: - 'Through security, I should be at the hotel by noon. Going to grab some coffee. I'm excited to see you. Love you.'

I texted back, 'Let me know when you arrive, and I'll come down to the lobby.'

Mom: 'OK.'

I set an alarm for 11:00 AM, plugged my phone in, and set it on the nightstand before pulling the comforter back and climbing into bed. I was wearing just a t-shirt and footie socks, and the coolness of the sheets made me shiver. The AC was on low and droning, so the cool air and numbing sound would put me out pretty quickly. I lay there on my back in the dark, thinking about last night, about Tyler being inside of me, about how he didn't rush, about how one day making love with a man would be as natural as breathing...

Wednesday, March 28th, 11:00 a.m.

The buzzing of my phone vibrating on the nightstand combined with the awful alarm music had me looking around for the phone. When I found it, I swiped the alarm's 'Dismiss' icon and set the phone down. My mouth was dry, and when I swallowed that desert in my mouth, it tasted like stale cooked broccoli or something just as gross. I did another test swallow, and my throat was still sore. Shit...

I threw the comforter off and instantly pulled it back on. Oh crap! It was cold in here. Damn it! I had to get rolling, so I repeated the toss of the comforter and quickly darted into the bathroom, closing the door quickly and turning on the heat. I shuddered, and then got the shower going.

I could really use a thirty-minute shower, but I didn't have the time. Before I removed my t-shirt, I tossed three Advil tablets in my mouth and took a sip of water straight from the faucet to get them down. Please calm my throat I thought while looking at myself in the mirror as the steam began to form at the upper edges...

Wednesday, March 28th, 12:08 p.m.

Mom had texted me around 11:40 to tell me she had just landed. I hoped she didn't have all the issues Bill and Charles had getting off their plane. At 12:04, she texted again to say she was getting her bag and knew where to wait for the shuttle bus to the hotel. Instead of waiting in my room, I decided to go and wait for her in the lobby.

When the doors to the elevator opened to the lobby, there were police and security people milling about. I tensed up and looked around for some kind of issue. When I didn't see anything, I walked toward some chairs in the atrium area of the lobby and sat down to watch the activity. I wondered if someone had been caught cheating in the casino or something.

I was looking toward the front desk when I heard my name, "Breanna...," called out from behind me. I turned towards the voice to see Wyatt coming my way.

"Hey Wyatt," I said, smiling.

"Did you see the protestors?" he asked.

"No, I just got here. What happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I guess a couple protestors got past security and began thumping their bibles and spewing a bunch of crap. A couple of them had enough time to unfurl a banner, if you can believe that. Someone said a fight broke out, there was a bunch of shoving, and finally the police from outside came in and took a couple people out of here. That's what one of the PBS people told me. I think they got it on film. Think they're in a conference room showing the police footage."

"Oh wow... That's a bit crazy, huh?"

"Yeah, really is... What kind of rent-a-security does this place even have in place," he mused, and then changed directions. "I don't know if you like the PBS aspect of this competition or not, but if you hang out here and they see you, they're going to rope you into an impromptu interview. I just escaped a short one," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm just waiting for my mom, and then I'll be out of here," I picked up a newspaper from the table beside my chair and opened it up, essentially hiding behind it. "This should throw them off my scent."

"Yeah, well, you've been warned," he said with a chuckle.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. Did you get a rehearsal slot this morning?"

"Just finished, well before the interview thing. You?"

"Earlier, I think I'm ready. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. The band is pretty damn good, so I'm excited about performing with a crew that knows what they're doing for once," he replied laughing. "My guys from home are pretty sloppy - good, but sloppy, especially after a couple drinks. We perform in local bars around Nashville, but it's a grind and certainly doesn't pay the rent."

"Yeah, I only do the amateur scene in San Diego, and I was worried about the guy on piano, Brian, not being able to deliver my arrangement, but today he was spot on. Did you have any trouble with your EIM's?"

"No, no monitor problems. I like Brian; he seems like a good guy."

"Yeah, totally... I just want this first night to be over. I hope to make it to the final, but I'm not counting on it. He said there were some really talented singers amongst us," I said, hoping I didn't sound too worried.

"Yup, that's what Gary told me also."

"Gary?" I'm sure I looked confused.

"Guitar player, tall, nice-looking, someone I wouldn't be opposed to meeting after the show," he said, smiling. "Ya know, what happens in Vegas..."

"Mmmhuh, stays here," I said, smiling, while thinking, - I'm all for that, but wouldn't mind some of Vegas following me home.

"Well, I'm out. I've got to see if my luck in the casino is holding, and hopefully not drop too much in there. We're doing the club thing tonight," he asked.

Shit! I needed to touch base with Blake. Augh!

"I'm still working on that. I need to find my contact. I'll let you know before the show," I replied.

"Okay... See you later."

"Thanks Wyatt..."

He looked at me confused, and then nodded to his left.

"Better get that newspaper up - PBS on the prowl," he said laughing as he walked away, pointing towards the entryway to the conference rooms.

I pulled the paper up, hoping they hadn't seen us talking. I did not want to get interviewed again.

Wednesday, March 28th, 12:21 p.m.

After a quick hug, my mom asked, "You look like you haven't slept well; what's wrong?"

If anyone could see right through me, especially given my journey over the past five years, it was my mom. I explained that the grind had been pretty tough to keep up with and that I thought I had a sore throat. That last bit of disclosure got me a lecture about burning candles at both ends as she rummaged through her purse for some crazy organic throat lozenges.

I complained, but she gave me that 'I know better...' look, and I just went with it, popping one in my mouth. Yucko! Mmmm, dirt-flavored! Augh...

I grabbed the handle of her suitcase after she was done getting her room key, and we turned towards the elevators. That's when I noticed Blake walking through the lobby.

"I need to talk to that guy... Can I meet you in your room," I asked my mom hastily.

"Of course, honey. Who is that," she asked.

"His name is Blake Schultz. He's..."

She interrupted me, "The stalker?"

I had told her the story about Blake recruiting me for the competition and was now regretting the use of the word 'stalker' to describe any of our interactions. Grrr!

"No. It's more like he was oddly persistent and I overreacted."

"I think I'd like to meet him."

"Mom...," I was glaring at her, "Do not embarrass me!"

"When have I ever done that, sweetie," she asked, knowing full well I could come up with a list of incidents if she really wanted me to.

"Augh, Mom, please..." I was pleading now and felt juvenile.

I watched her raise her hand to wave, and I snapped my head towards where Blake was a moment ago. He was now almost upon us, smiling widely. How did you get over here so quickly?!

"Breanna... Hey, good to see you. This must be your mom," he asked.

"Oh, hi Blake... Ah, yeah, this is my mom..."

I turned toward my mom with a worried look on my face projecting the 'Don't embarrass me!' look via a woman's telepathic thought process or whatever...

"So nice to meet you, Mrs. Calloway," Blake said, extending his hand to shake hers.

"Likewise... Please, I'm Denise; Mrs. Calloway is reserved for my dentist and stock broker, and a few others," mom said, smiling.

Blake chuckled politely at her little joke, which I'd heard a number of times and with all types of professionals she interacted with - doctors, employees, the mayor, etc.

"Are you excited for tonight's show, Denise," Blake asked.

"Oh, I am... I've been watching Brea sing since she was this tall," she said, holding her hand out about waist high. "She will give the competition a run for their money."

Augh! MOM! Please stop! I smiled feebly at Blake and said, "I'll do my best, mom... No pressure," I rolled my eyes at no one in particular.

"You'll do fine," Blake said, looking at me, and then turning to my mom. "We're excited to have Breanna here... What are you ladies up to too? Did you just get here, Denise?"

Yes, I just got checked in. I think we'll probably grab lunch; any recommendations," my mom asked.

"I'm partial to the 'Little Cayman'. It's just past the casino there," he pointed down a hallway across the lobby. "Here," he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Hey Cass... Blake. I'm sending a couple VIPs over," he paused to listen. "For two... Breanna Calloway," another pause, "Yes, tab that for me... You're the best. Thanks..."

When he finished, he put his phone back into his suit jacket and said, "Okay, Cass has a table for you ladies. Feel free to order whatever you would like to eat and drink; we'll pick up the tab. I really like the blackened Red Snapper, but if you don't want seafood, you can't go wrong with the Jerk beef tips."

"Thank you, Blake," my mom said. "You didn't need to do that."

"My pleasure... Is there anything else we can do for you?"

I don't know why I felt so nervous, but this was my chance to ask Blake about getting a group of us into the club tonight. Augh! Breathe...

"I meant to try to get with you last night about something... I was hoping to get a table in either of the clubs tonight. After the show. Like for twelve of us?"

I sounded like I had no confidence, was sheepish, and was more nervous than I expected. I looked at my mom, and she was giving me a puzzled look. What?!

He thought about it for a second and said, "Not a problem, but it'll cost you." The confused look on my face must have spoken volumes because he didn't wait for me to question the 'cost'. "One drink later, my treat," he finished his friendly ask.