When Devils Sing(32)
Luckily for her, Sam thought she was pretty damn close.
Jason was quiet for too long, Neera’s question hanging in the air between them. Finally, he let out a short, breathy chuckle. “You and your mom are somethin’ else. You know that?” The way he said it, it seemed like neither a compliment nor an insult. “Yeah, you can enter.”
Sam did her best to hide the smile that spread across her face.
“Not so fast, Jason,” Grant interrupted as he peeled away from his hiding spot in the back and approached the stage.
Neera’s eyes widened at the sight of Grant. Sam wondered if Neera knew who he was. Judging by the size of her eyes, it was safe to assume she did. Jason stood abruptly from his chair, his demeanor quickly changing from a man with power to a man without.
“Oh! I didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” Jason said quickly, fumbling over his own words. “Of course, it’s up to Grant here if you can enter. It’s his competition after all.”
Grant Langley looked at Neera as if she were a zoo animal. Sam couldn’t tell if he was impressed by her performance or repulsed. His expression was unreadable.
“How many years you been playin’?” Grant asked.
“Since I was five years old,” Neera said defiantly. “I was taught by the best. By … by my late uncle.” She cleared her throat. “Ajay Singh.”
Grant rubbed his chin, studying her for a beat. “You ever performed in front of a big audience? What about a crowd like Lake Clearwater? You know what stage presence is? Because to be in this competition, much less win it, you gotta be more than just a pretty young thing with a guitar and a Neil Young cover.”
Neera’s face blanched at Grant’s rapid-fire words, while heat boiled under Sam’s skin. She bit her tongue, struggling to temper her anger.
“Yes, sir,” Neera said weakly. “I understand.”
Grant continued to stare at Neera with that same strange expression. Finally, he said, “The crowd here is a tough one. If you’re not prepared, they’ll chew you up and spit you out. They’ll boo you off the stage without so much as a second thought. All I’m saying is: You gotta be someone worth seein’. You think you can do that?”
“I’ll do whatever I have to.” Neera rose from the stool and began packing up her guitar. Once it was safely in the case, she faced Grant, looking down on him from the stage. “What time should I get here on Thursday?”
Jason chuckled to himself, struggling to conceal it with a cough, while Grant stayed quiet. Several tense seconds later, a smirk crept across his face. He extended his hand to Neera. “We’ll see you at six sharp.”
“See you then,” Neera said, shaking his hand without skipping a beat. Without exchanging another word with either of them, she walked out of the Tavern, guitar in hand, and into the warm afternoon light.
Jason blew out a heavy breath, turning toward Grant. “You sure she’s worth the risk?”
Grant shrugged. “Either way, it’ll be good entertainment.”
Sam threw down the rag she’d been holding, trotting out from behind the bar. With a huff, she called over her shoulder, “I’m takin’ my fifteen.”
CHAPTER 11NEERA
If Neera had any skill other than guitar, it was her ability to hold back tears. She only had to decide not to cry, and she could fix her face so that she’d go numb all over.
It was a learned talent, honed since childhood.
Sitting in her parked car outside the Tavern, Neera channeled that sense of hardness. Getting onstage had been terrible, but she’d done it. Forced herself to push every doubt, every squirming emotion all the way down to the place where she could pretend it away. Her first time playing on a real stage, for someone other than Ajay or a coffee shop with disinterested patrons, and it had, for the briefest moment, felt like magic.
But then Grant Langley, an asshole in khakis, had popped her shimmering, golden bubble. Made her feel like she was standing on the stage naked, having been weighed and found wanting. Laughable to think she could play for the residents of Lake Clearwater and, even more ridiculous, win the contest.
Neera needed to be better. She had to be. There was no other option.
Movement in the rearview mirror caught her eye. Sam was walking toward her car. Neera rolled down the driver’s side window as she approached.
“How bad was I?” Neera asked self-consciously. “Be honest.”
Sam shook her head, dismissing the question. “Look, Neera … you gotta play on Thursday.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Neera admitted.
“I’m serious.” Sam leaned in close, shielding her green eyes from the sun with a splinted wrist. “Yeah, Grant’s a dick, but you’re good. He knows it, too. I haven’t seen him show up for any audition other than yours.”
“Jesus, really? That has to count for something, I guess.” Neera stared ahead at the empty parking lot. She didn’t know how to react to Sam’s kindness, unsure if she was even deserving of it. “You’re too nice to me.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Sam beamed a little. “I mean, you were like Hope goddamn Sandoval in there.”
The soft hum of the cicadas pulsed through the air, filling the space between them. Then, distantly, Neera heard cheering echoing across the lake. Or was it yelling? Screaming? Sound always seemed to travel strangely on this side of the water.