Stage outfits were a big deal twice over this time. The girls wanted to impress the West Al people, but they also needed to look cool in the video Kyra would be shooting. Since they didn’t know what sort of clothes the commercial might be selling, Kyra had suggested they all go in different fashion directions. That way, the client could envision multiple options and decide on the vibe they wanted once the time came to shoot the commercial.
Olivia wore a pink linen dress, which wouldn’t have looked at all right for the occasion except for the fact that Olivia was so willowy that the spaghetti straps and the giant silver earrings framed her beautiful collarbone. Tig couldn’t exactly do a dress or skirt while playing drums, so she opted for floral shorts and a loosely crocheted sweater and tank. Paris mixed a striped, short-sleeved sweater with a leopard print skirt. Robbie opted for an uncharacteristically romantic hippie look, with a flowy top and long, untied scarf with shorts, knee socks, and booties, but she gave it an edge with a big metal bracelet. Claire kept it simple with cuffed boyfriend jeans and a bulky black sweater, her hair decidedly undone and wispy to capture the laid-back feel of her ensemble.
They arrived at the West Al Academy auditorium the next afternoon just in time to see the end of another band’s audition.
“That’s New Haircut. I’ve heard of them,” Robbie said. “They’re awesome.”
New Haircut—all college students—had six musicians and two female backup singers in addition to the lead. The backup singers also did choreography. And quite well. They were just finishing up the Ike and Tina Turner version of “Proud Mary” when the girls arrived.
“I’m nauseated at how good that was,” Olivia said to Tig. “We are so out of our league.”
Tig couldn’t form the words to reply. Olivia was exactly right.
“Look at this,” Claire said. She picked up a piece of paper that had been left in a stack on one of the back chairs. It was the other band’s set list . . . except that it really wasn’t a set list, per se. Instead the top of the page said, New Haircut: Samplings. There were about fifty songs.
“They know so many songs, this is just a sampling!” Claire said. “We are so doomed.”
“We’re never going to get this gig,” Paris said. “And I can live with that. But what do you say we just sneak out quietly right now so we don’t humiliate ourselves?”
“Positive thinking!” Kyra said. “Besides, I’ve got to get a video for the commercial people, and where else are we going to get stage lighting and such a good setup? Just do your best.”
The prom committee members stood up and cheered when the other band finished their song. “That was awesome,” said a high-school boy who seemed to be in charge.
“Thank you,” said a girl. “Your demo tape was excellent, but it does help us a lot to see how you come across live.”
As New Haircut packed up their instruments and left the stage, the boy called, “Pandora’s Box?”
Tig was sure she’d throw up, but she managed to say, “We’re here.”
“Great,” said the boy. “We’ll give you a couple of minutes to set up.”
The girls opened with “Blitzkrieg Bop,” which went off without a hitch. Then, without a pause, they moved into “Good Riddance.” Tig thought both songs went well. At least the video for the commercial client would be good, even though they’d never get the prom gig.
“Your set list,” the boy said. “Is this a sampling or a complete, exhaustive list?”
Tig wanted to bluff, but she knew bluffing was the same as lying. And hadn’t she done plenty of lying in the last few months? She thought of how lies had a habit of coming back to bite her. “We’re a new band, obviously,” Tig said. “So those are all the songs we know.”
The boy nodded. Then the girl asked, “So, if someone wanted to make a request, what would you do?”
“I guess we’d have to be honest and tell them we couldn’t do it,” Tig said. If honesty was supposed to be the best policy, why did it feel so humiliating?
“Thank you for your time,” the boy said. “We’ll be in touch.”
As the girls packed up their equipment, they noticed Kyra going over to the committee’s table and whispering something to the group.
“What’s she doing?” Robbie asked Tig.
“Probably apologizing,” Tig replied. “What were we thinking? We’re so not ready for the West Al prom!”
“Aren’t you glad we didn’t ask Kyra to be our manager?” Robbie said. “This was her big idea, after all. She’s overly confident.”
“I suppose so,” Tig said. “Man, I would’ve loved to have gotten this prom!”
“Maybe one day,” Robbie said.
Tig’s mom took the girls out for pizza after the audition. They commiserated about how embarrassing it was to have to go on after New Haircut.
“If we are this pizza,” Robbie said, “New Haircut is filet mignon.”
“If New Haircut is a Porsche,” said Olivia, “we’re my dad’s old, dinged-up pickup truck.”
“They’re Godiva chocolate,” said Claire, “and we’re those rubbery, pale orange peanut things no one eats.”
“Circus peanuts,” said Tig.
“Right!” said Claire. “We’re circus peanuts.”
“I like circus peanuts,” said Paris.
“I suppose they serve their purpose,” said Tig. “They’re a novelty. But there’s not much to them. It’s a good comparison.”
“Stop whining,” Kyra said. “Y’all had a great audition! You didn’t miss a note!”
“Oh, but when the committee chairman asked about requests!” said Robbie. “Didn’t you just want to climb under a rock?” They all agreed.
“Well, if I could play as well as y’all do,” Kyra said, “I wouldn’t hide anywhere. I’d be proud. And you all should be too.” Kyra’s phone rang. “I have to take this.”
“Probably Milo,” said Robbie.
“They broke up. Didn’t I tell you?” asked Tig.
“No,” said Robbie. “Milo dumped her?”
“I think she dumped him,” said Tig.
“She did,” Paris said. “Milo told me about it at school. They’re still friends, though.”
“No one tells me anything,” said Robbie.
“I guess we’ve been too concerned with the audition to think about Kyra’s love life,” said Olivia. “And mine.”
“Olivia, we’re so sorry!” said Claire. “We’ve been insensitive, haven’t we? It’s been a few days since I’ve asked how you were doing.”
“I’m glad no one’s asked,” said Olivia. “It’s helped. I think I’m getting over it. Like Tig said, all this practice for the audition hasn’t left room for thinking about much else. And that’s been a good thing.”
Kyra came back to the table. “What’d I miss?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” said Tig. “Who was that?”
“Just the West Al Academy prom committee chairman,” said Kyra.
The girls groaned.
“The big ‘thanks but no thanks’?” Tig asked.
“Not exactly,” said Kyra. “You kinda got the job.”
“Right,” Robbie said. “And also, we just won the lottery.”
“I’m serious,” said Kyra. “You kinda got the job.”
The girls all began talking at once, asking questions about how, why, and what about New Haircut?
“Hold up,” Tig said. “What do you mean we kinda got the job?”
“I mean, it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind,” Kyra said. “And the pay isn’t going to be three thousand dollars.”
“Kyra!” Tig said. “Spit it out! What’s going on?”
“Pandora’s Box is going to be the warm-up act,” Kyra explained. “You’ll play your set list before New Haircut performs for the rest of the evening. Your pay is going to be three hundred and fifty dollars, total. Not per person. But I did get them to agree to having your favorite snacks in the dressing room: peanut-butter-filled pretzels for Robbie, ginger ale for Claire, and barbeque chips for Tig and Paris. I didn’t specify for Olivia because, come on, what doesn’t she eat?”
No one said anything.
“You’re upset?” Kyra asked. “Look, I can ask for those ice pops she likes if they have a freezer close by. . . .”
“No,” Tig said.
Before Tig could finish her thought, Kyra added, “Well, if it’s the money you’re upset about, just remember that the exposure and the prestige of West Alabama Academy’s prom is worth something too, and—”
“Nobody’s upset!” Tig said. “We’re just kind of shocked. How did you do it?”
“After the audition, I told them about how you’d done opening-act gigs before. Then I told them about the commercial,” Kyra said. “They’d already seen your social media page and how it’s blowing up with fans. The commercial cinched it. How could they pass up being the first prom to showcase a rising national talent? And maybe the last. I told them that after the commercial airs, you guys might not be playing proms anymore. This was probably their only chance to ever book you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” said Tig. “How did you know how to do all this?”
“I don’t know,” Kyra said. “It comes kind of naturally. Sort of like the way drums are for you. It’s fun! Making deals is a rush!”
“Would you excuse us one moment?” Tig asked. She and the other girls walked away from the table to confer. They were unanimous. When they came back to the table, Tig said, “Kyra, we’d like to officially ask you to be the manager for Pandora’s Box.”
“Really?” said Kyra. “Thanks. But what exactly does a manager do?”
“You manage us,” Robbie said. “Just like you’ve already been doing.”
“And you make fifteen percent of whatever we make,” said Tig.
“You’re serious?” Kyra said.
“Dead serious,” said Tig.
“Yes!” said Kyra. “A thousand times yes!”
There were hugs and squeals, and then Kyra pulled out her phone again. She typed in something and exclaimed, “You do realize this would cut each of your pay to just under sixty dollars instead of seventy.”
“Totally worth it,” Claire said. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have any money at all.”
“Or the West Al prom!” Olivia said.
Robbie looked at Tig and grimaced a bit. Then she smiled and said, “Claire’s right. Totally worth it.”
Three days later, after receiving the video Kyra made, Uncle Paul got word from the client.
Paris would be just fine. . . .
The commercial was a go!
Everything in Tig’s life seemed to be falling into place.