Elaine Peck loved attention. Her preferred forms were praise, respect, admiration, jealousy, and fear. Her new project was trying to improve the image of the 15 Division in the eye of the public. It wasn't that 15 Division was battling any particular negative publicity, it was that they weren't garnering any publicity.
Like everything Elaine did, it was thorough and intense. It was a multi-tiered initiative layering assaults on all the different age groups. As far as Gail was concerned, it was a shit storm disguised as sunshine. But Gail knew participation in the army of darkness was mandatory for a Peck, so she had her sunglasses and shit slicker on the ready. As a Peck, there was no way she was getting out of this clean.
When Elaine told Gail what her mission would be, Gail huffed and puffed, and rolled her eyes and did almost everything else compulsory etiquette courses had attempted to rip out of her. Truth is, Gail saw an opportunity to do as she was told and still disappoint Elaine. The thought almost made her giddy, whatever giddy meant.
Her task, as she was forced to accept it, was to try out for, and under no circumstances, fail to make, the 15 Division band (to be named later). Gail had interrupted her mother then to ramble several comments about being "horny", "blowing pipes", and "fingering keys". Elaine was nonplussed. She forcefully continued, disregarding Gail's smirk. The band was to play popular music appealing to teens through forty-somethings at community events to make the police seem more "cool".
"Ooooo. 'Cool.' How very."
"How very what?" Elaine asks.
"No, no, that's it. How very. Heathers was on Showtime last week. It was either that or 'Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.' I thought you might appreciate my restraint."
Elaine ignores the taunt. "It's about time you put those piano lessons to use, Gail Peck. Now show a little respect and prove that all the money that your father and put into you was not a waste."
"You want me to dazzle the youngsters of Toronto with a little Bach? Maybe some Beethoven? I know, maybe I can find a way to weave some rap lyrics in. It could be like composer-Compton mashup. A little piano trill for my homies."
Piano lessons were forced upon Gail, as was track and field, debate club, student government, and summer internships at the police department. While she would never let her mother know, Gail actually liked playing piano. She didn't necessarily like the lessons and the recitals, but she appreciated that they taught her to read music and about music theory. These things helped her explore music on her own, in her own way. Music was always something that Gail was drawn to. As much as possible, she set her life to a soundtrack. If she wasn't listening to music, she was singing, or playing. She loved all types of music and could sing and play all different genres. She spent a lot of time at the local music store, somewhere her mother would never look for her based on the blasé front Gail put on with regards to the piano. The owner was cool and would let her hang out and experiment with the instruments. She took a couple of synthesizer lessons to accustom herself with all the different features of the instrument, and she took a handful of guitar lessons to learn the basics of playing. Her knowledge of musical theory and her well attuned musical ear made her a quick study. She was by no means a prodigy, but she could pretty much play what she wanted and even join in to whatever others were playing even if she didn't know the song.
Singing, though, singing was what Gail loved most. It was the experience of vocalizing the lyrics and being the source of the music that made her feel really alive. Gail really valued those times she got to become the music and feel every word of the song and nuance of the melody. She valued it so much because feeling was something her mother didn't really allow her to do. Displays of emotion were not appropriate for caliber of woman Elaine intended Gail to become. When she sang, Gail become raw emotion. It was an outlet for everything inside of her. And her voice was hers alone, and it was always with her. Music was always with her.
So all of those things she had hid from her mother all of these years would now be both a feather in Elaine's cap and a demonstration of rebellion to her face. She would show her mother how Gail Peck did music.
As Elaine's mouth stopped moving, Gail refocused on the outside world. Having no idea what Elaine spent the last 2 minutes yapping about, Gail said, "Fine, Mother. I will participate in your sinister plan for world domination."
"I know you will. Auditions are Wednesday, 7 PM, at the training campus clubhouse.
The auditions were well publicized over the next few days at 15 Division and its supporting functions, including the forensics lab. There were reminders every parade and multiple emails with time, location, and a list of instruments that would be available for anyone who chose not to bring their own. There would be an acoustic and electric guitar, electric bass, upright bass, drums, upright piano, and keyboard, as well as all supporting electronics. By the time Wednesday rolled around and Gail walked into the clubhouse, she was just glad she wouldn't have to hear or read about auditions anymore.
Looking around Gail only saw a few familiar faces. None of her friends were really musically gifted, so none of the people milling about would be people who would lord this experience over her for days on end, using it as an excuse to talk to her or about her. That took some of her nerves away, as did the flask she would occasionally drink from when no one was looking. Most of the people here Gail didn't know at all and that's how she preferred it.
When 7 o' clock rolled around Elaine called for the group's attention, and, in typical Elaine Peck fashion, laid down the law. The ground rules of the auditions were fairly simple: sign in, demonstrate your talent(s) for the judges, be judged. If you made the cut, you came out and played or sang with others who made the cut. If there was a perceived tie (same instrument, same level of musical talent) the decision would be made based on performance. Elaine made it clear she didn't want a group of competent musicians who were visually boring. Elaine Peck was all about show and the band that would represent her in this publicity initiative would be nothing short of dynamic. As Elaine spoke to the crowd and relayed all of this information, Gail would occasionally roll her eyes and shake her head. It was just like Elaine to take something that could be fun and make it sound threatening.
"Alright everybody, you've got 30 minutes to sign in, set up, and practice if you choose. Make the most of it."
With that they were set free from Elaine's authoritative drone and no-fun demeanor. As the group scattered, Gail took another covert draw from the flask, closed her eyes and momentarily just let herself feel the warmth in her stomach and the slight tingle in her legs from the alcohol. When she opened her eyes she just stood and took everything in. She would never let on, but she was excited. It was just like when she walked in to the music store, there was an energy here that charged her . These people were here because they loved music. In her mind, that already made them better than her friends.
It looked like a lot of the people here were guitar players. All of them seemed to have brought their own guitars. Gail hadn't brought any instruments. The song she had selected to play and sing required a synthesizer and she couldn't make herself bring her own just for a song. Besides, she was used to playing all different instruments. Between the music store, playing with her friends in school, and not wanting Elaine to know what she was doing, Gail played exclusively on borrowed instruments for four years. This would be a walk in the park. As she walked to the front and looked at the synthesizer and guitar she realized that she had even played both of these instruments before.
Gail tried not to pay too much attention to anyone around her as she went about her business. Doing so would likely bring back some of the nerves she had managed to quell. She just did a quick check on the synthesizer she would use as well as the guitar (because you never know,) to make sure they were plugged in and working with their respective electronics.
Walking away from the instruments she started to hear a few people singing in the background, presumably warming up their voices. A couple of men and a couple of women. Nobody was talented enough to make Gail nervous and the songs they were singing were predictably boring. The boredom was eventually broken though, by a loud steady pattern of changing drum beats. First one drum . . . thump, thump, thump . . . then on to the next and so on. Gail turned to see who had saved her from the over-emoted and under-ranged renderings of various male rock anthems and Kelly Clarkson songs.
Now this, this was not boring. This was unexpected. The person manifesting the bass beats currently rattling Gail's cage was a woman. It wasn't like Gail thought that a female drummer was unexpected, but being as though this particular band was drawing from such a limited pool of musicians, a male-heavy pool at that, she just didn't expect to see a woman. She especially didn't expect to see this woman. This drummer had long black hair falling in gentle curls as it passed her shoulders. She was beautiful and, Gail had to admit, put together nicely. Big eyes, nice lips, tan skin. She was long, and lean, and the tank top she wore confirmed, well muscled. Her movements were fluid, eluding to a coordination that Gail assumed would make her a good drummer.
When the woman seemed satisfied with drums and their setup, she stood, and turned towards Gail. Seeing the woman from the front for the first time, Gail felt her insides flip. Wait, not flip. Shift? As Gail struggled internally to sort herself out, she watched Holly practically glide over to her in 5 long steps.
"Hi. I'm Holly. Are you okay? You seem a bit flushed."
"Booze." Gail holds up the flask in response to Holly's question before she takes another drink from the flask to try to calm the butterflies that have emerged. She chalks their exuberant fluttering up to nerves re-excited by the proximity of the start of the auditions. Holly watched her swallow with a growing smile. As Gail lowered the flask, she watched that smile become adorably lopsided as the left side clearly exhibited more stamina than the right, reaching significantly higher.
"Drink?" Gail offers the flask to Holly.
"Don't mind if I do." Holly's smile falls a little, becoming more restrained. It is different from the unbridled grin of earlier. Gail isn't sure what this new smiling is conveying, but the butterflies threatening to burst out of her torso sure do like it.