Chapter 9- The Final 9
It's down to our final nine contestants, and this week they will battle it out with their chosen Classic Rock song. Let's watch our performers and, remember, vote for your favorite!
~//~
Ash lifted his beer and clinked it against Dean's. "Here's to making it this far." Ash's voice and the chime of their bottles hitting echoed through out the empty restaurant. At three in the afternoon the lunch crowd was long gone, and the thought of dinner was just popping into peoples' minds. The two American Idol contestants had placed their orders for beers and burgers not five minutes before. Their drinks had arrived promptly and were pleasantly cold. Dean assumed their meals would soon follow.
"Hell yeah," Dean responded then brought the Budweiser to his lips. The bottle was sweating and wetted his hand, but the beer was bitter and tasty. He took another sip. He watched as Ash drained his own drink. "Going kind of strong there, aren't ya, buddy?"
Ash thumped his empty bottle the table. He reached for his second drink. "I'm just thirsty that's all," Ash said nonchalantly.
Dean sipped his beer and lifted an eyebrow.
"What can I say? I like my alcohol," the mullet-haired man said. He emphasized his words with a sweep of his pointer finger. Unfortunately, that finger was attached to the hand holding his beer. The liquid sloshed inside the bottle, and a few droplets splashed beyond the rim.
Dean lifted his eyebrow again.
Ash spread his arms wide, like he was saying, 'what man?' He huffed, took another swig of his beer then said, "Fine, fine. You caught me. I'm worried dude. My nerves are eatin' at my brain."
"Dude, what are you worrying about?" Dean set his bottle on the table.
"Going home man!" Ash exclaimed. Then he said it again, this time morosely. "Going home."
"Ash, there is no way you're going home. You are an awesome guy and a great singer."
"Dean my man, I think it's time you woke up and smelled the coffee. I may be a good singer, but compared to the rest of you, I suck." He took a long pull on his beer. "I don't even know how I made it this far."
The Winchester shook his head in disbelief. "Now, I admit that Sarah was a prettier picture than you," Ash snorted, "but she sure wasn't as good a vocalist as you are. You have style and raw talent. And Meg…" Dean trailed off. He had to admit, at least to himself, that Meg was talented in the singing department. She was a girl who knew her own strengths and played up to them. So instead of commenting on Meg's performance abilities, Dean finished his statement by saying, "Meg was a first class bitch. She's a skanky skeleton with no morals and bad breath."
Ash bobbed his head. Dean wasn't sure if the man was agreeing with him or keeping the beat of the music that was playing. The Rascal Flats' 'Shine On' had started to play. A few seconds passed while Ash finished his second beer, and then he said matter-of-factly, "I was the worst performance by far last night. Country and rock are my music, but I couldn't even pull off country night with an above average performance."
Uneasiness settled in Dean's stomach. He wanted to argue, tell his friend that he was being stupid and paranoid. He opened his mouth to spout off some pretty examples of Ash's awesomeness, but a thought stopped him. Ash wouldn't appreciate a lie. Ash was an upfront guy. He told it like it was, whether it was what you wanted to hear or not.
"I guess I have to come to terms with it. Not being America's next idol." The waiter came with their burgers, bringing relief to the heavy atmosphere at the table. They both ordered another beer- Ash's third and Dean's second- and ate their meal in silence. When the last fry was stuffed in his mouth Dean pushed aside his plate and drank the last gulp from his beer. Ash spoke again. "I mean I want to win." Dean nodded. Who didn't? "But I really don't want to be famous. Rich, hell yeah, but famous? No thanks. Being mobbed by adoring fans and dissed by haters is not fun in my book." He chuckled and looked up at Dean. Dean was proud that he didn't look away.
"The adoring fans part is going to take some getting used to. I'm not sure I like random strangers coming up to me asking for my autograph," Dean said with a small shake of his head and a sideways grin.
Ash laughed again, but when he stopped, Dean could feel his sadness in the air. Dean reached across the table and gave him a mild punch on the arm. "Hey, don't be too worried. I mean, look what happened last week. Meg got sent home. No one expected that."
"Man, was that a shock. I've never seen someone so pissed off in my life," Ash said with an amused snort.
The waiter came with their checks and a subtle plea for their autographs. Dean sent Ash an exaggerated eye roll and signed the back of the merchant's copy check: Thanks for the good food. Dean Winchester.
Ash laughed and wrote: Drink beer, make friends, be happy. Ash Jennings (AKA the Sexy Bastard with the mullet).
The words made Dean snicker. He looked at his watch then said, "Come on. Let's get out of here. It's time for the hell of wardrobe and make-up."
Ash replied, "And then it's show time."
Dean tried to ignore the fatality of those words.
~//~
It was a punch to the gut. It was always difficult to see talented individuals lose a chance to accomplish their dreams. Some cried. Some raged. Others left with graceful smiles and words of heartfelt gratitude at the chance of a lifetime and experiences gained. Dean felt sorry to see some go, while others he waved goodbye with malicious glee. But Dean hadn't really been attached to any of the other contestants the way he was to Ash.
Ash had been with him almost from the start. We fucking sung Billie Joel together! A shared encounter like that brought guys together. They had gone through the Hollywood auditions together- hell, Ash was the only reason he hadn't beat the shit of those douchebags Nick and Joe, and in consequence been booted off the show. Ash had listened as he bitched about Sammy when his brother was being a sullen teenager.
Dean kicked the doorframe. "This fucking sucks," he said aloud.
Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's shoulders, "Dean…"
He whirled around. "What Sam? You going to tell me this isn't fucking wrong? That you don't care if Ash is leaving?"
Sam shook his head. "Of course not! Ash is my friend too. I don't want him to go anymore than you do. But Dean," Sam gripped both of Dean's shoulders to hold him still, "this is a competition. People we care about are going to go. It's the way things are."
"It isn't right," Dean said, his steam slowly draining. For the first time in a long while he felt tired.
"I know." Sam squeezed his shoulders. "Let's go say goodbye."
Dean swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. He never did like saying goodbye. Too many goodbyes in his life had been permanent. "Okay."
He followed his brother downstairs to the front porch where everyone was giving Ash heartfelt well wishes and farewells. Tears streamed down Jo's face and Andy had dried streaks on his face. For the first time in ages the hippie didn't seem stoned. Ava had her arms wrapped around her torso and was nibbling on her lip. Gordon also had his arms crossed, and while his stand wasn't exactly friendly, it wasn't its usually angry self. He looked more resigned than anything else. Jake had Ash's hand in a tight, friendly grip and was giving him a hearty shake. Bella was off to the side with her hands on her hips staring at Ash with an unreadable expression. Ruby stood next to her, eyes narrowed into lazy slits. Just the fact they had showed up meant something, even if they weren't really tearful or warm.
When Dean's boots hit the wooden floor of the foyer, Ash looked up. He smiled. Jake stepped aside and Dean slide in to take his place. He pressed his hand into Ash's and pulled the man into a one-armed hug. "I'm sorry, man," Dean whispered.
"What's done is done," Ash replied. "I'll miss your snarky ways, my friend."
Dean felt his chest rumble in humor, and he pulled away. "Thanks for everything, dude."
Ash nodded. Dean let his brother say goodbye. "Don't give up," Sam told Ash. "This isn't the end for you."
Ash shrugged. "I don't know. I love singing, man, but I've been doing some thinking. I might go back to MIT. They sent me a letter saying they missed me."
Sam blinked in surprise. "You went to MIT?"
"Yep. Until they kicked me out for partying too much. Maybe this time I'll do it right."
"You so can!" Andy sobbed and rushed forward to enfold Ash in his arms.
Ash patted the shorter man on the back. "Keep in touch. I'll see you guys at the finale and during the tour." A car horn honked from outside, and Ash detached Andy from his body. He gave everyone a salute. "Mr. Badass checking out."
~//~
Dean wouldn't admit to depression, but nevertheless he had a slight case of it. He spent all of Thursday in front of the television watching actions movies on TNT. The explosions and car chases did a good job of keeping his mind occupied, but when Sam came over around five, knocked his feet off the coffee table and said, "Come eat. I made chilli,"
All Dean could do was grunt and shake his head, mumbling, "I'm not hungry."
Distantly, Dean heard his brother sigh- not an uncommon occurrence- then the remote was snatched out of his hand. Dean looked up in annoyance. "I was watching that bitch."
"Yeah? Well, your sulking is getting on my nerves, jerk-face."
Dean glared. "I am not sulking."
"Dean, you just told me you didn't want to eat."
There was a moment of silence. Dean had to admit that was pretty damning evidence. "Fine, maybe I'm sulking a bit. Since you have so much experience with the issue, why don't you tell me what I should do?"
Sam made a pinched face, and Dean his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. "Well, one thing that always makes me feel better is good news."
"You have some good news?" The eldest Winchester sat up straighter. This he had to hear.
Sam smiled and plopped down next to Dean on the couch. "Yes, though it's more like a good realization than good news."
What the hell is that supposed to mean? "I'm waiting."
"Did you hear what next week's song theme is? Or were you too focused on Ash?" Sam asked with a sly look.
"Dude, if this is about Classic Rock week, then you're an idiot. Of course I heard Seacrest announce that. I'm not deaf."
"Did you realize that mean you can sing Led Zeppelin's Ramble On?"
Slowly, a smile stretched across Dean's face. He slapped Sam on the knee. "Hell yeah!" He jumped up.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to call Kim, and take that song before anybody else does."
Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean didn't care. He was going to get to sing one of the best songs ever written.
~//~
Dean walked into rehearsals on Tuesday morning, and his heart skipped a beat. Their mentor was standing there in a dark suit, with the jacket open displaying his white button-up and red and blue striped tie. His age only showed in his receding hairline and wrinkled forehead. Otherwise, despite not being in a schoolboy outfit, Dean thought the man looked just like he did in every picture and video he'd ever seen. Angus Young is standing five feet from me. Dean's legs wobbled. Motherfucking Angus Young!
"Hello everyone," the man said in greeting. His Australian accent was thick. "If you don't know who I am- though I can see some of you do- I'm Angus Young, guitarist for the band AC/DC." A smattering of hitched breaths went through the group. Everyone knew who AC/DC were. "I look forward to getting to work with each of you. I'm a big fan of American Idol, and I've been watching you all season."
Dean's knees went weak, and his arm shot out and grabbed his brother's. Angus Young has been watching us. His stomach did somersaults.
"I'm going to take Ruby first, but don't worry I'll get to each of you," Angus said with a smile.
Dean glared at the blonde haired girl and thought, Bitch.
Angus and Ruby wandered into the sound-proof practice room, leaving everyone else to do their thing. Jo came over to him and said, "Jesus Christ, that's Angus Young."
Dean knew exactly how she felt. "Yeah."
Sam rolled his eyes, and then Dean was on him, telling his brother all about the wonders of Angus Young. "Dude, he's ranked one of the greatest guitarists ever by Rolling Stone. He's in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame." When those facts didn't seem to duly impress his brother Dean added, "He was in fucking AC/DC." Sam shrugged, and Dean threw up his hands. "You're a lost cause, man."
Since Sam was an idiot, Dean spent the next half an hour pounding out Angus' best performances with Jo. Then Angus came back with Ruby, and it was his turn. He felt breathless and high.
"I'm Angus," the man said.
Dean took his outstretched hand, hoped his own palm wasn't too sweaty and replied, "Dean, Dean Winchester." Their hands dropped.
They entered the practice room, and Angus said, "Yeah mate, I've been keeping my eye on you this season. You're amazingly talented."
Blood rushed to Dean's face fast enough to make him lightheaded. He swallowed hard before he replied, "Wow, thanks man. That's a real compliment."
Bowman, one of the show's pianists, was sitting at his piano waiting for the pair to arrive. The Latino nodded at Dean and smiled at Angus, saying in his thick Hispanic accent, "Ramble On, si?"
"Right,"Dean replied.
Angus patted him on the back and said, "Excellent, excellent song."
Pleasure washed through him, and Dean responded with, "It's my favorite song." Then realizing who he was talking too added, "Uh, not that I don't love your songs. Back in Black is in my car right now."
Angus smiled, and little wrinkles appeared at his eyes. Dean had the sudden thought, I hope I age that well.
The guitarist laid his hand on the top of the piano and said, "Alright, let's hear your version of Led Zeppelin's song."
Beetles scuttled around inside his stomach and Dean hoped he didn't screw up. He sang. He sang to make Led Zeppelin proud. He sang to impress Angus Young. He sang to give homage to his favorite song. He sang because it was fun. When he was finished his chest heaved and sweat acted like glue between his t-shirt and skin. And this wasn't even the live performance.
A heartbeat of silence had Dean worried. Then he heard Angus inhale and Dean's eyes flew up to the man's face. Mr. Young was sporting an ear-to-ear grin. Dean rocked on his heels. Angus whistled. "Dean my boy, that was awe-inspiring. Rock is definitely your niche. Now perform that again later tonight, just the way you did now, and you'll knock their socks off."
All the tense air Dean had been holding in whooshed out from his mouth. "Aww man, you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you."
Angus walked Dean to the door and just as Dean's hand curled around the handle, the guitarist stopped him with the words, "Don't tell anyone else, but you're my favorite. I hope you win."
Dean's fingers tightened around the curved knob, and he almost turned around and effulged Angus in a hug. Instead, he ignored the way his body was tingling- like a girl on her first date- and instead he let his smile do the talking. "I appreciate that man, I really do." The words were softly spoken. Angus patted him on the back again. Dean thought he might just hang this shirt on a hanger in his closet and never wash or wear it again.
~//~
Dean took Angus Young's advice and belted out Ramble On just as he had in practice. He didn't change much from the original version, just a faster pace and the pitch to match his voice. The original was too good to mess with. As soon as the lights dimmed, and the crowd started shrieking, Dean knew he had done the song justice. Angus, Paula and Kara were on their feet applauding with giant smiles and gleeful cheers. While both Simon and Randy weren't standing, they were both clapping.
Ryan Seacrest calmed down the crowd, and then it was time for the judges' comments.
Angus went first. "Dean, that was just as incredible as I expected it to be. I can't wait to work with you in the future."
Dean's knees almost buckled. He gripped the microphone tight enough to hurt. He needed something to focus on.
"Wow, wow, wow!" Paula said, slapping to the table. Today she was wearing a bright pink floral top that Dean imagined was very soft. "You blow me away every time. Tonight was no different. Classic rock is your genre. Go with it and run!"
Then it was Simon's turn. "Dean I agree with everything these two said." The audience cheered. "And I've given this to one other American Idol contestant, and after that performance I'm giving it to you." He stood and began to applaud. The room exploded in cheers, screams, random declarations of love.
Dean soaked it all in. He felt a twinge of sadness that Ash couldn't be here to experience this, but then the adrenaline left over from singing and the crowd pushed away any depression he felt. As he looked at the crowd, and the applauding judges, Dean felt a sense of rightness the like of which he had never before experienced.
This is what I'm meant to be doing.
