Chris was quiet and worried and withdrawn, and that was never a good sign. It hadn't happened since… Ever, that Rich could recall. Not that he could blame Chris; now that he was on board for the band, he wanted to see them succeed. And having a week until their first show and no one to sing bass (let alone fill in the holes in the five-person dance routines) was not exactly a good way to kick off their career.
They'd called an emergency band meeting as soon as Johnny had left. Weisel had shown up, yelling and angry; he'd called Rich's mom, who was now staying in a local hotel and looking for an apartment so she could be close to her son as he began his career again, and she just kept telling him over and over that it would be okay.
Which was more irritating than it was reassuring.
"…Well, of course we'll have to cancel the Nick show—"
"We're not canceling their debut!" Rich's mother shrieked.
"Mom…"
"Richard, honey, don't worry, I'll take care of everything."
"Mom."
"With under a week, Mrs. Alcott, I don't think it's practical—"
"It's Ms. Alcott, and frankly, I don't appreciate your attempts to shut down this project before it even has a chance to—"
"Mom!"
"Rich, sweetie, I'm taking care of—"
"Ms. Alcott? Mr. Weisel?" Nick interrupted. "I, um, I'm glad we're having this meeting and all… but I think it might be better if we… you know… calmed down some."
"We don't have time to calm down!" CJ yelled back at him. "This is the time to panic!"
"CJ, panicking isn't going to solve anything. And anyway—"
"Anyway, without a bass, there's really no way to—"
"We can find a bass—"
"We're so screwed—"'
"Mo-om!"
"HEY!"
The group fell silent for a moment and they all turned to stare at Chris. Rich had to acknowledge that Chris definitely did know how to use his lungs to project; people a block away had probably wondered what that yell was about. Assuming they hadn't overheard the whole fight.
Chris cleared his throat. "I agree with Nick that fighting isn't going to do any good, and I agree with CJ that we don't have a lot of time, so I think maybe instead of fighting about it we should come up with a plan."
"And did you have any suggestions?" Weisel demanded.
"Yes," Chris said, nodding slightly.
There was a long silence, and finally, "Well?"
"I was just thinking that, well, Rich's voice coach—Sherman, right?—he probably knows other voice coaches in the state, right?"
Richard nodded.
"So, um, wouldn't one of them almost certainly be coaching a bass singer somewhere? I mean, I bet he'd be able to get us a list in a day or so… Which doesn't leave a lot of time to rehearse with whoever it is, but it's better than arguing and screaming and then by the time we do find someone being out of time…"
Richard gaped. The adults began talking again, more calmly, and discussed the idea; but really, Rich just stared, kind of incredulously. And finally he elbowed Chris in the side.
"What?" Chris demanded.
"Since when are you rational and… diplomatic?"
Chris shrugged. "This band means a lot to me. I want to do well…. And we're too good to fall apart now."
Rich nodded. "Well… good job, then."
Chris just nodded and went back to listening to the discussion, but he smiled a little.
"I can't believe I'm doing this."
"Yeah, well, you are."
"But I don't want to."
"Oh, stop whining." Rich spun the wheel and they pulled into the high school parking lot.
"All my memories of this place are bad ones."
"Stop whining."
"Riiiiiiiiiich."
Richard gave him a disgusted look. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Well… duh."
Richard sighed. "Chin up, it's good publicity."
"It's pointless publicity."
"No such thing." Rich shoved Chris lightly as they walked. Chris scowled. "Anyway, I have friends in the show."
"I don't."
"But since I'm going, you're going; and if you don't go, you'll look bitter."
"I am bitter!"
"Oh, deal with it. It's a couple of hours." He took his key out of the ignition and swung his door open, but kept talking. "And anyway, it would look bad for me to go and not you. And it could be fun."
"Ha!" Chris slammed his door shut. "Since when is amateur theater in a high school auditorium fun?"
"Since there are other people listening, and you have to shut up now?" Rich suggested.
Chris scowled, but fell into step with Richard, and as they got closer to the building he threw on a fake smile. It was hard to keep up when faced with the damn double doors that led into the auditorium, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing he'd never be stuck in that class again.
At least, not if the band succeeded.
There was no way Chris was going to let the band not succeed.
Richard waved at a few people as they headed in to take their seats; Chris sat and thumbed through the program, bored. He managed not to even roll his eyes as he read the cast list. Though he did find himself thinking, Siamese Child Number Eight my ass. But he didn't say it aloud.
The lights dimmed, and Chris leaned back and shut his eyes lightly. Maybe, now that it was dark, he could at least get some sleep. If he was lucky.
Sleep turned out to not be an option; if there was nothing else positive to say about the theater, it did have great acoustics. So grudgingly, Chris watched. The actress playing Anna was both shrill and nasal, and the King was short and had thick glasses. Chris bit down a smirk. Maybe it was for the best he hadn't been involved. It wasn't exactly… quality.
A few of the others were good, though. The annoying kid was as non-annoying as possible; Lady Thiang, the head wife, was excellent.
And then there was Alejandro.
Chris didn't want to admit anything about Alex's performance; he crossed his arms and glared at the stage the moment he stepped on. But Alex was one of the few performers who actually had some sort of presence on stage; he had enough charisma in the role that Chris didn't have much of a choice but to watch him.
Still, though. He didn't want to admit that it was possible Alex had actually been well cast. Just because he actually could sing, even the bottom of the bass line; and just because it looked like they'd had an entirely different choreographer for him, because he moved so smoothly…
Richard elbowed him, hard, in the side.
"What?" Chris demanded, just as happy to pull himself away from the performance on stage.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
"Um… No?" He rubbed his side where he'd been elbowed.
"Well, listen. And look."
"At?"
"Alejandro."
Chris glanced up on stage. "So?"
"So he's singing bass, Chris."
"So?"
"And he can dance."
"So?"
"So…" Richard elbowed him again.
"Oh, no." Chris shook his head. "No. No no no no no no no no."
"Oh yes. We'll talk after the show's done."
"No we won't."
Richard elbowed him again, as they got shhhed loudly from an old lady the row ahead of them. But Richard did make a point to elbow Chris every time Alex stepped onto the stage.
"I'm gonna go talk to him about it."
"Nope. My bedtime is ten o'clock. You'd better get me home."
"Ha. Shut up."
"Richard, we don't even know if Weisel would let us—"
"There's no harm in asking, right? And it's faster if we find him, snag him, and can start rehearsing, like, tomorrow than if we have to wait for people to fly in."
"But—"
"It's just a thought. Nothing definite. Come on." Richard grabbed Chris's arm and pulled him into the lobby, where families were gathering around the performers, cooing excitedly. It was crowded, but Richard was determined; he managed to pick out Alejandro and pulled Chris in that direction.
Chris was remarkably talented at dragging his feet.
"You know, Sherman did call earlier; he said he had a list."
"Good for him."
"Some of the people were only half an hour away. Well, maybe an hour."
"Yeah."
"It wouldn't be hard for them to audition, either."
"That's nice." Richard gave Chris's head a pat, and Chris glowered at him in a way that usually meant he was plotting some sort of childish revenge. Even if it was just eating the rest of the ice cream. But Richard managed to ignore that and waved, shouting brightly, "Alejandro! Hey, Alejandro!"
Chris wrenched his arm away and Richard kicked the side of his foot, but now they were right by Alejandro's family. His mother was speaking in rapid Spanish, and hugging Alejandro tightly; he looked kind of embarrassed by the whole thing. His father was standing next to him, and by the time Richard had realized the tiny bundle of energy between them was Alejandro's sister, she'd somehow managed to wrap herself around Chris.
Richard stared for just a second, but Chris seemed to have it under control. He greeted her with a giant hug and then commented, "You know, your brother did a pretty great job tonight!"
Chris being helpful was new.
"Um… Thanks," Alejandro said sheepishly. "Rosalia, don't hang on him…"
Chris laughed and stood up, and gave Alejandro a friendly chuck on the arm. "You know, you were pretty good, Alex."
"Yeah," Richard cut in, getting over the shock of Chris being nice. "We just wanted to let you know. It was a good show."
Rosalia had still not stopped staring at Chris, and she cleared her throat and asked, "Why weren't you in the show, Chris?"
Richard almost choked, trying not to laugh.
But Chris just grinned down at her. "Actually, I'm kind of working on a new project now."
"Really?" she asked, sounding awed. "Is it another TV show?"
"Nah." He put a casual arm around Rich's shoulder, and Rich realized abruptly that this whole thing was an almost stunningly brilliant act. "See, Rich and I are in a band now."
"You're in a band?" she squeaked. "That's so cool!"
"Well, actually," Rich cut in, "we're looking for another singer. Of the bass variety." He looked expectantly at Alejandro, who blinked.
"Oh," he said.
Chris's grip on Richard's shoulder tightened rather abruptly, and Rich was pretty sure his fingernails were going to leave marks.
"Yeah," Richard said. "And you do have a great voice, Alejandro."
"Um. Thanks."
"Hey, uh, I know that you've got to be pretty excited right now and it's already getting late, but if you could give us a call when you get home, we'd really appreciate it."
"I, uh—"
"Rosalia," Chris interrupted, flashing her a huge smile, "don't you think your brother would be great in a band?"
"Uh…" She looked suspiciously at him and Rich, and then over at her brother, and finally said, "My brother? In a band with you?"
"Well, if he wants to audition, we'd love him to."
She stared for a second, then nodded. "I think he'd be great."
Chris glanced up at Alejandro. "So… Can you give us a call?"
Rosalia nodded excitedly at him.
He swallowed. "I… I guess so," he finally said.
"Great!" Rich dug out one of Weisel's cards, with their number on it, and handed it to Alejandro. "Have a great night, Alejandro. You were awesome."
"'Night!" Chris called, as they started off.
Richard could hear four voices talking in excited Spanish behind them.
"So," Richard said, as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Where the hell did that come from?"
"What?"
"You were charming."
"I'm an actor."
"You played his little sister perfectly."
"She's a cutie."
"But you didn't want him to audition for us," Richard reminded him.
"Still don't."
"But—"
"What did you want me to do, Rich?" He could hear Chris roll his eyes. "You got the idea, you dragged me over there, and it wasn't like I could stand there and be mean to the guy."
"But that's what you do."
"Not in public. I wouldn't want to look bitter, now, would I?"
Richard shook his head. Sometimes, he really believed that being a child star could screw a kid up.
"Well, that was very impressive," Weisel said, shaking Alex's hand. "Very good. We'll get back to you… Probably today. We're very excited. And on a short schedule. But that was very good."
Alex nodded. "Thanks," he said. "It was an honor to be invited to audition." He waved at the band members, plus Rich's mom, and made his way out.
The door shut, and it was only a second later that the comments started flying.
"He was so good!" CJ was jumping up and down in his chair. "Did you see him? He was so good!"
"I can't believe he hasn't danced since he was a kid," Nick added. "Or had vocal training. I mean, that's talent."
"So boys," Rich's mom put in, "do we have our bass singer?"
"No!" Chris yelped. "No, okay, look, he was good and all, but, I mean, don't you think we should look at a few other people? Just to make sure?"
"Time is of the essence," Weisel said. "He can sing and dance and he paints a good picture—we're ethnic if he joins."
"Shouldn't we give anyone else a chance? And—is it really right to exploit someone's ethnicity to—"
"Chris, shove it." Richard rolled his eyes and kicked Chris under the table. "I know you feel threatened by him and all, but—"
"Shut up! I do not!"
"—he's perfect, and he's even nice, so you'll just have to work through that. I'll give him… twenty minutes to get home, and then call."
Weisel nodded approvingly.
"So you're not even going to let anyone else try out? But what if—OW! Stop kicking me!"
"You're such a child, Chris." Richard smirked at him. "And if you'd rather I gagged you…"
"Why, you have some BDSM fantasies you want to work out?" Chris shot back.
"Hey! My mother is in the room, asshole!"
"That wasn't a denial," Chris pointed out helpfully, then, "Ow! Stop kicking me!"
The band waited around the speaker phone as Weisel dialed, except for Chris, who was standing at the back of the room, pouting. At two rings, the phone was picked up and a heavily accented female voice asked, "Hello?"
"Hello, is this Mrs. Cortez?"
"Yes, who's calling?"
"This is Theodore Weisel, the manager of the V-Tones. Is your son Alejandro home?"
"He… He just walked in the door. Please hold on."
Chris scowled at no one in particular, but at least Richard was too far away to kick him. And a moment later there was the noise of another line being picked up. "Hello?"
"Alex! This is Mr. Weisel calling."
"Uh… Hi."
"Well, the band has talked about your audition today. They've decided they'd be just thrilled if you would join in. Your audition was spectacular."
"Uh… Thanks, I guess."
"So can we expect to see you at the house in, say, an hour? We're eager to start rehearsals."
"Well… Here's the thing," Alejandro said slowly. "I'm not so sure I should do this. I mean… I do have my show tonight and this weekend and all—"
"Yes, but we can work around that for the weekend—"
"—and anyway, it's not really…" He trailed off.
"It's not really what?" Weisel asked sharply, as the band members looked around at one another, slightly shocked and definitely unhappy. Even Chris.
"I just… There are a lot of things I'd like to do. I'd like to go to college and I don't want to miss all of my friends, and I'm not sure I'm the sort of guy you're looking for, anyway."
"You were perfect, you're exactly what we're looking for."
"Maybe… But, look, I really don't think I can do it. I'm sorry I wasted your time, okay? I hope you find someone good."
"But… But…"
Richard cut in abruptly. "Hey, Alejandro? It's Richard."
"…Yeah?"
"I don't supposed you'd like to… talk about it?"
"Richard, there's not a lot to talk about, I—"
"Come on, humor me. Chris and I can drop by, just for a few minutes."
Behind him, Chris mouthed, "Oh, thanks," and rolled his eyes.
"But—"
"Come on, it can't hurt. And if you don't want to do it, no one can force you to. Just give us a little time to try and see if we can work this out. You were so great, we really want to at least try and convince you. Please?"
There was a long pause, and then a sigh. "Fine," Alejandro said finally. "You can drop by for a few minutes."
"We'll be right over."
Alejandro was from a pleasant, if slightly run down, neighborhood. A lot of kids were outside playing; a few adults were walking dogs. It was hard not to notice that they were all predominantly Hispanic, which just reinforced Weisel's comment about making the band more ethnically appealing.
Alejandro's house was bright and cheery, though; a springtime garden bloomed out front, a cat and dog roamed the yard, and the mailbox had a climbing vine plant twined around it. "Behave yourself," Richard warned.
"I am. I'm here, aren't I?"
"And I'm suspicious."
Chris rolled his eyes and rang the doorbell, and a moment later Alejandro opened the door. He looked slightly exasperated. "Hi," he mumbled, sounding none too thrilled.
"Hey."
"H'lo."
"Uh… Come on in, I guess." He stood aside and the two shuffled in, and were greeted by the loud squawking of some kind of bird in another room. "Mama, can you calm that thing down?" he called. "The stupid parakeets always do this when someone new comes in. Honestly, it's dogs that are supposed to be the loud animals… uh… Yeah." He shrugged, trailing off.
"I think that's the longest sentence you've ever said," Richard noted.
Alejandro shrugged a little, as his mother walked in to join them. "Hello again, it's nice to see you." She smiled warmly. "Can I get you anything? Why don't you come talk in the kitchen; Rosalia and I are baking cookies."
Chris and Richard exchanged glances, and finally Chris said cheerfully, "I've never met a fresh baked cookie I didn't like."
"This way, then." Alejandro gave him a slightly odd look, and then led the way further into the house. They stepped into the kitchen, where the scent of baking cookies wafted through the room.
Rosalia was standing at one of the counters, stirring a bowl of something that was most likely batter, but judging by how much of it covered her, the outside of the bowl, and the surrounding area, there wasn't a lot left in the bowl to stir. She looked up and eeped slightly. "Hi, Chris," she finally said, giving him an adoring look.
"Hey, Rosalia. Wow, it smells great in here!" Chris answered brightly.
"Mama and I are baking cookies. The first batch is in the oven already. You can have some if you want. When they're done."
"That would be great."
"Ught, I didn't realize what a mess it was in here," Mrs. Cortez sighed. "Rosalia…" She shook her head. "Well, why don't we clean up some? You boys might as well just talk in the rec room downstairs, it's more comfortable anyway. Don't worry, we'll bring your cookies." She laughed a little, and Rosalia giggled, and Alejandro rolled his eyes.
"This way, come on. Thanks, Mama…" He sounded even more exasperated now, as he led them back out of the kitchen, and down a short staircase into the rec room.
He flipped the light on, and both Chris and Richard went kind of speechless. It was a warm room with an old, ragged couch and a few beanbag chairs; two walls were lined by bookshelves, and the other with stuffed animals. And above one of the bookshelves hung an oversized poster from Game On, Chris's show, and a grinning Chris Ivers looked down from the middle. There were other posters hanging up—the split between Alejandro's relatively male posters and Rosalia's little girl ones was almost even—but that one was the most prominent.
No one spoke for a second.
"Look, it was Rosalia's favorite show," Alejandro finally blurted.
"Did I say anything?" Chris answered. Richard kicked him, and he glared back.
"No, I just… Feel kind of silly. I guess." Alejandro shrugged. "And yeah, she's making those cookies for you, so you'd better like them."
"I like cookies," Chris answered. "And I promise I'll like them, even if they're burned and have no sugar or… whatever."
"Good." Alejandro hesitated. "The couch is more comfortable than it looks, so…"
Richard grabbed Chris and dragged him to the couch, though he kept glancing uneasily up at the poster. Something about the giant image of Chris on one side, with the actual Chris on the other side, was just kind of eerie.
Alejandro took a bean bag and had to crane his neck slightly to look up at them.
"So…" he said.
Richard leaned forward. "Look, Alejandro, we know why you're hesitant. We do. But you have to understand—you're perfect. We couldn't have dreamed up a better bass singer. You're perfect."
"You're better than Johnny was," Chris put in, glancing over at one of the bookshelves. He squinted slightly behind his glasses, and was pretty sure he could make out a significant portion of the book series his TV show had spawned, though he didn't comment on it.
"Well… Good, I guess, but…" He shrugged. "It doesn't solve my problems. And anyway, I really don't think you want me."
"I really think we do," Richard answered. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, I'm…" He looked distractedly at Chris, who guiltily turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. "I guess it's not a huge secret at school but I didn't exactly talk about it, you know?"
"What?"
Richard kicked Chris again. "He means he's gay, Chris."
"Oh." Chris smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, didn't realize."
Alejandro shrugged and looked down at his hands, uncomfortable. "So I'm guessing that's not… Really boyband material."
"You kidding?" Richard shot back. "It's the entertainment industry; everybody's gay."
"I don't think that's true."
"Chris?" Richard prompted. "You?"
Chris shrugged. "Well, bi, yeah, but I don't exactly tell reporters that."
"Ditto," Richard admitted.
"And I'm pretty sure that Nick—in our band—is gay."
"And the Uptown Boyz are totally gay."
"Really?" Alejandro asked.
"Um, yes. Straight guys don't dress like that. And anyway, Weisel said so." Richard kicked Chris preemptively, but Chris kicked back. He wasn't stupid enough to point out blatant lies when they were working.
"Are you guys serious?"
Chris shrugged easily. "I lost my virginity to a guy, so… yes."
"You're fifteen!" Alejandro yelped. "I mean…"
"Entertainment industry," Chris reminded him. "It's not that big a deal."
"You're fifteen." Alejandro sounded slightly stunned, and was definitely blushing.
"But the point is," Richard put in, "it doesn't matter. I mean, yes, we pretend we're straight for the sake of the little girls, but you've got to have noticed that the whole boyband concept is pretty damn homoerotic."
"Yeah, but… That aside, I want to go to college."
"Who says you can't?" Richard asked. "I mean, maybe not immediately, but you've got to admit… Spending time in a boyband makes for a pretty good entrance essay."
Alejandro shrugged. "But… I don't know. I don't think you think of it like I do."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd be the first person in my family to go to college. And my parents both worked so hard to make it so I can—and I've always pushed myself, that's always been my goal. It's all I've worked towards and I don't know if I can just… give that up."
"But if we're successful, then not only could you get into college with no problem, and afford college with no problem, but you'd also be able to send your sister to college, and your parents… I mean, you're the kind of guy who'd want to support them. And you could," Richard answered.
"I—"
He was cut off by footsteps on the stairs, and Rosalia appeared, holding a tray of cookies with three cups of milk carefully balanced in the middle. "Those smell awesome," Rich noted, and Alejandro sprang up to help her carry them, and set them down on a coffee table by the couch.
"Thanks, Rosalia," he said, and ruffled her hair.
"I didn't bake them for you." She gave Chris that adoring look again.
He noticed that, taped up next to the poster, was the piece of paper he'd signed for her. "It's pretty cool that you can cook," he said, taking one. "I mean, I sure can't."
She hesitated, then decided she was shy again and blushed and hid behind her brother. He took a bite and reached for the cup of milk to swallow. "Really good!" he proclaimed, and she peeked out.
"Thanks," she said shyly.
Alejandro looked bemused. "Since when are you shy, kiddo?"
She squeaked and hid, then peaked out again to say, "I put up your autograph by Alejandro's poster."
Chris and Richard exchanged looks, and Alejandro looked kind of mortified. "Oh, I saw. These are real good cookies," Chris said quickly.
"You were his favorite on the show. He got all your books too. And CDs from the show 'cause you were on them. He hung up the pictures in his room."
"Okay, Rosalia, that's enough, thanks for the cookies, you'd better go help Mama clean up. Right now."
"But—"
"Scat!" He steered her by her shoulders back towards the staircase, and she started out, then paused at the foot of the stair.
"Bye, Chris. You should come visit again. I'll make more cookies."
"I definitely will," he promised, and Alejandro looked like he was being choked. He turned back towards the others.
"Not one word. Please, for the love of God," he pleaded.
"Okay," Chris answered.
"So about the band… Wow, these are good cookies," Richard started.
"Yeah, Mama made them."
"I figured." Richard paused. "So… You in?"
"No! I said, I can't. I can't let my parents down like that."
"But…" Chris hesitated. "I mean, is it letting them down? They want you to do well, I know, but if you want to try something else—it doesn't mean you failed at the first thing."
Alejandro shook his head. "You don't understand. I… I don't even know why you want me in the band. You made it pretty clear at school you didn't even like me."
He sounded so dejected that Chris almost winced.
"I was… I…" Chris groaned. "I was jealous."
"No kidding," Richard mumbled, and Chris kicked him.
"It was just, I didn't fit in at all… And you saw how bad I suck at actual classes… and, well, I thought I'd at least get into the play and fit in there but I couldn't even manage that. I mean, do I look like a Siamese child to you? Or a Siamese anything? I'm blond! Very blond! So I just… I mean, you got an awesome part in the show, and I was seriously jealous because I didn't realize how much you deserved it… And now I do… So I'm sorry."
There was a stunned, awkward quiet moment.
"Oh," Alejandro said. "I… Oh."
"So I really… I really think you'd be great."
"Thanks. But I still… I just can't. I'm sorry." He shrugged and took a cookie. "I'm really sorry," he added.
"Hey, at least we got cookies out of the trip," Richard said amicably. "Thanks, Alejandro, we'll see you around." He stood up and pulled Chris up after him. "I guess we'll… head off, then."
"I'll definitely listen to your band," Alejandro promised.
"Thanks." Rich grinned cheerfully, and Chris raised an eyebrow, but since he hadn't been kicked in a while assumed everything was okay. Or that Richard was up to something. Or possibly both.
They started to walk towards the stairs, but Alejandro asked quietly, "Chris?"
"Yeah?" Chris turned.
"I, uh, just…" He was blushing again. "Could you sign my poster? Please?"
Chris broke into a real grin. "No problem, Alex."
Alejandro dug through a desk and produced a marker, and Chris signed at the bottom of the poster in big letters, and winked at Alejandro as they headed out.
It wasn't until they were on the outside porch, door shut after them, that Richard turned to Chris and announced, "And now, Plan B."
"There's a Plan B?"
"Yep. I didn't want to have to do this, though. He's such a nice guy."
"What are you doing?"
"Calling my mother."