Chapter 3. Potential Break-Up Song
Stanford paced the length of the practice room. He stopped, checked his phone, glared at it, and continued pacing. While it was typical for Simon to be a little late to rehearsals, it wasn't like him to be nearly three hours late to rehearsal. Stanford had tried calling, texting, Face Timing- no answer. He'd had Zoom, Sherman, Spinner, even Viv and Agura try to get a hold of him, but with no luck. Simon wasn't answering anyone.
They'd practiced without him, running individual parts hoping he'd show so they could put it all together in one long run through and work out the kinks from there. Not to mention they still had choreography to figure out, what line up they would stand in for the best sound; they hadn't even decided on a third song yet for the final round of the competition! Sure, they had until December, but Stanford didn't want to push it.
He checked his phone again.
"Fuck!"
"Still nothing?" Zoom asked popping up from his seat on the piano bench.
"Yep." Stanford confirmed. "Nothing." He turned to the Cortez brothers. "You guys hear anything?"
"Nope." Spinner said popping the p. Sherman just shook his head not looking up from the homework he'd pulled out.
Stanford huffed. He opened his mouth to say another thing about his brother when all their phones went off.
It was Simon in the group chat.
Simon: Cheers mates! The brilliantly talented Simon Ian Rhodes is moving up in the world! I've been called to star in a little Hallmark movie about the true meaning of Christmas or something. Doesn't matter. Filming starts right away so consider this my resignation from BF5. I quit. Cheers!
"I'm gonna fucking murder him!" Stanford shouted while dialing Simon's number. The call went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Voicemail. Stanford almost threw his phone. So, Simon was going to ignore his calls after that? Fine. He blocked his brother's number.
"Sooo, what do we do now?" Spinner asked.
"I don't know," Stanford said exasperated. "We can figure something out later. Right now, I need to get out of here."
Without further explanation, he turned on his heel and practically fled the practice room.
...
Zeke's was a small restaurant just outside of town. It was retro themed, complete with license plates and classic car parts along the walls as well as an old jukebox in the corner. Stanford sat on one of the stools along the counter playing with the straw in his half-drunk milkshake, his other elbow on the countertop, chin resting in his palm.
He and the others given Simon an ultimatum in the group chat. "You have twenty minutes to reply before we're officially kicking you out of BF5 and out of the group chat." That was twenty-five minutes ago. Simon was out and BF5 was down a member with a competition in two and a half months. Stanford took a long drink of his milkshake. They were colossally fucked.
The bell on the door chirped alerting Stanford he wasn't alone in the diner anymore. He continued to drink his milkshake.
"Aren't you lactose intolerant?"
"I'm wallowing, Viv." Stanford said turning to her. "Let me wallow in peace."
Viv brushed a stray blonde curl behind her ear. "I heard what happened. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Thanks. Sorry doesn't solve our problem though."
"I know."
"I always knew my brother was an ass," Stanford turned back to the counter. "But I didn't think he'd do this."
"Really? We're talking about the same Simon, right?" Viv asked. "Older, slightly taller, changed his major at least six times when he got caught up in the next hottest thing? That Simon?"
"Point taken," Stanford grumbled taking another sip of his milkshake. "So, what are we supposed to do now?"
"Two things. Either find someone better than Simon, or drop out of the competition," she said.
"The registration fee is non-refundable."
"So, the first one then."
Stanford sighed. "I guess. But where are we going to find someone new on such short notice?"
"Ask around the music department," Viv suggested. "I'm sure there's someone who can easily replace Simon."
Stanford thought for a moment. He turned back to Viv. "What about you? You could sing Simon's part in your sleep."
"Stanford, you know I can't."
"Why not?" He whined.
She gave him a flat look. "You mean on top of Chorale, my voice lesson, piano lesson, cello lesson, rehearsals for my two-and-a-half-hour senior performance recital, and singing for your senior project?"
Upon hearing her schedule, Stanford made a face. That and the two milkshakes were finally catching up with him. "So, the guys and I will find someone."
"Good plan."
"Yep. Now," he said rising from his seat, "if you'll excuse me, those milkshakes are starting to kick in."
"Milkshakes? As in plural?" He could practically feel the disapproval in her tone.
"I was wallowing, Viv!" He clutched his gurgling stomach and ran for the bathroom. She shouted something after him, but he didn't hear it. Just like his brother, the milkshakes were definitely a mistake.