A/N: Hey everybody. I've established that rotation schedule I mentioned in Allegro, and next up is Stiletto, then Allegro, and then the cycle starts again with Backbeat. I'll finish Drawn sometime in there when I feel so inspired. I've also decided to start putting in quotes, a la some of the fabulous other writers, like Miss Construed, greenlemons, and many more, except I'll be using song lyrics. They'll usually be from the title song, but I have a few that fit from extra songs, so I'll add those to the playlist as well. I'm pretty sure that is all that is new, so I'll shut up now, lol.

Enjoy!

Chapter Three- Excuse Me, Mr.

Well I've been waiting in line
And I'd like to buy some of your time
I'm very anxious, eager, willing
-No Doubt, "Excuse Me Mr."

SPOV

I was upstairs in the kitchen when I heard a loud crash in the basement. And I mean loud. This was followed by a string of expletives from one very distinguishable Swede.

"It's Eric," Bill confirmed, taking the sandwich I was offering him. "He's yelling at Pam because none of Andre's songs sound right when she sings them." Aww, poor Pam. "Well, not at Pam specifically," Bill continued, picking up on my expression, "more like at the situation in general. But Pam's dishing back plenty, believe me."

Almost as if they were on cue, Pam came storming up from the basement. She whirled around at the top of the stairs, screamed, "Pussy!" down at Eric, and slammed the door behind her. Well, then.

"Good to see you this afternoon, Pammie. And so eloquent to boot!" I smirked at her as she noticed Bill and me in the kitchen. She returned the smirk before scooping up my much smaller frame into a hug. Pam wasn't fat or anything, she was just built like an Amazon. Thank you, Brick House.

"Sookie, I'm so glad you came. Not that it'll improve Eric's mood or anything, but I'm glad nonetheless," she smiled another toothy smile. Pammie was up to something. I just hoped it was the same something Bill and I were up to.

"Sandwich?" I offered.

"Sure. BLT?" she inquired, hopping up on the counter. I nodded and started to make more sandwiches.

"Eric just needs to fucking learn that of course it isn't going to sound right when I sing Andre's songs, and obviously I can't scream. Well, at least not in a musical sense," she added, snagging a piece of bacon. Pam was right, Lacey Mosley she was not. "He also needs to get his head out of his ass."

"I thought you just established that," I said, laughing as I grabbed the bread out of the toaster.

"I mean about you, Stackhouse. You're one of the best damn bassists out there, and Eric knows it. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to even out the band's hole to pole ratio." That Pam.

I handed Pam her BLT, grabbing one for myself as well. She pulled a six-pack of beer out of the fridge.

"We better get down there," Bill stated. "Eric's gonna start whether we're down there or not."

I followed Bill and Pam down into the basement, where Eric was still throwing shit around and cursing. His attention snapped to us as soon as we hit the landing.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" he all but growled; the she being me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Pam beat me to it. "It's Bill's basement, you dick. Besides, we like Sookie. You should too." I couldn't have said it better myself.

"Fine…whatever. She can sit and watch."

"Thanks, sergeant," I retorted, rolling my eyes and plopping down on one of the couches. Eric looked like he had something to respond with, but he was silenced by the outside door opening. I watched in amazement as ten incredibly good-looking guys made their way into Bill's basement.

This whole situation would have been the shit that fantasies are made of…if some of these guys weren't here to audition for the spot that should have been mine. But some of them were there to sing, and that I could totally get into. I also noticed that Tray Dawson had made his way in too, and was currently talking to Pam, I shrugged.

"Okay. I know that a few of you came to audition together, so you all will go first." Eric had magically regained his composure somewhere in the last five minutes. "First two, whoever wants to start." The musician harem started to look around and at each other. That was when I noticed that they had segregated themselves: bassists on one couch, singers on the other, and the guys who came together were sitting closest to where the two couches almost touched. It was a rock star Venn diagram.

Two of the middle men stood up. One of them, the one with the bass guitar, was an average height for a guy (he wasn't Eric-tall or anything) and he had short, black, curly hair. From first glance, he also had an eyebrow piercing. At a second glance, and some speaking, he had a tongue ring too. The singer was about the same height and such, just with a more Hispanic coloring. Both his nose and eyebrow were pierced. "Names?" Eric asked.

"I'm Felipe de Castro, and this is Victor Madden," replied the singer, in a semi-thick Spanish accent.

"Song?" Eric prompted while they were setting up. Bill had told me this morning that the auditioners' material had to be an Area Five song. Made sense.

"Sooner or Later." I watched a mix of emotion pass across Eric's face before he locked down a bit. I think I was the first one to catch onto the why of it. It was because 'Sooner or Later' was a song that used two guitars, and the need for two guitars was something that hadn't crossed Eric's mind until now.

"We can't do that song." He looked pained as he spoke. "We don't have a second guitarist anymore." Eric kind of looked like a lost puppy. One that had just pissed on your shoe or eaten it. Cute and all, but still a pain in the ass.

"We can do it. I've got it," Pam piped up. She told me about six months ago that she was feeling kind of useless in the band. 'More like eye candy with pipes' was how she put it. Area Five's music was made up of a lot of duets, but it was also a lot of Andre's songs, with Pam supplying 'yeahs' or other such backup. Or her playing tambourine or some other percussion instrument. Which she hated ("Does anyone really play the tambourine anyway?"). There were a few Pam songs, but that was nothing compared to Andre's and the duets. I was the only one privy to her solution to this problem¾she'd decided to pick up guitar herself.

I guess she was choosing now to debut this new skill. Surprise!

Jaws had dropped all around that damn basement at Pam's declaration. She reached behind the couch I was sitting on and extracted an iridescent pink case. Everyone (but me) was transfixed as she pulled a pastel teal electric guitar out and went back to where she had been standing.

Dumbstruck, Eric mumbled, "Okay then," and moved behind his drum kit. Bill began the opening guitar riff, and Pam was quick to follow with the rhythm. I was pretty impressed with her progress over half a year. I was, however, not impressed by Mr. Madden the bassist. Even though he shared a last name with another guitarist, skilled he was not. I didn't know the line to this song myself, but I had heard it before, and it didn't sound to complicated.

I felt like Victor was overcomplicating it. That, and he was just a shitty guitarist. The whole "package deal" thing wasn't looking too good for Felipe, who was actually pretty good. I looked over at Eric, whose face was an interesting mix of uninterested and angry. Something just told me he was pissed at Felipe and Victor (well, mostly Victor) for wasting his time.

The song finished and everyone remained in the same positions except Eric, who stood up and crossed the room. He ended up standing in front of my couch, with his ass in my face. It was a nice ass, for someone who was one the majority of the time. As soon as Eric moved, Bill plopped down next to me, pulling my feet up on his lap, while Pam carefully placed her guitar on a stand. She joined us on the couch shortly after.

Eric ran a hand through his hair before shaking it out and pulling it back.

"He's thinking of something to say," Pam whispered in my ear. Eric rubbed a hand over the scruff on his face, then widened his stance. "Aaaand…he's got something," Pam continued.

"There's really no delicate or tactful way to say this, so I'm just going to say it." Wait, when the fuck was Eric Northman ever tactful? He continued, "Are you willing to get rid of Victor, Felipe?" Silence descended on the basement. Bill took that moment to be a good host and take the members of the Venn diagram upstairs for drinks.

"What part of package deal didn't you understand, Northman?" Felipe spat back. Whoa snap.

"I guess the part where you didn't saddle yourself to a fucking shitty bassist. You're lucky I'm giving you the opportunity to fly solo. It's either that, or the door." Harsh, but kinda true. Victor did suck.

"The door then. Come on, Victor. I'd say thanks for the opportunity, but then I'd be lying." Victor heeled and then they both were gone.

Pam slid off of the couch and moved over to Eric. "Well, that was…fun. How about we call it a day and start working on some new material, with me on vocals and Sookie on bass." Poke the lion, why don't you, Pam? I readied myself for the verbal massacre that was about to occur.

Nothing happened. Well, Bill brought the rest of the auditioners back downstairs, but other than that, nothing happened. Eric glared at Pam and asked for the next duo auditioning to set up.

---

The rest of the acts to audition went much like that first act. By the end of the afternoon, we'd heard a good chunk of Area Five's catalog. We'd also heard a good portion of Eric's colorful vocabulary, as he went off on each and every person to sing or strum for him. He was still fuming from the last guy, a muscle-bound, bald, tattooed guy named Quinn, when Bill nudged me.

"Are we still gonna do this?" he asked, gesturing to my guitar case, which I had deposited not so far from where Pam stashed hers at the beginning of practice.

"Have you seen him? And he already doesn't like me. I'd rather not die." I was only half joking. I finally understood why Eric played the drums; if he didn't have somewhere to release all that energy, he'd explode.

"He practically begged me to invite you over today when he told me about calling a practice at the jazz club." I highly doubted that.

"Fine, fine. Let's just do this, then Eric can yell again and we all can move on." I stood up, straightening out my Strokes t-shirt and picking up my case. I plunked it down on the couch in order to pull out my bass while Bill stealthed over and picked up his guitar. After some minor adjustments, he began the opener to "Excuse Me Mr." by No Doubt. I really don't know why we picked that song, except that it was good, had a really audible bass line, and the whole damn song was ironic. Okay, so I lied, I knew exactly why we picked this song.

I started playing right before Pam jumped in and started singing. She jumped around in her skinny jeans and boho top, doing a damn good impression of Gwen Stefani. It didn't take long to get Eric's attention. Everybody had left by that point, so it was just us, Eric, and Tray. At one point during our impromptu performance, I saw Tray make a start for the drum kit and Eric growled.

Fucking growled.

I'll admit, it was kind of hot.

Tray sat back down on the couch, and I watched Eric cross the room and…unplug the amps. Strum, strum, strum, no dice. Then he left. Jackass. Pam, now having no instrument to tend to, tore up the stairs after him, screaming obscenities and really laying into him. I turned back to Bill, who had his hands in his pockets and his guitar across his back.

"If any one can talk sense into him, it's Pam," Bill reasoned.

"I don't fucking care anymore, Bill. I'm sorry, I just don't. He's a dick, and if he doesn't want me in the band, then fine. I'm out of here though. I'll see you later." I felt bad, honestly I did, because the band was Bill's life, and my giving up was basically the nail in the coffin. All the guys they auditioned were on this same skill level as Madden, or worst, and it seemed that Volusia County didn't have too much to offer by way of freelance bassists. If Eric felt like either running the band into the ground or choosing one of those guys, because of a hang up, then that was fine by me.

I packed my bass back into its hard case before carrying it out to my car. I heard the door open and close again as I popped the trunk on my Sentra. "I mean it Bill, drop it," I huffed as I put the case in the trunk and closing it. The footsteps got closer. "Bill…"

I turned around.

It wasn't Bill. It was Eric. His hair was down again and his hands were jammed into the pockets of his ripped, dark wash jeans. He also had that sad puppy look again.

"Join the band?"

In the words of Sookie: Whoa snap. This is the longest chapter of Backbeat so far, so whoa snap to that too, lol. I don't really have to say here, except that submission for the Deadpan Contest opened on Thursday. Details here: http://www. fanfiction. net/u/2231715/Dead_Pan_Contest (remove spaces). I'm on zee beta list, so if you'd like to use my services, feel free to PM me.

The playlist has been updated, the link is still on the profile.

Oh, Rocktionary:

Lacey Mosley- Lead singer of Flyleaf, she was also the first female screamer I could think of. Might have been because I was listening to Memento Mori at the time.
The 'other Madden guitarist'- a reference to Benji Madden of Good Charlotte, who plays guitar, I am aware, but both are forms of guitars, so yeah.

I think that's everything.

-Sydney