There was excitement in the line as it inched closer and closer to the front doors. People had come from all over for this, and some of them had waded through a lot of crap to get here. Hearing their stories only added to my regret. I’d been handed fame on a platter and hadn’t appreciated it until it was too late. Story of my life.

As I trudged along that sea of hope and possibility, it became increasingly clear to me that Matt had been right all along. I had ridden the guys’ coattails, and I was the one who owed them, not the other way around. They’d all put so much effort into making the band what it was, and me? I’d enjoyed the spoils, but I hadn’t really contributed to earning them. Well, if I won this, that would all change.

Not wanting any distractions, I’d left my cell phone at my parents’ place. I was regretting that now, as thoughts of Anna clouded my mind. I wished she was here, cheering for me, supporting and encouraging me, even if it was over the phone. She hadn’t called yet, and I hadn’t had the guts, or time, to call her either, so I had no idea if Kiera had given her my note or not. If she had, Anna’s silence didn’t bode well for our future. Like the D-Bags, that was completely up in the air. To be determined. God, I hated those words.

When Liam and I finally got inside, we were herded to one of many registration tables. As I watched people filling out paperwork, Liam asked me, “Are you going to stay in disguise or let them know it’s you?”

I watched as people handed over their IDs to the people behind the table, and sighed. “I didn’t bring a fake ID along with me, so it looks like I’ll be telling the truth.”

Liam gave me a squeeze on the shoulder, then sighed. “Hey, before we do this, I just wanted to let you know…I’m sorry for all the jerk comments. I was just…really jealous about everything you had, but it was stupid and petty, and I’m sorry.” Dropping his hand off my shoulder, he studied the floor. “It’s just hard to see someone you know have everything you’ve ever wanted, especially when they don’t seem to appreciate it.” He met my eye again. “But I do care about you, and it was wrong of me to feel that way. Basically, I suck, and I know it, and I’m sorry.”

His apology hit close to home, and I smiled. “I know you suck…but thank you. I think I did something similar with the guys…so I get it. We both suck…must be genetic.”

Laughing, Liam clapped me on the back. “Definitely.”

Chapter 24

Hope

Liam and I were called up to different stations at the same time, but I gave him a good luck clap before we parted ways, not that this part was hard or anything. It was just paperwork. The lady at the table had a number waiting for me when I stepped up to her. I smiled at seeing it—6969—my favorite number.

“Name?” she asked, her fingers hovering over her laptop, ready to record the information.

Clearing my throat, I stated, “Griffin Hancock.”

She started to type, then stopped and looked up at me. “Are you messing with me?” she asked, scrutinizing me. Since Liam had done such a good job on my disguise, she was having a hard time seeing the former rock star in the person standing before her.

I sighed, then shook my head. Leaning down, I told her, “I’m Griffin Hancock, former D-Bag. I don’t want people to recognize me, that’s why I look like this. I just want to try out, like everybody else.”

Her eyes were wide, but instead of outright believing me, she asked, “May I see your ID please?”

After I handed it to her, she gasped. “Oh my God, it is you. You realize this is a contest to replace you, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. Can I fill out the forms?”

“Oh, yes, yes…” She handed them my way. Once I began working on them, she asked, “Can we get a testimonial? Before your audition.” When I looked up at her, she said, “Just a little something we can use for the broadcast, to help the audience get to know you. Not that they don’t already know you.” She could barely contain her enthusiasm. She was either one of my elusive fans or, more likely, she recognized television gold when she saw it.

“Sure. Why not.” The more the audience knew me and knew my side of the drama, the better my chances were.

The girl looked over my shoulder and snapped her fingers. When she had someone’s attention, she pointed at me and mouthed the words He’s next. After I handed her my completed paperwork, she handed me my number and gestured to a waiting area. “You’ll be called when it’s time for your group to enter the auditorium. Until then, wait over there for your testimonial.” With a beaming smile, she stuck her hand out. “I’m not supposed to say this, but good luck!”

I clasped her hand with both of mine. “Thanks.” I was going to need it.

When the camera was finally thrust in my face, the host of the show said, “So what is your story? How is it that you came to be here today?”

Inhaling a deep breath, I told him, “My name is Griffin Hancock, and I’m here to get my job back.”

Frowning, the host looked over at the cameraman. “Cut,” he said, making a kill motion with his hand. The red light instantly died on the camera. The host turned back to me, irritated. “Look, this is a serious part of the show, to let the audience get to know your personality. So, just tell the truth okay? What’s your name?”

Leaning forward, I said, “Griffin…Hancock. I’m the former bassist of the D-Bags, and I’m here to get my job back.”