Oliver
Sitting in the back of the bus, I tap my fingers nervously against my leg, trying to steady the unease churning in my stomach. The hum of the engine and muted chatter barely distract me from the constant thrum of anxiety. The bus jolts, probably hitting pothole number fifty-five, and I let out a groan, instinctively clutching my stomach as a wave of nausea crashes over me.
The girl sitting a couple of rows ahead of me turns in her seat and gives me a friendly smile.You okay?She mouths.
I open my mouth to respond, but the bus driver decides this would be a good time to hit pothole number fifty-six, so instead of words I let out a small grunt. This bus driver is really starting to piss me off. Like dude, you drive this road every day; you’re really gonna tell me you’re unable to dodge at least a few? He’s either blind or gets some sort of satisfaction from making everyone else on the bus suffer.
Bus girl lets out a snort, and my eyes snap away from where I was glaring at the back of the bus driver’s head, to meet her gaze. She has her hand covering her mouth, but the slight shake of her shoulders shows she is trying really hard to hide her laughter.
I groan – this time out of embarrassment – and give her a sheepish smile. She totally knows I was plotting the bus driver’s death. I give her a thumbs up, because why not make this moment even weirder, before pulling the hood of my hoodie over my eyes to hide in shame.
It’s not even the bus or its driver, making me feel so on edge. Don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely not helping, but it’s my plans for the evening that have me spiraling.
Ferality, a nightclub in downtown Asheville, was hosting its yearly Spotlight event. Thousands of artists submitted audition tapes, hoping to get a spot in tonight’s lineup. A few big names were discovered while performing at Ferality, and while there’s no guarantee any reps would be in attendance, performing here is a huge step forward if you’re trying to break into the industry.
I made an audition tape on a whim, never thinking for a second I would get a callback.
“Good morning, am I speaking to Oliver Fritz?”
“Uh, yeah. This is Oliver.” Dammit! I should have checked the caller ID before answering. Now I’ll be stuck on my phone for five minutes, while some underpaid employee tries to sell me their latest product. “Listen, I’m running late for school, so I can’t really talk right now.”
“I just need two minutes; trust me, you’ll want to hear this, kid.” A chuckle comes through the line. “My name is Daniel Nash; I’ve been going through the audition tapes this morning and was very delighted when yours popped up. We would love to -”
His voice cuts off as I pull the phone off my ear to stare at the screen. I really should have checked the caller ID; it would have stopped me from telling one of the managers at Ferality that I had to leave for school.
Good job Oliver.
“Oliver? Are you still there dude?”
“Y-Yes!” I bring the phone back to my ear. “Sorry, could you please repeat that last part?”
“We watched your audition tape, and we would love to have you perform at our Spotlight event next month. You in or out Oliver?”
“I’m in.” I gasp out. “Wait I got in? You’re not fucking with me?’
He barks out a laugh. “Nope, not fucking with you kid. I’ll email through all the details before the end of the week. You got some talent, dude, I can’t wait to hear you perform. Gotta go!”
Click.
Pothole number fifty-seven - or was that fifty-eight? - snaps me out of the memory. I was so excited after that call that I had to pinch myself numerous times over the last month, just to be sure it wasn’t all a dream. This isn’t my only shot at making it in the music industry. I’m not that dramatic, but if things go well tonight, I could start this journey sooner rather than later.
Can I do this? I don’t know anymore. I was still feeling positive this morning, but now…
The closer the bus gets to Asheville, the less sure I am. I’ve never been a confident guy, I’ve never even performed in front of anyone before. Now in one night, not only do I need to grow a backbone, I have to perform in a fucking club full of people.
Nope, can’t do it. Fuck this. I need to get off at the next stop.
“Scoot over.”
I look up to find bus girl standing in front of me, hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised.
“Huh?” Smooth dude.
She huffs. “You gonna scoot over or do I have to do the walk of rejection back to my seat? I would prefer not to, the guy sitting next to me was being a creep.”
That gets my attention. I slide over, and she drops down next to me. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly,” She laughs, the sound melodic. “Wanna talk about what’s freaking you out? Tell me to fuck off if it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t stop myself from checking up on you. You look like you’re in pain, and the urge to comfort you was strong.”
