Sketch

105 - Sam

Once again, I feel like a massive hypocrite for telling Emmy that everything's going to be okay when I'm not even sure if I believe it.  I'm glad when she turns to look out of the window.  It means she might not see the anxious look on my face.

The taxi ride seems to be taking forever and the bad weather is only helping to sour my already unstable mood. 

It's simple; we go in, play a song, and leave.  It's nothing new.  Nothing we haven't done before.  The song is well rehearsed and we all know what to do.  Thing is, I can't stop playing mind games with myself.  I twist the lyrics in my head; erase words and change the pace.  I talk myself tongue tied and forget how to play the guitar.

I can feel my hands starting to sweat and I hate how het up I'm getting myself.  Vince is on his phone and Ollie's staring out of the window, a thoughtful look on his face.  I scoot forward in my seat so I can tap him on the shoulder.  He turns around to look at me from his seat in front.

"Nervous?" I ask.

He seems to contemplate my question for a second.  I notice Vince lower his phone and Emmy moves her gaze to Ollie, awaiting his answer.

"I probably should be," he says finally.  "I mean, this is a big deal and we know that Tanya will chew our asses big time if we mess up.  But on the other hand, this is what we do."  He looks to Vince and Emmy too, letting them know he's speaking to all of us.  "It's not like this is our first time playing for an audience.  We're a band and playing music is our thing.  Treat it like a gig, be it for a hard audience, and we'll be fine."

Ollie deserves a medal for managing to calm all of us and stem the flow of negative energy currently circulating my body.  As much as it pains me to admit it, he's exactly right.  We needed reminding that this is our profession.  It's not like we're musicians being asked to dance the Nutcracker or footballers auditioning for a play.  We're being asked to play music and play music is precisely what we do.

A collective breath later and we've pulled to a stop, the driver signalling that we've reached our location. 

We all get out and after lugging our equipment onto the pavement with us, we look up at the tall, grey building.  It wouldn't look like anything out of the ordinary if it weren't for the plaque above the door.  Embellished gold letters spell out the record companies name and for a moment I imagine it being the new name on our CDs, but I force myself not to think too far ahead.  Baby steps.  Audition first, contracts later.

After meeting up with Tanya we're rushed through the foyer and up to the third floor.  Then we're carted past several other bands, not getting a chance to size up our competition, and into our rehearsal room.  We learn the representatives from the record company are expecting us in a little over an hour so it's straight into practising. 

Tanya scrutinises us through narrow eyes as we play a quick run-through.  Her lips are a thin line as we finish and I hold my breath until I see a slight smile on the bottom half of her face.

"It's pretty much there," she says, looking completely Tanya with her mahogany hair poker straight and her white shirt crisp and without a crease in sight.  "You've done brilliantly for the time frame you had."

Emmy moves to the window and I can hear her continuing to warm her voice up from the other side of the room.  I don't bother her, choosing to deal with my own nerves.  They seem to be slowly settling in my chest, making my lungs feel heavy, labouring my breaths to slow huffs.

"Stop panicking yourself, Sam."

I look up from wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans to see Tanya standing in front of me.  "I can't help it," I admit.  "I can't help feeling like it's my responsibility to get us through this."