All That Jazz (Part II)

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Shit Godammit.” I said shaking out my legs and flexing my shoulders. My sheet music fluttered up and down with my erratic motions.

“Really lady-like Quinn.” Parker said shaking his blonde hair out of his eyes. I shot him a look. I was forever shooting Parker looks.

Parker waited in the wings with me as his audition was a few after mine. He never got nervous. He never did anything. He just leaned against the wall with a dopey grin. Parker is the kind of person that I hate. He chills and relaxes before auditions, only practicing his starting note and nothing else. He’d walk on stage in front of the directors with the urgency of being in the milk aisle at the grocery store. He’d belt out these incredible notes with passion and character and then mosey on off the stage.

I, however, swore like a sailor. I shook out my arms and legs to get the jitters off. But mostly I swore. I would just keep repeating the most vulgar words to get out my anxiety. Sometimes I punched Parker. That just made him laugh harder.

Don’t get me wrong. Parker has been my best friend for three years since we both had a call back for Cats and sang “Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer” together. We did fun stuff together like karaoke competitions, have bad movie marathons, and bake cakes at two in the morning. We also did boring stuff like go school shopping and painting the bathroom. We were completely inseparable. We once went a month and a half without spending a day apart. There is no one on this planet who knows me better than Parker Flynn and vice versa.

I could hear Kristi Barnson singing some pop song poorly on stage. I listened to her little freshman voice glide over sharp notes and not quite hit them and the pitch was completely wrong.

“Is she seriously singing Lady Gaga to audition for High School Musical?” I whispered to Parker. “I feel like I’m caught in a bad…rendition of this song. Holy shit. She sucks” He whisper/sang back to me. We tended to be a little petty during auditions. Kristi was cute and lovely and a great dancer. She’d probably get featured in every musical number but that girl could not carry a tune if it had a handle. She came walking off the stage her face in the same half smile it was always frozen in. She gave me a quick wave and a smile.

“Quinn Roberts?” I heard a flighty soft voice echo out in the auditorium.

“Fuck.” I said one more time, punching Parker in the arm and walking confidently on to the stage.           

Ms. Chamile looked up from behind her hipster-Tina Fey- style glasses. This was Ms. Chamile’s second musical. Our director for the past forty years had finally retired and Ms. Chamile who was only thirty took over. This was the second musical she directed. Last year she’d shined brightly directing Bye Bye Birdie. I had played Kim MacAfee. Even though the first show had really proved Ms. Chamile’s talent she was still the “Jennifer Lopez” kind of judge. Everyone made the musical. We had the space and the talent. The real competition was getting the lead.

“Hello Quinn. What are you going to be singing for us?” she asked looking over my audition sheet.

“’Spark of Creation’ from Children of Eden” I said trying to keep my voice steady. I handed my sheet music to the pianist. The piano player started. I heard the first few notes. I missed the entrance. Shit. Shitishitshitshit.

“I’m sorry. Can you start over?” I said to the pianist. He gave me a curt nod. I listened again, took a deep breath and,

 “Beyond/Beeeee-yond/Beeeee-yooooo-nd” I sang loudly, belting my strongest notes and trying to add power. I finished my thirty-two bars with a flourish.

“Thank you. The list will be posted tomorrow morning” Ms. Chamile said without raising her pen.

“Thank you.” I said calming my nerves and walking backstage to where Parker was chewing bubble gum and texting. Then came the swearing. Whenever I was nervous my swearing just poured out of me like sweat.

“Shit. Fuck. Bitch.” I said squeezing Parker’s arm with all my might.

“Okay. Hey. Calm down.” He said, brushing his hand over my hair. My hair. Oh my god. I should have put it up. My dad is German and my mom is 100% Italian. So I have this really blonde Arian hair with big Italian curls that always frizz up when the humidity kicks up and it was pretty humid in the auditorium and oh my gosh they aren’t going to cast me because of my friz-

“Hey. Quinn.” Parker interrupted my shift in to panic mode with a wave in front of my face.

“Huh. Yeah? What?” I said shaking out my panic inner monologue.

“Madeline’s going next.” He whispered as this tall brunette beauty walked by me in high heels clicking along the hardwood floor of the stage. Madeline Carter. She was a lot of things but ugly was not one of them. She was one of those eternally cute girls. You know what kind of girl I mean too: the kind of girls that show up in sweatpants and a ponytail and looks like she walked out of an ad for a slumber party. She had the naturally tan skin and the long shiny brown hair and brown eyes and stood at 5’6 with a thin frame but still managed to have a great ass.

I. Hate. Madeline. Carter.

“Hey Quinn” She tossed pleasantly over her shoulder. She was dressed head to toe in pink and still looking like a Barbie but in a cool way.

“Oh hey Maddie” I said with the same smile in my voice. She flounced on to the stage handing her sheet music down to the piano player. The words were muffled but I heard the song loudly and clearly.

“On my own/ Pretending he’s beside me/All alone/ I walk with him ‘til morning”. Her clear sharp mezzo sang out across the theatre.

“Could she be more predictable and generic?” I whispered to Parker.

“She probably only knows that song because it was on Glee.” He whispered back. I smirked. She was good though. Damn good. The piano chords struck the last note. She thanked them and walked past us again.

“Ta” she said waving a hand regally over her right shoulder. I gave her a sarcastic nod while her back was turned. I furrowed my brow at her.

“Elliot Valley.” Ms. Chamile yelled out. Elliot got up – popping his collar and dancing his way on stage. Elliot was an asshole. He was a decent singer with an average baritone range. His tone was not memorable and he was too short to ever be taken seriously as a male lead. He could not remember lines to save his life but he seriously thought he was God’s gift to musical theatre and was always throwing diva fits over every little injustice.

“I was supposed to be next.” Parker snarled under his breath as the opening chords to a Frank Sinatra song played on the piano.

“Oh my god. Cole can’t even pull off this song. Elliot seriously thinks he can. He probably is 100% sure he’ll get Troy too.” I said with a tone of disgust. Parker snorted laughter out. We heard the soft ‘Thank you’ as Elliot came strolling backstage looking like he had just achieved Nirvana.

“Parker Flynn.” He smiled, gave me a quick kiss, and disappeared through the curtains on to the stage. I knew my best friend better than anyone. For every audition he would stand on stage calmly with no sheet music belting out “I’m Alive” from Next to Normal with his hands held loosely behind his back. He was easy to predict. Sure enough, a few seconds later I heard the piano chords to ‘I’m Alive’.

I leaned back against the wall breathing deeply. I shook out the anxious tension in my limbs and slid to the floor. A few minutes later he walked back to me. I looked at him with expectant eyes.

“Nailed it.” He said. He popped a new piece of gum in his mouth and offered his hand down to me to pull me up. I shook my head. His confidence is his ability was astounding. He was good, don’t get me wrong. He wasn’t the best though. Cole was the best. Cole was phenomenal.

“Come on. Let’s go” Parker said offering his hand for me to hold. I laced my fingers with his while we walked outside to the car. Let the post audition panic begin.