My Rock #3 (The Rock Star Romance Series - Book #3) by Alycia Taylor

Brooke’s
performance.
    When Tristan finished, he stood there looking at the
judges as if he was daring them to tell him what a crappy job he did. If that
was what he’d really wanted, they didn’t disappoint.
    “Wow, Tristan…it’s hard for me to believe you’re the
same guy that wowed us last week. You have to be more consistent, man. One
performance like that is all it will take to get you voted off the show. In
real life, a performance like that could have a stadium full of people
requesting a refund. I’m sorry man; I know that’s not what you wanted to
hear….” Tristan’s face was neutral. I’m sure it’s not what he wanted to hear,
but he either knew how badly he’d done, or he was learning how to react for the
cameras—or both. He gave the country singer a barely perceptible nod and turned
his attention towards Diva.
    Once again, she looked like she was going to cry.
She’d been a pop singer for years, but I really think
she missed her calling as an actress. She did know music, though, and it was
apparent from the look on her face what she’d thought of the performance. She
started to open her mouth, and then she shook her head and closed it. Finally,
she said, “I’m sorry baby. That was so bad.”
    She left it at that and the record producer said, “I
have nothing at all positive to say about that. A positive person might say,
‘At least he showed up,’ but considering that performance, it may have been
better if you’d stayed at home. I won’t be surprised if you’re in the bottom
three tomorrow night.”
    The camera had a close-up on Tristan’s face. He was
getting good at keeping it neutral. He had to be hurting. I couldn’t imagine performing and then having to stand there and be told how
awful it was. I was a coward like that. It was the
reason I refused to sing solo—I hated the thought of
people judging me. Tristan let them finish though and then walked off the stage
with his head held high.

 
    CHAPTER
TEN
    TRISTAN
    I knew before I’d hit my last note how bad I did during round six. I couldn’t blame the judges for saying how bad it was. The
truth was , I would have lost respect for them if they
hadn’t. I had so much shit in my head and I couldn’t
let it go. I think it all came out in my song…and it
wasn’t pretty. I stood there and listened to the
judges, knowing that the camera was on my face, and I tried not to give
anything away. I was scared to death that if I let my
face move, it would betray me to millions of people and the whole world would
know how disappointed I was in myself. I wished I
really didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. That would have made it easier. I should have gotten high before I came; that would have
made me numb.
    I didn’t look at Elly’s face when it was all over. I could see her in my peripheral vision and I knew she was watching. As bad as it
was to have to face the judges, it would have been a hundred times worse to see
the disappointment in her eyes. She probably would have blamed it on me being high. I blamed the poor
performance on sobriety. So far, it sucked. After I filled out the rehab papers, I had dumped everything. I flushed it down the toilet, or I would have been digging it back out first
thing in morning, or maybe sometime during the night. I woke up with a pounding head and my hands were shaking so hard I could barely
hold my own dick to pee.
    All day long, I went back and forth, telling myself
that I didn’t want to do this shit and Elly could go fuck herself if she didn’t
like it; and then telling myself that I should do it if for no other reason
than I didn’t want to be my parents someday. I considered calling my guy. I had enough cash to get
something to get me through at least for a couple of days.
    I ’d
get pissed at myself for dumping it all. I should have
saved just a taste of it…but I hadn’t, and I didn’t call him. If I was going to commit to this rehab shit, I was committing
to it. I was brave