unREASONable by Arya Matthews
Track 5
Alexandra
Marshall is glaring again. He can be my guest because he can’t ruin this moment for me. They’re ready to hear me play, but I need to pause and relish playing with Project Viper for the first time. World-class musicians have their attention on me while I stand in the room where chart-smashing songs have been written and rehearsed and brought to life. If I close my eyes, I can hear them. Only there’s no need to imagine anything. Soon enough, these songs will become my day-to-day reality. The Vipers will play them for me. They’ll play them with me. Hot-blooded Marshall, flirty CJ, easy-going Zach, curious Shane, quiet Graham. I am so, so, so lucky. They’re all mine to learn from and to hang out with for six whole months. Longer than that if I manage to win them over. If I can stop fangirling and play.
I take one more fortifying breath, my nerves less fraying now, and tell Graham, “Go ahead.”
Already at the drums, Graham counts us in. I practiced I Don’t Want to Answer That for hours before I came to the States and more after. I thought I had it, but when I’m put on the spot, my fingers do their own thing while my mind screams at me to drop the bass and beg forgiveness for imagining I’m on the same level with them.
“A little softer.” CJ’s encouraging smile gives me hope that I don’t sound as bad as I think I do.
Playing bass on its own is quite amazing, but playing it with other instruments, through a robust amp? I dissolve in the dark, rich sound that fills the room.
Marshall doesn’t sing along, and the song is empty without him. In the slower bridge, I steal a peek at him and regret it immediately. He leans his back against the wall, thumbs stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans, a brooding expression on his face. He will definitely cause me trouble. He will be my worst nightmare. I will never come out of these six months with Project Viper alive.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Shane says after we wrap up the song.
I exhale. Adrenaline still crackles in my middle, sweetening the idea that at least not all of them are set on banishing me right away.
“Not too bad?” Zach pipes from his spot. “She’s got pretty darn good rhythm and emotion. Marsh?”
Marshall leaves the rehearsal room without saying anything.
> <
Zach goes to Utah to spend some time with his family and takes the O’Neals with him. Marshall and CJ stay. So do I, of course. Where am I going to go? We sleep in until unholy hours. They’re exhausted from the tour, and I’m still battling the effects of relocation and the time difference, although that’s finally starting to diminish.
I follow the checklist I made before I came here that consists of all the songs I need to memorize, including learning the musical jargon in English and a whole lot more. In the mornings, I practice bass for hours on my own then play more with CJ. Even though the band should enjoy a rightfully earned vacation, he spends hours with me, explaining more intricate bass techniques and streamlining my practice routines. All with utmost patience and without any complaints. Oftentimes, he’s the first to suggest we should practice together. He is the perfect tutor. I take every bit of advice he’s willing to impart and practice more after dinner. The more I practice, the better I get. The better I get, the less reason Marshall has to scowl at me.
“You’re sounding better every day,” CJ comments one afternoon as we come to the kitchen for some lunch.
It warms my heart to hear him say that. He has no idea how much it means to me. I have to succeed with them not only because Project Viper is my new start, but also because of all the help I’ve received to get here. I can’t squander this opportunity.
He rummages in the fridge. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Surprise me.”
The fridge is always stocked with soups, salads, fruit slices, and high-protein snacks. The Vipers employ a nutritionist and a cook who prepare all of the food to keep us in shape. To help with that, the guys typically abide by an exercise routine as well. I’m required to take part in the fitness regimen, but I’m still enjoying the insane variety of food. In my three weeks with the Vipers I’ve eaten more kinds of fruits and vegetables than in all of my nineteen years before coming here.
CJ smashes two sandwiches in the panini grill then brings over two bowls of salad made with cubed feta, tomatoes, and cucumbers.
The front door swings open. Animated conversation floats from the entryway into the kitchen, growing louder as the visitors approach. Fiona and three other girls enter the kitchen, each rolling a wheeled suitcase.
One of the girls, a curvaceous blonde with lush hair that swoops over her shoulders in perfect, loose curls, gives CJ an eyebrow-raised look. “Bringing a girl to the Nest? Are you finally getting serious about someone?”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone, this is Alexandra, Project Viper’s new bassist,” Fiona announces with a calm tone, like my addition to the Vipers is nothing special.
Mouths open, the three other girls stare at me. Why does it matter to them who I am?
The golden-haired bombshell turns to Fiona. “You’re serious? The new bassist is a girl? Now, that explains why Shane said I’m in for a surprise. I know why he’d keep mum about her—he’s a complete troll, but why didn’t you tell us?”
Fiona smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Her friend, the only one who’s said anything so far, replies with, “That is fantastic. I’m Elise, by the way. The Vipers’ stylist and Shane’s girlfriend.” She sits across from me and dazzles me with a warm smile.
“The numbers are finally evening out,” says another girl. Tall and slender, she rocks bright red lipstick and a tight bun of snow-white hair.
“Well, that depends, Charlie,” says the third girl, her voice quiet. I almost gasp when I recognize her. She’s one of the photographers from the concert. “Elise, you, and I are just the support, and Alexandra’s the one who’ll have to deal with—”
Charlie rebuffs with, “Juliette, she won’t have to deal with them alone.”
The girls engage in a round of banter as though CJ and I aren’t there.
He returns with our paninis and sits next to me. “Why are you all here?”
Charlie tucks a lock of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear. “We’re here to take a few pictures. However, this is slightly unexpected.” Her eyes take me in, and her lips fold into an unsatisfied pout.
I take a quick bite of my salad. Why is she looking at me like that?
“What’s wrong, Charlie?” CJ asks.
She shakes her head once. “It seems like we’ve got a little more work to do than anticipated. Alexandra needs to look a little less like a baby. I’m glad I asked Elise to come.”
I bristle at that. Is it because I don’t bother wearing makeup right now? The new climate set my hair and skin on the fritz, so I’m giving it a few weeks to adjust before I figure out a new makeup routine. The tomatoes now taste a bit sour at the idea of having to cake my eyes with mascara every day again, but I will do it to get them to stop thinking I look like a child.
CJ wraps one arm around me. “Don’t laugh at my matryoshka, Charlie. She’s still learning the ropes.”
My cheeks burn, and I push him away. The girls laugh.
“CJ, I thought only Shane had a problem with touching everyone left and right. Maybe not.” Elise gives him a meaningful smile.
“I promise I’ll behave from now on,” he says to me.
Charlie rolls her eyes and waves to Juliette. “We’d best start setting up for the photos.”
Juliette nods.
“Go ahead and finish eating,” Fiona says. “We’ll be upstairs.”
The girls head out of the kitchen, just in time for Marshall to walk in and block the passage to their posse.
“Oh, hi. I love seeing you all and whatnot, but what’s up?”
“We’re here for a small shoot for Alexandra. Even though you’re waiting until March to see whether she’s going to be a permanent addition to the band, The Label wants us to prepare the media assets,” Charlie explains. “Just doing my job, promoting your band. You hired me, remember?”
Marshall smiles, wide and not at all genuine. “Juliette’s the one who does the photos. And I didn’t hire you. The Label did. It’s the only reason I listen to your ridiculous ideas.”
“My ridiculous ideas turn you into eye candy for all the girls who spend cash on your songs and the Viper merch. You’re welcome.” Charlie sidesteps him and continues on her way, and Marshall joins me and CJ at the dining table.
“I love how Kiera forgets to tell us about things like this. Good thing we didn’t go anywhere today,” he grumbles.
I take one more bite and focus on the flavors of my salad rather than the disappointment Marshall’s words bring me. I can’t go anywhere. I have no driver’s license. I never had a chance to learn how to drive back in Russia. I was too young to do so before my life unraveled, and later there was no money. I’ll have to find some way to get out of the house now and then. Maybe with Fiona?
Marshall returns me to reality. “You’d better eat fast before the social media harpy swoops back.”
“Nice to know I’m not the only person you hate,” I respond as I pick up the still hot sandwich. My fingertips are sore and peeling from all the bass practice, and the heat stings more than usual. I have no choice but to drop the sandwich back on the plate.
“Marsh really does hate Charlie. They get on each other’s nerves something awful.” CJ is almost done with his panini. “He doesn’t hate you though.”
I check to see if Marshall agrees with that statement. He’s resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped against the tabletop, eyes on me. He’s always watching me, judging my every move. I know I don’t measure up to his standard. Not yet.
“I’m still undecided on that,” he says with a completely straight face. “I’m giving you until our first gig.”
CJ lets out a loud sigh. “Geez, Marsh. Relax a little, will you? Eat something.”
Marshall rises from his seat with that devious and irresistible smile of his that harvests thousands of likes on social media. “Nah. I’ve got to see what Charlie has in mind for your matryoshka.” He goes to the fridge and takes out a can of Diet Coke.
I chide myself for getting caught in the sticky web of his smile and push away from the table. “Don’t you dare come along.”
“Thanks for the invitation. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He cracks the can open and takes a long, relaxed swig.
I want to toss the rest of my salad at Marshall, but that will only make him laugh. So I choose to not waste my energy on him any further. He’s obviously one of those people who enjoys riling others up. He will not get that pleasure from me.