Keep Coming Back To Love. Christa Maurice
rang and Mr. Dale went to answer it.
“I’m Bear,” he said when she leaned down to help. “Only my parents and Mr. Dale call me Michael.”
“Candy.”
“You’re really pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“You and Tyler serious?”
Candy glanced at Tyler. He was fiddling with a microphone, but his attention was on her. “Yeah.” As serious as a first date got anyway. None of these schmoes could probably manage a girlfriend and a bourgeoning music career so it would give Tyler some points in their eyes.
“Figures. Mr. Dale ask you if you wanted something to drink? He probably did, huh?”
“He did, but thanks. Pretend I’m not here.” Candy sat down and tried to be invisible.
Tyler was talking to Jeff. Michael went back to messing with his drums. Two more boys thundered down followed by the heavier tread of Mr. Dale. The dark-haired one stopped when he hit the bottom. “Who brought a date? Bear!”
Bear held up his hands. “It wasn’t me.”
“I’m sorry.” Tyler glanced around the room. “I didn’t know it was a problem.”
“It isn’t.” Mr. Dale clasped the dark haired boy’s shoulder. “Say hello to Candy, Jason.”
“We can’t have somebody here watching us practice. He just started and he still sucks with us.” The boy gestured toward Tyler who was turning an awful shade of red that clashed with his hunter green shirt.
“Then it’s a perfect time for him to get used to playing with the band and you all need to practice together in front of an audience. Say hello.” Mr. Dale angled Jason toward her.
The blond, who dressed as if he was still mourning the death of hair metal, stepped around them and approached her with his hand out. “Hi, I’m Brian.”
She stood to shake his hand. “Hi. I think you shop at my store. I work in young men’s.”
“Uh, yeah.” Brian scuffed the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “With my mom.”
Candy remembered him now, and he didn’t dress like this when he was with his mother. This must be his rock-star look, heaven help him.
“I’m Jason.” Jason hadn’t made it as far as a flannel, but his jeans and T-shirt had seen better days. “It’s not going to be perfect, you know.”
Hopefully they didn’t go onstage dressed like this because with the exception of Tyler they looked as if they shopped in the Goodwill dumpster. Jody had never said anything about what a visual mess they were. “What?”
“We’re practicing. It’s not going to be perfect.” Jason clenched his fists.
Brian elbowed him.
“What? It’s not. He just started.” Jason angled his thumb at Tyler, who still clashed with his shirt.
“I don’t expect it to be perfect. That’s why it’s called practice.” Candy smiled. Sounded pretty good. Mr. Dale was smiling too, so it must have been. Jason didn’t look any happier, but he did walk away.
Mr. Dale sat down on the couch with her. “So what do you think?”
“I haven’t heard them.”
“You’ve never seen them play?” He frowned.
“I work a lot and I have school.”
He nodded. “And what are your grades like?”
“A’s and B’s in AP and honors classes.”
He nodded again. “Your parents must be proud.”
Candy made a noncommittal noise because it seemed as if she should respond. Her father hadn’t seen a report card in five years. The school didn’t even have his signature on file. She’d forged his name so if they did compare it would be the same.
“How long have you and Tyler been dating?”
“This is our first date.”
Mr. Dale was starting to look like a bobble head dog. “Tell me, what do you think makes a band successful?”
“I don’t know. Good songs?” Candy clasped her hands in her lap and hoped Mr. Dale would go away. When older guys talked to her this much at the store they were usually hitting on her and all she had to do was let them know she was underage and they lost interest, but Mr. Dale already knew she was underage. She was dating the singer in the band he managed. Or was he a pervy old man?
“That’s part of it, but do you really think it was songs alone that got the Beatles where they were?”
“I don’t know.” The Beatles? How old was this guy?
“I don’t think it is. I think a lot of it had to do with the way they looked. Four handsome, well-dressed boys. They had half the battle won before the first note.”
“The Rolling Stones were uniformly ugly and they were just as big.”
He grinned as if his star student had hit the nail on the head. “I think they had something else going for them that you’re too young to understand.”
Okay, how old did he think she was? Twelve? “I’m sorry, but Mick Jagger has the sex appeal of a broken suitcase and I don’t want to get into the others.”
Mr. Dale laughed loud enough that the boys stopped what they were doing. He clapped her on the shoulder. “You are a very clever girl. Now look at my boys and tell me what you see.”
Candy studied the band. They had gone back to their discussion and for a minute, all she saw was Tyler. He stood out. The sloppy jeans, ragged T-shirts and flannels the others were all wearing accented how good Tyler looked. Brian looked as if he’d made an attempt with his hair, but he only succeeded in looking like an over-processed David Coverdale. Every one of them had skin problems that could have been solved with the routine application of soap and water and the occasional moisturizer.
But Tyler. Oh, Tyler looked good. He wasn’t any taller than the others, but with his shoulders squared he appeared to have a couple of inches on all of them. He had a brightness about him that came from looking good and knowing it. Candy smiled. He looked like the kind of boyfriend who would have all the girls in her school swooning.
“I know. He stands out like a peacock.” Mr. Dale nodded, smiling. “I almost didn’t recognize him when he showed up to audition. We’d seen him before, of course, but when he arrived the other night, he was a different boy. He looked like a lead singer. He said you did it.” Mr. Dale leaned back on the arm couch.
“Thanks.”
“You did an excellent job. What I need to know is, can you do it for the rest of them?”
Candy’s mouth fell open. He wanted her to make them over? All of them? This was turning into a much bigger project than she’d planned on while watching Tyler wander around her section of the store the other day.
“These boys could be big. I know they could. They have a very good sound and they have drive. In this era of MTV, we need a good image, too. Once we have those pieces in place, we’ll start pursuing a record contract and a top-notch producer. And while the boys are working on their record, we’ll be looking at video scripts for the first single. I can handle the business side of things, but I don’t know the visual side. You do. We need your help.”
Record contract? Producer? Video scripts? There were scripts for music videos?
“Well?”
The band started playing and volume alone could have been the reason she didn’t answer. Mr. Dale would think that anyway. Make over a band, like a professional stylist. That would look good on college and scholarship applications. As much as