Twenty-Seven
“Dr. Rush,” Lee says. “Please, have a seat.”
I do what he asks, my anxiety damn near through the roof at their expressions. Even so, I remember my manners.
“Please, call me Brock.”
“Very well,” he nods. “Do you have any idea why we asked you back here?”
“No,” I say slowly.
“How long have you been writing songs?”
“Several years now,” I tell him. “I taught composition for a time and made sure I created my own songs alongside my students.”
“What do you mean you taught composition for a time?”
“I asked another professor to take over the class when I lost my muse.”
“I see.”
He looks at the rest of the band. Something isn’t right. Then he looks at Bianca before addressing me again.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Dr. Rush? About your songwriting?”
“What is it that you’d like to know?”
With that, Lee gestures for Bianca to start talking.
“You’re using my songs, Brock,” she says coldly. “Why?”
“That’s a lie and you know it, Bianca,” I say as I stand with clenched fists.
“So, you do know her,” Liam says.
“Yes,” I growl out. “We were a couple for a time.”
“And she wrote songs with you?” Chase asks.
“I wrote the songs,” I grit out. “The meat and potatoes of them. She may have contributed to some of the lyrics, but I considered them mine.”
“That’s a lie, Brock,” she snaps. “But one that I’m willing to overlook if you drop out of this competition and help me finish my album. I’ll see to it that you get paid for your time.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl.
With that, Lee rises and holds up his hands for us to be quiet. Then he turns to Bianca and asks her a pointed question.
“We asked you for some new material three weeks ago,” he says. “Why haven’t we gotten anything from you yet?”
Her eyes prick with tears at this. Her mouth opens and closes but she can’t form any words. And while I know why, I refuse to speak it out loud. Instead, I clasp my hands behind my back and wait.
“I’m just working through a rough patch,” she says.
“A rough patch?” Eli asks. “Or you haven’t been able to convince Dr. Rush to write for you again?”
“How dare you ,” Bianca hisses. “My songs are-”
“Clearly not yours,” Chase interrupts. “When you started stalling, we had someone look into your files. Every single one of them was authored by Dr. Rush.”
“Only because I don’t know how to use the software,” she counters lamely.
“You’re a phenomenal singer, Bianca,” Lee says. “But you led us to believe that you wrote your own material. That violates the contract you signed. And besides, Dr. Rush’s songwriting style has its own signature. A signature that is on every single song you’ve agreed to record with us. How long were you going to try and lead us on?”
She has no answer for this. Lee turns back to me, his expression slightly pained.
“I’m sorry about that, Dr. Rush,” he nods. “You can go back to the auditorium and wait for our decision.”
“Thank you,” I nod.
I avoid meeting Bianca’s eyes when I turn to leave. In another five minutes, Sadie is in my arms. I bury my face in her neck as I tell her what happened. She’s shocked, but also relieved that the band found her out first.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I sigh.
With that, I take her hand and settle us in the front row. The rest of the contestants are milling around. And I’m not surprised when John comes over.
“You okay, Dr. Rush?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Just ready to hear the results.”
“Your song was insane,” he says. “If you don’t make the top four, I’ll be shocked.”
“We’ll see,” I laugh. “You received quite an ovation as well. So did several others.”
“I know,” he smiles. “I’m just happy to have gotten this far.”
He shakes my hand and walks off. I hold Sadie close, and we wait in silence. Ten minutes later, the house lights go down and the stage lights come up. Everyone rises and applauds when Roll With It walks out. Their expressions now are the complete opposite of what I saw backstage. And then Lee steps forward with a small piece of paper in his hand.
“First of all, lets have a hand for all of our top twenty contestants.”
Sadie and I clap with everyone else, but I quickly take her hand when it dies down. And Lee gets right to it.
“We have unanimously made a decision on our top four songwriters, who will submit one final song for a nationwide vote,” he says. “When we call your name, please join us on stage.”
He pauses as he looks down at the paper.
“Jasper Jenkins.”
Applause. Shouts of delight. Then he’s on the stage.
“Alyssa Brown.”
More applause and shouts. Then she’s on the stage shaking Jasper’s hand.
“John Adams.”
I let go of Sadie’s hand so I can let out a shrill whistle. Lee notices where it came from and shakes his head as he laughs. As the applause dies down, I turn to Sadie and kiss her.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Her smile widens. Then Lee speaks one final time.
“And our last finalist is…Dr. Brock Rush.”