Page 10 of Mayhem

Ian clears his throat, drawing all of our wandering attention back again. "Alright lads, and ladies," he amends, nodding graciously towards Tess, "Let's keep spirits high, yeah? Bassists with chemistry for our dynamic obviously aren't as numerous as we’d hoped, but hidden gems remain out there. We’ve still got a few days to go. People still to see."

"Ugh, I’ll pass on more duds like that arrogant prick who bragged about finishing bass school ‘with honors,’" Emmett jeers, using exaggerated air quotes before mimicking playing an overzealous riff.

"We could post flyers at every Guitar Center branch as a last resort. That’s still a thing, right?” Stefan suggests half-heartedly with a wry chuckle before glancing Tess’s way. “Maybe your PR master brain there has a better idea?”

I follow his gaze to Tess, feeling an odd defensiveness about Stefan's mildly skeptical tone directed her way after witnessing her bonding with Charlie.

“Who? Me? Oh gosh, no pressure on me for audition solutions,” Tess laughs graciously, obviously nervous to be put on the spot like this. “Though if fan enthusiasm matters, perhaps floating wildcard chances to the public to engage them might instill some sort of community goodwill?”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Open auditions to fans?”

She shrugs, but I can see the doubt now cloud her features, and I feel guilty that my tone was as skeptical as Stefan’s was.

“Sure. Why not?” Her chin juts out slightly, defiant, and stubborn. “Who’s to say where you’ll find someone who fits? Everyone you’ve seen today, or will see in the coming days, you already know. Maybe you need to start looking elsewhere?”

Ian beams supportively. "See lads, fresh perspectives, open minds, the stuff dreams are made of. It wouldn’t hurt to put out some feelers to the fanbase, right?”

I follow his enthusiasm with an uncertain glance toward Stefan and Emmett to gauge their reception. It’s always hard to predict which outlandish ideas might ignite their spark.

Stefan offers a cautious thumbs up. "Worth a shot if our well is running dry with the same old professional prospects."

Emmett practically vibrates with excitement. "Dude, this is literally my whole jam. Let’s give all garage legends-in-waiting a chance to bring the noise."

I should have expected Emmett to embrace stirring up chaos. He lives to shatter any monotony he comes across in the world, and not in the most constructive way.

Memories of the last media circus we inadvertently spawned fill my mind. We had a guest bass guitarist from Murderous Crows sit in on our set at a festival when our last bassist literally ran away, and the thought of it feeds my unease. We gained some notoriety from that stunt once the reasons got out – namely Emmett’s stupid pranks. I don’t think it did us any favors.

Hopefully Tess truly comprehends the fallout potential going off script like this invites when dealing directly with fans. We could end up alienating people in the long run. Then again, welcoming a little mayhem sometimes breeds magic.

I don’t have a lot of choice here. Even if I wanted to go against everyone, which I’m not sure I do, I’d be outnumbered.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Let’s ask the fans.”

The pungent aroma of burgers sizzling on the grill surrounds us in the vinyl-laden diner booth. I sink back comfortably, eying the flurry of Chaos Fuel hashtags and graphics splashed across the screen as Tess works busily storyboarding Instagram posts.

Charlie leans over, curiously munching fries, captivated by Tess’s swift creative powers manifesting before our very eyes. Even I’m cautiously intrigued with what she’ll come up with to lure potential bass hopefuls from the virtual woodwork.

"We obviously want to spotlight the fun perks of joining a chart-topping act without overhyping in an overly commercial or off-putting way," Tess narrates briskly, fingers flying across tablet commandingly.

"Ooh, you should use that picture of Stefan trying on that fan’s big sunglasses from the meet-and-greet last month," Charlie suggests brightly through a mouthful of cheeseburger. "That was hilarious. I’d want to join that band."

Amused pride swells in my chest seeing Charlie intuitively understand hooking an audience while this behind-the-scenes glimpse of image strategy unfolds. I guess a music legacy of some kind was inevitable, given that both me and her stepfather are musicians, but her keen marketing instincts still amaze me.

“Look out Handler Tess,” I grin. “Someone might be gunning for your job.” I nudge Charlie with my forearm playfully.

"She's a total natural," Tess smiles, and her gaze lifts, meeting mine. Something in her expression shifts subtly. Lingering sparks glitter mischievously between us. "You Chambers’ have a formidable talent of drawing people in..."

Tess nibbles her bottom lip, on the verge of saying more it seems. But hesitation flashes briefly across her features. Is Tess flirting? Before I can reorient my scrambled thoughts, she ducks behind her tablet, tapping purposefully.

"Let's stay focused. We need to finish brainstorming this audition call-out, okay?" Tess tosses casually over her shoulder.

But a telling flush grazes her neck contradicting that cool recovery attempt. My pulse inexplicably skips. Was that loaded compliment aimed my way? Or is hope clouding my judgment?

Am I hopeful?

8

TURN

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