Page 5 of Sing Your Heart Out

He cocks his head, as if he’s not quite sure what to make of me just yet. Dwayne grabs me and forces me to take a quick tour of the house with him.

I definitely want to know more about Smith, though.

After I ohh and ahhh over the pool and the upstairs lounge area, Dwayne shows me to my room. It’s large with big windows, and it has a bed and a dresser.

“Sorry it’s so basic,” Dwayne says, touching the white duvet cover. “We didn’t want to discriminate based on gender, so we made up all the rooms basically the same.”

I raise my eyebrows.“It’s literally more than I expected. Anything else from here on out is just gravy.”

He smiles. “Aren’t you just precious? Aww. Well, leave your things here and join us downstairs. Dee plans for us to sit in a circle and go through the rules really quick.”

I give him a tremulous smile. “Okay.”

After I follow Dwayne back downstairs, I find that everybody else is basically sitting in a loose circle. There are about twenty people, which makes the space here feel much more tight than it really is. Dwayne goes over by Dee, leaving me only one option.

Right by Smith and a short Hispanic man. I slide into the seat between them, noticing how they keep glaring at one another out of the corner of their eyes.

“Me llama Marco,” the man lisps.

My eyebrows lift. “I’m sorry?”

He grins, grabbing me hand and forcing it up to his lips. “I am Marco. And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

I tense up the second he touches me. He’s not taller than me, but he easily controls my movements, especially when I try to pull my hand away.

“Stop!” I say, a little more loudly than I really intended.

Smith leans over and growls at him. “She told you once. Don’t make her tell you again else you’ll deal with me.”

Marco’s grin turns a little smug. Dee clears her throat.

“Marco!” she shouts. I jump. He lets me go. Dee stands up, putting her hands on her hips. She doesn’t seem too happy with Marco. “That is not allowed. No one touches anyone’s without their express permission.” She narrows her eyes at Marco. “That’s one strike.”

Marco just shrugs and sprawls out in his chair, as if unbothered. “Whatever you say, mamacita.”

Dee smiles coolly at him. “Right. Well. That’s rule number one, then. Let’s go around the room and say our names, where we’re from, and where we are at in our songwriting journeys. For example, I’m Dee. I’m from Tennessee. Dwayne is my brother, if you can’t tell. And I am not a songwriter. I consider myself to be a miracle worker and something of a fairy godmother.”

She beams at everyone. Everyone applauds politely. She looks at Dwayne. “You’re next, Mr., D!”

One by one, we go around the room. Everyone is from a different part of the U.S., with one person from Canada and Marco from Venezuela.

There is an odd silence after Marco declares himself a super talented Grammy winner. I cast a side eye over him, only to realize a few seconds later that it’s actually my turn to speak.

Clearing my throat, I fidget. “Sorry. Um. So, I’m Sarah. I’m from Georgia originally, but like a few of you said, I currently live in LA.”

I pause. Technically that was a little bit of a lie, because I’m on the run from LA. But my housemates don’t need to know that, right?

I clear my throat again. “Sorry. I’m completely new to songwriting. I just have a few demos, one of which I wrote specifically for the purpose of submitting to this contest.”

One of the girls across the circle from me smacks her gum. She is dressed like a hippie in a bright silk skirt on a loose flow white top. but she has a seriously bad attitude when she speaks. “So basically, you have no skills and no experience? Hah! I know who is going home first…”

“I don’t remember this being feedback time, Autumn,” Dwayne snaps. “As it happens, some songwriters that are basically untried write hits on their first time trying. Don’t worry, Sarah.”

I may be blushing. I may not know much at all about songwriting. But I was good enough to get in to the house, so I’m not going to let Autumn or anybody else talk me out of it.

I have to win. Or at least place second or third. I have to convince myself that I can stand on my own two feet and win without Martin’s help.

Plus, the fact that this contest wins money at the end doesn’t hurt at all. It’ll be just the boost I need, post-Martin.

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