A familiar figure in a baseball cap and a hoodie walks back into the room, looking over the list and scribbling on it. He then looks up at us. “Elise, Mary, and… June. You have been selected as our potential backups. Everyone else, you have not made the cut. You’re dismissed.”

The other two notables-Elise and Mary, though I know not which is which- share a look briefly, clearly enthusiastic.

“Does that mean there’s gonna be a final showdown?” The lady in the dress spoke up.

“No. All three of you ultimately made the cut, though we found June’s performance to be most convincing. You’ll be backup singers in case she or Sard are unavailable. You’ll still have rehearsal days, too.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was the one who won, of the entire group? Granted, several of them were pretty weak performers, but I figured Mary and Elise were better than me in their own rights.

Beanie girl looks over briefly to me, and then the other notable girl. “I can’t believe it. Miss Icy bested both of us, Mary.” Miss Icy, huh? That’s a new one.

Mary looks back over to Elise. “So what? She’s just better suited to this than we are. She practically schooled us in the third round.” Hearing her say that lifted my spirits somewhat, especially since her own technique seemed quite competent.

Elise grumbles slightly, crossing her arms. The guy in the hoodie clears his throat. “You can leave your numbers with us and we’ll contact you once rehearsal comes up.”

Elise and Mary write down their numbers on the clipboard that the man in the hoodie had then left on the table. “Never thought I’d end up giving a guy my number like this...” Mary quipped. Elise seemed to chuckle in turn. They then left the room. Hoodie guy steps forward, towards me.

“So, June. My name is Teller, and our outfit is called Dirty Diamond.” He slipped his hands into his pockets, seeming genuinely satisfied with the name. I thought it was pretty stupid. I let out a short laugh, leaving Teller visibly confused.

“That’s the name of your outfit?”

Teller slowly blinked. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I know you’re a punk rock cover band, but that was a little cornier than I expected.”

Teller sighed. “I thought it was pretty nice when we got around to trying to figure out a name...”

Another band member in a T-shirt, cargo pants, and fingerless gloves with a sloppy black fauxhawk walked into the room. He had some serious muscle on him compared to Teller. The drummer, if I remember correctly. Teller about-faces to him. “That’s Nork.” Nork holds up a hand and I nod back in turn. He keeps walking to the opposite wall of us.

Another man, with a dress shirt and a fedora on, walks in. His hair is short, but he’s tall overall, taller than either of the other band members. “Name’s Felch,” he introduces himself as he walks three paces towards us. “Currently lead guitar. You did really well for yourself back there, are you trained?”

I nod. “Self-trained, for the most part.”

“Mmmh, interesting.” Felch bobbed his head back and forth, then smiling as he turned and walked over in the same direction as the drummer.

Socializing would be good for my prospects if I decided to join them, but that would be a case of getting ahead of myself. It was time to talk about the pay. “How much do we get paid for a gig?”

“A couple hundred plus tips, typically.” Nork, as he was called, leaned against the wall, ever casual.

I look past Teller, over to where Nork was. “And it’s an even split, yes?”

“Half goes to the band’s collective equipment and agent fund, other half is split between individual members. Usually the main vocalist, Sard, gets a slightly bigger cut, but even if you substitute as main vocalist it’s still an even cut.”

That math adds up to roughly $20 a gig, if that. I probably wouldn’t stick around for too long, but I figured I’d give them a chance first. “And what makes the real main vocalist so special?”

Sard steps in, sauntering with an admittedly stylish vest and a pair of gold-framed shades, arms wide acting like he’s a chieftain asserting his dominance. His hair was messy, but only to a stylish degree. “Because, I’m the real face of the band. I’m the personality, I’m the charisma here. People don’t just respect good music alone, although that certainly helps. I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to be a real frontman like me.” He runs a hand through his hair, almost dramatically. With his swagger, I bet he’d do decently well if he switched to professional ‘wrestling’ as his career. Though he does seem to have a force of personality about him, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was about me being a girl more than anything else.

I cross my arms, standing and turning to fully acknowledge Sard. “Guess I’m supposed to prove myself, then. It’ll all come in good time.” I held up a half-smile, and though I indirectly spoke of one day usurping him, I wasn’t really all that confident, even if I knew now that I could outdo the other secondary vocalists that showed up today. “Anyway, when’s our next practice and/or gig?”

“In a few days. We’ll send you the details later.” Sard looked to Teller. “You’ll be sure to text her, right?”

“Yeah, definitely, once I get her number.”

I walk over, hesitating slightly before I scrawled my number onto the clipboard. I then left the Strauss building.