“She’s up against that chick who cartwheels all over the Jaguars, so don’t get your hopes up.” Thom smirks.
“Fuck that,” Alvin rumbles. “No contest. Mallory wins that one easily.”
“Thanks, Alvin.” I reach over and squeeze his arm.
Thom’s gaze lands on us again. “Guitar God. Chaser Adams. You’re up against Vinnie Price, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up either. But it’s an honor to be nominated alongside him. He must have four of those little statues by now. Danny Desmond from Wishing Well and Morgan Marvel from Bloody Revolver are nominated too.”
“Damn.” Garrett whistles. “Stiff competition. Chaser’s still the best guitarist out of all of ‘em though.”
“Fuck yeah,” Alvin cheers.
“Thanks.” Chaser reaches over and high-fives both of them.
“Best Heavy Metal Performance Video for ‘Candy Jar.’ It’s a new category this year. You’re up against Flying Fang, Vicious Vandals, and Fuzeboys. I think you have a shot.”
“Whoa,” Alvin mutters.
“And finally.” Thom drums his fingers on is desktop, “Video of the year. That’s all music genres. You’re up against Mitchell Howard —”
“Jesus Christ, seriously?” Jacob’s wide saucer eyes are no match for my own.
“Shooting Fences, Marilynn Starr, Penny Driver—”
“Christ, I’d love to bone her thick, tap-dancing ass,” Garrett mutters.
“That’s it?” Jacob cranes his neck, trying to see the list in Thom’s hand.
“That’s not enough?” Thom throws the paper at Jacob. “I don’t think any band has had this many nominations before.”
“Yeah, but two of them are for Mallory and Chaser.” Jacob’s eyes bug out as he scans the list of nominees in every category. “Brent for best vocalist. Over me? What kind of bullshit is that?”
Alvin snaps the list out of Jacob’s hands. “The whole band has three nods. That’s fucking amazing. Stop being a little bitch.” He scans the list and shrugs. “Andrew Lane for best drummer. Big surprise. I’m sure he’ll win for the fifth year in a row.” He tosses the list to Garrett.
“Best Heavy Metal Performance is new this year, so that’s pretty cool.” Garrett flicks his finger against the paper. “Although, Flying Fang and Fuzeboys barely qualify as metal.”
“Neither does ‘Candy Jar,’ technically.” Jacob scoffs. “Heavy Metal Performance? For ‘Candy Jar?’ How fucking embarrassing.”
Thom points one sausage finger at him. “Work that snide attitude out of your system now. After you leave my office, every single one of you better be nothing but sunshine and humility. Everyone who’s ever won gets a vote, so keep your opinions about your colleagues to yourself.”
“Yeah, got it.” Jacob hangs his head. “Three nominations are pretty fucking cool.”
Garrett slaps Jacob’s shoulder. “People are going to expect us to write ‘Candy Jar’ over and over for the rest of our fucking lives.”
“It beats no one wanting you to write anything,” Thom counters. “This is a huge deal. Breakout Video and Video of the year. I don’t think any artist has done that before.” His gaze swings to Chaser. “And Guitar God. Come on. That’s—”
Chaser raises a hand to cut Thom off. “I’m stoked. No complaints here.”
Thom flicks a look my way. “Video Vixen? This was your first official acting job, wasn’t it?”
“Y-yes. I’m stunned but really excited. I can’t believe it.” Sure, I hate the video, and my nipples are probably the only reason I got the nomination, but it’s still recognition.
Thom redirects his commanding sausage finger my way. “There. That’s the attitude I want to see from every single one of you. Take some lessons from Mallory on grace and humbleness.”
Jacob rolls his eyes at me.
“You’ve got time before the awards show,” Thom says. “I’ll work my sources to keep ‘Candy Jar’ playing.”
Oh, goodie.
“You stay out of trouble.” Thom’s stern dad attitude returns. “We clear?”
Everyone answers with some sort of affirmative noise, while I try to ignore what I think is jealousy glinting in Jacob’s eyes.
Chapter Fifty
Mallory
“Congratulations!” Pamela’s voice coos out of our answering machine. “Call me!”
“You better call her back, it’s probably about the show,” Chaser says.
“You don’t think it’s about the award nominations?”
“Thom said it won’t be officially announced until tomorrow.”
As if she won’t know about Andrew’s nomination. But instead of arguing about it, I just call Pamela back and get it over with.
“Hello, Miss Video Vixen,” she answers.
I point to the phone and mouth, “She knows” at Chaser, who laughs and shrugs.
“You already heard, huh?” I say to Pamela.
“Duh, Andrew’s dick manager woke us up with his news this morning. Are you excited?”
“Yeah, I’m shocked too.”
“So was I.”
Gee, thanks.
“I wouldn’t tell anyone on the set if you can help it. Video Vixen isn’t really all that impressive to serious actors, you know?”
Couldn’t let me enjoy it for a few minutes, could you?
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Anyway, I called to see if you want me to pick you up in the morning?”
Chaser and I haven’t really discussed my transportation needs since we returned. Even though he says otherwise, I can’t help feeling like some of the blame for his addiction falls on me. I can’t depend on him to drive me to work every day. “That would be great. Are you sure I’m not out of your way?”