The Man Who Told the World: Sing Out 3

by Hanna Dare

  “Conor! Oh my god! We love you so much!”

  He took pictures with each of the girls’ phones, holding it out with his longer arms as they leaned in close to him. Then they checked the pictures and had to take them all again in more flattering poses. During that time, the boy with them had hung back, seemingly embarrassed by all the fuss. Conor could understand that. But he also noticed the way the boy kept looking at him and then glancing away, and the bitten-down nails of his nervous fingers.

  “Did you want a picture, too?” Conor asked.

  The boy shook his head. “I don’t watch the show.”

  “You so do, Kyle,” one of the girls said. “You act like you’re not watching, but you’re always there when it’s on.”

  Kyle scowled, but Conor said, “That’s what I would do when my sister watched the show. I never paid attention to Singing Sensation until I was on it.”

  The girls giggled again at that, and Conor stretched out a hand. “One pic? You can delete it or use it to make fun of me after. I don’t mind.”

  Kyle nodded, swallowing convulsively. He stepped closer to Conor, careful not to touch him. In the phone’s screen Conor could see them both, Kyle’s face a little scared, a little hopeful. Conor smiled and clicked the camera.

  He left them, the girls looking at their pictures, Kyle standing a little bit apart, and went back to his family. Conor felt strange. He didn’t know Kyle, but for a second he thought he understood him perfectly.

  “There,” his father said, “was that so bad?”

  “No,” Conor said. “It was good, actually. I’m glad I went over.”

  His dad smiled and patted him on the back. “Must be nice to have girls wanting your picture. I’d have thought that was pretty cool when I was eighteen. Did you get any phone numbers?”

  Linda’s eyebrows were hidden under her red bangs, but he could tell they were raised as she looked at Conor with a wide and hasty smile. “Is that our cab?” She tugged on Conor’s dad’s arm. “I think it is.”

  “Yuck, Dad,” Tori said. “And Conor should have got their Instagram handles so we could see the pictures when they go up. Unless one of them was Princess57; she’s being a massive bitch online because she likes Zane better than Conor.”

  Both their dad and Linda rounded on Tori, and Conor was spared any further talk of girls.

  He finally got them settled into their hotel. Linda and Tori were sharing one room, but Tori immediately dragged their dad down to the pool, so Conor stayed with Linda while she started to unpack.

  It was all feeling very strange. He was glad to see them of course, but the divide between home and Los Angeles had been so complete that having the worlds collide now made him feel like an alien in both. He leaned back on the bed, fingers moving restlessly through piano chords over the bedspread.

  “If you need to get back, it’s okay, you know,” Linda said. “We have everything we need and I know you’re busy.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Conor said. “I wish I could come get you tomorrow, but the car from the studio will pick you up.”

  “Tori is so excited about seeing you perform live. She hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

  “Seeing me or seeing the show in general?”

  “Well… you’re on the show.”

  Conor grinned. Linda sat down on the other bed and looked at him. “You do seem different.”

  “Taller?”

  “More grown up maybe, more confident. It’s a good look.”

  “It has been good,” Conor said. “Mostly.”

  Her eyes crinkled up with the familiar concern that Conor realized he’d missed a lot. “I’m sure there’s a lot of pressure on you. I can’t even imagine.”

  “Yeah. Pressure, people—it gets to me sometimes.”

  “I never want to ask over the phone, but have you met anyone? There are certainly a lot of cute boys on the show. That one guy who plays the guitar like you—”

  “Do not say Zane,” Conor said with only half mock-outrage. “He’s my most bitter arch-rival nemesis. Except he’s a nice guy and I like him. But not like that. Not him.”

  “But you do like someone then?”

  Conor stared at the bedspread, trying to figure out exactly what to say without naming names, or blushing so completely that his face melted off. He was surprised at how much he actually did want to talk, just to share a little of the confusing mess that was in his brain.

  “I don’t know,” Conor said slowly. “There’s been stuff. Things have… happened.”

  Linda’s eyes widened. “Oh, god. Sex things? I don’t know, I’m just the aunt. I’m not qualified for sex talks.” She covered her face with her hands. “Except who are you going to talk to?” Her voice was somewhat muffled. “And I want you to be able talk to me about anything.”

  She put her hands down and looked at Conor with determination. “Nothing you say will embarrass me. Except I may act really embarrassed. We’ll just—power through. Sorry, Conor, it’s just that your grandma never talked about things like this when I was young. Your mom used to sneak in old Cosmo magazines and read them out loud to me, and that was my birds and the bees talk.” She looked thoughtful. “A lot of those Cosmo tips were actually pretty useful later in life.”

  It was Conor’s turn to cover his face with his hands. Linda tugged them firmly down.

  “You’re being safe?” she asked seriously. “Condoms?”

  “It’s not a condom situation, right now,” Conor mumbled. “But when it was, definitely, yes.”

  Her hands went up again. “There’ve been multiple situations? Oh, god.”

  “It’s not about sex,” Conor said. “It’s more feelings. Everything here is so weird. We’re always on camera, so it feels good to have some things that are private. Secret, even. But then it’s like the secrets are taking on a life of their own. Almost as if they’re more important than what they were supposed to protect.”

  “Secrets usually make things worse in the long run, Conor. You end up forgetting what’s actually true.”

  “Yeah. It’s just that not all of them are my secrets, you know?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. You have to decide how to be true to yourself. That’s what’s important.”

  “And I’m supposed to know what that means?”

  She smiled. “You’re young. This is when you get to find out.”

  Knowing that his family was in the audience gave show night an extra sickly bit of nervousness for Conor. He shifted, trying not to look too twitchy in case the cameras were on him, craning his neck from the side of the stage to see where his family had been seated. All he could see was the top of Tori’s head as she jumped up and down. He hoped security wouldn’t end up having to take her out; she was totally capable of rushing the stage and tackling one of them. He sighed and tried to focus on his performance.

  The producers had talked him into singing Ed Sheeran’s “Give Me Love,” which host Matt was playing up as Conor’s “return to his roots—redheaded roots that is.” Conor had been able to keep his face neutral during rehearsal when Matt first said that, but he caught Emerson making gagging motions off camera and it was all he could do not to join in.

  The song itself made Conor a bit uncomfortable. It felt more direct than he usually liked in his songs—it was just a naked plea for love by the end.

  “This from the guy who likes Elliott Smith, King of Pain?” Jesse had been amused when Conor mentioned his misgivings.

  “Elliott Smith had a layer of bitterness to hide behind,” Conor had said. “And he wasn’t asking for anything; most of the time he’s trying to hide his pain, but he can’t.”

  Conor could have gone on, but Jesse patted his shoulder. “I’m sure if anyone can find something ironic when he’s moaning, ‘love me, love me,’ in that one chorus, it’ll be you.” Jesse said. There were people around so his touch was brief, but his voice was fond.

  Conor didn’t want to admit that he was unsettled by the song
for other reasons. Who was he to be singing about love? Did he even know what it felt like?

  After all this time, Conor still wasn’t sure. Jesse made him feel maddeningly frustrated sometimes, but everything about him was safe and warm. The thought of being without him in the strange world of Singing Sensation was terrifying to Conor. Jesse was his one constant in all this chaos.

  Then there was Kai. During the day, Conor didn’t let himself think of their brief time together, or tried always to remember it as Kai using him, Kai taking advantage of his position as a judge. At night, alone in his bed after Jesse had gone to sleep, Conor thought of it quite differently. He’d wanted Kai so much, or maybe he’d wanted Kai to want him. Either way, it had been intense.

  And Derek?

  When Derek had first started paying attention to him back home, Conor had gone along with it mainly out of surprise. That, and Conor had really, really wanted to have sex. But as time had gone on, the parts that Derek revealed had been more raw and vulnerable than Conor would have ever imagined from the bully who’d called him names and shoved him in the hallways of their school. It scared him—all the huge, dark problems that made up Derek, but it made Conor feel protective at the same time. He didn’t know what to do with everything Derek kept offering and then yanking away. The smart thing would probably be to move on, like Derek himself had told him. But Conor kept coming back to him, playing Derek’s words and actions over and over in his head, like a fragment of a song he hadn’t found the melody for yet.

  If Derek had told him that he loved him—face to face, without being nearly passed-out drunk—what would Conor have said? Would he even know what to call those feelings?

  This was all running through his mind as he stepped out onto the stage. He tried to give himself his usual pre-song bounce, to shake himself out of it, but it didn’t work very well this time. Instead, Conor decided to go with it, putting himself in Derek’s head, trying to imagine what it had been like to make that late night call. He didn’t know if he quite managed it—he didn’t understand Derek enough to—but Conor found himself moving around the stage more aggressively than usual, working the edges, staring past the judges into the eager crowd, and turning that plea for love into more of a desperate demand.

  He thought he caught a bit of Derek’s anger, and it was still buzzing through him as he stood onstage when the song ended and Matt came out to join him, flashing teeth and tan.

  “That song seemed to have a little extra something tonight,” Matt said into his microphone, “and it wasn’t just ginger pride. Were you thinking about anyone special when you sang that, Conor?”

  A quick, jokey remark and this part would all be over; that’s how it usually went, but Conor instead said into the offered mike, “Someone back home.”

  “Oh my, Conor, this is new information for the Singing Sensation audience! Is this someone you’re in a relationship with?”

  “Not anymore. Not ever, really.”

  “Well, any girl would love to have a song like that sung for her. I bet you’ve changed her mind. Let’s see if you’ve won the hearts of the judges with your performance—”

  “Actually,” Conor said before Matt could turn away, “that would be a him… that I’m singing for, about—I don’t know, but for me, it’s guys, and in this case, one particular guy. I do know that he wouldn’t be happy about the song. Or me talking about him, but it’s okay, because he’s definitely not watching me anyway.”

  Matt didn’t pause or even blink when Conor finished, he just continued on as smoothly as before, his smile scaling down to something more sympathetic. “They say the best music comes out of heartbreak. Let’s find out if you were able to use that to connect to the judges.”

  Priya was already in tears when they turned to her, but that was nothing new; she cried constantly and perfectly every show. “Conor, I’m so proud of you! That song was beautiful, you’re beautiful. And you know what? Love is love!” She turned to the audience. “Right? Am I right?”

  They all cheered and she clapped along with them.

  Onstage, Conor’s face didn’t move, but he did breathe, “Oh, god,” through his teeth, loudly enough for Matt to hear because Matt gently squeezed his arm. Conor could see his eyes dance slightly.

  Kai’s judgment was next and Conor tensed. If Kai acted in any way like that song had been for him, Conor really was going to walk over to the judges’ table and punch him, but Kai confined himself entirely to the technical aspects of Conor’s performance. It was dry, but quite constructive, and Conor found this precisely professional version of Kai’s mentorship actually useful.

  George yawned loudly when Kai finished. “Thank you, that was very detailed.” He squinted up at Conor. “So that’s what it takes for you to get out of your head and connect with the song and the audience? Maybe you should get your heart stomped on every week.” There was a chorus of boos and George waved it off as though dealing with gnats. “Yes, yes, I’m history’s greatest monster. Let me just say this, Conor: if your idiot boy wasn’t watching that performance tonight, then it’s his fucking loss.”

  There was a collective gasp from the audience and then more cheers, until Matt was finally able to say into his microphone, “And that’s why we’re on a four-second delay to allow the network censors to do their bleeping jobs.”

  Conor was finally able to escape to the side of the stage, where the other contestants were all their feet waiting for him. Emerson was the first to hug him. “Good for you,” he whispered into Conor’s ear. “And smart. You just signed Zane’s ticket home; no way they’ll cut you tonight.”

  Conor hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t thought at all. Zane did look a bit nervous as he patted Conor on the back, but then Madison was throwing her arms around Conor’s neck, and Toby gave him a rib-cracking bear hug.

  Jesse was the last to hug Conor, and he did it one-armed style, clasping Conor’s hand across his chest as he did. It was a very guy hug, Conor thought, designed to keep some distance even as they came in close. He hadn’t thought about what Jesse would think either.

  Then as he looked out across the audience, seeing the cameras converging on where his dad, sister, and aunt were sitting, he thought of something else. He’d just outed himself onstage, on TV, and in front of his family.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When the show finally wrapped and Zane was whisked away for his exit interviews and to pack, the remaining contestants paused to catch their breaths backstage. The third AD, Matty, approached Conor, hands fiddling with the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt.

  “Conor,” Matty said in a low voice, “could you stick around for few minutes?”

  “I have to go find my family, Matty.” Conor had no idea how they’d reacted. Obviously Linda knew, but his dad…

  “It’s just that Robert wants to have a word.”

  Robert, the show’s director, was a distant authority figure, usually communicating with them through other people. He only said anything to the contestants directly when something went very wrong.

  “Is Conor in trouble?” Madison asked in a small voice beside them. Her blue eyes were anxious. “Is the show mad because of what he said?”

  What the Singing Sensation producers would think was the furthest thing from his mind, but Conor suddenly remembered that no one had ever been officially out while a contestant on the show. More uneasily, he recalled all the contracts he’d had to sign before starting the competition. Some parts of the documents had talked about character and morality, whatever that meant to these people.

  Matty spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t know. I’m just supposed to get Conor to wait until Robert comes.”

  Madison’s pink lipsticked mouth took on a firmer set than Conor had ever seen from her. “But that’s not right!”

  “Madison,” Conor said. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  “Conor’s right,” Emerson drawled, his thumbs hooked around his big belt buckle as he sauntered over. “There’s
nothing to worry about, and we’re gonna stick around to make sure.” He gave the room a wide grin. “Right?”

  Toby loudly said, “Yeah.”

  Jesse was quiet but he didn’t move.

  Emerson’s sharp smile snapped back to Matty. “I might’ve mentioned that my momma’s a lawyer?”

  Matty rubbed at his eyes. “Fine, whatever. He’s on his way.”

  Robert himself swept into the room, trailed by associate producers and production assistants. He was a tall, elegant man with thick white hair, not given to loud outbursts—when he was unhappy, he just radiated disappointment, in a way that somehow made everyone in the vicinity vaguely guilty. He looked at the knot of contestants standing the middle of the room with a slight frown.

  “And what’s all this?”

  Conor could see Emerson squaring his narrow shoulders, ready for a fight, but Conor quickly stepped forward. “Uh, hi, Robert,” he said, and then firmed up his voice. “I just want to tell you I didn’t plan what I was going to say out there, but I’m not sorry I did it. I am gay and I don’t care who knows it.”

  Robert’s mouth curved slightly. “Conor, first of all, let me say congratulations. I’m sure it’s a big night for you. That said,” he drew himself up to his full height and loomed large over the room. Conor could feel the others shrink back. “This is my show and the only surprises I want are the ones that I’ve carefully planned for.” Robert shook his head, regretfully. “If you’d given us even a little notice we could have done a nice little segment about you. A few interviews, an inspirational montage. Something tasteful.” Robert sighed and Conor suddenly felt the loss of that montage, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what Robert was talking about.

  Deb, one of the associate producers, leaned in. “We still could do something. Maybe for the web-only features?”

  “Hmm.” Robert put a finger to his lips, considering.

  “We got a good clip from the father. I could cut it together with footage of Conor in rehearsals and around the house?”