by Hanna Dare
“Good.” Robert nodded, and the room visibly relaxed. He started to turn away, still speaking to Deb. “Just be mindful of the music you use underneath. That ‘True Colors’ song is vastly overplayed in these situations—”
“So Conor’s not in trouble?” Madison asked and Robert paused on his way out.
“Of course not.” He fixed them all with a stern eye. “But don’t any of you think about dropping some sort of revelation on live TV in a last-ditch bid for more screen time. At least not without clearing it with me.”
He left the room, people hurrying along in his wake. Emerson followed, too, and called out loudly, “Robert? Sir, I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but my brother’s gay and in the military—”
Conor caught Deb’s arm before she could go. “You talked to my dad?”
She smiled sympathetically at him. “We always interview the families right after the performance. It’s standard procedure.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just—what did he say?”
Deb got the camera and plugged it into her little monitor screen. “You’ll hear better with the headphones,” she said, handing him hers.
Conor nodded, unable to speak, and she squeezed his shoulder, pressing play on the video clip before leaving him alone in the room.
His father looked uneasy in front of the camera, like he wanted to be a million miles away, and Conor felt his stomach lurch.
“What did I think of the performance?” His dad replied to Deb’s question. “I thought Conor sang well. I don’t think I’d actually heard that song before, but my daughter tells me that Conor sounded better than the original version. He’s very talented.” The answer sounded awkward and flat, like the congratulations at a stranger’s wedding.
“What about what Conor said afterwards?” Deb’s voice was faint in the video but the meaning was clear.
A crease appeared between his father’s eyebrows. “I’m proud of my son. I’ve always been proud of him.” He looked off camera, not at Deb, but seeing something else. His voice softened. “I think if my wife were here she’d say the same thing: every time you think you couldn’t love him more or be prouder, he does something amazing and blows us away. We—I am very lucky to have him for a son.”
He blinked back towards Deb and the camera. There was a little more talk and then the clip ended.
After Conor cleaned his face and returned the camera to Deb, he made his way through the maze of backstage corridors to the room where Matty had set his family up with water, coffee and cookies. Linda beamed at him, his dad looked tired, and Tori was practically bouncing off the walls. She’d apparently gone through a lot of cookies. Conor stood in the doorway, not sure exactly what to say.
“So, how’d you like the show?”
They’d gone back to the Singing Sensation house, mainly so Tori could see it, and Conor could introduce his family to the remaining contestants. Tori was playing the piano for Madison, the two of them randomly breaking into giggles over various things, while Jesse and Emerson were trying to out-charm each other as they talked to Linda. Conor’s dad seemed to enjoy talking to Toby for a while about surfing of all things, which seemed like the most un-dadlike topic ever, but Conor could see the way he kept glancing over, and Conor finally pulled him aside and led him out to the patio.
It was dark and cool outside, and they sat on the chairs staring at nothing for a long while.
Conor finally had to say something. “I didn’t mean to, uh, come out like this. I know I should have told you before. Way before. I just—I guess I wanted to keep it a secret.”
“Your aunt told me tonight that you’d said something to her months ago. That night you left home.”
“Please don’t be mad at Aunt Linda. She said I should tell you.”
His father shifted to look at Conor. Even in the dim light, Conor could see that he was astonished. “Mad at Linda? I’m grateful to her. At least you had one adult in your life you could talk to.”
“Dad—”
He raised a hand up. “No, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for anything. What I am is sorry. I understand why you couldn’t talk to me. I haven’t been good at talking about anything for a long time now.”
“That’s not your fault,” Conor said quickly.
“Of course it was my fault. Conor, I’m the parent. It’s not supposed to be about making things easier for me, it’s about making life easier for you.”
There was a long silence and his father looked out again into the dark. “It’s a very confusing thing, being a parent to another person. When you hold your little baby in your arms, you don’t know anything, but still you look down and imagine all these things that his life is going to become. That’s not a bad thing, but maybe sometimes those dreams keep you from seeing who your child really is. I know I’ve pressured you about college and jobs, and probably girls, too. All the things that I thought I was supposed to want for you. But seeing you, the man you’ve become—that’s so much better than anything I ever could have imagined. I’m so grateful for you, Conor. So proud.”
His dad fumbled for his hand in the dark and they sat there for a long time in silence.
“I do still expect you to go to college, though.”
“I know.”
There was one last person to talk to that night.
He put his family in a car back to the hotel, feeling tired but relieved. Tori’s entire reaction had been to ask Conor, “Did you ever kiss Zane?” He gave her a shocked “no,” and she nodded with satisfaction. “So I still have a shot.”
As he went upstairs, Conor would have liked to go to straight to bed and sleep for a year, but of course Jesse was there and still restlessly awake. He was re-arranging his things again, Conor figured it made him feel more in control. Of himself if nothing else.
“How’d it go?” Jesse asked, studying the contents of a dresser drawer.
“Good,” Conor said, sitting down on his bed. “Better than I would have thought.”
“They’re good people, Conor. You’re lucky.”
“I know.”
Jesse’s back, as he moved around the room, seemed stiff and unyielding.
“You know I didn’t plan that,” Conor said to it.
Jesse turned, raising an eyebrow. “I think it was pretty obvious you didn’t think that through.”
Stung, Conor drew back. “I just got sick of it, you know? There was that stupid song, and I was thinking about stuff. And there was that kid at the airport—”
“What kid at the airport?”
“Some kids wanted selfies with me, and it seemed like maybe one of them was gay.”
“How would you know? You have terrible gaydar.”
Conor threw his hands up. “He made me remember how I was back home and how lonely that was. I felt bad for him.”
“So your coming out was all noble and selfless? Setting an example?”
Conor looked him in the eye. “No, mainly I was just angry.”
“There you go.” Jesse folded his arms. “Blow it all up and to hell with the consequences.”
“What consequences? Everyone’s been great. Well, almost everyone.”
“Sure, it’s all rainbow flag waving right now, but watch what happens. I bet the songs they’re gonna want you to sing next week are all by Sam Smith or Troye Sivan. And the questions in interviews will be about being gay or coming out. Because you’ve got a label on you and it’s the only thing folks will see. You’re the gay singer now.”
“It’s part of who I am.”
“But not all. And they’re never gonna let it be anything else.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried.”
“How many times have I been the one black guy in the room? Walking down the street, driving a car, I get reminded all the time of what the world sees first.”
“Okay,” Conor said, “but this was something I did and I’ll have to live with it. It’s not about you, Jesse.”
It was his t
urn to look stung. “I care about you, Conor. I care what happens to you. I know you think it’s a joke, the way I talk about the business side of music, but sometimes it’s like I want you to succeed more than you do. You’re just running from one thing to the next, more worried about where you don’t want to end up than where you want to go.”
Conor pressed his lips together and nodded. He knew that Jesse wasn’t wrong, he just didn’t want to deal with all of it right now. Also, “But that’s not everything, is it?”
Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. “People know we’re close.”
“People?”
“We’re roommates. The cameras show us hanging out, joking around. Even before all this, there were lots of tweets out there saying we have a bromance.”
Conor laughed, but Jesse clearly didn’t find any of this funny.
“Look, I know it’s stupid, but rumors, buzz—things like that can make or break careers.”
Jesse had stopped moving and just stood there, looking tired and frustrated in the middle of the room. Conor would have liked to put his arms around him, but he didn’t think that’s what Jesse was looking for right now.
“Maybe,” Conor said, slowly enough that Jesse could interrupt if he wanted, “if you think it would help, I could move my stuff into one of the empty bedrooms?”
Jesse looked away from him and gave one quick nod. “I don’t want you to, I don’t,” he said. “It’s just we’re so close to the end. This is the Top Five, Conor.”
“And then the finale,” Conor said, wearily, “and after that, a record deal. Go on tour. Release an album, release a follow-up album. Who knows? Maybe after you win a Grammy, I’ll get to have sex with you.”
Jesse spread his hands helplessly. “It’s easy for you to say—”
“It’s not,” Conor said sharply. “None of this has been easy.” His voice softened; he wasn’t angry at Jesse, not really, but this all made him so very sad. “I made a choice for me, and I don’t want you to ever do something you’re not ready for.” He took a breath. “Just let me ask you one thing, Jesse. You’ve always got a plan for everything. Do you have one for us?”
The moment stretched out as Conor waited for him, but Jesse never spoke.
Finally, Conor stood up. “Okay, let me pack up.”
CHAPTER SIX
No one knew what to expect when Kai went onstage.
The show had been billing it all week as a big event; Kai playing a song from his upcoming album, the word “comeback” unspoken but clearly there. This promised performance on national television was probably what had lured Kai to leave his lovely house and spend months sitting at a table with Priya and George, listening to auditions across the country and bad versions of overplayed pop songs. It had all had made Kai seem a little desperate to reach an audience who’d likely barely heard of him.
As Kai waited for the cue, standing there at the microphone, dressed, as he usually was, in a black t-shirt and black jeans, Conor thought that it was good that Kai seemed ordinary to him now. His seductive power was lost in familiarity and distrust; he had no power over Conor anymore.
Then Kai began to sing and the world turned itself upside down.
They’d all forgotten about him. Forgotten that he’d once played stadiums filled not just with thousands, but tens of thousands of people. Worked crowds into frenzies and thrown himself into the middle of them, daring them to tear him apart.
He’d been “the quiet judge” with his soft voice and laidback posture; the target of many of George’s stingers, and, despite the screams of the girls in the audience when he was introduced each week, he was never seen as approaching Priya’s level of star power. Now Kai was reminding them all of what he was. He was a fucking rock star.
His voice surged out, growling and low, then soaring up. The energy emanating from his lean body seemed almost visible as he prowled along the stage and arched around his microphone; it crackled out into the crowd in a way that made them gasp, then it coiled back in on itself as his voice dropped to a whisper, so that the audience leaned forward, desperate to hear and hungry for more. Of course, he gave them more, and they answered him with screams.
The Singing Sensation contestants hadn’t seen Kai’s rehearsal or sound check so they’d had no idea what was coming either. Madison sat with her mouth hanging open, a slow flush spreading from her cheeks and down her neck. Jesse clapped a hand over his mouth and kept it there for the entire song, his eyes darting back and forth between Kai and Conor, sitting beside him.
About halfway through, Emerson leaned over to whisper in Conor’s ear, “I get it now. I’d totally do him, too.”
Conor kept his face still and his hands folded almost primly in his lap. He tried to study how Kai worked the audience, sending his voice out to curl around the back row of the balcony, even as his hands stretched out to the people in front of the stage. For the first time, there were security people between the low stage and the audience, to keep them from jumping onstage, or pulling Kai off it. It was completely unlike any of the carefully packaged and choreographed performances the show usually did. This was music and sex and power, and at the end, Conor found that he was on his feet, too, applauding with the others.
“I hope that’s a long commercial break,” Toby sighed to Conor as they made their way backstage, “’cause I don’t know about you, dude, but I am not feeling too awesome about going onstage to sing my Kenny Rogers song after that.”
Fortunately, it was a long commercial break, and after that, there was a video segment about the contestants rehearsing and goofing around the house, to give the crew time to re-set the stage. Conor took the opportunity to walk around backstage and try to burn off his pre-show nervousness.
He wasn’t surprised to see Matty in the halls—the tall AD usually went looking for Conor if he disappeared for too long—but he was startled to see Kai right behind him. They were just coming out of the Makeup Room, Kai in a fresh shirt and looking effortlessly sexy.
Kai gave him a neutral nod as they passed each other.
“The song was really good, Kai,” Conor said, because it was true.
Those dark eyes landed on him and Conor wished he hadn’t said anything. He wouldn’t put it past Kai to say something to rattle him before he had to perform. Not that Kai’s performance itself wasn’t rattling.
“Give us a minute,” Kai said to Matty.
“Uh, actually we need you—”
“Walk away from me now,” Kai said, his voice still soft, but now coming through his teeth. Matty backed away and hurried off down the hall. Kai turned to Conor with a shrug. “Sometimes you have to throw your weight around. Otherwise it’s just one thing after the other.”
Conor simply folded his arms. “Wasn’t there an agreement about you not being alone with me?”
He lifted a corner of his mouth. “It’s a busy hallway—not like I pulled you into a broom closet or something.”
Conor raised his eyebrows, waiting.
Kai ran a hand through his hair, somehow making it look even sexier. He seemed almost sheepish. “I feel bad how things were left between us. It seemed unresolved.”
“Not to me.”
Kai gave him a slight, sad smile. “I know you’ve got me cast as the villain in the drama of your life, but you’re wrong about me, Conor. I know what’s it’s like to be you—I was you. A lonely kid who hid away listening to music, dreaming of being understood. When I finally found a place—and people—where I fit in, it was like all this exploded out of me. It was freedom. It was being alive. Part of that, yes, was sex. There’s a whole world out there that I got to experience, and I was trying to share a little of it with you. I know I scared you a bit, but maybe someday you can appreciate what I was trying to for you.”
Conor thought about it. “I don’t know if you’re a bad person or not, but I think you make everything—and I do mean everything, Kai—all about you. Even this—I’m not sure if you’re saying sorry, but you’r
e really just talking about yourself.”
He expected Kai to show one of his flashes of temper, but Kai just grinned. It was probably the first genuinely uncalculated smile Conor had seen from him. “I’m a rock star,” Kai said. “Narcissism is one of the job requirements.”
There were footsteps from down the hall. Matty, looking out of breath, and host Matt, serene and unruffled, were coming towards them.
“Double Matted,” Kai said softly. “I am in trouble.”
Conor didn’t react. He and Kai weren’t friends that they could do whispered asides to each other.
Matt’s white teeth looked especially sharp. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said to Kai, “it’s just we need you—”
“For something very important, yeah. I’m coming.” Kai went with them, Matt doing his genial host habit of putting one hand to Kai’s arm.
Kai stopped and turned back. Conor could see Matt’s hand tighten on his elbow, but Kai ignored that, looking at Conor. “Whatever you do, you’re going to be fine, Conor,” he said. For once his words didn’t sound sexy, or creepy, or layered with meaning; Kai said it like a fact, no argument or opinion.
It was, Conor thought, the nicest thing Kai had done for him.
Jesse had been right about the suggested song choices for Conor that week. He’d found himself stubbornly determined to not do a song by a gay artist, or any sort of love song at all, and spent much of the week arguing and compromising. He ended up doing John Mayer’s “No Such Thing,” not because he liked Mayer, but because the song’s musings about looking for the real world after high school held some appeal to Conor. The show played it up as Conor confronting bullying in school, and in the interviews beforehand Conor had to be careful about not getting into too many details about his own experiences. He had to think his solution for how to deal with a bully probably wouldn’t apply to anyone else in the world.
Onstage, he ended up singing those lyrics about high school with a gentleness he hadn’t expected he would feel. He felt so far away from that now; the hallways that he’d walked through, filled with dread, seemed like faded, nostalgic places. Who could have ever imagined that he’d end up here? Certainly not anyone at his school; definitely not Conor himself.
