So the Heart Can Dance (A Hidden Beauty Novel Book 2)

by Mary Crawford

  “Gracie, don’t torture me like that!” Aidan exclaims. “I hate that I’m going to bed alone.”

  “I never thought in a million years that I would admit this, but I hate it too,” I confess, as I run my thumb lightly over his profile picture after I send the text. It’s surprisingly difficult to say good bye.

  I watch with morbid fascination as my life story is dissected in the latest promo piece produced by 5-Star. It’s exactly the type of promotion they assured me they would not do. Hell, I’ve even got my own theme song now. Of course, the focus of the promo is not the years I’ve spent becoming a musician, the bands I’ve been with in the past or even my songwriting credentials. It’s a quintessential pity-me campaign. A somber, overly dramatic narrator is telling the audience what a horrific childhood I had and how meningitis robbed me of my hearing. It goes into great detail about the allegedly gruesome surgery I had to “fix myself” so I wouldn’t be a burden to those around me. Then, to add insult to injury, they had a few of my fellow competitors lament how unfair it is for me to compete against them, because I might have technology in my cochlear implant to enhance my singing.

  My emotions are all over the map. I’m totally ticked that they felt I wasn’t doing well enough in the competition to compete like a regular guy. I’m upset about the way they portrayed my family. Granted, we haven’t always gotten along and I did feel abandoned when they followed Rory and left me behind. Still, staying with Dolores is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I can’t really criticize my parent’s choices, because they haven’t been in that situation before and I’m sure they thought they were doing the most logical thing.

  What upsets me most is the fact that this promo makes it appear I think deafness is a crippling defect. I have lots of very successful friends who are deaf and haven’t elected to get implants. I know they’re going to take great offense at the tone of this promotion. In the deaf community, being deaf is not necessarily considered a disability or liability; it’s a cultural identity. This promotion makes it seem as if I’m embarrassed to be part of that culture. That’s simply not true. I chose cochlear implants for two very practical reasons. First, the isolation was stifling after being able to hear for so many years. Secondly I felt, as a musician, a major tool had been taken away from me. It was important to hear what I was playing. However, they completely glossed over how difficult that decision was for me. It was extremely scary, knowing I could lose what little hearing I had left in a gamble that cochlear implants would work for me.

  My mind goes back to the insecure teenager I once was. I was a child stuck between two worlds, not fully belonging to either. That’s one of the reasons that I wanted to compete without any mention of my deafness. For once, I just wanted to be evaluated solely on my skill. I wanted to identify with other musicians as just another musician. Now, I’m back to being the different one, the one who doesn’t really fit.

  Waves of nausea wash over me as I consider the ramifications of 5-Star’s actions. I should’ve paid more attention to Tara’s warnings. If 5-Star is willing to break their word so easily, who’s to say that there’s even going to be a prize at the end of this competition? We’re supposed to get a record contract and a cash prize if we win. Now I wonder if any of this is real, or if it’s all a charade. I wanted this to be real so badly I blew right past the warning signs. I feel incredibly stupid. But I can’t stop hoping that my doubts are overblown, and it’s all a misunderstanding.

  Suddenly, the throb at the back of my neck turns into a full-blown headache. I sink down on the bed, bury my head in my hands, and massage my temples. My phone rings and I reflexively answer it. I have no idea who’s on the other end or if I’ll be able to keep myself composed enough to have a coherent conversation. My brain is going in a million different directions.

  “Hello? Aidan, are you there?” Tara asks. Our phone connection is so bad, she could be calling from Mars.

  “Gracie, let me call you back. My phone is being strange—” I got cut off before I could tell Tara goodbye.

  I immediately call her back, but adrenaline is making my hands shake so much, I can barely push the keys. “Tara, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hang up on you, but my phone lost its signal,” I explain.

  “I know,” Tara responds with worry in her voice. “But I really need to know if you’re okay.”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I reply automatically. I’d really rather not tell Tara I think I’ve made a huge mistake. But as soon as I think the thought I realize how ridiculous it sounds. I sigh as I revise my answer, “No, I lied. I’m not okay. I mean, physically I’m okay, but I feel like my life is falling apart.”

  I hear Tara’s gasp through the phone. “I knew it. I just knew it,” she exclaims. “Something really bad happened, didn’t it?”

  Before I can censor myself, a groan slips out.

  “Aidan, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on?” she demands, her voice breaking.

  “Gracie, I’m fine,” I insist. “I’m just upset. Maybe you were right all along. This whole gig may be nothing but an elaborate hoax. I should’ve listened to Dolores when she said, ‘If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.’ I feel like the world’s biggest idiot.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Tara advises. “They had all the bells and whistles to make it look legitimate. Even I began to second-guess my instincts.”

  “That’s a good question, how did you even know that I needed your help and how did you know not to trust these guys?” I probe.

  “Well, that’s kind of hard to explain over the phone, but I’ll try,” Tara says reluctantly. “How much do you believe in the paranormal?”

  “Tara, I grew up with somebody from Louisiana who was a huge believer in folktales and ghost stories, so I’m pretty open. Are you going to tell me a ghost told you all this?” I tease.

  Tara chuckles softly as she replies, “No, but my story is equally out there. You remember that my mom was part Native American, right?”

  I can’t fathom where she’s going with this “Uh huh, I vaguely remember you telling me about that, years ago when you told me your middle name.”

  “My mom had the gift of ‘knowing’ bestowed upon her by one of the elders in her parents tribe. My mom could tell you what was going to happen in your life, with uncanny accuracy.”

  “That must’ve been fun as a kid,” I quip.

  Tara chokes back a laugh as she retorts, “Let’s just say, I had a healthy respect for honesty. Anyway, I seem to have inherited some of my mom’s skills. I’m nowhere near as talented as she was, but I can often sense when something bad is imminent.”

  “That could be scary. Do your friends run when they see you coming?”

  “I don’t have a bunch of friends. Many people are totally creeped out by it,” she admits. “The girls in the Girlfriend Posse are used to me now, so it doesn’t bug them much anymore. But, my premonitions are not always bad. Heather calls me a human lie detector. She says having me around is a way to cut through all the BS of dating. I knew that Jeff and Kiera would be together, even before they spoke.”

  “Does it get exhausting, being the keeper of all that knowledge?” I ask, suddenly curious about the toll such a gift would take on Tara.

  “I often wish I could turn a blind eye to what I see coming,” she concedes. “It’s not fun when people think of you as their own personal dream-buster.”

  “I’ll be brave. What does your gift say about us?” I ask with some trepidation.

  Tara pauses on the other end of the phone. My heart sinks. What if her intuition, premonition, or gift doesn’t show us together? How would I overcome that? I’m pretty persuasive, but I might not stand a chance against her mystical foreknowledge.

  I hear Tara give a small sigh, and in my mind’s eye I see her shrugging eloquently. “Unfortunately, my special powers don’t apply to my own life. If they did, I could’ve avoided a lot of heartache.”

  “It must be frustrati
ng, if you can’t control what you see.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” she mutters. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about us. My plain old womanly instincts tell me we started out as friends and still like each other a lot. That bodes well for us.”

  I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. At least, the cosmos isn’t against us. “But you could sense something was wrong before you even called. So does your gift extend to me?”

  “The best answer I can give you is—sometimes. I have more insight into you that I typically do for anything in my personal life. But I don’t see everything, or what I do see is difficult to interpret.”

  “Do you have a sense of what’s going to happen with this competition?” I inquire. Then it suddenly occurs to me maybe I don’t want to know. I should make this decision independent of any special knowledge. “Wait, I’m not sure you should tell me,” I say with conviction. “If you tell me, I really would be gaming the system and it would give me an unfair advantage to know the outcome.”

  Tara gives a small sound of approval. “I knew you were a guy with a strong moral compass, but this just confirms it. However, I’ve made my suggestions pretty clear all along. I don’t know all of what happened today, but I can sense someone broke your trust. It would be hard for them to earn it back, especially in a competitive environment with a lot happening quickly.”

  “Well, Gracie, there’s no reason I can’t tell you what happened. 5-Star put it out there for the world to see,” I snarl. “It wasn’t just my trust they broke, they ruined the competition for everyone else, too. The other contestants are never going to trust that I wasn’t behind this whole publicity deal.”

  “What does your gut tell you to do?” Tara asks quietly.

  “My gut tells me to walk away. Hell, I should probably even run,” I admit. “But it’s hard for me to give up my dream.”

  “AJ, you’re not giving up on your dream! You’re just adjusting the itinerary.”

  I sigh and scrub my hand over my face. “So how do you suggest I do this?” I ask. “I can’t just not show up for work. If you get a reputation for being late or absent, it follows you for years.”

  “If it were me, I would tell them in a place and time that makes them take responsibility,” Tara suggests.

  I chuckle as I respond, “Tara Grace, I can’t believe you’re advising me to stick it to the man.”

  “Well, they deserve it don’t they?” Tara asks pointedly.

  “They really do,” I concede. “This might be fun.”

  The nauseous feeling hasn’t gone away; in fact it’s worse, as I’m waiting backstage for my turn. When we all go on stage to be introduced, Clover Branch makes an announcement to all of the contestants, “We’ve had some questions about the authenticity of our performers. So, for today’s round, you will be singing a song randomly chosen by Twitter users.”

  The older gentleman, Derron Waxell, looks directly at me and mutters under his breath, “I knew you were going to cause trouble. Maybe you should’ve just stayed with the Special Olympics.”

  White-hot rage flashes over me and I have to consciously release my grip on my guitar before I ruin the fret. “Pardon me, I don’t think I heard you right,” I reply, my voice shaking with anger.

  “I think you heard me just fine,” Derron answers. “The reason we have to do it this way is because no one believes you can sing. If it were not for you, we could use the songs we rehearsed.”

  He’s right, of course, and it draws me up short. I sigh and shake my head apologetically. “That’s true, I guess, and I’m sorry it’s going that way. But I don’t like what they’re doing any more than you do. It’s a bad break all around.”

  If I wasn’t sure what path to take already, the conversation just sealed the deal for me. I wish I could go rock climbing or jogging or something. I need to punch a few walls. I haven’t been this angry since I was a teenager.

  I’m the third singer to go up tonight. I have no idea what song the audience will choose for me. The other two contestants before me were given mainstream pop songs that all of us are likely to know. But I’ve had to do this for them already, so they know I’m familiar with lots of songs. If they paid attention to my resume, they should’ve known that before I even got here. So they have an opportunity now, if they want, to make this the challenge of my life.

  Carrying my guitar, I walk to the center of the stage and await my fate. Having no control over song choice is absolutely terrifying. All the talent in the world won’t save me if they pick a song I don’t know or one that’s completely out of my vocal range.

  The overly peppy host, Glenn Smokes, shoots a cheesy smile at the camera before announcing, “Let’s see what the audience chose for our next contestant, Aidan O’Brien.” He turns to me and says, “Having bravely overcome so much in your life already, I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty. Your courage is an inspiration to us all.”

  It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. Being called brave, courageous, or inspiring is one of my pet peeves. I’m just dealing with life. It’s not like I have a whole lot of choice. Firefighters, paramedics, and police officers are heroes. I’m just a guy with a guitar, trying to make a living. I look at the camera with what I hope is a semblance of a smile, glance at the audience, and respond, “I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. I only hope America chooses a song I’ve actually heard of.”

  Glenn gives an exaggerated laugh, as if I’ve told the funniest joke ever. “Well, I think the audience has a great deal of faith in you. I hope you’ve heard of Big and Rich,” he declares, pausing dramatically before announcing, “America wants you to sing Holy Water.”

  I try to not show my shock. Holy Water is not a bubblegum pop song. It deals with domestic violence and sexual assault. There’s no way I can sing this song without thinking of Tara in every single syllable. It will be a huge success or an epic failure; nothing in between. Sometimes I have a hard time keeping my pitch when I’m emotionally invested in a song. I decide to play the piano. It comes to me easier than guitar, because I’ve played it longer.

  The walk from the stool to the piano seems endless. The audience is waiting in total silence for me to begin. As I play the first few notes, there is a smattering of applause. The song is emotionally wrenching, but I’m really grateful, now, for my eclectic taste in music. The fact that I even know this song is a bit of a miracle. It’s really not wedding reception material, by a long shot. Once I start, the rest is kind of a blur. I can only give it my best shot. When I finish, you can hear a pin drop. For a moment, I start to panic, totally unsure what it means. Maybe the audience needs a moment to catch its breath after such a heavy song, or maybe I’ve totally bombed.

  Finally, applause breaks out as I walk to the center of the stage. In this round, the producers have elected not to give us any feedback until the end. So I just have to shake the host’s hand and walk off the stage.

  After everyone has sung their random song, we’re all called back on stage. My palms are sweating and I feel like I can’t take a deep breath. I’m not sure when I became so invested in winning. It’s really not my nature. That was more Rory and Tara’s scene. I tend to be more laid-back. Yet, here I am waiting, with bated breath, to find out what total strangers think of my work. All this angst isn’t even for the big finale yet. We are merely competing for Twitter and text votes to move to the next week. If you have the highest Social media score, you win the weekly bonus prize. Last week, one of the kids won a new car. It’s too bad I came in second that week. My van has seen better days and I could use a new set of wheels. I wonder what the prize will be this week.

  Gradually, they eliminate contestants until it’s just down to me and Tasha Keely. I’m not surprised. She’s only thirteen, but Tasha has a real set of pipes. As we go to commercial, she takes my hand and whispers, “I know you’re gonna get it. But if I have to lose to anybody, I’m glad it’s you.”

  I smile at her optimism. “I’m not sure I would write of
f your chances so easily. Your version of Royals will make Lorde shake in her boots.”

  Tasha gives me a grateful grin as she responds, “Thanks, Aidan. Good luck.”

  The stage manager calls us to the middle of the stage. Tasha still has a death grip on my hand as the host announces that, as the weekly prize, the winning song tonight will be released as a single on iTunes. Tasha starts jumping up and down with excitement. I have to admit, I’m tempted to join her. It’s a huge opportunity and potentially worth a lot of money. We are both holding our breath when the Head Judge announces I’ve won the most votes by a slim margin.

  I’m still in shock when Tasha gives me a smug look and murmurs, “I told you so. That was an amazing song. It almost felt like you were living it.”

  “Th-thanks,” I stammer. Before I can say anything more, the stage manager announces that we’ve gone to commercial again.

  I immediately search for Clover Branch. When I find her standing at the perimeter of the room, I jog over to talk to her.

  When she sees me, she exclaims, “Aidan, we’re not done with you. You need to go back on your mark and say something about your win.”

  “I know,” I answer. “But I want to make sure I heard everything correctly. Did you say the price package of releasing the song is mine regardless of whether I win or lose the overall competition?”

  Clover nods as she replies, “Yes, it doesn’t matter what happens from here on out the song is being released as we speak.”

  I run back to my mark and hit it right before we come back from commercial. I have a couple of minutes to catch my breath because the producers have brought in an up-and-coming rap star that I’m not familiar with to do a guest shot. Fortunately, I’m not live on camera right now. I steel my nerves for what’s about to come. I hope Tara will be proud of me.

  After his song ends, the host waves me over for my victory speech of sorts. I hate this part of the show. It feels like I’m rubbing my success in the face of the other contestants. Tasha especially doesn’t deserve it. She is destined to be a star and I don’t want to make her feel bad about her performance.