Unfiltered

by Payge Galvin

  “Great,” she says.

  I’m turning the doorknob when the idea hits me, and I figure I might as well try. “Actually. There is one thing you can do for me…”

  Chapter 11

  Savannah

  “Seriously Dad,” I say into the phone. “If I make it to the top three, then you can come. But you’re just going to make me nervous if I know you’re sitting out in the audience.”

  “There’s nothing going to keep us away, Savannah,” he says. “That’s a promise.”

  Gavin’s back up on stage, and I know he’s got more to say before we can get the heck out of here. Now that the judges aren’t the ones deciding who stays and who goes, he comes to most of the rehearsals. “We’re starting. I have to go.”

  “Love you superstar,” he says.

  “Love you, too.”

  I switch off my phone and notice Dillon sitting behind me. I wonder if he heard all that. In all the time I’ve known him, Dillon’s never talked about anyone in his family, and I’m pretty sure there won’t be any parents in the audience holding up a sign for him in the finals. Which makes me feel even more guilty about how things are going between us.

  “No Sam today?” he asks.

  I can’t help it: I return his snark. “No Mia today?”

  “I deserved that,” he says with a grin and slides over the top of the theater seat into the one next to me.

  “Yes you did,” I say. I look up at the crew on the stage. It’s been particularly tense today—lots of whispered meetings and people in suits running around. “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Nope.” A troubled look crosses his face, but as soon as I notice it, it’s gone.

  “Okay people,” Gavin shouts. “We’ve got a few changes to tomorrow’s show. Unfortunately, Mia had to leave us for personal reasons.”

  I look at Dillon, but he seems as shocked as I feel. What could possibly make someone leave the show when they’re in the top six?

  “And Luke Conrad will be returning to our ranks to take her place. Work on your numbers for an eleven o’clock call tomorrow. Goodnight!”

  Dillon gives Jim the security guard a high-five as he holds the exit door open for us. Assistants, security guards, hotel clerks—Dillon always seems to be friends with them all.

  “What happened?” I ask as we walk into the lobby.

  “No idea,” Dillon says. His face lights up when he sees Luke rounding the corner and gives him one of those bro-hugs that involves lots of handshaking and back pounding. “Dude! You made it back!”

  “I guess so,” Luke says. “I don’t know how it happened, but it looks like I’m moving back in.”

  “Just when I was getting used to running around the room naked,” Dillon says, but I can see he’s happy to have him back.

  “Do you have any idea what happened to Mia?” I ask.

  Luke glances around the lobby. “I heard a couple of things, just around, you know—nothing official. Seems like there are some topless photos of her that are going to surface on some of the gossip sites tomorrow. The network didn’t want any part of that, so they let her go. Contract violations and all that.”

  “Seriously?” I say. Mia in her country dresses and cowboy boots hardly seems the type.

  “I know,” he says. “I feel kind of bad for her. I heard they were from years ago.”

  Dillon slaps him on the back. “Looks like her fuck-up saved your life. Hey, I was thinking about grabbing a beer in the bar downstairs. Want to come?”

  “I have to get my stuff from the other hotel,” Luke says, “But maybe I’ll catch up with you later.”

  We wave as he heads toward the elevators. I’m glad Luke’s back but there’s a confidence about Dillon that makes me think something’s up. “You had something to do with that, didn’t you?”

  Dillon shakes his head, but won’t look at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You got Luke back on the show.”

  “Look. Yes, I think that it was unfair that Luke got voted off. But no, I didn’t do anything to Mia to get her kicked out if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  I think he’s lying somehow, or at least not telling me the whole truth. “I can’t imagine having to leave the show,” I say.

  “Big talk from someone who didn’t even want to audition,” Dillon says. We start walking down the carpeted hallway.

  “I know,” I say. “I never did say thanks for making me do it.”

  “I’m glad you did,” he says. “And I’m glad I was right.”

  We get to the turn off for the elevators, and there’s an uncomfortable silence. I think about the bus ride here, Dillon sleeping beside me, our first night in the hotel, and wish I could hit rewind and get that all back. “Want some company at the bar?”

  He breaks into the first genuine smile I’ve seen all day. “I’d love it.”

  We walk to the hotel bar we like the best, the one attached to the Italian restaurant, and slip into some barstools. The network doesn’t like us to leave the hotel without letting them know, but with their roving chaperones, they don’t get too fussy if we just want to have a drink at the bar. After all, we’re adults, even though this sometimes feels like some kind of crazy boot camp for singers.

  “I got this,” Dillon says, reaching into his wallet to pay for my wine.

  “Thanks,” I say. “Just like the old days.”

  Dillon grabs his beer, and I clink my glass to his. “For luck.”

  He smiles and takes a swig. “You don’t need luck.” Dillon sets the beer back on the bar and takes my hand in his, lacing his fingers through mine. “Are you glad you came with me?”

  “Yes,” I say. I love the feeling of his hand in mine.

  “I’ve missed you,” he says, raising my hand and brushing his lips along my fingers.

  My heart races at his touch. “I’ve missed you too. It feels like this whole America’s Sweethearts thing has just messed everything up.”

  Dillon nods a little sadly. “Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way things were before the show. Before Vegas.”

  “Maybe we can,” I say.

  He shrugs. “Maybe. But nothing’s ever going to be the same.” He glances around the restaurant. People have been looking over and whispering about us, but so far nobody has come up to ask for our autographs. Yet. “Once the show’s over we’ll go on the American Voice tour for the next several months. Our faces are plastered all over the network several times a week. We can’t go anywhere private anymore.”

  I squeeze his hand. “But isn’t that what you always wanted? Fame and fortune and everyone knowing your name?”

  Dillon looks up with those endless brown eyes. “I thought it was.”

  I’m about to answer when a guy on the bar stool next to me leans over. “Hey, aren’t you Dillon and Savannah?”

  Dillon lets go of my hand and smiles at the guy. I’d love to tell him to take a hike, but the networks have been very clear about how we need to interact with fans.

  “Yeah,” Dillon says. “We’re sort of in the middle of something here, so…”

  “Oh, this won’t take a second,” the guy says. He’s got brown hair and green eyes and is wearing a button-down shirt that just seems a little too dressy for his demeanor. Something about the artfully cultivated scruff on his face and his disarming smile makes me think he’d be more at home in jeans and a college t-shirt.

  Dillon looks around for a spare napkin. “I’ll be happy to give you an autograph if you want.”

  “The name’s Max,” the guy says. “I’m with the Verde View.” He pulls out a notebook.

  At the name ‘Verde’, Dillon freezes and his face gets serious.

  “I was wondering if you two might give a fellow Rio Verde boy an interview,” Max says. “Gotta say, down at the paper, we were pretty thrilled to hear there were two locals who’d made it this far. That’s never happened before, has it? We’d love to have an article about two of our own
making good. Not many folks who manage to make it out of that place, you know.”

  Dillon seems to relax a little. “All of our media contact is supposed to go through the network,” he says. “I’m sorry. I can give you that information if that’ll help.”

  Max looks from me to Dillon. “Aw, come on, we’re just a couple of people from a small town in Arizona having a drink. Off the record.” He takes a swig of his beer. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty amazing. Two hometown kids, coming up here with nothing…I bet it’s been quite a struggle for you guys. How’d you manage it?

  Dillon shrugs, but he looks uneasy. “Same way as everyone, I guess. Beg, borrow and scrape to get by.”

  Max hesitates, as if he’s making a decision. “You know, you look familiar. I’m sure I’ve seen you around town. I hung around a place called The Coffee Cave occasionally. Heard of it??”

  Dillon nods thoughtfully. “Yep. Used to play there sometimes.”

  “Interesting,” Max takes another drink. I swear I can see his hand shaking. “I haven’t been there since May. You?”

  I watch the two of them, but I can’t figure out what’s going on. There’s something more here than just a casual interview, that’s for sure, but I don’t know what it is.

  Dillon sets his bottle on the bar and looks directly at Max. “Nope. Haven’t been back in Rio Verde since auditions began.” He hesitates. “Is there something you need?”

  Max glances at me and lowers his voice. “A guy got killed after the ... incident ... over a couple keys of coke. The baristas all took off too.”

  “Sugar?” Dillon asks, suddenly looking concerned. “Is she okay?”

  Max glances at me again. “No idea. “ He leans forward on the bar. “Anyone who worked there that night’s gone. Listen, you need to be careful. Someone’s looking for the money.”

  Money? As in a canvas duffle bag full of neat stacks of cash? “What?” I ask.

  Max looks freaked out. “You didn’t tell her?”

  Dillon sits back on the barstool and runs his fingers through his hair. “No you dumbass. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  My stomach lurches as Dillon glances worriedly at me. “I have to go,” I say, pushing myself off the bar stool. My mind is racing. No wonder Dillon had to get out of town in a hurry. He had a bag full of drug money.

  “Savannah! Wait!” Dillon calls as I weave my way through the people on the casino floor.

  “Let me go!” I say as he catches up to me and touches my hand. I try to walk away from him, but he’s right behind me.

  “You have to let me explain!” Dillon says, his eyes flashing.

  I turn to face him. “Explain what? A bag full of cash that’s mysteriously in your possession the day you leave town? From a dead drug dealer?”

  “Shhh!” he says and pulls me into a bank of abandoned penny slots. “It wasn’t like that.”

  I turn to face him. “What was it like then? I saw the money in that bag. Money you said was some kind of inheritance.”

  Dillon looks crestfallen. “You did look in the bag,” he says. “That time I asked you to watch it for me.”

  I feel a pang of guilt, but that’s not the point. “So what? What about the people who want that money back?” I look around the crowded casino floor. “Damn it Dillon! We got here on a total lie. And now I’m part of it too.”

  Dillon grabs me by the arms and pins me to the wall. “Let me go!” I say, not liking the intensity I see in his eyes.

  He lifts his hands off me. “Sorry. But I need you to listen. Yes, some guy got shot the night I was at the Cave—apparently he was a drug dealer. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. And then Sugar found the money, and we split it up so that we’d all keep quiet. Because we all had something to lose by taking the money.”

  “So you just pick up a bag full of dirty cash and take off?” It feels like I don’t even know him anymore. “How much was it?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  But I’m not going to let it go. “How much?”

  “Over a hundred thousand.” He releases me with one hand and slams the wall in frustration. “It was like the universe was handing me an opportunity. One that I couldn’t pass up. How else was I supposed to get here?” Dillon stares at me. “The money’s gone. I took care of it.”

  “What do you mean it’s gone?”

  Dillon glances around to make sure no one is listening. “It’s just gone. Nobody is going to come looking for us,” he says. “I’ll deal with Max, and this is the last time we have to talk about it, okay?”

  “I can’t believe you’d think that all this is okay,” I say, wrenching myself out of his grip. I walk quickly toward the elevators, but Dillon doesn’t follow me. What I thought was a grand gesture by bringing me along to Vegas was nothing but a lie. A stupid, dangerous lie. How could I have been such an idiot?

  I punch the elevator button hard, trying not to cry. When I turn around to look back toward the casino floor, Dillon’s already gone.

  Chapter 12

  Dillon

  I’m so grateful when I manage to finish the song without totally blowing it, that tears spring into my eyes. I know people liked it; I can hear the applause, but I had no idea when I picked “Change is Gonna Come” for Battle of the Ballads week that it would hit so close to home. It feels like the music and the lyrics have wound their way around my body until I can barely move. I wave to everyone in the theater and then turn and wave into the camera for everyone who’s out there. I wonder if my mom or my brother is watching, wherever they are. If they recognize me. If they can see how far I’ve come since the bad old days.

  I settle into my chair on the stage to watch Luke sing. He’s last up and everyone has killed their selections so far, so if he wants to make it into the final four, he’s going to have to nail this one. I’ve watched him rehearse it a couple of times, but whenever the spotlight and the cameras are on Luke, he brings it like nobody I’ve ever seen.

  The first notes of “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going” fill the theater and everyone is silent, waiting to see what Luke will do to the song that Jennifer Hudson made famous in the movie Dreamgirls. He puts it all out there—every drop of pain and anguish, every note deliberate, every movement nuanced. As he gets to the crescendo of the song, I actually get goosebumps up my arms. He’s changed some of the lyrics, but it doesn’t matter if you’re a guy or a girl, you just want the song to be about you. Fucking genius.

  I look over at Savannah two seats away. I wish I could share this with her, to see her smile and appreciate what Luke is putting out there, but she’s staring dead ahead. She hasn’t spoken to me since Max showed up a few days ago, and she makes sure that we’re never alone. I want so badly to explain it to her. To tell her that I really did take care of everything. But I can’t tell her where I left the money because then I’d have to explain how things are with me. Where I came from and how broken I really am. And I don’t want to have to admit that to anyone . . . even her.

  Luke finishes his song with a flourish and smiles at the audience who by now is eating out of his hands. I look over at the other four people sitting on the stage with me—two of us are going home on the next show, and I don’t have a clue which two it will be. Hopefully the American public is going to be smart about it. Something I usually don’t have all that much confidence in.

  The audience at home is reminded to vote and tune in on Tuesday for the results show. Now that we’re doing two shows a week in the finals we really don’t have much time to do anything but rehearse and sleep. But I’m determined to get Savannah alone.

  I try to convince myself it’s clarifying, not stalking, as I wait for her in the lobby after the show. I nod and say hi to people as they pass, but keep one eye on the backstage door until I finally see her walk through it.

  “Hey,” I say, walking up to her and matching her stride.

  Savannah turns to me without stopping, a cold look in her eyes. “What do you want?”


  Okay, that’s how we’re going to play it. Fine. But I’m not leaving until she hears me out. “I want to talk to you. Somewhere private.”

  “I don’t want to be alone with you,” she says. “I can’t trust you.”

  Ouch. “Then stand over here and listen to what I have to say. You owe me that much.”

  I can practically see the anger rising in her. “I don’t owe you a damn thing! You not only put yourself in danger, but you dragged me along too.”

  I steer her toward an empty Starbucks counter—they’re already closed for the night, so it’s as private as I’m probably going to get. “I’d never do that! You’ve got to believe that I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  Savannah clenches her teeth, but I can see tears forming in her eyes. Good. At least she gives a small fuck about what I’m saying.

  “I had to take it when I could get it,” I say quickly before she changes her mind and walks away. “I only used a couple thousand of it before…before I got rid of it. If you want, as soon as I make some money, I’ll give that amount to charity.”

  “And you think that’s going to make everything okay?”

  I start to panic. I’m running out of words. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it okay.” I know I sound desperate, but damn it, I am. “Savannah, you’re the only one in this world I wanted to take on this trip with me. The only one who means everything to me. I’ll do anything to get you back, in whatever way we can. Friends…band mates…whatever.”

  “Friends?” she says, tears spilling over her eyelashes and running down her face. “We can’t ever be friends again.”

  I stand there looking at her beautiful face with a giant lump in my throat. I never thought I’d hear her say that. We’ve been friends for three years—longer than anyone else has been in my life. I don’t dare touch her—I can feel how poised she is to bail any second. “We can,” I whisper.