Unfiltered

by Payge Galvin

  She shakes her head violently and wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “No, we can’t.” Savannah looks at the floor and takes several measured breaths. Finally she raises her head and looks into my eyes. “Because I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you from the very first second I saw you.”

  It feels like someone just hit me with a brick wall. “Savannah—”

  “No.” She holds up one hand to stop me. “I love you, Dillon. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. But I can’t trust you, I know that now. You’d do anything to win—lie, steal, cheat. I can’t be part of that.”

  Savannah turns away from me, but I grab her arm. She can’t just dump something like that on me and then run away. “That’s so not true,” I say.

  “Let me go,” she says, twisting out of my grip.

  “She said to let her go.” I don’t even see Sam until he shoves me backward into the counter.

  “Sam…no!” Savannah says.

  I pull myself back up to my feet. “You need to get the fuck away from us right now.” I take a step toward him, but he doesn’t move. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  Sam grabs her hand. “If it concerns Savannah, it has everything to do with me.”

  I look at Savannah, but she won’t meet my eyes. What the fuck? First she tells me she loves me, which I can’t even get my head around, and now she’s holding hands with this douche-bag. “Tell him,” I say to her. “Go on. Tell him what you just told me.”

  She shakes her head. “Dillon, don’t.”

  “Yeah Dillon,” Sam says with a mocking tone. “Don’t.”

  He reaches out and shoves me again so that I stumble backward, but this time I’m ready for him. I step forward and throw a hard punch at his face. We’re about the same height, but he’s a lot heavier, so I’m surprised when he’s able to duck most of the force of it and just catch a glancing blow on his cheek. I lose track of Savannah as Sam answers my punch with one of his own that gets me right under the jaw. I’m about to go down when I feel strong hands holding me up from behind as flashbulbs go off all around us. My eyes aren’t focusing too well, but I can tell there’s a crowd gathered around us, and I know that I’m really and truly fucked this time.

  ***

  “Nice,” Gavin says, slapping the tabloids down on the table. I don’t bother to look at them. Everyone has a slightly different version of my fight with Sam last night. “They’re all over the gossip sites too.”

  “We should kick both of you off for this,” Rick says. He’s been chewing on the same pencil the entire meeting and I know he’s jonesing for a cigarette. He leans forward. “And if it was earlier in the season, we would. But we’re down to the final four as of tomorrow night and we can’t afford to lose the shows in the ratings.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Sam asks from his chair next to me. If it weren’t for the photographic evidence, you’d never believe he was in a fight at all. My jaw, however, is killing me, and I’ve got a nice bruise on the underside of it that the makeup tech wasn’t sure she could do that much about.

  “We’re going to spin it, that’s what,” Natalie says from across the room. It’s so hard to look at her now without picturing the robe around her waist as she straddles my legs. But I’m trying.

  “Spin it how?” I ask.

  Natalie walks over to the table and grabs a water. “Lover’s quarrel. Between America’s Sweethearts. You two were having an argument. Sam stepped in to help, and it all got out of control. You’re going to go onstage tomorrow night like it was all some big misunderstanding.”

  “I don’t want to be onstage with him,” I say.

  Gavin leans forward over the table, his eyes angrier than I’ve ever seen them. “You’re going to go onstage and do whatever the fuck we say and you’re going to smile and bow and kiss everyone’s ass if that’s what’s required because there is a hell of a lot of money riding on this.” He stands up and straightens his shirt cuffs. “Am I understood?”

  Both of us mumble something in the affirmative as we stand up. Sam lurches out the door, and I slow my pace because I don’t want to get caught in the hallway with him. I’m heading for the makeup room to see if they can do something about my jaw when Natalie catches up to me.

  “Dillon,” she says, quietly pulling me aside.

  I so don’t want to deal with her now. “I’ve really got to go,” I say, nodding toward the door.

  She glances around us to make sure we’re alone. “Listen up. The last show before the finale is going to be a choose-your-song. There will be four pieces of paper in a glass fishbowl—one of them has a much rougher texture than the others. Pick that one; it’s the perfect song for you— ‘The Gambler’ by Kenny Rogers. The range is perfect for your voice and the audience will eat it up.”

  Natalie brushes past me like giving me the key to the contest is nothing.

  “Hey. I’m not even in the final four yet.”

  “Of course you are,” she says, rolling her eyes and disappearing into her dressing room.

  By the time we go live the next nightSavannah and I have reached some sort of balance between working together and not really looking at each other. I’ve gone over everything Savannah said a thousand times, and I still can barely believe it. It’s everything I’ve always wanted her to say, but now there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve said all I can say, now it’s up to her.

  Sure enough, the final four are announced, and I’m still here, along with Savannah, Luke, and Sam the rat-bastard. Of all people not to get voted off—the American People have definitely let me down. But I smile and clap and even go so far as to give him a congratulatory pat on the back because that’s just how big of a man I really am. After the other two sing their final songs, Rick comes out with a big glass fishbowl and nods to the drummer who starts in on an extended drumroll.

  “We’re going to mix it up a little this week,” he says, holding it up high. “In this bowl are four very different songs, and each contestant has to do their version of whatever they pick tonight, without any rehearsal. Think of it as karaoke for live TV.” He lowers the bowl and walks over to me. “Dillon, you go first.”

  I stick my hand in the bowl.

  Just like Natalie promised, there’s one piece of paper that feels a lot different than the others. The one piece I make sure I don’t pick. I draw my hand out and read the song, laughing a little as I hand it over to Rick.

  “Oh, nice one!” he says, laughing too before holding it up to the cameras.

  I don’t miss Natalie’s subtle head shake as he reads it out loud. “Stand By You” by Carrie Underwood.”

  The audience erupts into laughter, and I can’t help smiling. Not only is it completely out of my range, but I don’t even know it very well. It’s perfect.

  I take my place at center stage with the hand held mic and know without a doubt that the next time I’m going to be up here is during the reunion show; but surprisingly, I’m totally okay with that. Rick points to the monitor that has the lyrics scrolling on it, and as much as I try to play to the audience it’s almost impossible to do that and figure out the lyrics at the same time. I screw up the words a couple of times, but just smile and keep going until the end. It truly is the best I can do under the circumstances, at least I can say that in all honesty. The people in the audience still stand and clap when I’m done, even though I know I’ve done nothing to deserve it tonight except butcher one of the most beloved songs in American Voice history. I guess people hear what they want to hear.

  Luke’s up next, fishing “The Gambler” out of the bowl. I don’t even look in Natalie’s direction when they start the music. I do feel a little bad for Luke though. While he could have killed the Carrie Underwood song, I’m not sure he’s up to Kenny Rogers. Luke steps to center stage, and it’s like a change comes over him with the first notes. He seems to get a little heavier, and there’s a hint of a swagger in his step as he walks around the stage. His voice is deeper than
I’ve ever heard it, and he doesn’t even have to look at the monitor because he knows every word by heart. Who knew that the gay kid from Long Island could rock the shit out of a country song?

  When he’s done, he magically morphs back into the Luke we’ve all come to know and love, blowing kisses into the last rows of the audience as they cheer and stomp their feet. He’s grinning as he walks back to take his seat on stage, and I reach across Sam to give Luke a high five. Luke’s in, there’s no doubt about it. Now it’s up to Sam and Savannah to fight it out for the last spot.

  Savannah stands onstage and reaches into the fishbowl, smiling when she reads the song on her scrap of paper. “Beautiful” by Christina Aguilera. I exhale when Rick says it, because I’ve heard her sing this and she’s going to be amazing. As she steps onto the stage, I can see the section where her family’s sitting come alive, banners shaking and signs waving as they scream for her. Someone shouts “we love you Savannah!” into the silence just before the first notes begin, and I’m happy for her. Even if she won’t let me be here to support her, there are other people who will. Even as the first notes come out of her mouth, you can tell she’s got this. I sit back and watch her belt out every heartfelt note.

  And now it’s Sam’s turn. I can see his hand shaking as he reaches into the fishbowl and I’m praying that he gets something lame. The two of us should get sent off together on Thursday. I say a silent ‘yes’ when Rick reads his song. There’s no way he’s going to do much with “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” I love U2, but this is too high for his voice and the song isn’t a standout enough to save him. He does a passable job and gets a lot of applause, but as tonight’s show winds down, I know that it’s me and Sam that are going to be called off during the next show.

  ***

  “You’re not going to believe what I found,” Luke says from his bed across the room. He’s been scrolling through his phone for hours while I’ve been flicking through the TV trying to find something to kill the time until rehearsal starts. It’s nice not to be nervous anymore. I know how the next two shows are going to go and I’m ready for it.

  “What?” I say, glancing over. Luke is the king of finding the most random shit on YouTube.

  “This,” he says, handing me the phone.

  He’s been on one of the gossip sites again and I’m not expecting much as I scroll down the screen. Until I see what he’s talking about. “Shit.”

  “Aren’t you happy?” he says. “This is exactly what they wanted from the very first show. ‘America’s Sweethearts in Final Two for American Voice’,” he reads.

  “That can’t be right,” I say, putting both feet on the floor.

  “Why not? You were always going to be one of the final two. I’m just glad Savannah made it too.”

  “It should be you in there. Instead of me,” I say.

  “No way,” he says. “I’ve been on borrowed time since the final ten. I’m just glad I got this far.”

  He’s way too calm about this for me. My thoughts are racing. “You destroyed that song last night.” I pull the site up on my phone. “It’s got to be a mistake. This is just gossip right?”

  “Nuh uh,” he says. “Maybe some other sites, but this guy is always right. He’s got all kinds of sources in the business. If it says it here, then it’s true.”

  “Not this time,” I say, grabbing my boots and shoving them on. “I’ll be back.” I can barely think straight in the elevator down to the theater. This is not how I want it to go. I can’t compete against Savannah, ratings or no ratings. I knock on Natalie’s dressing room door at the same time that I push it open.

  She’s sitting at her desk staring into a computer screen. Fully dressed this time. “Well hello there,” she says with a smile.

  “Is this true?” I say, throwing my phone on her desk. “Is this how the final’s going to go?”

  Natalie glances at the site that’s pulled up on my phone. “You know I can’t give out that kind of information the day before we air. Besides, that’s just gossip. We’re dealing with facts on this show.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” I say. I know they’ve already counted the votes. She knows who’s staying. “Is it true?”

  “Look,” she says pushing herself away from the desk. “You were always going to be in the final. From the very first show. If Savannah could manage to keep it together long enough to make it too, then hooray for us. What could be better than America’s Sweethearts battling it out to be the new American Voice? It’s like the real-life Hunger Games.”

  “But I choked last night,” I insist. “I sucked! Everyone else did a much better job than I did on their songs.”

  She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “And? You could go up there and vomit in the middle of the stage and nobody’s going to vote you off.” Natalie gets up and leans against her desk. “What do you think the goal of American Voice is?”

  I shrug. “Finding the best singer in the country?”

  “No. God, you’re so naïve. Ratings, Dillon, ratings. And every TV set in America will be tuned to our show on the last night to see which one of America’s Sweethearts is still standing. It’s genius. We couldn’t have orchestrated it better.”

  “I want out,” I say. “Luke and Savannah deserve the top two spots.”

  “How in the world can you say that? Do you know how many thousands of people would kill to be where you are now?”

  “I want out,” I repeat. “Tell them I got voted off. That the American People have spoken.”

  She laughs at me. “Right. Like anyone at the network is going to go for that. Face it, Dillon, you brought it here and now you get to ride it out to the very end.”

  I stare at her for one long second. Natalie’s right, this is a lot bigger than me. “Fine,” I say, turning toward the door.

  “Dillon,” Natalie calls. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I got some beer in just for you.”

  I turn back and smile at her. “Maybe next time.”

  It doesn’t take long to find who I’m looking for backstage. “Hey,” I say, tapping her on the arm as she rushes toward the stage. “Aren’t you Natalie Greer’s assistant?”

  She stops and glances at me before looking squarely at the ground. “Yes. Yvonne.”

  I put my arm around her and steer her toward a quieter part of the wings. “Well Yvonne, I’ve got something I need to discuss with you. Won’t take a minute, I promise.”

  Chapter 13

  Savannah

  Everyone’s staring as I race down the hall, but I don’t care. I pound on the door, but nobody says anything, so I pound louder. They have to be here. “It’s Savannah—open up!”

  Finally the door swings open, and I see Luke standing there in sweats and a t-shirt.

  I scan the room, but I already know. “Where is he?”

  Luke walks back into the room. It smells in here—like guys. Like Dillon. “You’re too late. It’s already started,” he says, pointing at the TV with the remote.

  American Voice Judge Accused of Sexual Escapade with Finalist is scrolling across the bottom of the screen like some kind of hideous tickertape.

  “…do you think of the validity of the claim, John?” the blonde woman with impossibly large hair says to her cohost.

  “Well, all sources say that the original tip came from within the network itself, so I’d say the likelihood of there being some truth to the rumor is pretty high.” The guy turns to the camera and gives a wide¸ white smile.

  “So what about the final? American Voice is only a few days away from airing the last live show.”

  “Well, regardless of the outcome, Dillon Varga is going to have to be suspended.”

  The woman looks horrified. “But if Dillon’s suspended, then he can’t compete.”

  “Looks that way,” the guy says. “The network says it will do everything it can to get to the bottom of this, but for now, both Dillon and American Voice judge Natalie Greer are off the a
ir.”

  Luke snaps the TV off and flops down on his bed.

  “Where is he?” I repeat.

  “He’s gone,” Luke says, one arm over his eyes.

  I can feel the panic rising in my chest. “What do you mean gone? Gone where?”

  “Gone. Out of the hotel. I think they put him up at the other hotel until this whole mess gets sorted out. All I know is that when I got back to the room after the meeting all his stuff was gone.”

  I text Dillon again, but I’m sure he’s not going to answer. “What hotel?”

  “The Skye I think,” Luke says. “But I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”

  “Why not?” I pace the tiny hallway at the foot of their beds. “What the hell was he thinking?”

  “He didn’t do it,” Luke says. “I know what went down, and he didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know?”

  Luke spreads his arms out wide. “It’s a small room. We talk. Natalie propositioned him a few weeks ago, but he didn’t do it.”

  “Propositioned him?”

  “Made a pass at him…offered to suck his dick…whatever you want to call it. Dillon didn’t go through with it.”

  “So why is this all happening now, the day before the final competition?”

  Luke gets up and shuts the door before coming back to sit on the end of his bed. “Dillon set it up.” He sees me about to speak and holds up one hand. “I’m not totally sure how, but he made sure that the gossip sites knew about it early enough so that he’d get kicked off before the final competition.”

  “Why would he do that?” Nothing is making sense anymore.

  Luke shakes his head. “Lord, girl, for someone so smart you can sure be stupid. Because he didn’t want to compete with you. Not on the last show. He practically admitted it when he raced out of here this morning. He was pissed when he saw what the gossip sites were saying about the two of you being up for this year’s American Voice. Raced out of here saying he was going to fix it.”

  I collapse onto the other bed. “Well, he sure fixed it.”

  Luke leans over and puts his elbows on his knees. “You know this means it’s probably you and me tomorrow.”