by Lacey Black
The third week starts the actual voting round where contestants perform for votes from the viewers. The more votes you have, the better shot you have at making it to the next round. The performer with the least score at the end of the voting period will go home.
The coaches don’t actually vote. They are here as mentors and will be responsible for picking out the songs that each performer will sing. They will sit at the end of the stage as each singer performs their song, and will provide you with their thoughts and feedback at the end of the performance. At the very end of the show, each coach wants to be one standing beside the winner. It’s a great honor and a battle between the coaches. Basically, it’s for bragging rights.
I decide to get the hell out of dodge and head down a little early to the lounge. When I step over the threshold of the lovely room which will supply me with some much needed alcohol, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Corie, Ben, and Troy already there.
“Hey,” Corie says with a big smile and a hug.
“Hi. How long have you guys been here?” I ask.
“Just a few minutes. Did you get settled in your room?” Troy asks following his hug.
“You aren’t going to believe who I’m rooming with again,” I mumble as I take the seat next to Ben.
“No! How is it possible you get stuck with her again?” Corie asks horrified.
“I don’t know but apparently the universe is trying to tell me something,” I reply before ordering a diet coke with a shot of Jack.
“Well, I busted my roommate trying to dismantle the smoke detector. I’m pretty sure he’s already higher than a kite,” Troy says with the shake of his hairy head.
“And my new roommate hasn’t noticed me because I’m not an image on her phone screen. I’m pretty sure she keeps calling me Cary,” Corie says.
“Hey, my roommate is completely normal. His name is Oakley. Not sure if that’s his first or his last name, but he seems like a pretty cool guy,” Ben says with a shrug.
“So, what do you think tomorrow is going to be like?” Corie asks the group at large.
“I overheard that guy, Gus, telling a group at registration that the coaches will meet with their teams tomorrow and go over the scheduling. We’ll have practices on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning with the show’s voice team, plus individually with our coach. Then, some of the teams are on their own for the weekend because Sophia and Beau have concerts,” Troy says.
“And I guess we’ll meet with the stylists and stuff this weekend and all get our ‘image’ established for the show. Can you believe the first showdown is next Wednesday night?” Ben adds.
“It’s going to be a long, crazy week,” Corie says.
I’m feeling a little overwhelmed so I just shake my head. I knew that this was going to be a lot of hard work, but I didn’t realize the schedule would be so intense. Daily practices with the coach and a voice coach, plus sessions with a stylist. It honestly worries me a little to know that the show may change my appearance and the way I dress. As long as they don’t try to make me look like Country Barbie upstairs, I guess I’ll roll with anything. Though, I secretly hope they leave my hair alone.
“I wonder if we’ll be able to do anything fun on the weekends,” Corie states.
“I’m sure they can’t keep us locked up in a hotel the entire time we’re not at the studio, right?” Ben tries to reassure her. Though, I’m not one hundred percent sure. That contract we signed was pretty ironclad. The show pretty much owns our souls from this point on.
“Maybe we can go to the movies or the mall?” she says to no one in particular.
“If we’re able to leave the prison, I’ll go,” I tell her, finally joining in on the conversation.
“Me too,” Ben says with a smile. I turn away quickly when it looks like he wants to say something more.
“Then, I guess I’m in, too,” Troy chimes in with a smile.
“Great! It’s a date,” Corie says as we all go back to our drinks.
*****
“Listen to me. Are you listening? Because I’m not going to repeat myself again. Get. Me. My. Own. Room. I can’t stand to share a room with some common woman one more night. I mean, seriously! Who doesn’t use Chanel exfoliates? I’m pretty sure her body wash is from Wal-Mart,” Shawna says into the pink cell phone in her hand.
Seriously. Like I’m not even here.
Note to self: Check into getting your own room. ASAP.
“Fine. Do what you can and make it happen. That’s why I pay you the ridiculous amount that I do. Do your job or I’ll find someone else to do it for you,” she says venomously before hanging up the phone.
How does a young woman without a record contract already have “people?” I’ve heard that people who’ve been in this business for years don’t even have their own people. Yet, she seems to have at least one person pulling strings and making calls. She reeks of daddy’s money like her expensive perfume. That’s the only thing I can think of and the only reason why that poor Richard guy wouldn’t have told her to stick it up her manicured ass by now. Daddy must be loaded.
Shawna storms off with a huff and slams the bathroom door, leaving me in pleasant peace. Finally. Lounging in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I take the opportunity to text my mom again. The thirty-minute phone call after dinner tonight just wasn’t enough. And the worst part of it is that I haven’t even been here fifteen hours and I’m already homesick.
Somewhere between my Facebooking and my channel surfing, the bathroom door finally opens. Shawna looks shower fresh, yet her make-up appears flawless. For bed. She flits by me, completely ignoring my existence. If we both happen to make it to the end, I don’t think I can endure eight more weeks of her ignoring and insulting me around every corner. I decide to strap on my big girl panties and try to be the bigger person.
“So, where are you from?” I ask as the easiest, safest way to break the ice.
“Savannah,” she says after several heartbeats with her perfect southern drawl. The ways she says it, though, is pure annoyance. I’m bothering her.
But I’m not about to let her get away so easily. “I’m from Chicago,” I tell her. I glance over and she blinks several times, but doesn’t so much as look up from the fashion magazine she’s holding. Whoever is on that cover must be the most fascinating person in the world.
“Have you always liked to sing?” I ask, grasping at straws here.
She thumbs through the magazine sitting on her lap and doesn’t even look up. “I’ve always been the best at it. I have natural talent. It has nothing to do with liking it.”
“That’s…awesome,” I reply, stumbling for the right word. Awesome isn’t it, but I can’t seem to put my finger on the right one. I wait several more seconds to see if she’s going to pick up the thread I’m dangling, but it appears that I’m out of luck tonight. Oh well.
I roll over onto my side and stare at the taupe painted wall.
I think about Eli and my mom and the conversation we had earlier. I’d do anything to see them in person instead of through that small phone screen. It’s definitely not the same as being able to physically hug them. But for now, it’ll have to do.
My mind then wanders to our team meeting tomorrow. I have no idea what to expect since we aren’t privy to that behind-the-scenes part of the show when it airs. Besides Beau, I have no idea who will be in attendance. My nerves are high, coursing dangerously through my taut body, as I will myself to relax and sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, and I don’t want to oversleep like the last time. Heaven knows Jezebel Barbie isn’t going to do me any favors and make sure I’m awake.
I check the alarm set on my cell phone one more time and try to find a comfortable position. The sound of deep, dramatic sighs and pages flipping is the last thing I remember as I finally succumb to sleep.
*****
At ten a.m., I meet the rest of the contestants in the main lobby of the hotel. Shawna seems to already have secured a followin
g as several young guys flock to her like groupies at a rock concert. Well, I guess to them, they see her perfect blond hair, her pristine make-up, and her stylish wardrobe. Throw in her killer body with just the right amount of curves, and you have what wet dreams are made of. Too bad they haven’t seen the vile lurking from within. Give it time. She’ll show her true colors to everyone eventually.
“Good luck today,” Corie says with her arms extended.
“You, too,” I reply, returning her friendly hug just before she breaks off from our group to gather with the rest of Team JoJo.
I congregate with eleven other hopefuls on Beau’s team just outside of the hotel. Our van is the third one in line. As we slowly make our way towards it, I feel a warm hand on my lower back. I turn, startled, and see Ben’s smiling face looking down at me. The look he sends me is…what? Interested? Adoring? I don’t know, but it leaves me feeling slightly unsettled.
I take a half step forward and turn my body slightly so that his hand disconnects from my back. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, as we make our way into the van. Of course, since he’s standing right behind me, Ben takes the seat right next to me. Great. His arm casually rests of the seat behind my head. If I move it the slightest, my neck will brush against it. The problem is that it doesn’t send those chills of awareness through my body. In fact, my body doesn’t respond to him at all which is a shame because Ben is a good looking guy. I just feel nothing but friendship when he’s around.
Note to self: Consider developing a fake boyfriend. Those always come in very handy when trying to get rid of a date seeker at the bar.
It doesn’t take us long before our caravan of big white vehicles makes their way to the studio. Nervous energy buzzes around inside the vehicle much like it did on audition day. Girls chat uncontrollably, legs jump up and down to an imaginary beat, and breathing seems to be deeper and slightly labored. Yeah, nerves are definitely showing today.
Except for Shawna. She just stares at the cell phone in her hand, ignoring everyone and everything around her. She purposefully throws her long blond locks over her shoulder every chance she gets, much to the annoyance of the poor girl stuck sitting next to her.
We file out of the van like sheep and are led inside the studio by a petite woman with a clipboard. Her dark hair is pulled back in a no nonsense bun and her black, wrinkle-free skirt suit matches the glasses perched on the end of her button nose.
“This way, Team Beau,” she says as she opens a heavy wooden door leading to a large studio.
I’m in awe at the magnificent room. It’s not that it’s flashy or glamorous, it’s the fact that I’ve never actually seen the inside of a rehearsal studio before. The walls have white soundboard on them. A large, shiny black piano sits along one wall, and two microphone stands are positioned in the middle of the room. Stools are spread out atop the tan with brown and white patterned carpeting. This is the room I’m going to rehearse in before I go on live television.
I think I might throw up.
Ben grabs my hand and leads me towards the stools in the center of the room next to Troy. I notice instantly that Ben doesn’t drop my hand as we take our seats, so I gently pull my hand free. I use it to adjust myself comfortably on the wooden stool so it doesn’t appear that I’m just being rude. Troy and Ben instantly start chatting while I take in the others around me. Shawna is in the front row, dead center, of course.
“My name is Gabby Phillips. I am the production assistant assigned to your team so you will receive your instructions and directions from me. If you have any questions along the way, you would direct those to me as well. I am expecting Beau any moment, but before he gets here, let’s run over a few ground rules. I’m sure you all read over the lengthy contract before you auditioned, but now that you have advanced to this stage of the competition, there are a few we should go over.
“You will always conduct yourself with professionalism and grace as you are representing this show and the network. No physical fighting amongst contestants and any such activity could result in your immediate departure from the show. Also, no part of this is off limits to our cameras with the exception of your personal hotel rooms. This season, we are offering behind the scenes streaming on the network’s website so anytime you step out of your room, you should expect to be on camera. Polling has shown that viewers enjoy the behind-the-scenes drama of reality television.
“You will all have down time in which you can do whatever you want, within reason, of course. You are not chained to the hotel, but just remember that the cameras can and will follow you wherever you go. Within each of your rooms you’ll find a list of approved local activities that you may consider. This studio has a gym, health classes and activities that you are all encouraged to participate in,” she says.
“No sexual relationships are allowed amongst a coach and any contestant, on their team or any other. Inter-contestant relationships are not forbidden, however,” Grace adds. As soon as she says that, Ben sets his large, warm hand down on my knee making me groan internally. I’m going to have to nip this in the bud as soon as possible.
Just then, the door at the front of the room opens and in struts a walking, talking wet dream. Beau moseys into the room like he owns it. He takes in the twelve people staring at him from our positions on the stools and offers us his trademarked smile. My panties practically evaporate into thin air. Poof. Gone. Which isn’t so bad because they’re practically useless at this point anyway.
Two young girls giggle in the seats behind me. Beau walks up to the front of the group wearing his standard black Stetson hat, a tight black t-shirt that shows off strong, muscular arms, and tight, dark Wranglers. The pants hug his lean hips and powerful thighs to perfection, leaving nothing underneath to the imagination. And right now, all female eyes appear to be on the bulge on the front of those tight pants. Scuffed up black cowboy boots and a silver belt buckle finish off his outfit. He’s delicious. Absolutely scrumptious. Like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day, I want to lick him. Head. To. Toe.
“Mornin’,” Beau says with his hands resting casually on his hips.
“Good morning,” we all reply in some form or another.
“I was just going over some of the rules with them. Why don’t you go ahead and start your portion,” Gabby says to Beau.
“Okay. Today there are twelve of ya on my team. By the end of next week, there will be six of you left. In just a few minutes, I will pair you up with your competitor for this first stage of the competition. This is the person y’all will battle in the first round of eliminations. This round is duet style meanin’ I will pick a song for each duet and you will sing it together based on my direction. I will also give you each your practice schedule for the next week. Each duet will practice with me together for an hour each of four days. Additional practicing with any of the network voice coaches is to be done outside of the schedule I give ya. Any interference with my schedule will not be tolerated,” Beau says.
“And I’d like to add that transportation from the hotel to the studio is scheduled each day with regular runs between the two. You are responsible for knowing the schedule and making sure you get from one place to the next. If you miss the transport van, you can wait for the next one, walk, or take a taxi at your own expense,” Gabby adds.
“Any questions?” Beau asks the group at large. “Good. Let’s pair y’all up then,” he says as he pulls a slip of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Damn. What a lucky slip of paper.
“So, here we go. When I call your name, come stand up front next to your partner. Chelsea?” he says as one of the gigglers from behind me practically throws herself at the front of the room.
“You’re with Ben,” he says. The hand that Ben had rested on my knee gives a gentle squeeze before he saunters up to the room. What is it about cowboys and their swagger, anyway? Are they born with it or something they teach in Cowboy 101?
“Tara, you’re with Josie,” Beau adds as two young girls get
up and walk to the front of the room. “Troy and Jackson. Jonah and Benny. Veronica, you’re with Marshall,” Beau adds as they all walk towards the front of the room, leaving only two people left in their seats.
“Shawna, you’re up against Layne,” he says, and his mesmerizing gray eyes lock on mine for the first time since his arrival.
It might sound crazy, but the room shifts. I all but stumble as I make my way up to the front, my progression being followed by those all-consuming eyes. Thank God there isn’t anything in my way to trip over because I’m looking at nothing but the most amazing pair of eyes peeking out from beneath a black Stetson. I shiver uncontrollably at the depth of his stare. It’s so deep he surely can see into my soul. Those eyes could melt the habit right off a nun. My body responds to him in a way it hasn’t in so very long. Hell, if ever.
When I finally reach the front of the room, our gaze is broken when blond hair is flipped in my face, and more particularly, my eyes. I blink and tear up as I dig Blond Barbie’s extensions out of my watering eyes.
Note to self: Check into purchasing a pair of scissors.
“Now you know who you’re up against next week. You will learn your music selection at your first practice tomorrow. Here is your schedule,” he says as Gabby starts to hand each of us a schedule. “If there are no questions, then I think y’all are done for the day,” Beau adds before giving us all a nod.
“Thank you, Beau. If there are no more questions, then everyone is welcome to visit for a few minutes until we’re ready to head back to the hotel,” Gabby says and turns her attention towards Beau. They instantly drop their heads down and start to discuss something they don’t want anyone to hear.
“I heard he was asked to do Playgirl,” Chelsea says.
“Ohmygod, I would buy that issue in a heartbeat,” the other adds.
“Country Weekly magazine is reporting that he just started dating Penelope Shaw,” Chelsea says. I can’t help it, but my curiosity is peeked so I turn around.
