“The day before you leave, she decides to clean out the attic and the only things she saves are her favorite suitcases?”
“It’s possible.”
“B, if you’re looking for a reason to stay, go and speak with her. But she’s done this for you, and you’re just wasting time fighting this. If she were really cleaning out the attic, our matching rhinestone outfits she made for us for our fifth-grade talent competition would have also been in the living room.”
Billie laughed, but her eyes still showed me how conflicted she was. “I hate the idea of leaving and not having spoken to her in days, Zach.”
“Then write a note, B. Tell her you love her and that you’re coming back.”
“There were ‘I love yous’ in my father’s last words before he left for a better life that didn’t include teenage fatherhood. He told her he might come back in his note.”
“Then don’t write a note. Just start packing. We all know you wouldn’t leave me behind anyway. I’m too good-looking.”
Billie smiled before staring at the door.
Before she had a chance to walk through it, I lifted the suitcase onto her bed, unzipped it, and threw in a random pair of shoes.
“I don’t want those,” she muttered before pushing me out of the way and packing the things she really wanted to take with her.
The morning I picked Billie up to drive her to the bus station that would take her to the airport, I lightly knocked and then poked my head into Michelle’s room. “Miss B, I’m about to take Billie to the station.”
She was curled up in the exact same way Billie did when she was upset, and tearstains were dry on her cheeks. She tried smiling and just nodded.
“She’s coming back,” I told her firmly.
“For your sake, Zach, I hope she does.”
An act
Jax
The Nevada sun didn’t disappoint, even late in the afternoon. The moment I stepped off the chartered plane, it welcomed me back to my favorite desert city with a warm embrace.
“Hey, Jax, over here,” Sam cheerfully called from his spot against the limo. When I got near enough, we did our usual handshake. My closest friend and driver then grabbed my suitcase, put it in the back of his limousine, and started to fill me in on all that I had missed since my last visit. “Dude, too bad you couldn’t get out here earlier. The party last week was hella crazy. That stripper Wendy—the one with your lyrics on her ass who turned into a total stalker in your VIP booth last time—tried stealing the diamond chain off the DJ’s wife. Man, it reminded me of why I moved from LA to be here. The crystal was flying, and beautiful women with their fake tits bouncing everywhere were wrestling on the floor covered in Grey Goose vodka. You could have written another hit song for sure.”
“Or gotten hit.” I laughed. “I’m sorry I missed it. Nothing is more inspiring than sparkling diamonds and women wrestling on the floor. You offer to drive one of them home?” I chuckled, knowing Sam’s usual MO.
“Of course. The lady’s dress was ripped. Offering to take her home and let her get changed was the least I could do.”
“I hope for your sake the DJ never finds out.”
“Who said it was the DJ’s wife?” Sam smirked. “Sometimes a little crazy is fun in the bedroom. You want me to call the club for tonight and let them know you’re in town? I know Vaughn would love to see you and have bottles chilling for sure. You could probably get a taste of the DJ’s wife.”
“Wish I could.” I smiled, thinking of our past nights on the town, but then it turned into a grimace and I confessed, “I’ve got to be on my best behavior this time. I can’t be losing my new reality television acting career. Boss’s instruction.”
“I thought you were the boss. No way you’re telling me Jax Bone has come to Las Vegas, having written an album about being young, breaking all the rules, and living for those too afraid to try something dangerous—that just went f*cking platinum, mind you—and is on his best behavior.”
I took a long look at the strip as the limousine began its entry into the land of billboards, buildings, and booze, and let Sam know, “Donny warned me that with the number of camera crews surrounding me, following my every move for this show, I wouldn’t get away with going to my usual places without articles about underage drinking ending up in all the headlines. The label execs have already sent photos of babysitter applications should I end up in any more news articles. Doris is their current leading lady at sixty years old with sterner eyebrows than Oscar the Grouch. I can’t imagine she would be willing to wrestle on the ground for me. I’m on hotel arrest, buddy, if I’m going to avoid having that old lady holding my hand.”
As we pulled up to the grand hotel Superstardom had booked for all its judges, contestants, and crew to crash at, with chandeliers in every direction and the time of day lost in a sea of evening gowns, T-shirts, shorts, and painted ceilings, I hoped this trip went quickly.
“You know my number if you change your mind. I’m pretty sure I could sneak you out of this place and back in without anyone noticing if you need me.” Sam told me seriously.
“I’ll remember it,” I replied. “Thanks for the ride, bro. Catch up soon.”
I climbed out of the car and barely had a chance to grab my bag before Cindy, one of the production assistants, was in my face. “Mr. Bone, welcome to Las Vegas. I just wanted to let you know you’re in the penthouse. Your agent called ahead and insisted it be stocked with a couple of adequate disguises, bottled water, and your favorite writing material.” She handed me my room key and an envelope containing the show’s upcoming filming schedule. I guess penthouse arrest isn’t too bad. And I might even be allowed to leave my room. “I’ve been asked to remind you that we need you in the lobby to film the contestants arriving in three hours. I could send a bellman up with your luggage or find someone to accompany you?”
I shook my head, grabbed my bag, thanked her, and waved at Russell and Claudia, who were also being given room keys, no doubt pissed that I was given the penthouse. Then I headed to the elevators. The doors were just about to close when I saw a hand slip through the middle.
The sensors had the doors opening wide, revealing Connor Graves standing before me. He was dressed in a pin-striped purple suit with matching purple loafers.
Of course, like every day of filming, the costume department would no doubt make him change into a pair of jeans and a loose button-down shirt before they filmed him meeting the contestants. He would be normalized for the viewers. Unfortunately, we would all have to listen to his complaints about how sick he was of wearing clothes that any fool could wear and didn’t reflect his personal style. The only joy I felt at seeing him standing before me was the grimace that appeared across his mouth when he realized he would need to spend the next few minutes in my company.
“Bone,” he murmured as he stepped inside and looked to press the button to his hotel floor. I could feel the tension radiate off his body when he noticed the show had given me the penthouse. He pressed the number 20 and stood in the corner sulking silently.
Donny had told me Connor received a notice from the show about his comments during our Charleston auditions. He then informed me that all the judges would be receiving a nice bonus and the footage of my hand around Connor’s throat would be deleted as compensation for having to deal with him on a regular basis until the end of the show.
“I don’t suppose I need to remind you of my warning in Charleston,” I murmured when the elevator doors opened to the twentieth floor.
“I wouldn’t dream of touching your girl, Jax,” Connor gritted out. “I got the message. The blonde is off-limits.” He stepped out of the elevator with his hands in his pockets, whistling as he walked toward his room.
“I wasn’t just talking about the blonde,” I growled before the doors closed.
I headed to my room thinking about what I would do if that a**hole tried something on the women in this competition. I doubted the label execs would just send Doris to h
old my hand; I would probably lose my shot at a new contract entirely.
Then I thought about the way Connor walked around the set with his smarmy smile and decided it would be worth the risk.
Three hours later, all the contestants were repetitively filmed getting out of cabs. They were staring at the chandeliers in wonder and laughing in pairs and groups as they made their way inside the hotel holding their bags and star-shaped tickets. The youngest performers with their parents and kid brothers and sisters in tow were captured staring at their mothers and fathers as if they were looking for reassurance that this was truly happening.
Linda could be heard shouting from the edge of the lobby that she wanted everyone to appear like they had already won the competition. I thought it was a pretty good idea considering more than half these people would be gone in less than a week. If all they won was a week away in a fancy hotel, it was nice to have that documented.
For some, their surprised faces filled with wonder were clearly part of an act. They had likely been to Las Vegas before and weren’t as impressed with the over-the-top decorations and flashing billboards as they wanted you to believe. However, after noticing a few people standing around with unshed tears in their eyes and shaking hands and legs, it was clear not everyone was acting. I wondered if a few were overwhelmed at finally making it to a position where, after years of trying to sing professionally, they finally would be in the room with people who could truly change their lives.
I bet a few of them thought I was one of the lucky ones. Discovered at sixteen by my idol while singing in a dive bar in downtown LA. The bar was owned by my father’s best friend, who let me perform my angst-filled songs in a bid to keep me out of trouble and my anger in check. I never had to work another job to support my singing career or feel like crying when the big break I had been praying for looked like it had finally arrived. Although, if delaying my success meant I could have been one of the contestants with my father in tow, I would swap positions with them in a heartbeat.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Billie being filmed walking through the entrance of the hotel for the second time. Her gold curls were pulled away from her face in a messy bun, exposing her eyes and emotions to everyone watching. Sitting six feet away in my judge’s chair beside Russell and Claudia, I could tell that the marvel in her eyes wasn’t a pretense. I watched as her gaze drifted between the ornate ceiling decorations and the contestants checking into their rooms. Her hands had a slight tremor. When her eyes moved from the hotel to the production crew and the few of us sitting on the side of the action, our eyes met.
I saw the wonder disappear, her mouth dropping open a little, and felt my own chest tighten. I considered getting out of my chair, walking toward her, and telling her to breathe. Since she’d stepped onto the sparkling marble floors of the lobby, it appeared as if she were holding her breath. Yet I remained seated, remembering that Linda had already warned us that she didn’t want to see any acts of favoritism or visible signs of friendships developing before they had a chance to sing or do their individual interviews.
“Billliieeeee,” squealed a curvy girl with thick-rimmed glasses struggling to carry her guitar case and luggage from the other side of the hotel. I watched as both girls laughed, then discussed something and posed for a selfie.
The camera operator close to them captured the entire exchange and nodded to Linda, who must have decided that little reunion was the cherry on top of their afternoon filming. She gave the signal to the crew to gather all the contestants together in the middle of the lobby.
When they all stood huddled like schoolchildren on a tour of a history museum, they were filmed being welcomed by a freshly made over Connor and encouraged to scream the show’s favorite saying. Claudia, Russell, and I were then cued to walk over, wave, and let everyone know they were the best we had ever seen in this competition and how selecting ten to go onto the live performances would be the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make.
I thought the script was a little over the top. A little too dramatic considering everyone at home watching would have seen the auditions. It wasn’t too hard to determine who would go through to the live shows. Hell, we already had the shortlist of people who had the best auditions and would make great television. Unless they bombed their next audition or plain forgot to show up, the list was unlikely to change. This week wasn’t really about making a final decision. It was about introducing the contestants to their rivals and getting a lot of individual interview sessions recorded before their schedules were filled with rehearsals and promotional appearances.
Once the cameras stopped rolling, they were all informed that they would be watching each other’s auditions during this round. Unless they were here with their families, they had been assigned a roommate for the duration of the competition. They were also given a schedule with their audition time and individual interviews. They were warned that if they missed their allotted time slot due to experiencing all that Vegas had to offer until the early hours of the morning, there would be no second chance.
I took a look at the other contestants’ mixed reactions to the news that they would be performing for an audience. I noticed Billie’s nervous shaking and saw her friend grasp her hand and squeeze. I was just about to ask someone if we were done filming for the day when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I held up my phone to Linda and gestured toward the elevator with my head. She gave me a thumbs-up, and I quickly made my way back to my room.
When I accepted the phone call, I didn’t even wait for him to start talking. “Donny, I’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours.” Rolling my eyes, I went on. “Don’t put Doris on an airplane yet. Sam dropped me off, and I’ve been playing PlayStation in the damn penthouse until they called me downstairs for filming.”
“Jax, I’m not sending Doris to you. I’m sending you a song the label wants you to think about recording.”
“I only record my own stuff.”
“I know that’s what you’ve done in the past, but they just signed this new kid, and they figured if you sing one of his songs, it might help him out. I’ve heard him play. He’s good.”
“I only record my own stuff.”
“You do this favor for them—”
“Then they’ll want me to do another one. I’m young, Donny, not stupid. I get that you wanted me to do this show to fix my image by helping young kids like me get noticed. I’m happy to sit in a chair and tell them they sound good, but I’m not about to turn into some bleeding heart. I won’t stop making music the way I want to make it.”
“All right, Jax. I’m going to send it anyway. You listen to it, repeat that exact statement to me in a week’s time, and we’re all good. You need anything else while you’re in Vegas?”
“Donny, sometimes when I talk to you, it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. You’re unmovable, man. And I’m good. I’ll probably hit the buffet for dinner and then keep playing video games.”
“I can get the buffet to send what you want to the room. Save you some time.”
“Dude, I’ve got to be allowed to leave the damn penthouse. You got me those disguises; I figured you’d actually let me use them. Plus, the suite’s impressive, but it’ll still feel like a jail if I can’t leave it,” I groaned.
“Jax, chill. I’m just trying to help,” Donny explained. “Call me if you got problems.”
“Will do,” I replied dismissively before I hung up and walked into the penthouse. Before I could change my mind and give Sam a call, especially seeing as that conversation had me feeling the pressure from the label and wanting to let off some steam, I headed into my hotel room and began the process of disguising myself for dinner.
I changed into the ugliest gray sweatpants with holes in the bottom and at the knees I had ever seen, dark shades, a black T-shirt, and a LA Angels baseball cap. I didn’t bother with one of the wigs I was provided, because thanks to the costume department constantly dressing me like my last album cover, the tabloi
ds only had images of me walking around in white shirts and leather pants. It was what the paparazzi and fangirls were looking for in every town they heard we were filming in, so I could get away with a laid-back style and still escape prying eyes.
I grabbed my wallet and room key and headed back downstairs as a different guy. No longer Jax Bone, the celebrity everyone wanted to scrutinize. Instead I was just Jason, baseball enthusiast and an everyday hungry guy looking for a good meal.
I walked straight past a few girls loitering in the casino, wearing T-shirts with my face on them and trying to hide the signs with the words “Give a Girl a Bone” on them from security. I smiled when they didn’t take a second glance at the guy who looked like a hungover LA drifter.
When I walked into the entrance of the buffet, I slipped a few bills to the head waiter to keep my presence a secret. I headed to the table that was filled with endless amounts of country fried chicken and grits, piled up a plate, and retreated to a booth at the back of the restaurant.
At least if I had to be trapped in a hotel, the show was smart enough to give us one with the best food options. I could hide in plain sight and eat until I passed out in a food coma.
Not my usual MO in Sin City, but as I took another bite of fried chicken, I was wondering why it wasn’t how I spent my time during other trips.
This is freaking delicious.
Old friends
Billie
“Th-This is our room?” I stuttered as Faith let out a squeal, dropped her bags, climbed up on the nearest bed, and started jumping. Her laughter and excitement were like background music as I walked in a daze to the window.
Everything was too beautiful.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass and examined the tiny ant people walking along the Vegas strip. I tried to memorize all the billboard signs and hotel lights. Staring at the changing and twirling colors that made each hotel and attraction like an enticing lollipop, I understood why so many celebrities would choose to spend their time here. It was a man-made wonderland.
Childish Dreams Page 5
