Childish Dreams

by Verdant, Malorie

  “Actually no, the lecture was a bonus. This phone call is about the pre-air premiere of Superstardom.”

  “What the f*ck is a pre-air premiere?” I muttered as I turned my attention back to the piano, wondering if Donny would even notice if I put the phone on mute so I could play through the song one more time.

  “The show wants to do something different this season, so they’re airing some of the best auditions from the past few seasons with a couple of the best auditions from this season before the show premieres in a couple of weeks. They’ll play it in a few days and then again on Friday. I think it’s a great idea. They already sent me a copy of the episode, and Jax, you look great. Your outfit promotes the last album, and your kindness to the nervous contestants makes you much more likeable. Hell, I like you more now, and I occasionally liked you before.”

  “Great, man,” I muttered dismissively as I replaced a word in the chorus and began humming the melody.

  “Do you want me to send you a copy?”

  “Dude, as long as this show is doing what you wanted it to do for my rep, I’d rather not have to watch myself on television. Hell, if you’re just calling me to give me updates about the sh*t that’s out there making me look good, don’t bother. You care more than I do. Don’t waste my time if we’re not talking about the music.”

  “All right, then.” I could hear him already shifting papers in the background. “I’ll just buzz you when the label wants to start talking contracts or new songs. Good luck on set today. And Jax—”

  “Yeah, I know. Keep being nice.”

  It was tiresome watching people sing and sing and sing, desperation leaking from every pore. Too many of them were focused on technique rather than emotion. I tried to be grateful that at least all of the songs in this round were different.

  I just wished that a few of them stopped treating music like cooking, as if there was a performance recipe that resulted in automatic success. It was as if every kid under the age of sixteen had gotten together and decided they were all going to pay tribute to Etta James and Nat King Cole. I figured their parents or vocal coaches thought making them sing classic love songs would have them appearing older than their years. It didn’t. The young ones also tried walking back and forth across the stage like soldiers, hoping it would make them seem comfortable and ready to handle an audience. It really didn’t. Their voices were often too quiet to be heard properly when they moved, and the tears suggested they were struggling to handle the power of the stage lights. The youngest might be ready to be on television, but they weren’t ready for the stage.

  I still told them, “You’re way better than I was at your age,” and “Wow, I can’t believe that voice comes out of someone so young,” making Donny proud. I didn’t utter the words I really thought, leaving that chore to Russell and Claudia, who also seemed to cringe every time a kid started pretending they only loved songs from the 1950s.

  The older kids were a little better. They sang songs written in the last decade and focused all their energy into projecting their voices to the judges’ table in the middle of the arena. However, they all seemed to be pretending to be some past contestant or celebrity they admired, their runs and tone almost perfectly mimicking some current singer. I was tempted to start asking them if they knew their own names.

  I still managed to give the country guy in a cowboy hat and overalls, who I knew was making it to the live shows, a standing ovation when he made a few of the girls in the audience cry with his imitation of Keith Urban’s “Only You Can Love Me This Way.” Claudia and Russell followed my lead and also showered the best imitators with cheers and praise.

  With only two more auditions to go before we could finish for the day, I decided I was done with standing up or praising the contestants. I planned to do as little as possible without actually falling asleep at the judging table or being accused of not fulfilling my contract. Based on my clearly sleepless appearance, I knew the makeup girls and other judges thought I’d spent the night partying and would try and cover for what they believed to be a bad hangover.

  When I slouched in my chair, I forced myself to keep staring at the stage. I believed that Billie had to have been sitting behind me for some of the auditions, with at least one camera trained on her to ensure they captured some of her reactions to the others auditioning. I didn’t think our being friends was wrong, but I also didn’t want to bring even more attention to her should I turn around and make eye contact with her under the watchful gaze of every camera operator in the room. If I even smiled at her while someone else was singing, I could only imagine what plotline the show would invent.

  When Billie’s roommate, Faith something, walked on stage, I straightened a little in my chair. Billie had explained during our time together how she and Faith met during the audition process. She told me how happy she was to discover that they would be roommates and could enjoy dinner and the highs and lows of the competition together. I knew she was good and remembered her first audition—a sweet acoustic rendition of Alessia Cara’s “Scars to Your Beautiful.” I didn’t mention to Billie that I knew Faith wasn’t as good as her or that the producers already thought Faith would be good for the live shows due to the young songwriters watching at home dreaming of performing with their guitars. She also had one of those multiple audition stories that encouraged past unsuccessful singers to keep trying in future seasons. The show loved the publicity.

  I should feel relieved that Billie would have another friend during the competition, someone she could talk with about the demands of the show and the pressure of appearing on television for the first time. I knew how scary that sh*t could be.

  But I didn’t. She annoyed me.

  My face turned into a scowl and I stared daggers at the girl. I thought about insulting her performance, good or bad. I was ready to act like a jerk and wasn’t caring even a little as to the reasons why I felt that way.

  Until she started singing “Secret” by The Pierces.

  I swallowed the lump that seemed to get caught in my throat.

  F*ck.

  As she crooned about people’s inability to keep secrets, I wondered if Billie had told her new roommate about our evening together. Faith would have questioned Billie about getting in late last night. Billie had told me she wouldn’t tell people about us. However, that was before I told her I was okay with breaking the rules. She might not have thought about what could happen if her roommate was voted off and Billie wasn’t. I knew some girls could be vengeful, jealous, and petty. I had no doubt that she’d spin the time Billie and I spent together to the press for her own personal gain. Billie and I were friends—we didn’t hold hands or even kiss last night—but I knew what a bad story in the press could accomplish. The crew would think that I had something to do with her sticking around, especially after that crap Connor had said at the end of her audition.

  Billie deserved for people to know she made it through this competition on her own.

  When Faith finished playing her song, I decided to take the lead, the jerk inside of me having grown bigger than before. “Interesting song choice,” I stated firmly. “Not exactly the same caliber as the original.”

  Her eyes widened at the sneer I couldn’t keep off my face.

  “I-It’s from my favorite television show. I chose it because I always thought an acoustic cover made the song reflect the type of music I would like to record. It’s a little mysterious, dark and emotional.” Her words were strong and confident, but her nerves were revealed in her shaking legs.

  “I couldn’t agree more, girl.” Claudia applauded. “It was definitely emotional and even a little sexy. I loved it.”

  “Me too, darling,” Russell agreed. “Although I don’t know how our producers will like hearing that Superstardom isn’t your favorite television show.” Laughter could be heard from the audience, and the girl began recovering from my scrutiny; her legs stopped shaking and she smiled at everyone. I felt glares from the crew around me.

&n
bsp; Donny wasn’t going to be happy.

  When she was escorted off the stage, I reclined in my chair, acting as if I wasn’t bothered by the whole ordeal. Inside, I contemplated remaining detached from Billie for the rest of the season so I didn’t intimidate any more random girls on stage who I feared may hurt her or our relationship. Hanging out with Sam for the rest of the week might result in some bad headlines the following day, but getting recorded being an ass to a contestant would lead to some serious headlines for weeks.

  I then thought about the song I’d written in my room and the songs I knew would come if Billie and I spent more time together. I thought about her honesty and naivety. Her horror at me finding her puking out front of the auditions. I thought about how I felt standing beside her as her eyes filled with shock and awe.

  I decided as long as I told her not to talk to her roommate about our friendship, there was no reason why we couldn’t keep hanging out.

  We would prove the girl and that damn song wrong.

  We could keep a secret.

  And neither our relationship nor our careers would have to die.

  Hell, she was good for my music, and really, music was the most important thing in my life.

  It took me hours after filming wrapped before I saw Billie lined up at the front of the hotel’s Starbucks. She was in tight black jeans and a loose yellow blouse. There were showgirls and waitresses walking around in what appeared to be sequined swimsuits, yet it was Billie in her yellow top that took my breath away. I quickly glanced around, saw there were no cameras and other contestants, and made my approach.

  “If you order a hazelnut mocha coconut milk macchiato with five sugars or something equally disgusting, our friendship might be over,” I whispered in her ear.

  I watched as she jumped, recovered, and then stared daggers at me before returning her attention to the menu. No words.

  I tried engaging her again by asking, “How was your first day filming in Vegas? Did you do your one-on-one interviews? Follow my instructions?”

  She kept ignoring me.

  When the lady behind the counter called, “Next,” Billie moved forward and without hesitation asked for a “Tall hazelnut mocha coconut milk macchiato. Thank you.”

  “Any sugar?”

  I felt Billie hesitate. “No, thank you.”

  “Ahh, see, you don’t want our friendship over, not really. Otherwise you would have committed to the five sugars.” I laughed.

  “Sir, did you want anything?” the smiling girl asked, unaware she was talking to the very musician whose tour badge she was wearing on her front pocket as I hid behind my sunglasses and navy blue Cubs baseball cap.

  “No, I’m all good, thank you. Just here to educate everyone about their poor drink choices,” I gruffly replied, trying to disguise my voice.

  The girl laughed while Billie stomped away to collect her coffee and sit at a small table with only one chair. Her eyes narrowed when she watched me grab a spare chair from a nearby table and drag it to hers.

  “I asked how your first day went, but clearly you’ve got something else on your mind,” I said before sitting directly opposite her. “So, let’s hear it. Otherwise you’re going to need glasses from giving me too much stink eye.”

  “You were mean to Faith today,” Billie gritted out. “She was crying all afternoon in our hotel room, worried that you made her look stupid. If it weren’t for the other judges, I don’t know if she would still be here. You don’t realize how important your words are to people like us. I don’t think we can be friends if you’re going to be mean to contestants just trying to give this show biz career a shot.”

  “Trust me, I can promise you I have no intention of giving contestants a hard time. Hell, I’m on this damn show because my agent thinks I need to improve my image before signing my next contract. Apparently, I need to be nice.” I noticed her flinch. “That’s not why I’m here with you,” I clarified. “If anything, our friendship makes me forget to put on a show. Hell, I thought your roommate was singing her song to tease me about us,” I told her bluntly. “And I stopped pretending and just got pissed.”

  “She doesn’t know anything,” Billie replied, clearly shocked. “I didn’t run up to my room and tell her what we did. Firstly, because she was already sleeping and secondly, there isn’t anything to tell. We saw fountains and roller coasters, not the inside of a dirty hotel room.”

  “I know that, but I’ve also had some experience with jealous girls who want to be famous. And I spent all night after we came back writing a song. Then my agent called me to remind me yet again, after no sleep, that I needed to make a good impression on everyone, and then your roommate sang that song. I jumped to conclusions and got pissed. I get that people look at us like us judges are superhuman, but we’re not. We screw up, and our words aren’t always motivating, and it might have nothing to do with that person.”

  Billie exhaled, took a sip of her coffee, grimaced, and put it down again. “Okay, I can see how someone tired might misconstrue Faith’s song, especially seeing as we never did talk about what we wanted to say to others about our time together.”

  “It could all be taken out of context because of the competition, and I know the show would love that gossip circulating. I hate saying it, because I don’t want you to feel like I’m hiding you, but it’s best we keep everything we do just between us. I don’t want people thinking you’re only on the show because of me, and I don’t need any more headlines in magazines. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I don’t only have to hide you, I have to hide myself every day.” I gestured to the latest disguise I was sporting.

  “I totally agree,” she softly murmured. “And I’ve noticed your costume changes.” She laughed.

  “You laugh, but everyone who goes on the show is now dressed by the costume department from the very start. Once Michael gets his clothes on you before your first performance, everyone will be disappointed if they see you and you aren’t dressed in Superstardom character clothes. You’ll be begging to borrow my baseball caps afterward because it means you can hide from not only your celebrity status but the celebrity clothing.

  But enough about the clothes. I need you to know that if you wanted to tell someone at home about our time together, someone who isn’t in the business and might be able to keep their mouth shut—” I offered.

  “Jax, I don’t need to brag about hanging out with you.” Billie laughed. “I’m cool with us not telling people about how we spend our free time. I’m not blind. The girls in the lobby—hell, the coffee girl—it’s like everyone is waiting around for a piece of you. I don’t need more than you’re able to give. I’m just happy to have more than one friend around here who gets how crazy this show is for as long as you think you’ll be able to manage it.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, staring into her blue eyes and pushing aside the urge to pull her face close and kiss her.

  When she broke our eye contact to sip from her cup, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “This really is awful,” she told me, glaring at the drink in her hand.

  “See, I knew we were meant to be friends. Now tell me how your interviews went before I drag you to some of the things we missed last night.”

  “We’re going to walk the strip again? Haven’t you seen everything there is to see here already?”

  “Billie, weren’t you listening? My agent tells me I’ve got to keep out of trouble.”

  “And I guess that’s my job as your friend?”

  “That is definitely your job.”

  “Well, in that case, I’ll just quickly summarize and tell you I did exactly what you told me to do during the interviews and admitted on camera that I have no idea what I’m doing in this competition. And now I’ll admit to you that I have no idea how to keep you out of trouble Jax Bone.”

  I just laughed before telling her, “Not going to lie, figuring out the former will likely be easier than the latter.”

  You look like a star

 
Billie

  “A leather dress? Are you serious?” I asked, contemplating the sanity of the tall skinny man with a neat man bun atop his carefully shaved head standing in the small costume department behind the stage.

  “Billie, you have to trust me,” Michael encouraged, holding up the dress that had sleeves and pockets but clearly wouldn’t make it even halfway down my thighs. “If this is the start of a long and beautiful friendship, which I hope it is, you need to believe that I am the best stylist in the world and you never have to doubt my choices.”

  “Michael, I’ve seen the amazing outfits everyone has worn during their performances so far in Vegas, but you have to admit you’ve been putting most people in tight jeans and stylish T-shirts. This dress is in a different category entirely. Think about the camera. Do we really want the nation to see each crease and crevice on my body? Because that’s what that leather dress is going to show” I adamantly stated.

  “You’re delusional. I’ve been dressing contestants for the last three seasons, and you haven’t got a single crevice on your damn body that you need to worry the camera will find. Plus, this will hit your hips and then hang loosely. It’s short enough that you won’t have a problem moving around the stage, but its long sleeves ensure you won’t look nasty, and the open back will keep you cool. Hell, there are pockets at the front. Who doesn’t love pockets?” Michael’s pleading expression had me smiling, even though fear still coursed through my veins.

  “If wearing this makes me look like a fool, I’m telling everyone in my one-on-one interviews that it was your fault.” I grabbed the dress and headed toward the curtain they’d erected for contestants to change behind.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” he called out, holding his hand over his heart dramatically and looking stricken. I laughed and closed the curtain. “Although you’ll likely still talk about me in all your future interviews, it won’t be because I made you look like a fool. It’ll be because I know exactly which of your shoes will complement that dress and how that dress will look to people at home.”