Note to self: Give it everything you’ve got, and then dig a little deeper for more.
“And for another great duet, please help me welcome back to the stage Ben Atwood and Layne Carter,” Becker says to the camera, followed by a round of applause from the live audience.
Mallory positioned Ben and I on opposite sides of the stage for this performance. Throughout the song, we’ll slowly work our way around and towards each other before we meet in the middle for the last chorus. It represents the dramatic nature of the song, the dancing around each other while looking for that kiss.
The live band begins the music, a piano melody soft and slow. My back is to Ben as I raise the mic, but that doesn’t matter. I could be staring directly at him and it wouldn’t be his lips I was thinking about. When it’s time, I start to sing Lady Antibellum’s words. “Lying here with you so close to me, it’s hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe. Caught up in this moment, caught up in your smile.”
Even when Ben starts to sing his part, it’s not his voice I hear. He’s not the one singing those passionate words to me. I imagine Beau standing directly in front of me: his smile, his eyes, his hunger. It’s Beau.
I never look over at the man sitting at the table in front of the stage. I know that if I look, I’ll never be able to concentrate on the song, yet as Ben and I make our way through the song, I can’t resist the pull that Beau has. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Finally, as I make my way to center stage, I can’t fight his gravitational pull any longer. I want to be looking at him when I sing these words.
His eyes are fire. Bright, hot, and full of intensity. Hypnotized, I see it. I see our kiss replayed through them. He’s remembering, too. “You’ll be in my dreams…tonight…tonight…tonight.” Truer words have never been spoken.
We finally make it to the end of the song. Ben and I are standing directly in front of each other, center stage, singing, “With a kiss goodnight…kiss goodnight.”
And then suddenly, Ben kisses me. I’m so shocked that I stand there, paralyzed, for what feels like minutes. Hours. Forever. The kiss could in reality only last three seconds, but they are the longest three seconds of my life. When he pulls away, a smile crosses his face, but it does nothing to ease the shocked look on mine.
Note to Self: Shit! Ben just kissed me! On National television. Screw the note! I’m freaking the hell out right now!
Ben turns and waves to the audience as they applaud our song, but my eyes are instantly seeking the only pair that matters right now. Beau.
And his eyes are furious.
*****
“Layne, you’re up next,” Gabby says from the doorway of the green room.
I swear I’m having an out of body experience right now. No way did Ben just kiss me in front of God, Beau, and the entire viewing audience. In the world of instant rewind, TiVo, YouTube, and cell phone cameras, I was just kissed by a man on National television in front of the man I’ve been secretly stealing kisses from. All. On. Camera.
No way did that just happen. But it did. If the deadly look in Beau’s eyes were any indication, I’d say that Ben Atwood is lucky to still be alive right now. It’s probably a good thing Ben is nowhere to be found at this moment.
I have no idea how I changed into my white dress; I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember having my hair and makeup freshened up. Yet, here I am, standing behind the stage, getting ready to perform my song that’ll determine my fate this week. How in the hell am I supposed to concentrate on this beautiful song when all I can think about is Ben. Beau. The kiss. That other kiss.
Wardrobe chose a long, white gown with an A-line waist. The strapless dress is whimsical and flowing and has a slight train that trails behind me as I walk. It’s gorgeous. My makeup is subtle, hair swept up in an elegant up-do, and my heels are tall, strappy, and hurt like hell.
Yet, I feel nothing but confused as I wait for my next turn to perform. Scared.
“Hey,” I hear from behind me in that deep southern drawl that I’ve come to crave.
I whip around quickly, almost throwing myself off balance. Beau reaches out and grabs a hold, keeping me upright. The smile he gives me is tight, until his eyes travel down the length of me. He takes in my dress and his entire demeanor changes. When his eyes return to mine, they’re softer. Appreciative.
“I didn’t know he was going to do that,” I defend instantly.
“I know,” he says, stepping in a little closer. “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done; sittin’ there without showin’ any emotion or reaction when all I wanted to do was run up on that stage and punch him square in the fuckin’ face.”
“You did?” I choke out.
“Are you kidding? He touched you, your lips. Do you realize what kind of damage control I’m going to have to do later tonight when I can steal you away and get you alone?”
I’m saved from having to reply–which is good because I don’t know if I could answer anyway–when Gabby comes up and tells me it’s time to get out on stage and for Beau to get out at the coach’s table before we go live.
“Deep breaths, Layne. Just remember to…breathe,” he says as he squeezes my hand and walks through the heavy curtain and towards his post.
Note to self: Just remember to breathe. Easy, right?
Beau was right. I need this performance. As an artist, I need to demonstrate my softer side, even though I rarely let it show. In fact, I’ve never felt the need or desire to let it loose. I’ve always found my solace in rock music; classic hits from the 70’s and 80’s. But tonight, as I take the stage in a stunning dress, I find that I suddenly can’t wait to show the world the softer Layne.
“I can feel the magic floating in the air, being with you gets me that way…”
I sing the classic Faith Hill song as I work the stage, the crowd. My movements are slow and deliberate, just like the song. I don’t risk a glance at Beau this time around. I’m very much aware of his presence within the massive room, but I avoid eye contact. Instead I focus on the hundreds of eyes staring back at me from the crowd. I sing the song as if I could be singing it to them. For them.
When it’s all said and done, the comments I receive from the coaches are humbling.
“You were born for this,” Felix says with a huge grin.
“Yeah, I agree. This softer Layne is just as outstanding as the hard rocker Layne,” JoJo chimed in.
But it’s Beau’s that hold the most meaning. “I feel like we’ve all just witnessed a phoenix risin’ up out of the ashes. Ya took your passion, your heart and soul for music, and put it into that song. Ya made me feel things, moved me in ways no one ever has just by hearin’ those words drip off your lips. That was, without a doubt, the performance of the night. Hell, of the show,” he says as the crowd erupts into overwhelming applause.
The smile on my face must be blinding. I couldn’t control it if I tried. I don’t even know what words I reply to Becker before he says, “If you’d like to see Layne Carter return next week, then she needs your votes. Call 1-800-555-7006 or log on and vote at risingstar.com. For our final performance of the evening, please welcome Corie Brooks.”
And just like that, my night is done.
*****
“What are ya doin’?” Beau’s drawl asks over the phone.
“Trying to sleep,” I whisper so I don’t wake Eli next to me in the king sized bed.
“Tryin’?”
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Can ya talk?”
“Give me a minute,” I reply as I slip out of bed and out of the room, though I leave the door cracked so that I can hear Eli in case he wakes up. I step through the common room and slip out the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. “Okay.”
“Where did ya go? It sounds like you’re outside.”
“I’m on the balcony. I didn’t want to wake Mom or Eli.”
“Ya did great tonight,” he says with the hint of a smile in his voice.
“Thanks. You pick great songs,” I tell him, smiling back.
“Yeah, well, I’m suddenly not so fond of the Lady A song.”
“Me neither,” I reply, shuddering at the thought of Ben kissing me again.
“Have you talked to him?”
“Surprisingly no. The only time I saw him after the performance was when we were all on stage at the end of the show. I have no idea what he was thinking,” I say.
“I know exactly what he was thinkin’. He wants you, has for weeks. You can see it in his eyes, Layne.”
“Yeah, Troy said that much to me a few weeks ago, so I made it clear to Ben that we were only friends. That kiss was completely unwelcome.”
“You don’t hafta tell me that, sweetheart. I saw it all over your face. You weren’t exactly happy that it happened.”
“Of course not. And you didn’t look very happy yourself.”
“Are you kiddin’? I was ready to beat the shit out of him. The only thing that held me back from assault charges was the fact that we were on TV. Any other situation and I woulda killed him.”
“What does this mean, Beau? I mean, we’re not exactly in a relationship.”
“Yet. We’re not in a relationship yet, sweetheart. I have every intention of findin’ out more about you and why I have these crazy, uncontrollable feelings whenever you’re near. I’m makin’ no bones about my intentions towards you after we finish this show, so you tell me. What do ya want?”
You. Us. Together. So many intense feelings swirl around inside me like a typhoon. I can’t even get my center of gravity, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that’s what this is all about. Love? Maybe that’s what real love is.
Of course, I’m not about to start sputtering off things like the L word, so I just stick with, “I want to see where this goes, Beau.” That’s the truth.
“Don’t be scared, Layne. Don’t be scared of us. I promise ya that things will fall into place. Everything has a way of workin’ out. Just trust me.”
He leaves the proverbial door wide open. That’s just it. Can I trust Beau? I trusted Colton and look where that got me. Can I trust him to not take my heart and leave it battered and bruised when he walks away? Because let’s face it, Beau is probably going to walk away at some point. It could be a month; it could be a year.
But what if he doesn’t? My mom’s words from last night replay through my mind. I’m ready to move on, right? Will I finally be able to let go of the past and set out to discover my future?
Only one thing’s for sure: I want to find out.
Note to self: Breathe.