Note to self: Man invented deodorant for a reason. Use it.
These lights? Horribly hot. Like standing next to the sun and forgetting to wear your deodorant. I thought I put on deodorant this morning, but now I’m questioning that one little mundane task in my daily routine. I was in a hurry to get away from Bitchy Barbie, so what if I forgot? What if I was in such a big hurry that I forgot the one thing that would keep me from smelling like I just completed my first 5k? Holy Hell!
“Let’s run it again,” Beau says from the coach’s table dead center in the massive studio. Right now, with the exception of a handful of the production staff and camera crew, the studio is empty, and surprisingly, that might be more intimidating. My words echo off the walls and the high ceiling. Hundreds of empty seats stare back at me, mocking me.
Sunday morning brought on my first hangover in I don’t know how long. I didn’t drink that much–or so I thought–but the headache that accompanied me pretty much everywhere I went that day, was miserable. What made it worse were the dye fumes I was forced to inhale all afternoon. I met with a stylist for the show who decided that I definitely needed a little color added to my hair. My locks are a caramel brown and when the sun hits them just right, you catch a glimpse of natural highlights. Staci decided that my hair needed color. After a very brief conversation, in which I had very little input, Staci started to cut dramatic layers in my long hair and dyed the underside a deep purple. As soon as I saw the finished product, I knew it was the perfect look for me.
Sunday also brought a little solo practicing in the studio before my appointment with wardrobe. We settled on a deep purple netted top over a black tank top with black leather pants–real leather, no less–and very tall spiky heels, much taller than the ones I’m used to. Throw in tons of walking around my hotel room in the death traps and a long, grueling practice with Beau and Shawna on Monday, and I’m already exhausted come Tuesday.
“Go to your starting positions,” Beau says as Shawna and I each take opposite corners of the stage.
The band starts the opening notes of Miranda’s song and I slowly start my strut across the stage, belting out the words I now know by heart. Two days of wearing these shoes have me practically walking like I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t even feel the need to constantly look down at my steps anymore. Plus, they do incredible things for my confidence.
Note to self: Buy more sexy heels.
I finish my first solo and flip my flat, limp hair out of my face. I feel like a big sweaty sausage right now. Unforgiving, bright lights are positioned from every angle on the stage front and are stationed from metal rafters throughout the large studio. If I’m this hot already, I can’t image what it’s going to be like when the room is filled with bodies. Of course, it doesn’t help that I look over at Shawna as she sings and notice that she still looks fresh and perfect.
Again, I question my lack of deodorant.
“That was better. Remember to work the stage–don’t be afraid of it. Stage presence is a huge part of what the audience will see, not just your ability to sing. Shawna, remember to hold your position until it’s your turn to sing. Layne gives ya the spotlight when it’s your solos, so don’t crowd the stage front when she’s singing,” Beau says.
Shawna smiles an impish little smile that tells me exactly how she feels about giving me the spotlight. Obviously, her immature stage hogging wasn’t done by accident. “Of course, Beau. Whatever you say, darling,” she coos at the handsome cowboy as she runs her hands down her side to land on her thin hips.
“Our time is up. You gals are goin’ to do great tomorrow. I’ll meet ya backstage early, and then I’ll be up at the table when ya go on. Don’t be nervous,” he says with the raise of the corner of his lip. It’s a smile I associate with casual, yet flirty Beau.
“Thanks, Beau. I’m so honored to be on your team. I know we’re going to go a long way together,” Shawna coos as she runs her manicured hand up Beau’s forearm. Then, before I even have time to process what’s happening, she leans forward and places a gentle, lipstick kiss on his scruffy cheek. The shock on his face must mirror my own because he doesn’t even pull back. I start to wonder if he enjoyed her kiss. Except the way his mouth opened and closed a few times before settling into a thin, grim line, I can tell it wasn’t something he was pleased about.
Unless it’s an act for the show’s–and my–benefit. I mean, he’s not allowed to have relationships with the contestants so it’s not like he can show his pleasure at Shawna pawing him and kissing his cheek. And honestly, what man would be put off by Shawna showing him some attention? Hell, there’s a hotel full of men falling all over themselves to try to get just a little bit closer to her.
“Okay, well, I’ll see ya tomorrow,” Beau states matter-of-factly as he starts to straighten his papers on the table.
I quickly turn away and go to gather my bag and take off my heels. I can’t wait to get out from underneath these harsh lights and into a little fresh air. Plus, stretching my tired, sore feet is pretty high up on my priority list right now. God, what I wouldn’t give for a foot rub.
“There will be cooler air pumped into the room tomorrow,” I hear from behind. The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I stand up and turn to face Beau. “I know it’s super hot in here right now, but it’ll be better when we do the shows. They just don’t crank up the air until show days,” he adds with that half grin.
Great. Beau notices how ungodly hot I am. I can imagine the lighting only illuminated the sweat marks on my lower back and under my arms. “Hot Mess” doesn’t even come close to describing me right now.
“Yeah, it’s a little warm,” I reply as casually as possible.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says stepping in until he’s invading my personal space. Instinctively, I almost step backwards. Then, I mentally smack myself across the face for even thinking of doing such a thing. Hell no, you don’t step back when Beau Tanner invades your space. “Don’t be surprised when Shawna completely tries to take over the performance. You’re goin’ to have to be ready for her monopolizing the routine and doin’ everything she can to be center stage.”
“It would surprise me if she didn’t try something of those sorts,” I mumble.
“She’s kind of a piranha, isn’t she?” he whispers with a full smile.
“You don’t even know the half of it. At least you’re not rooming with her,” I tell him with a chuckle.
“Seriously? That has to be the roughest thing I’ve heard all day,” he says. “I’d let ya room with me if I could.” The statement forces all of the air out of my lungs in one big swoosh. Breathing suddenly seems like the biggest chore ever. My widened eyes remain locked on his, words seem completely lost. Oh God, I can’t form a sentence!
After several seconds, he finally says, “Why are you glarin’ at me?”
“Oh,” I start, snapping out of my funk. “It’s not you, it’s just -” I say as I bring my hand up and try to rub Shawna’s lipstick off of his cheek. His skin is warm and rough and the whiskers tickle my fingertips. But it’s the invisible lightning strike that singes my lady parts. Sexual energy floods my body like never before.
“She left lipstick?” he asks without moving his face from my hand.
“Yeah. This shade of pink isn’t exactly your color,” I tease with a small smile.
He chuckles as I attempt to free him of her marking. Unfortunately, all I really do is smear it. “I think you’re going to have to scrub it off. I basically just smeared it around,” I say as I drop my hand. Even though I’m not touching him anymore, I can’t seem to make myself move. I’m held hostage by some invisible pull towards his body.
“I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he says as his hand comes up, hovering next to my face. I can see so much in his eyes and face. Question. Longing. Desire. My face burns as the deep blush takes over when Beau tucks a long stand of my hair behind my eyes.
“Okay,” I finally mumble almost incoherently.
“Oh,” he says as he leans forward. His breath fans across my cheek and ear. Goosebumps pepper my entire body as desire courses uncontrollably through me like a freight train. Oh, God. “I really like your hair this way. Totally hot,” he whispers against my ear causing me to shiver before he pulls back, turns, and walks away.
I’m left standing, reeling. I’m seriously questioning my ability to walk right now. Just standing seems to take every ounce of energy I possess. I watch Beau’s retreating backside as he makes his way to the table. The corded muscles of his back are evident through his thin, gray t-shirt. The way his jeans hug his ass causes warmth to flood between my legs. Those Wranglers leave nothing to the imagination, that’s for sure.
I gather my stuff, my pride, and my sense and head out of the colossal room. The cool air kisses my overly heated skin as soon as I’m in the atrium. Shawna stands next to Gabby and a few other production assistants as I make my way towards the group. The look she gives me lets me know she suspects something. What? Hell, maybe when she figures it out, she’ll let me know. Because I’m as confused as ever.
*****
Hair–check. Caked on make-up–check. Hooker heels and leather pants–check and check. Deodorant–double, triple, quadruple check!
I pace back and forth in the large sitting room behind the stage. Contestants range from biting their fingernails to nervously crossing and then re-crossing their legs while we wait for the live show to begin. Ben, Corie and Troy have all tried to engage me in conversation, but I can’t seem to focus on their words.
I am in the group to perform tonight. Corie will perform tomorrow night so her state of nervousness isn’t anywhere close to what I’m feeling right now. Am I really here? Am I good enough to perform on National television? Can I win against someone like Shawna?
Speaking of the devil, I glance over and see her casually running her French tips through her blond extensions as if she has not a care in the world. The fact that she’s not nervous, clearly having done this sort of thing before, has my nerve ends exposed and completely frayed. I can’t do this.
Suddenly, the four lead production assistants–one for each team–step into the large room. “Five minutes until we’re live,” the first man says. “Let’s go, everyone.”
The room clears out fast, as if no one wants to be the last one out, and we all make our way to the main studio. The assistants arrange us by team and then by height. The crowd hypnotizes me. This room is huge, but when you fill it to capacity, it seems almost titanic. Like the biggest room I’ve ever seen. And that doesn’t help my nervousness.
“One minute,” someone yells from behind the camera at center stage. The lights for the stage aren’t on yet, but I imagine it’ll be only a matter of moments before we’re baking under the intense beams.
“Remember to smile,” Gabby says to us before running off the stage.
I clasp and re-clasp my hands together behind my back. I’ve been in these shoes for almost four hours and my arches are starting to throb. I long to sit, even for just a few minutes, and take some of the pressure off my swollen toes.
“Five, four, three, two…” The crowd erupts on cue and the Rising Star jingle starts up. I paste on my best smile, not knowing which camera is pointed where. For all I know, three of the five cameras are angled on me at this exact moment, just waiting for me to pick my nose or check for lipstick by scrubbing my finger over my teeth with my finger on National television.
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Rising Star! I’m your host, Becker James, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to show you the amazing group of rising talent that we have in store for you this season. Are you ready to meet our returning coaches?” Again, the crowd erupts into thunderous applause. “Help me welcome JoJo Warner, Sophia, Felix Booker, and Beau Tanner!”
Every girl screams her excitement as the gorgeous cowboy struts onto the stage. I’m mesmerized by his grace and male beauty as he throws a wave at the crowd. A full watt smile sparkles from beneath his signature hat, and I practically swoon like these young girls in the audience. The pain in my feet and my uneasiness are suddenly forgotten as Beau walks over and stands directly next to me. He accidentally–or completely on purpose, take your pick–bumps into my arm with his. Its skin on skin contact and I’m pretty sure I’m now blushing on National television. When I look at him out of the corner of my eye, I see him grinning a little smirk. Yep, definitely not an accident.
“Our first round of eliminations is tonight. Team Sophia is up first. Are you ready?”
After the applause dies down and we cut to commercial break, all of the contestants, except the two up first, head back into the waiting room. Several cameras hover nearby, documenting our every movement. I grab a bottle of water from the glass cooler, determined to give myself something to do and stay hydrated. There’s no television in this room, though every once in a while, you can hear the cheers of the audience.
“The coaches are singing together now,” Gabby says from the doorway just before leading the next duet out to another waiting area.
Over the next hour, we watch twosomes leave the room and not return. We’re told that the winners and the losers of the duets are separated into different post-show rooms where interviews are conducted for the show’s website, as well as with a few entertainment news channels. The winners will return to the stage at the end of the evening while the losers will be escorted to the hotel until their fate is decided at the end of next week’s final coaches’ elimination round. Done. It’s that quick. As if all of your hard work and dedication didn’t matter in the least.
Ben is in the first twosome to go on Team Beau. I give him a quick, friendly hug moments before he follows Gabby out the door and towards the stage. I wish I could watch their performance, or at the very least, see if Beau chooses him to advance or not. Ben was wearing standard dark jeans with his tan cowboy boots. His white and blue button down shirt is wrinkle-free and his brown cowboy hat, spotless. He looks every bit the handsome cowboy he is. Too bad I just don’t feel that spark.
After several minutes, Gabby returns to gather the next duet. It continues on this path until Shawna and I are the only remaining contestants to perform tonight. At this point, my nerves are all over the place. I’m excited and so scared that I probably couldn’t even tell you my name right now. I just pray that Becker waits to ask us questions until after we perform.
Finally, the moment is here. Gabby returns and Shawna and I follow her out. We walk down the long corridor that leads to the main studio. The closer we get, the louder the commotion around us. I can hear two contestants singing their hearts out on stage right now and the audience’s applause when they’re done.
This is it. I’m next.
Gabby and another guy, I think his name is Duncan, position me and Shawna at the edge of the stage. When I take the microphone she offers, there’s a slight tremble in my hand. God, I hope that doesn’t show up on camera.
“Welcome back to Rising Star. Our final duet of the evening is up next. Shawna Reece and Layne Carter have spent the past week with their coach, Beau Tanner. Let’s take a look at how their rehearsals went,” Becker says to the audience.
While their attention is focused on the screen above the stage, the production staff ushers us out to our marks on the stage. Part of me wants to turn and look at myself on the screen, but I don’t think my nerves can handle it. The best thing to do is just to stare straight ahead and focus on getting through this performance. But when I look straight ahead, I’m staring directly into steel gray eyes.
Beau focuses all of his intensity directly at me. The crazy thing, though, is that it doesn’t get me worked up. No. It does the complete opposite. As I gaze at Beau, tension seems to leave my body. Everything fades away. It’s as if there’s only him and me. Beau and me. Together.
“And now, the sixth and final performance for Team Beau, Shawna and Layne,” Becker says as he steps off the stage.
Moments later the familiar melody that I could now sing backwards in my sleep starts. The lights are bright and warm, but it doesn’t seem as bad as yesterday’s run through. I smile automatically at Beau who returns the smile. My heart practically beats out of my chest as I move the mic up to my mouth and sing.
I walk towards center stage, and my eyes remain focused on Beau. While he’s watching me perform, peace and reassurance radiating off of him, and any lingering restraint breaks free. This is it. My element. Even though I’m standing on a stage larger than ever before, singing before millions on live National television, I feel the calm and peace settle over me like a warm blanket.
I give everything I have into the performance. Even though Shawna steps into my path multiple times–as predicted–I don’t let it get to me. No one can get to me right now. I connect with the audience as I belt out each note, singing to each one personally. Without even realizing it, I’m completely consumed by the music as it pulls me from one end of the stage to the other. My body moves in ways that would probably cause a little embarrassment if I really stopped to think about it. But I don’t. I don’t think. I feel.
At the end of the song, I know that win or lose, I gave it my all. Goosebumps prickle my skin as I make my way towards Becker at the center of the stage. Shawna comes over and stands next to me, and after several long seconds, we each wave at the continued cheering crowd. Her pink dress and white cowboy boots sparkle under the intense lighting and her golden hair looks like a halo. She’s the complete opposite of me as I stand in my black leather pants and my black and purple top and matching hair.
“What a performance,” Becker says to the audience. “This may be the showdown of the night, folks. Before we get to Beau and his incredibly hard decision, let’s chat with the other coaches. Felix?”
“Wow. That was amazing. Shawna, you dazzled us all with your beautiful voice in your audition, and I could tell right away that you would be a crowd favorite. Layne, you surprise me most of all. Every time you open your mouth, beauty and soul spills forth. This was an astounding performance, ladies, and I don’t envy your coach right now,” Felix says.
After Sophia and JoJo each give their comments, Becker turns his attention towards Beau who has remained calm and collected the entire time, as if his decision was already made. That can’t be good for me.
“I’ll be honest, when I went into this, I thought I’d have an easier time makin’ my decision. Shawna has been probably the frontrunner of the show since auditions months back. Singin’ seems so effortless to her, and she has been outstandin’ in every practice we’ve had.”
Cold chills of dread slide through my body.
“And Layne,” he starts and shakes his head before turning to look directly at me. “I don’t know what it is about you. From the first note I heard come from your mouth, I’ve been entranced by you. I knew you’d have your work cut out for you when I paired you up to duet with Shawna, and even though you struggled a bit with your first country song, I think you’re the Cinderella story of the hour.” He turns his attention to Becker. “I don’t want to make this decision,” he adds with another shake of his head.
“Well, unfortunately, Beau, you do have to make a decision. Who are you taking with you to the next round for Team Beau? Shawna or Layne?”
Members of the audience scream out their choices while I hold my breath and wait for Beau’s answer. This is it. End of the road or one more hurdle overcome.
“I think I have my decision. This one was by far the hardest one I’ve had to make tonight, but I gotta do it. The sixth member of Team Beau and the person movin’ on to the next round is…” Beau takes another glance between Shawna and me. My heart is beating at stroke level and is painfully lodged in my throat. I want to jump up and down and just yell, “Pick already!” But I don’t. Instead, I focus on my need to pee.
Note to self: Pee before you go on stage and stand before a live studio audience of thousands.
“Layne.” I almost completely miss that single word. Even though my eyes are glued to his face, I barely process what he’s saying. The audience? Shawna’s audible gasp? Becker talking into the microphone on the other side of her? I hear nothing. Relief and joy replace the coiled tension in my body as I tear up and smile blindingly from the stage at the man sitting at the table.
I’m safe.
For now.
*****
Did you ever watch wrestling when you were a kid? You know where the big, burly wrestler–on camera, no less–grabs the folding chair that is always conveniently sitting along the wall and starts to smash everything in the room? That’s what I walk into in my hotel room. Except the big, burly wrestler is none other than a very pissed off Irrational Barbie.
Shawna remained quiet and poised on camera, but I could feel the hatred rolling off her in huge tsunami-sized waves. She remained unaffected as she conducted a quick interview with Becker before walking off stage to the awaiting production staff.
I knew it was too good to be true.
Clothes are everywhere. Her stuff, my stuff, everything from the closet and all the drawers, all thrown haphazardly throughout the room. The bathroom floor is littered with broken glass and plastic bottles–my stuff, of course. Not hers. The flat television is sitting at a dangerous angle on the top of the dresser and the bedding is thrown on top of the upturned table and chairs. It looks like a hurricane went through this room. Hurricane Shawna.
“You!” she screamed at me in an octane that only dogs could hear. “You’ve ruined everything!” she yells moments before a shoe flies within inches of my face.
Survival mode kicks in, snapping me out of my daze, and I retreat as quickly as possible from the room. Just as I get the door closed, something large and breakable slams into the other side of the door spraying shards of glass all over the room. That woman is fucking crazy.
I stand there for several seconds trying to collect my thoughts and get my erratic heartbeat under control.
“Hey. You okay? I was just talking to you and it’s like you completely have no idea I’m here,” Troy says as he turns me to face him. Just as I get ready to speak, something else breaks loudly from within the room behind me.
“Is she?”
“Yes, she is,” I state.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says as he pulls me towards the elevator. I follow Troy in astonishment as he steers me to the front lobby.
“She needs a new room,” he says forcefully to the slim young college kid working the counter.
“Is there a problem with the room?” he asks.
“Yep. There’s a crazy she-devil tearing it apart at the seams right now.”
“Are you from the show?” he asks nervously.
“Yes,” I finally say.
“Let me make a call,” he says before excusing himself to use the phone on the opposite side of the counter. After several minutes of animated, hushed conversation, he finally returns to Troy and me.
“A producer is on his way. Please take a seat over on the couch,” he says.
Fifteen minutes later, the same man from the first night we were here comes hustling into the lobby and directly towards us. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Shawna is tearing apart our room piece by piece. She threw a shoe at me and something glass. The entire room is in shambles and I’m pretty sure she’s broken just about everything in there, including all of my stuff.”
“I’ll go up and talk to her. Can you get her another room for the night?” he asks the skinny guy not so subtly eavesdropping on the other side of the counter.
“Only a night? That girl is unstable,” Troy adds.
The executive rubs the wrinkle between his eyebrows for several seconds. “She’s been asking for a solo room since day one. Maybe I can get her moved to another room,” he final concedes.
“Why her? She tore apart their current room. Layne should get the new room that isn’t covered in glass and broken furniture,” Troy says with a little force.
“Whatever. I’ll go up and try to calm her down enough so you can go in and get your stuff. Or what’s left of it,” he says, walking towards the elevator. “New room. Now,” he barks at the kid behind the counter.
“Well, I guess we should go up too and gather your stuff.” We wait until we have the “all clear” sign from the producer before we head back upstairs.
By the time Troy and I gather up what’s left of my stuff and move it to another room, it’s almost two in the morning. As we sort and pitch all of the stuff we salvaged from the room, I’m actually kind of surprised I’m only down to half of my makeup. Some of my clothes didn’t fare so well. Apparently, when I left the room, Shawna found scissors. Now my favorite jeans and three of my most expensive tops all have air conditioning.
Of course, now, all is forgotten. Shawna pulled out the fake tears and the bogus apologies and is resting comfortably in the room we used to share–after housekeeping came up to clean and straighten it back up, that is. After a few promises to the producer that she’ll never behave like a two-year-old again, Shawna was left to sleep for the night.
“I’m going to bed,” Troy says as I hang the last of my clothes in the closet.
“Thank you for your help,” I mumble, my body exhausted from todays–or yesterdays–excitement.
“You’re welcome. Call me if you need anything,” he says before slipping out of my room and leaving me in silence.
I didn’t even get to enjoy my victory. As soon as I was done performing and did a quick interview, they ushered the rest of the winners back on stage. That was the first glance I got at Beau’s team of six. I was happy to see Troy and Ben amongst them. As soon as the live show was done, we received our next day’s schedule. Fortunately, my part in tonight’s show is very minimal: hair, make-up, and wardrobe. Then I’m onstage for the beginning of the show and the very end when the six contestants from each team are presented.
Then, we start all over again with a new song.
That’s the last thing I think about as I succumb to the exhaustion taking over my body.