Note to self: Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
We all gather on stage for the big reveal. I’m wearing yesterday’s ensemble like the other fifteen contestants on stage, huge smile plastered on my stiff face. Stiff because I’m wearing a quarter of an inch of putty–also known as makeup.
“Tonight, we’ll have team performances for two of our four teams, plus a special performance from our musical guest, Carrie Underwood. We’ll also reveal the fate of our sixteen contestants. Four will go home this evening, but right now, I’ll reveal the first two saved contestants who will return next week.” Becker pauses for dramatic effect before reading the card in his hand. “Our first contestant who is safe another week is…Shawna Reece! Our second contestant who is safe is…Ben Atwood!”
The audience cheers for both Shawna and Ben, while I reserve my accolades for only Ben. Getting rid of Shawna would have been a dream come true! Especially since the whispers after last night’s performances about Beau and I only grew louder and more predominant.
Up next is our team performance, and I’m super nervous to perform with Beau and the rest of my group. Add in the fact that my fate on this show still hasn’t been decided, and I’m jittery like a bouncy ball let loose in a confined space.
Chelsea and I head into a small dressing room and throw on our next outfits. After a quick spin in the chair to refresh hair and makeup, we’re meeting up with the guys at stage right. When a member of the production crew gives us the sign, we all head out to our places on the darkened stage. We only have to wait a few moments before the commercial break ends and Becker starts to speak.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Team Beau performing ‘Love Shack.’”
Beau counts down the beat with his drumsticks, and starts us off. “If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says fifteen miles to the…”
“Love shack! Love shack, yeah.” I belt out.
“I’m heading down the Atlanta highway,” Chelsea sings.
There’s something about this song that makes you want to stand up and sing. You can’t sing it without picturing the B-52’s video: the big hair, the big car, and the party atmosphere, and the crowd gets into the performance right along with us. By the time I make my way up the stairs towards Beau, I’m practically pulsating with excitement. Or maybe I’m actually pulsating because the closer I get to Beau, the more aware I am of his presence. He watches me from underneath his hat as I approach, never missing a beat as he plays his drums. I sing my next line from my position next to him, vibrating from the electricity coursing through the metal risers. The smirk he gives me almost melts me like an ice cube on a hot July afternoon. Those lips should come with a warning label.
Warning: Deadly weapons with the intent to render any woman speechless, immobile, and ready to drop her panties.
My body moves in rhythm to the song. I sing my part for the crowd and the millions of people watching through the television. I sing for my three-year-old son who is watching me from his position on the floor in our living room. I sing for the man playing the drums next to me. Why? I don’t know. I’ve never been concerned about what a man thinks of my singing, nor have I ever really sung for anyone. I sing for me. But tonight, I find myself singing for the man who intrigues me, intoxicates me, and consumes me. Tonight, I sing for Beau.
When the song is over, we all take our bows. Beau stands and waves his hands at each of us, giving us as much credit as he can. I’ll admit we have a solid team. Ben has that strong country voice that reminds me of Jason Aldean. Yes, I might not be a country fan, but every woman in America knows who Jason Aldean is. Same with Beau Tanner.
Chelsea is a cute little sprite of a girl, barely the legal age. She’s adorable in that overly endearing and peppy way that makes me want to vomit half the time. She’s tiny enough to fit in my back pocket. But what endears me the most to Chelsea is that she’s surprisingly not one of the people I hear constantly talking about the rumors. If she’s talking, she hides it well.
And then there’s Maxwell who I haven’t really had much of an opportunity to chat with too much. He has a country vibe to him with a hint of classic rock, which might be why Beau gravitated towards him as his final pick for his team.
Either way, our team will suffer a loss tonight.
I just pray it isn’t me.
*****
As I stand up on stage with seven other contestants, Chelsea directly to my right, I hold my breath as I patiently await the verdict of my future on the show. We’re down to the final two for each team, and I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to reveal which contestant is saved from each team and which one will be saying goodbye tonight.” Becker grabs the envelope and rips it open in a dramatic fashion.
“Team Sophia. The contestant who is safe and will return next week is…Kristie Maloney! That means Brock McMillan will be leaving us tonight.”
After departing hugs are given to Brock, and Kristie joins the saved contestants on the opposite side of the stage, Becker returns his attention to his envelope. “Team JoJo. The contestant who is safe and returning to the competition next week is…Philippe Consuela! Jess Johansson, I’m sorry but your time on Rising Star is over tonight.”
Again, more hugs and tears are shed at center stage. I glance over and see Troy with his big grin plastered on his face. He looks cool, calm, and way more collected than I’m sure I do right now.
“Team Felix. The contestant who is safe another week is…Marcus Hogan! Unfortunately, that means Troy Cartwright’s time on Rising Star has come to an end.”
I think Becker says something else, but I don’t hear it. As soon as Marcus’s name is read as the safe contestant, my entire body sinks down into a pool of sadness and loss. I knew that Troy and I couldn’t both be here until the end, but it was a beautiful pipe dream that I would have loved to continue. Tonight, I say goodbye to the first person I met on this show. The first person I connected with. My friend.
I wrap my much smaller arms around Troy’s chest. His dreads hang down, tickling my face and neck as he returns my fierce embrace. “Win this damn thing, will you?” he mumbles against my ear.
A single tear slides down my face as I chuckle. “I’ll try.” It’s all I’ve got.
He pulls me back, looking down at me with a happy smile. “This experience was amazing because of you. Thank you for your friendship. Patti wants to meet you after the show, okay? She’s here and wants a hug,” he tells me quickly before being urged to move on down the line.
I feel Chelsea’s tiny hand as she threads it into mine. We’re the last ones. Our fate is about to be decided. It’s her or me. I hold my breath and try to contain the urge to bounce around like Tigger.
“Just so you know, I didn’t think there was ever anything going on between you and Beau,” Chelsea whispers.
“Really?” I whisper back, my relief filled eyes meeting her crystal blue ones.
“Of course not. I mean, come on. Beau Tanner is a freaking God and absolutely gorgeous. What would he see in you, really?” she asks so casually that I almost completely miss the slam. She’s so sincere and nice when she says it; I really don’t think she realizes what she really said.
I barely have time to react to her comment when Becker steps back up front. “And now for our final elimination for the evening. Team Beau.”
“Good luck,” she whispers again with a bright white smile.
“Uh, yeah. You too,” I mumble, still completely dumbfounded.
“The contestant who is safe and will return to compete next week is…Layne Carter! That means Chelsea Gordon will be departing this evening.”
I’m swept up in more hugs–first with Chelsea and then by the other safe contestants. As I join the other remaining eleven hopefuls on the opposite side of the stage, I finally take my first deep breath. It’s like my lungs feel oxygen for the first time in minutes. Hours. Days.
The crazy thing is, this is how I feel when I’m around Beau. Breathless. Excited. Nervous. There’s electricity in the air, but this time from the vote-off, not from the mere presence of the man on the opposite side of the stage wearing his trademark Stetson and scuffed up cowboy boots.
As Becker wraps up the broadcast, I chance a quick glance over at the coaches. My eyes instantly connect with those deep gray ones that I think about 24/7. Beau doesn’t make any movement except a quick wink before returning his eyes to the front of the stage.
When the red light finally goes off, we all take off to gather our belongings and to wait for our rides back to the hotel. Before I get much further from the stage, though, big arms pull me into an even bigger body. I’d know it anywhere.
“Hey, doll. This is Patti.”
“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you face to face, Layne. Troy has told me so much about you. He feels like you’re a little sister to him,” she says with a warm, friendly smile. I instantly like her. If we lived closer, I could even picture her as a friend.
“You, too, Patti. I’m sorry that Troy was voted off tonight,” I tell her honestly. “He deserves to be here til the end.”
“Yes, he does, but that’s okay. I’m still proud of him for coming out here and trying. Even if he didn’t win, he’s still a winner to me,” she says as she wraps her arms around his waist. “I love him just as much today as I did the day I met him in high school,” she adds with smile.
“You better get in back and get your stuff gathered up. I know we’ll all need to catch the vans back shortly,” Troy says before disentangling himself from his wife. He wraps himself around me one more time. “You got this, Layne. You’ve got what it takes to make it to the end and win it. Don’t listen to what everyone is saying,” he says with the raise of his eyebrow.
I blush slightly as I reply without making eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know. Don’t play coy with me. Beau. Them jealous girls are gonna run their mouths. Just ignore them and sing your heart out. I better come back at this finale and see you standing on that stage.”
“I’ll try my hardest,” I tell him, giving him one final hug.
“Do it for Eli,” he whispers before kissing the top of my head.
And that’s all it takes. The tears I’ve felt hovering at the tip of the levee burst through. I smile as I think about my son back at home in Chicago with my mom. It doesn’t take me long to realize that once the tears start, it’s impossible to get them to stop. I wipe and wipe, to no avail, they continue to fall.
“Look at what you did,” Patti chastises her husband as she pushes him out of the way.
“I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says as Patti wraps me in another fierce hug.
“It’s okay. It’s not you. I’ve been emotional the last few days. I just miss him so much,” I mumble as the hiccups start, and the true mortification starts to set in.
When I glance around, I realize we’re still standing in the middle of the stage. I’m wearing thigh high boots, a bustier, and can feel my makeup deteriorating underneath the weight and wetness of my tears. The crew, contestants, and a handful of family and fans linger…all watching me have my mini-emotional breakdown.
Awesome.
Note to self: Wait to have emotional breakdown until you’re behind closed doors. Preferably after a trip to the liquor store.
I use the back of my hand to blot away wetness and the softened face putty before I say goodbye to Troy and Patti one more time. They are a beautiful couple, inside and out, and I hope we’ll continue our friendship long after this competition is over. St. Louis isn’t that far from Chicago. I could definitely make a weekend out of it and travel south for a visit. Besides, I realize as they walk away and head over to chat with Ben that I’d love to introduce Eli to him. Troy is the most unique person I’ve met in a long time with his big warm heart and his caring demeanor. He’s someone who makes me feel like a better person just by being around him.
As I make my way towards the backstage area, I’m headed off by a tall cowboy wearing a concerned look on his face. “You okay?” he asks, those all-knowing eyes searching my face as if looking for the answer.
“Yeah,” I reply, offering a hint of a small smile.
“You were cryin’,” he retorts and takes a step closer. Not too close, but close enough that I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s spicy with a hint of the outdoors, and I’m instantly hyperaware of his presence.
“It was nothing, really.”
“Layne, I -” he starts but is cut off by the camera that’s practically shoved in our faces. It’s amazing how you can be followed 24/7 by a camera, your entire life filmed for the world to see, yet you don’t even know they’re there anymore. I think I’m just so used to them lurking in the corners that you become completely oblivious to their presence. Crazy, right?
“I’ll see you at rehearsal in the morning. Thanks, Beau,” I say as casually as possible as I head back behind the stage to gather my stuff.
Right now I need to be alone. I need a moment to wallow in my own solitude and just process. First off, there’s the weight of my loneliness sitting on my chest. Not loneliness from people per se, because I definitely have friends here–even if Troy went home tonight. No, my loneliness stems from my home life that I miss terribly. What I wouldn’t give to help Eli with his bath or sit next to him while I sip coffee and he devours pancakes at the breakfast table. Then there’s my mom. I never would have thought I’d miss her as much as I do, but I really do miss her. She’s as much a part of my daily life and routine as he is.
And then there’s the competition. I’m learning really quickly that everyone has their own agenda, and if you don’t fit into it, well back the fuck up. Women are catty creatures who are manipulative and conniving, and while I can’t blame them for looking out for number one, throwing me under the bus with vicious rumors and lies isn’t the way to go about it.
Note to self: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Since we’re discussing rumors, that brings me to my next dilemma. Beau. Gorgeous, sexy, sweet, caring, and completely unobtainable Beau. He’s my coach. A show representative. And he’s forbidden.
How am I going to stay away from him when my entire being is telling me to run and leap into his arms? I’ve worked too hard, endured weeks of Shawna’s crap, to throw it all away for…for what? We aren’t anything. He says he’s attracted to me, so what? What happens after this show? I live in Chicago and he’s a Nashville recording artist with a current tour schedule taking him from one end of the country to the other. I’m sure he doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with a long distance relationship with a woman who has a kid.
So where does that leave me?
Nowhere.
As I slip under the bedspread after talking to Mom for the night and washing the show off me with a quick shower, my mind returns to Beau. Why I keep torturing myself by continually bringing up the topic is beyond me. Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment.
Note to self: Work harder on finding a hobby.
My mind keeps replaying the kiss. Kisses. I think that if I didn’t feel the electricity in those kisses, then I could move on, knowing that a relationship with him wouldn’t work out. But the fact still remains that there was something more–something deep and meaningful–in those kisses. I felt it, and I know he felt it. Those intoxicating words he said to me only cement that little sliver of hope that we could really have a chance if we were allowed to.
But we’re not allowed to.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
I’m nowhere closer to the answers I’m looking for an hour later. As I toss and turn and look for that comfortable position to fall asleep in, I conclude that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make it until the end. Well, everything within reason. I’m not about to take lessons in manipulation from Cold-Hearted Barbie. But that does mean that I have to stay away from Beau. No more flirting. No more kisses. No more closet rendezvous. Focus. Focus on the competition. Be professional, be courteous, and for the love of God, behave!
I just hope my heart actually listens to my head this time.