One

 

 

“WHAT ARE you doing?” his mother asked, standing behind him in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Embarrassed, Corey spun around and tossed the extension cord to the ground. “Nothing!” he said. “Um, I don’t know… being silly, I guess.”

“Baby, don’t stop,” she said. “Your voice—it’s beautiful.”

At six years old, Corey had never sung before an audience. Well, at least not a solo performance. In preschool and kindergarten, and even in church, he’d sung with the other kids. It was when he was alone in his bedroom that he stood in front of the big mirror, and belted it out. He imagined himself on stage in front of a cheering crowd as he held his microphone. The mic was actually an extension cord with a big block plug on the end. He held it in front of his mouth the same way the performers did on TV.

His mom slipped into his room and sat on the bed, waiting for him to continue. “Go ahead, Corey,” she encouraged him. “Please….”

For a brief moment he hesitated, but then dismissed his fear. How would he ever be able to sing in front of a real audience if he had stage fright performing for his own mother? He picked up his microphone, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. Then he began to sing
a capella. His song choice, “Moon River,” was one of his mother’s favorites. He knew because he often heard her humming the melody while doing the dishes, and Corey knew every single word.

As he stood there in the center of the room, moving his arms animatedly and maintaining eye contact with his audience of one, he crooned the soothing lyrics to his mother. By the second verse, she was reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Baby, you gave me chills,” she said. “When did this happen? When did you get this gorgeous, beautiful, perfect voice? Honey, you are amazing! You… you have a gift.”

He smiled at her proudly and shrugged, and then started right in on another song. Corey knew a lot of songs. He knew songs from many different genres of music. In fact, he didn’t know why, but he could pretty much hear a song one time and remember it. Not only did he remember the lyrics, but in his head he could hear every single note. At age six, he didn’t yet know what pitch was, but soon enough he would. Before long, he’d be used to hearing about his “perfect pitch.”

With it just being the three of them—his mom, his sister, and himself—Corey’s family didn’t have much money. Private voice lessons were not an option, but he did participate in every musical activity available to him at school. In high school, he joined choir, drama club, and band. He entered the competition for the school’s annual talent show and won first place during his junior year. As a senior, he came in second place, losing only to a silly comedy sketch performed by the high school jocks.

Corey often performed at his church, both as a soloist and a choir member. He sang the gospel songs and hymns with as much passion and sincerity as he conveyed when singing rock or country. Everyone who knew Corey told him how talented he was.

Corey couldn’t count the number of times admiring fans suggested to him that he try out for the Superstar talent show. That was what everyone called it, but “Superstar” was actually an abbreviation for the internationally popular reality music competition that was officially titled Choosing America’s Next Superstar. Contestants from all over the country entered the competition every year, and it was the most watched program on television. Millions of viewers tuned in every week to watch the performances of the contestants and then voted on their favorites. They used their cell phones and laptops to cast their votes, and it was the standing joke that more people voted on Superstar than in presidential elections.

The dream of being America’s Next Superstar was about as distant to Corey as winning the lottery. So many people tried out for the competition every year—tens of thousands—and there was only one winner. The show traveled around the country with its panel of celebrity judges and held auditions. Mobs of people showed up to try out, and only a handful were chosen from each location. The lucky winners were then flown to New York where the elimination-round show was recorded. The four hundred contestants that had been selected from around the country competed for forty top slots.

At last, when the celebrity judges selected the top forty, the judges made one final round of cuts, paring the number by almost half. These twenty-four contestants were the finalists who would fly to Hollywood to perform on live broadcasts for the general public. Viewers were allowed to vote, casting their ballots via phone lines, text messages, or the Internet. The ten competitors who received the most votes during the first week would remain. The celebrity judges would select three other “wild card” contestants from the bottom fourteen, affording them a second chance. After the top thirteen were selected, their fate was in the hands of the voting public. The person with the lowest vote total each week was eliminated, until only one Superstar remained.

Superstar was Corey’s absolute favorite television show, and every year he watched it with rapt enthusiasm. He got to know every one of the contestants—he felt like he knew them personally, and he allowed himself to get emotionally invested. Sometimes he selected a contestant to identify with and prayed with all his heart that they would win, then he’d use his computer to vote for them numerous times. It was sort of a way for him to live vicariously through them. He imagined himself as a contestant on the show. He couldn’t help fantasizing about what it would feel like to get up on stage and perform for the entire world like that.

When one of his favorites was voted off, it was devastating to Corey. He would feel depressed and almost go into mourning thinking about the fact that when he turned on the television the next week, they would no longer be there. He hated seeing these dreams shattered, and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to get that close and suddenly have it all ripped away.

Corey’s family lived in rural northern Michigan, not near any major cities. When Corey graduated from high school, he chose to attend the local community college, not yet sure what to do with his life. He couldn’t think of any career he wanted to pursue that did not involve music, but it was just such a long shot. People constantly told him how impractical it was—how unlikely it would be that he’d make it big enough to actually be considered successful. Even his mom, who believed in him with all her heart, advised Corey to choose a path that offered him guarantees. She wanted him to succeed as a singer but more or less told him that his fantasies of stardom were pipe dreams.

So Corey began his freshman year at community college, still living at home. He worked a part-time job as a cashier in a supermarket and lived a lifestyle that was not atypical of a college-aged American kid. He hung out with friends, went to parties, and did all the things most other kids his age did.

“Did you see this?” Megan whispered. Corey and Megan had been best friends since eighth grade. They were in the college library, and she had her laptop open. She turned it so he could see the website she had open.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, a little too loudly. He looked around to make sure he hadn’t disturbed anyone. In a quieter tone, he went on. “The Detroit auditions are next week. I’m scheduled to work… plus how would I even get down there?”

“I’ll drive you!” she said. “Dude, you can’t pass up this chance!”

He shook his head, sighing. “Meg, if I lose this job, I’m screwed. I can’t just blow off my schedule for this one-in-a-million chance. Do you know how many people audition for Superstar every year?”

“Fifty-seven thousand,” she said matter-of-factly. It says so right there in the article.”

“Exactly! And out of that many auditions, they only pick four hundred. And out of the four hundred, only one person wins.”

“And that one person is you!” she said with enthusiasm. Now she was the one raising her voice.

“Shh,” he said, holding up a finger to his lips. “Thanks, Meg… but it’s just not possible. But, hey, I promise to watch the show with you every night.” He smiled at her and winked.

Shaking her head, she grabbed him by the wrist. “Listen to me, Corey Dunham! You are not going to pass up this opportunity! You’re going to call your boss right now and tell her you need the time off. Say it’s an emergency. Say you had a death in the family. Say anything you need to! But one way or another, I’m dragging your ass to that audition. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.”

“Megan, please….”

“No! Don’t ‘Megan, please’ me. You’re doing this.”

He pushed his chair back, leaning backward so he was balancing on the back legs. “Okay. I’ll think about it. I’ll see if someone can switch with me, but if it comes down to choosing between my job and the audition, I can’t lose the job.”

“It won’t. Seriously, there are, like, a million kids that work there. They can find someone to cover your shifts.”

“We’ll see,” he said. He smiled as he thought about the possibility. “But what will I sing?”

 

 

MEGAN, WHO usually wore her long red hair in a bun, was letting it down on the road trip to Detroit. With all four windows open, she and Corey cruised the interstate at 85 mph, the stereo blasting. Corey was so thankful for his best friend, and he couldn’t begin to express how much he appreciated the faith that she had in him and his talent.

As per Megan’s prediction, it all had worked out. When Corey told his boss about his chance to audition for Superstar, she was quick to rally the troops and get his shifts covered. Janine was actually his department manager, and she was a huge fan of Superstar herself. She made Corey sing a song for her in the office and was moved to tears.

“You’re gonna make it!” she exclaimed. “Oh my God! I can’t believe one of my employees might be America’s Next Superstar!”

When Corey informed his mom that he was headed for Detroit, she was not quite as optimistic. “Oh, baby, you know I’m proud of you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed. There are so many people who try out every year. You know I believe in you, but I’m a realist.”

“I know, Mom,” he said. “I won’t get my hopes up too high. But can you imagine if….”

“You listen to me! No matter what happens, you will always be my superstar.”

In a way Corey was sad that his mom didn’t want to go with him to the audition. He understood, though. She had to work. It also would have completely changed the dynamic of their road trip had his mother accompanied them.

Corey was riding shotgun with his feet propped on the dashboard, and they spent almost the entirety of their five-hour drive singing and listening to the stereo. Of course, Corey already had his audition song picked out, and Megan forced him to sing it to her at least a dozen times, critiquing him with brutal honesty.

They’d always been this way in their relationship with each other. Corey could tell Megan anything without fear of judgment, but he also appreciated the fact that she was always going to offer her honest opinion. He could accept criticism from her in ways he couldn’t from any of his other friends or family. He was quite self-conscious, and a lot of times, when people said mean things to him, it hurt his feelings. He knew when Megan said something critical, she wasn’t being harsh. She was simply speaking her mind.

That type of relationship was extremely valuable to Corey. He could trust Megan and knew she’d never lie to him. When he bought new clothes, got a new haircut, or even started crushing on a new guy, Megan would tell him exactly what she thought. Corey felt as if he’d always been out to Megan. There never was a big coming-out scene. She’d just always known.

There were a lot of other people in Corey’s life that were in the dark about his sexual orientation. He’d told his mom and sister, and he had a few gay friends from high school. At work it wasn’t really an issue. Male coworkers would sometimes talk to him about girls, assuming that he was straight, and Corey didn’t feel the need to correct them. He’d simply listen and nod. With a lot of straight dudes, the idea of a guy being attracted to another guy was so foreign to them that the notion of gay coworkers never entered their mind. Unless it was a girly guy, swishing and sashaying across the room making passes at them, they’d just assume that the dude was heterosexual.

Corey was not exactly what you’d consider a masculine guy himself. He wasn’t flamboyant—didn’t go around snapping his fingers all the time and flopping his limp wrists in front of everyone—but he definitely related emotionally to girls more than to guys. His best friend was female, after all. He liked the sappy romantic-comedy movies that everyone called “chick flicks.” He loved shopping and fashion and romance novels. He never accepted the theory that men and women were just wired differently and that their thought processes and feelings were diametrically opposed. If that were the case, then why was it that he could always understand and relate to the girl’s point of view more than the other guy’s?

The auditions were being held in Detroit at Ford Field, the indoor stadium that the Detroit Lions used for their home games. The most challenging thing was finding parking.

“Holy fuck, look at all the people,” Megan said. Contestants were lined up outside the stadium entrance for what looked like at least a quarter mile.

“Oh my God,” Corey said, suddenly feeling very small and insignificant. “I don’t think this was such a good idea.”

“What do you mean? You have just as good a chance—no, more of a chance—than any of these people. I bet half of them couldn’t carry a tune if it had a handle on it.”

“Meg, I probably won’t even make it through the interview process. How can you expect them to get through all these people in just two days?”

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “Corey, you gotta have a little faith. Once they hear your voice, they’ll be blown away.” She pulled into a parking lot that had a “$10.00 Parking” sign. She rolled down the window and paid the attendant, who then directed her to park at the end of the line.

“Well, I’m glad we brought our cooler,” Corey said. “I think it’s gonna be a long wait in the hot sun.”

“It’ll be fun,” she said, a little too much cheer in her voice. “You’ll see. We’ll make lots of friends.”

Corey didn’t doubt that. Megan had a very outgoing personality. Her gregariousness allowed her to easily strike up conversations with complete strangers. There were times Corey wished he could be more like his best friend, and he especially envied her eternal optimism. Meg was always upbeat and happy, and she always seemed to see the glass as half full.

As expected, once they were in line, Megan began chatting with those around them. One of the other contestants in line was a punk rocker named Jeremy from Toledo. “This is my third year,” he explained.

“Really?” Meg said. “So what’s it like?”

“This here’s the worst part. You wait in line for hours just to get an interview.”

“But you’ve been through it before,” Corey said. “What happened?”

“First year, I never even made it to the preaudition,” he said. “They cut me before ever even hearing me sing.”

“Really?” Corey couldn’t believe it. “How could they cut you without even knowing if you had talent?”

Jeremy laughed. “Dude, this isn’t about talent. It’s about show business. It’s reality TV. They’re looking for a mix of interesting people who’ll mesh together in a good drama. That’s why you see all the shit auditions every year. They deliberately let in some really suck-ass singers—a lot of them are obviously horrid—just to make an entertaining reality show.”

“And they pass up a lot of genuine talent?” Megan asked.

“Exactly. There are only so many spaces.”

“So what do we have to do to make it through the initial interview?” Corey asked.

“Anything unusual. If you have a sad story to tell, that’s a biggie. Talk about your humble background. Tell them you’re living under a bridge or in a tent, that you’re homeless. Tell them your mother died when you were five, and you’re doing this so she sees you from heaven. Tell them you have cancer….”

Corey’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

“Dude, I’m dead serious. My second year I gave them a hard-luck story about how I was estranged from my father who was a drug addict and going through rehab. They ate it up.”

“But you didn’t make it all the way….”

“I made it to New York, and was voted out during the group performances. I got stuck with the lamest group of the competition. It totally sucked.”

“And what about last year?”

“I didn’t even get through the first interview. That was in Cincinnati, and I got there too late. They’d already filled all the spots.”

“What are the judges like?” Meg asked. “Is Reuben as mean in person as he is on TV?”

“Reuben doesn’t know jack,” Jeremy said, laughing. “He has virtually no musical talent himself. He couldn’t tell you if someone had pitch or not. To him, it’s all just showmanship. He’s the mastermind behind this whole scene. He says humiliating shit to people because it makes an entertaining show. Like I said—drama.”

“So what’s he really like then?” Corey asked.

“I never really talked to him one on one other than in the audition. He made fun of my hair and said I needed a makeover.” Corey could believe it. Jeremy had a fluorescent green Mohawk, and he was totally right about Reuben. He was a complete asshole. He made fun of everyone and offered very little constructive advice.

“My favorite judge is Krystal,” Megan said.

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, everyone likes her. The girls like her ’cause she’s sweet, and the guys just like her tits. Half the time she’s either drunk or stoned.”

“Really?” Corey asked. “I always thought she was the best judge.”

“You do realize that the celebrity judges are not the real judges….”

“What do ya mean?” Corey asked.

“It’s a show!” he exclaimed, holding his hands out for emphasis. “The producers of the show ‘consult’ with the judges before they make their final cuts. Even during the auditions, the so-called judges are wearing earpieces. They’re actors, doing what the show tells them to.”

“Is the voting at least real?” Corey asked. “I mean, after they begin broadcasting the live shows.”

“Supposedly,” Jeremy answered. “Who knows. I think it’s probably pretty much legit. But everything prior to that point—all the auditions and various rounds of competition—that’s all rigged. The producers are looking for a mix of contestants who will make a great entertainment show. It has very little to do with musical talent.”

“Damn,” Corey said. “What the hell am I even doing here?” He turned to Megan. “I don’t have a sob story or anything….”

“What are you talking about?” she said, slugging him on the shoulder. “You have an awesome sob story. Tell them about being raised by a single parent who worked all her life in a factory. Tell them how you knew from the time you were six that you wanted to be a singer.”

Jeremy guffawed. “Dude, that’s everyone’s story.”

“Maybe,” Megan said. “But not everyone can tell the story the way I can. I’ll have them bawling their eyes out. I’ll tell them how Corey won the talent competition in high school and told everyone how he felt his dad looking down from heaven….”

“I never said that—”

“Yes, you did!”

“Megan, my dad is still alive!”

“They don’t need to know that,” she said. “And you don’t have to lie… let me do it.”

“You might have something there,” Jeremy said. “Don’t worry, everyone lies about shit to get on the show. If they don’t at least fib a little, they don’t even make it in to the auditions.”

“But don’t they eventually find out?” Corey asked. “I mean, the show. Don’t the producers find out these stories are bogus?”

“Eventually. They don’t care either. Like I said, it’s all fiction. They’re just putting together an entertaining show. If you’re lucky enough to make it through the auditions, then you can set everything straight with the media when they start hounding you for interviews. It’s all just part of the game.”

“So let me do the talking,” Megan said. “You just stand there and look pretty.”

“Meg, they probably aren’t gonna even let you into the interview with me….”

“You’ll see when we get in there,” Jeremy said. “There’ll be chairs set up everywhere. After you fill out your application, they’ll give you a number, and then they’ll come around and interview you right where you’re sitting. After that, you just wait and hope they call your number.”

“How long do you wait?” Corey asked.

“Till they say it’s over. You might be waiting until tomorrow night….”

“Oh, man, that sucks!” Corey complained.

“We won’t be waiting that long,” Meg said with confidence. “You watch. You’re gonna get your audition… or I’m gonna die trying.”

 

 

THREE HOURS later, when they at last made it into the auditorium, it was as Jeremy described. On the main floor, there were tables and chairs set up. Corey took an application and began filling it out. Meg snatched it from him and took over.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“At least let me see what you’re writing… so I know when they question me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Like I said, I’ll do the talking.”

After completing the form, she jumped up and stepped over to the cubicle where the applications were collected. She had to wait in line for about five minutes and then returned to Corey. “Okay, now we go over here to these chairs and wait for them. Here’s your number.” She was holding a big white label with red print. It had the number 748 on it. “You wear this like a necklace,” she explained, sliding the rope over Corey’s head.

“Wow,” he said. “Like a beauty pageant or something.”

“Or a marathon.”

Corey pulled out the small cooler from under his seat and grabbed a bottle of Diet Coke. “Want one?” he offered Megan.

For the next hour, they waited as the chairs around them filled up. Corey glanced around him to see if he could spot any other contestants being interviewed.

“They’re over there,” Meg said, pointing to one of the female contestants. “And she’s number 722, so it won’t be much longer.”

“Do they only have one person interviewing?” Corey asked. “That’s crazy.”

“I think they have one per section. We’re in the seventh section which is why our number is in the 700s. When they get up to 799, they start over with the numbering.”

“God, it’s taking long enough,” Corey complained.

“This is nothing,” another contestant said. Corey turned to see the boy seated beside him. “I hear that the real wait comes after the interview. That’s when we have to go camp out in the audience section and wait to see if they call our number for an actual audition.”

“Yeah, we heard that,” Corey said. “Have you been through this before?”

The kid shook his head. “Nah, it’s my first time.” Corey looked down at the guy’s number, and it was 781.

“I’m Corey,” he offered. “Aka, number 748.”

“Jimmy, number 781,” the dirty-blond kid said, smiling. He looked to be about Corey’s age but a little better built. Corey couldn’t help but notice his muscular chest. He was wearing a navy colored T-shirt and jeans, and he had a bit of a Southern accent. “Where are y’all from?” Jimmy asked.

“Up north… do you know where Petoskey is?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m from Kentucky… northern Kentucky.”

“Is this the closest audition for you?” Corey asked.

“They had one in Louisville, but I missed it,” he said. “My brother was having surgery that day.”

“Really? Is he okay?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I hope so. He was born with a rare heart condition. This is, like, the sixth operation, but they say he’s doing pretty good.”

“Aww, wow.” Corey suddenly felt a pang of guilt for the sob story he knew Megan was planning to tell on his behalf. “You should tell them about your brother,” he said. “I mean, when they interview you.”

“You think so?” Jimmy asked. “Why would they want to know that?”

“I dunno. I just think it’s a touching story, how you almost missed your chance at an audition in order to be with your brother. Is he older than you?”

“He’s two years younger. We always been close, though.”

“Well, I’ll keep him in my thoughts,” Corey said, smiling sincerely.

“Thanks, man. You know what you’re gonna sing?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Corey said, “if I’m lucky enough to get an audition.”

“I’m singing Garth Brooks,” Jimmy said. “‘The Dance’.”

“Oh, I love that song. I like a lot of country, but I’m gonna go with a boy band song. ‘Shape of My Heart’ by the Backstreet Boys.”

Jimmy started singing the chorus to the song, smiling at Corey. “Lookin’ back on the things I’ve done….”

“I was tryin’ to be someone…,” Corey finished.

They both laughed. “Cool, so you know a variety of stuff?”

“I love all kinds of music,” Jimmy said. His chocolate-brown eyes seemed to light up as he smiled at Corey. “What about you?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m the same way. I have this knack for remembering song lyrics. If I hear a song once, I’ve pretty much got it in my brain.”

“Me too… I thought I was the only one like that.”

“Do you know this one? ‘When superstars and cannonballs are runnin’ through your head’,” Corey started singing.

“‘Television freak show, cops and robbers everywhere’,” Jimmy continued.

Corey cracked up. “Dude, you have an awesome voice!”

“You too, man.”

“This is my best friend, Megan,” Corey said. He thumbed his fist in her direction, but she was busy talking to someone else and had her back turned.

“I came alone,” Jimmy said. “It was a five-hour drive.”

“That’s almost exactly how long our drive was, but we never left our state. Weird.”

“Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and both make it through,” Jimmy said. “We can hang out together.”

“I’d like that,” Corey said.

“Are you number 748?” a voice said from the other side of him. Corey quickly turned to see an official-looking lady carrying a clipboard.

“Yes! That’s me,” he said, jumping up from his seat.

“Corey Dunham?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

“I’m Renee, and I conduct the preaudition interviews.”

“I’m Corey’s best friend Megan.” Corey heard his companion introduce herself. “I’m the one who brought him here.”

Renee shook hands with both of them. Looking around, she located an empty chair and pulled it over in front of them. “Well, let’s just talk for a few minutes. Tell me about yourself, Corey, and why you want to be America’s Next Superstar.”

“Forgive me,” Megan blurted out before Corey could open her mouth. “Corey is a little bit shy when it comes to talking about himself, but he has the most amazing story.”

“Oh?”

“Corey has a brother—two years younger than him—his name is Jimmy, and he has a heart condition.” Corey’s mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. Megan must have been eavesdropping on his conversation. “Jimmy and Corey are very close, and Jimmy just had to have a life-saving surgery. Corey wasn’t even going to come to the audition, but Jimmy insisted. He told Corey to go and win his way to New York. Corey’s doing this for him, his dying brother.”

“Wow,” Renee said. “Has he been ill for a long time?”

“It was a condition he was born with, and they didn’t expect him to even live this long. Jimmy prays every day he will be able to hang on long enough to see his brother crowned America’s Next Superstar.”

“Amazing, that’s truly a touching story,” Renee said. “You know….” Her voice was beginning to choke up. “You know, I think we’re going to just go ahead and put you through to the auditions. Corey, why don’t you come with me?” She stood up and grabbed Corey by the arm.

“But….” Corey turned and looked at his new friend Jimmy, who was just sitting there with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Go ahead!” Megan urged him. “Corey… go!” Megan stood up and grabbed Corey’s other arm.

“You come with us,” Renee said. “They’ll need to film Corey’s supporters. Are you with him too?” she said as she turned to Jimmy.

“Uh… no. I have nothing to do with him,” Jimmy said, quickly turning away.

Corey felt his face redden. Suddenly he was being escorted across the huge auditorium floor toward an area that had been cordoned off with large collapsible walls. They were like huge cubicles. Corey assumed that this was where they did the actual filming.

“Wait here,” Renee said. “I’ll be right back.”

Corey turned to Megan. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Did what?” Megan said, as she grabbed Corey and spun him around. Suddenly he was staring directly at a television camera. “You mean that I told the touching story of your dying brother? Corey, you shouldn’t be shy or embarrassed by how close you are to Jimmy. He’s so proud of you.”

Corey looked up into the camera and gulped, suddenly unable to speak.

Megan wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Don’t you worry. I have so much faith in you, Corey Dunham… and so does Jimmy.”

The next thing Corey knew, someone had stepped up beside him. Corey’s jaw just about came unhinged when he turned to see it was Dylan Seagraves, the host of Choosing America’s Next Superstar.

“Corey, I’ve heard your story… our producer just chatted with me. It’s very moving. Can you tell us what you’re feeling right now?”

“Um… I’m a little nervous….”

“I can understand that. It must feel like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. If you don’t do well and make it through the audition, you’re going to feel as if you let your brother down. This may be your very last chance to make this dream a reality for him….”

“Uh… yeah.”

“He gets very emotional about this,” Megan said. “Surely you understand….”

“Oh, of course,” Dylan said, nodding emphatically.

Just then Renee stepped up behind them. “Okay, Corey, do you happen to have a photo of your brother?”

“Uh… no.”

“We’ve got lots of pictures we can bring you,” Megan volunteered. “I might even have one in my purse. It’s locked in my trunk….”

“Good,” Renee said. “Regardless of what happens with the audition, we’ll want those photos. We can get them later, though. This show won’t be aired until several months from now. Corey, I see your song choice is ‘Shape of My Heart’. Does this have any significance to your brother?”

“It’s his favorite group,” Megan said. “Corey sang him this song just before he went into surgery.”

“Mmm, very good,” Renee said, jotting down notes on her clipboard. “Okay, Corey… usually you’d sing in front of one of our voice coaches before going on camera, but we’ve decided to go with this… whether you can sing or not.”

“He can sing—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Renee interrupted. “He has the look, he has the story… that’s all that matters.”

“But…,” Corey began to protest.

“They’re ready!” Dylan said. “Time to go in.” He grabbed Corey by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing him toward the door.

“But what do I…?”

“Just march right in there. They’ll tell you what to do.”

Renee grabbed Corey by the arm and led him through the door and down a long hallway. When they reached the end, she stopped. “Here,” she said, handing him the papers from her clipboard. “Give these to the gentleman right over there.” She pointed to a man who was wearing a headset. “He’ll give your paperwork to the judges, and they’ll call you when they’re ready.”

Corey took a deep breath and grabbed the papers. He stepped forward, into the next room. When he got up to the man Renee had pointed to, he held out the papers. The man turned and placed his finger over his lips to indicate silence. He glanced at the papers and nodded, then pointed to a bench, indicating Corey was to sit.

He could hear the activity in the next room. It was an audition, and the contestant was embarrassingly flat. It was a male singer, and he had a serious pitch problem. Corey couldn’t tell exactly what the judges were saying, but there were shouts followed by laughter. After a few moments, the contestant stormed off the stage into the room where Corey was waiting. He was dark haired and skinny, and at this point he was obviously crying. He didn’t stop to say anything to either Corey or the man with the headset. He just marched right on by.

“Okay,” the man said, turning to him. “You’re next. Wait here till I come back.”

The man disappeared, stepping out of the room onto the stage. About thirty seconds later he was back. He waved his hand, motioning for Corey to stand. “When the green light comes on, they’re ready for you.” He pointed to a light on the opposite side of the stage. “Sometimes the judges take breaks in between contestants. Sometimes not. You just have to wait here.”

Corey nodded. “There’s a problem with….”

“You’re on!” the man said, shoving him out toward the stage.

He stumbled at first, then righted himself. Taking a deep breath, Corey willed himself to place one foot in front of the other. When he looked up, he was center stage, standing directly in front of the four judges he’d seen thousands of times on TV.

“Hey there,” Raymond said. He was the heavyset rap singer whose trademark was his dark sunglasses and excessive bling. “Who do we have here?”

Corey swallowed hard, and then forced a smile. “Corey… uh… Corey Dunham.”

“Nice to meet you, Corey,” Krystal said. She was smiling broadly.

“Thank you,” Corey said, looking at each judge. It was all so surreal. He felt as if he were dreaming. There they were, all four of them. Reuben, Krystal, Tyler, and Raymond. He knew all about them—or he thought he did. He’d watched them on the show since he was a little kid.

“And where are you from?” Reuben said with his thick Australian accent.

“Here in Michigan, sir. I’m from a small town in the northern part of the state.”

“So lots of snow,” Tyler said. “Do you ski?”

Corey tried to look cheerful, smiling again. “Yeah… a little bit.”

“And why are you here?” Raymond asked. “You’re gonna be America’s Next Superstar?”

“Uh… yes. Yes, definitely!”

“Very good,” Reuben said. “I like your confidence. But let’s see if you can put your money where your mouth is. What are you singing today?”

“‘Shape of My Heart’ by Backstreet Boys,” Corey said.

Reuben rolled his eyes and Krystal smiled sweetly at him. “Very well, go ahead,” Reuben said. He crossed his arms obstinately, waiting for Corey to start.

Corey was very relieved they didn’t ask him about the story of his nonexistent, fatally ill brother. He took a quick breath, straightened his posture, and began to sing. As he belted out the notes, his entire body was infused with confidence. Right from the first bar, he knew he’d nailed it, and the melody flowed out of him with intense emotion.

All four judges sat there, staring at him. Corey made it all the way through the first verse and chorus before Tyler raised his hand and indicated for him to stop. “Holy fuck!” the aging rock star exclaimed. “Boy, you can sing!”

Corey smiled, proud yet a little self-conscious. “Thank you, sir,” he said meekly.

“You gave me goosies!” Krystal squealed, holding her arms out to show her goose pimples.

Reuben nodded, a very serious expression on his face. “Very well, shall we vote? I say yes.”

“Yes,” Raymond quickly added.

“Definitely yes,” Tyler said.

“Corey, you’re going to New York!” Krystal exclaimed. She held out a sheet of orange-colored paper. “Here’s your golden ticket.”

“Yes!” Corey shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “Oh… oh… oh! I can’t believe it!” He stepped down from the stage to take the paper from Krystal. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

As he turned, he saw the man with the headset waving frantically, motioning for him to exit through a different door. Apparently winners had to go out the opposite side of the room than the losers did. He thought it would be like on television, that he’d be dashing outside to wave around his ticket to Dylan and Meg, but instead he was led down the hallway to an office area.

“Congratulations,” a slender middle-aged female said as she greeted him. “Have a seat.” She introduced herself as Ms. Warren. After sitting behind a desk herself, she pointed to one of the empty chairs, which Corey slid into as per her instruction.

Ms. Warren then proceeded to ask him a series of questions including his name, address, and phone numbers, and if he had any health issues. She explained that he would be mailed an airline ticket to New York, be provided transportation and hotel accommodations, and a return flight in the unfortunate event that he was voted off during the competition. This was all for the pretaping. The elimination process would all be conducted during the first two weeks of September. They would begin with approximately four hundred contestants, but only about forty of them would make it through all the elimination rounds. If he did happen to be one of those lucky forty, he’d then have to fly to Hollywood in January and would stay there for the duration of the live broadcasts.

Had he been under the age of eighteen, he would have been allowed the accompaniment of one parent or guardian. Being that he was eighteen, this did not apply. He would be completely on his own.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she asked.

“Uh… yes, ma’am,” he said.

She smiled sweetly. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Well, it’s not really a question. It’s more like a confession….”

“Oh?” she said, leaning forward in her chair.

“My friend who’s with me—Megan—she told the producer some things about me that weren’t true.”

“What kind of things?” she asked, still smiling.

“She gave them a sob story, saying my brother was dying. I don’t even have a brother, though.”

Ms. Warren started laughing. “Aren’t you the sweetest little thing? Honey, don’t worry. Everyone has a sob story. It’s all part of the game. You should thank your friend for her creativity. Did you look out there and see the tens of thousands of kids all tryin’ to get on this show? If they didn’t have some kind of story to tell, they’d never make it.”

“But what about my audition? I mean, they filmed me and asked for pictures of my brother….”

“When you can’t produce the pictures, they just won’t air that segment. But you know what that means? It means from this point on, it’s all about your talent. I heard you singing in there, and you’re good. Focus on that.”

“Oh… thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Now you’re gonna take this golden ticket with you. Don’t wrinkle it or fold it. But you’ll go right out this door. One of the production crew workers will then take you over to the filming area where they’ll have you exit through a door and film it as if you’re leaving the stage and running out to reunite with your family members.”

“Really? That’s how they do that?”

Again she laughed. “Yeah, it’s different than how it appears on television.”

“But the families always act so surprised.”

She nodded. “Showbiz.”

“Okay… well, thank you so much. I guess this is it, then.”

“Congratulations, honey. You have a good time in New York. And good luck.”

Two

 

 

“I’M NOT going,” Jimmy insisted. “It’s too soon.”

“You’re going or I’m gonna get out of this fucking bed and kick your lily white ass!” Charlie said, a serious scowl wrinkling his brow.

Jimmy couldn’t help but smile at him, biting his lower lip so as not to burst into laughter. “Bro, don’t worry about it. We can talk about it later. Right now, you just need to concentrate on getting better.”

“Dude, you don’t have the luxury of time. If you don’t leave for Detroit within the next few hours, you’re gonna miss your chance. And if you blow this because of me, I will never forgive you. You promised me….”

Jimmy sighed as he looked into his baby brother’s eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted, nodding. “I did promise you, but I didn’t know at the time that you were gonna need open-heart surgery.”

“That was a week ago, and now I’m doing fine. You already missed the audition in Louisville because of that. You can’t use that excuse again. If you really wanna do something to make me happy, you’ll get in that piece of shit car of yours and hightail it to Detroit… and win America’s Next Superstar.”

Jimmy stepped over to the bedside and ruffled his kid brother’s hair. “You have a temper,” he observed.

“Damn right,” Charlie agreed. “Dude, I swear to you I wouldn’t be like this if I didn’t know you have the most awesome voice in world. Everybody knows it. Everyone who’s ever heard you.”

“You know, there’s always next year….”

“There might not be a next year for me.”

“Charlie, don’t say that.”

“It’s true, and you know it. They didn’t expect me to make it this long. Is it too much for me to ask you to at least try? Can’t you do that much for me?”

Jimmy felt his throat tighten. He didn’t want to break down in front of his brother, so he just nodded. After a pause, he responded. “No,” he whispered, “that’s not too much to ask. I’ll do it for you, Charlie.”

“Good. Then get moving!”

Jimmy leaned in and wrapped his arms around his sibling. He took extra care not to squeeze him tightly because of the incision, and Charlie slapped his back in a manly sort of way.

“Well, then… I guess I better get home and start packing.”

“Text me when you get your golden ticket,” Charlie said.

“You know I will.”

 

 

“RENEE, GET in here!” Reuben was shouting into his phone. “Where the hell are you?”

“Gimme a minute. I’ll be right there.”

It had already been a long morning, and the day was only half over. Reuben didn’t know how many more annoyances he could tolerate. The string of contestants they’d paraded before him and the panel of other judges had been incredibly disappointing, to say the least. Sure, some had been good. Some were amazingly talented, but that wasn’t what interested Reuben.

As the team broke for lunch, Reuben stepped down the hallway into the executive suite where he’d be having his lunch. These were the suites that typically were reserved by dignitaries and big-shot corporations when they wined and dined their guests at the football games. Reuben took a seat in one of the secluded offices and waited for his assistant, Renee, to arrive.

“Reuben,” she said, gasping for breath as she stepped through the door a few seconds after their phone conversation, “what’s up?”

“What’s up?” he repeated back to her, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I should be the one asking you this question. I specifically told you what I was looking for this morning, and so far you’ve only delivered one decent-looking male contestant.”

She looked him in the eye and shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I can only work with the people who show up to audition. Do you want me to go out on the street and round up some young twinks for you…?”

“I don’t care what you have to do, but you know as well as I that the reason this show’s been a huge success is because every teenage girl in America tunes in to vote for their favorite heartthrob.”

“And I suppose the fact that you get the perk of fucking their cute twink asses has nothing to do with it.”

Reuben’s mouth flew open in mock astonishment. “Why, I’ve no idea what you’re insinuating,” he said with a grin. He was holding his hand over his chest as if truly offended.

“Yeah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Reuben, don’t worry. I’ll get you plenty of pretty boys to drool over. I snatched that one right up this morning. I knew he’d be your type, but when you keep bitching at me, it doesn’t make my job any easier.”

“Who was that kid, anyway?” Reuben said, ignoring her complaint.

“Some hick from the boondocks. Petoskey or something. Wherever the fuck that is. I guess his brother’s dying of cancer or heart problems or some shit. Made a good sob story, plus he had the look.”

“Well, make a note. I want to make sure he makes it through the elimination rounds.”

“Got it,” she said. “You gonna eat?”

“Grab me a sandwich or something,” he said as he slid his laptop onto the table in front of him. “And anything with alcohol. Scotch, preferably. Actually, eighty-six the sandwich and make the scotch a double.”

“I’ll get you a sandwich and a Diet Coke,” she said. “One drunk on the judges’ panel is plenty.”

Reuben sat down and fired up his computer, surfing immediately to find a porn site that featured young blond males.

 

 

JIMMY’S INTERVIEW had not gone so well. He tried explaining to the lady that he was the one whose brother was in the hospital after a critical heart surgery, but she just wasn’t interested. She said they already had that angle covered. He then tried explaining to her that he’d been singing all his life, and everyone he knew encouraged him to try out for America’s Next Superstar.

She’d smiled sweetly. “Very well, then, if you want to take a seat, we’ll call you when we’re ready for your audition.”

This was the same line they used on everyone. Jimmy couldn’t believe that Corey kid, the way he’d chatted with him and pretended to be his friend only to steal his story. He’d always known there were people like that—people who would do anything they had to do to get ahead regardless of who they walked on—but it had still surprised him when it happened.

As he sat there, he texted Charlie and told him he was now waiting for his audition. He didn’t bother explaining that he would actually be lucky to even get one. All he could do at this point was wait.

And wait he did, for the next several hours. It was after five o’clock when it became obvious that a lot of the contestants were beginning to clear out. After waiting all day, many were giving up on the idea of being called. Jimmy would wait until they closed up shop for the day and then go try to find a safe place to sleep. He couldn’t afford a hotel room, but he also couldn’t drive all the way back to Kentucky.

Finally at five forty-five, just as he was starting to doze off, he heard his number.

“Seven eighty-one. Number seven eighty-one.”

“Oh my God!” he shouted. “That’s me! That’s me!”

He gathered up his things and quickly headed out onto the auditorium floor. He dashed over to the reception desk and informed them they’d called his number. Just then, the lady who’d interviewed him stepped up.

“Oh yes… good. Very good. I wasn’t sure if I called the right person. I remember talking to you and was hoping I matched up the right name with your face. You’re the cowboy.”

Jimmy beamed at her excitedly. “Yes, ma’am. That’d be me.”

“All right, come with me. Do you have anyone with you?”

“No, ma’am,” he said.

“Well, then I’ll have you store your things in one of these lockers. We would normally have you go before a voice coach for prescreening, but we are pressed for time. You had a good story and the look we’re after, so we’re going to just send you right on in to the actual judges.”

“I do? I have a good story? I thought you said you had that angle covered….”

“Oh… well, we can never have too many good stories.” She smiled at him, her voice sugary sweet.

“Well, that’s okay, ma’am. I told ya I can sing, and I can. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” she said.

Five minutes later, Jimmy’s knees were knocking as he stood offstage waiting for the green light. When it finally came on, he hurried across to the center of the platform and looked down at the judges. His heart pounded in his chest as he took in their familiar faces.

Reuben looked up and gave him a sly grin. “Hello, young man. What is your name and why are you here?”

“Hello, sir,” Jimmy said. “It’s a pleasure to meet y’all. My name’s Jimmy Sawyer and I’m here to become America’s Next Superstar.”

Tyler began laughing. “Jimmy Sawyer. You related to Tom Sawyer?”

Jimmy chuckled obligingly at the lame joke. “No, sir. Not’s I’m aware of.”

“And what are you singing today?” Reuben asked.

“‘The Dance’ by Garth Brooks.”

Krystal gave him the cue to begin, and he did, all the while thinking of his kid brother and the promise he’d made to him.

Thirty seconds later, he was on his way offstage, carrying his golden ticket.

“I made it!” he said into his cell phone. He hadn’t even waited until he was outside to call his brother with the good news. “I made it, Charlie, and it’s all because of you!”

 

 

ABOUT A month prior to the elimination rounds, Corey received a phone call from one of the associate producers of America’s Next Superstar.

“You’ll be flying into JKF Airport,” she told him. “All of our flights are through American Airlines, and when you go to baggage claim, look for the Choosing America’s Next Superstar sign. One of our representatives will be stationed there and will get you on a shuttle to the hotel. We have shuttles running every two hours.

“If you are accompanied by a parent or guardian, you’ll be assigned a room together. If alone, you will be assigned a roommate.

“All rooms are nonsmoking. All activities associated with Choosing America’s Next Superstar are nonsmoking. If you are seen to be smoking during any official Superstar-sponsored event or activity on or off set, this will be grounds for immediate disqualification.

“Alcohol and drugs are prohibited with the exception of designated, off-camera furlough days during which time contestants over the legal drinking age are permitted to consume alcohol in moderation.”

She took a deep breath and then continued. “You will be required to comply with the standards of decency as defined in the handout, ‘Choosing America’s Next Superstar: Standards of Decency’, which will be mailed to you along with an indemnity waiver. Both the waiver and the sign-off for the decency standards must be turned in on the day of your registration.

“Sexual contact with fellow contestants, judges, production crew members, voice coaches, hair and makeup artists, consultants, hotel staff members, transportation specialists, honored guests, wait staff, housekeeping, and any other individual associated with America’s Next Superstar, is strictly forbidden.”

In other words, don’t have sex.

“We’re also sending you a nondisclosure agreement. Interviews with media prior to the broadcast of America’s Next Superstar are strictly forbidden. Publicly revealing the outcome of taped broadcasts to the media is a breach of contract and will result in legal action. All interviews with local or national newspapers, magazines, and television stations will require the express written permission of Choosing America’s Next Superstar. Posting of videos on YouTube or other Internet social media is also prohibited.

“In the event that you successfully complete the elimination round, you will be assigned to a media consultant who will create and maintain a social media presence for you and your celebrity identity. Said consultant will monitor and manage all communication with the general public via the numerous media.

“ANS is a reality television show, and you will be required to consent to the filming of any and all activity, conversations, arguments, disagreements, emotional outbursts, or expressions of intimacy. In other words, you will have very little privacy. Refusing to be filmed or to allow camera crew access to you when requested will result in a breach of contract and legal action up to and including disqualification from the competition.”

In other words, don’t plan on having any privacy.

“During the initial elimination rounds, you will be on your own, so to speak. If you make it through, a team of specialists will begin working with you. You’ll be assigned a wardrobe consultant, a hair and makeup specialist, a voice coach, a choreographer, a media consultant, and a personal adviser.

“Participation in all scheduled events and activities that have officially been designated as part of the ANS itinerary are mandatory. Failure to comply will result in legal action up to and including disqualification.”

Corey was beginning to wonder if he was stepping into something that was more than he’d bargained for. He didn’t realize there’d be all these rules and regulations. It was so orchestrated, and everything seemed so rigidly planned and controlled.

As if sensing his trepidation, the associate producer paused. “You still with me, hon?”

“Yes… yes, ma’am,” he answered.

“I know it’s a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. Anyway, everything I’ve told you will be in the packet I mail you. You should receive the material along with your airline ticket and return-trip voucher by certified mail within the next three days. Try to relax and enjoy the experience. We’re thrilled to have you on the show, and we wish you the best of luck. Cary, do you have any questions for me?”

“Um… it’s Corey. My name’s Corey, not Cary.”

She laughed dismissively. “Oh yes, sorry about that. Any questions, Corey?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”

“Very good. There is a contact number in the packet. If you have any problems with your flight, call that number. If not, we’ll see you in September.”

“Thank you so much,” Corey said.

The night before his departure, Megan threw him a going-away/good-luck party. A group of coworkers, friends, and family members gathered at the bowling alley. Even though Corey wasn’t allowed to talk to the media, word had gotten out in the community that he was going to be on Superstar, and the local paper had run an article about him. It was weird how already he was beginning to feel like a celebrity.

Megan dragged him into the bar where a local band was playing and convinced the band to let Corey sing. Not used to being in the limelight, Corey was a bit taken aback, but as he took the stage he relaxed and found his voice. The response of the crowd was encouraging, bolstering his lagging self-confidence. He knew he had a big challenge ahead of him. Here at home he was quickly becoming a celebrity, but he’d soon be a small fish in a very big pond. With four hundred competitors all vying for the top slots, he knew the odds were against him, and he prayed he would not return home with disappointing news.

 

 

JIMMY’S FAMILY rallied around him, as did most of his small-town community. Word of his success during the auditioning process spread like wildfire throughout the county, and Jimmy’s phone had been ringing off the hook. Former classmates from high school that he’d barely ever talked to were suddenly friending him on Facebook. People were already making fan pages for him and posting pictures of him from years ago, during his early childhood.

Jimmy also received a phone call from an associate producer at Superstar. When she explained the nondisclosure clause, he was concerned.

“But they already talked to me. The paper and the TV station. They came right to the house and it was on the news.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Going forward, refer all media inquiries to our publicists, and do not talk to anyone about the selection process from this point on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he promised.

Jimmy’s send-off was a small gathering consisting of close family members and friends. They had a pizza party in his mama and daddy’s family room. It felt great being surrounded by so much love and good wishes, and the loved ones who’d gathered were all just as supportive of his brother Charlie as they were of Jimmy. The family had been through so much.

“I’m gonna win this thing for my bro,” Jimmy said, holding up his soda can in a toast. “Here’s to you, Charlie. I love ya, man.”

The next morning Jimmy’s parents drove him to Louisville where he boarded his flight at 7:00 a.m. The departure itself was uneventful and rather anticlimactic. This was likely a good thing, Jimmy surmised. His mama was crying, probably due to a combination of genuine pride and anxiety. This would be the first time in Jimmy’s life that he’d be away from home for so long.

Jimmy was not ashamed to admit he was a mama’s boy. He and his mother had always been very close, and she was the very first person Jimmy had ever confided in about his sexual orientation. It had come as no real surprise to her; she told him she’d always sensed it. Mamas were just that way. They could sense things.

Daddy was another story. Telling him was the hardest, but he didn’t take it too badly, all things considered. He gave Jimmy a short lecture about how he loved him no matter what. Maybe it wasn’t the most politically correct way for a father to express support of a gay son, but that was just Daddy. He was a man of few words.

Even after Jimmy came out to his family, he didn’t flaunt his sexuality. He was a very private person, and he didn’t think it was really anyone else’s business whom he chose to love. He also didn’t think it was true what all the TV shows and movies said about gay people. The famous gay male celebrities all seemed to be so flashy and girly acting. He liked to think of gay men as being more like Ennis and Jack in Brokeback Mountain. To Jimmy, that was what being gay was all about. He was a man—a real man—and he didn’t see why any man would want to go around acting like a woman. That wasn’t what he was attracted to, and that wasn’t how he wanted to be himself.

It surprised him how much he’d liked that kid at the auditions. Corey. It was too bad the guy was such a conniving, lying little snake, because he was actually kinda sexy. But even Corey wasn’t what you’d call flamboyant. He had softer mannerisms but was far from girly.

It didn’t matter. There were lots and lots of hot guys in the competition. He’d have plenty of eye candy, but that’d be all it was. Jimmy had already been severely warned about fraternization. Sex of any kind with any of the other contestants or employees of Superstar was strictly forbidden.

Seemed kind of weird to him. Every year during the live broadcasts there were always rumors circulating about on-set romances. Two years ago, Krystal had been rumored to have had a torrid affair with one of the Top Forty contestants. It was a great big scandal. And there always were all kinds of stories going around the Internet about Dylan Seagraves. A lot of people said he was gay and took young male contestants home with him to share with his live-in boyfriend.

Honestly, Jimmy didn’t care about all those rumors. He suspected most of them were spread on purpose. The old saying was that there was no such thing as bad publicity. As long as people were talking about Superstar, they’d be tuning in.

Jimmy knew it would be necessary to keep his private life private. He wasn’t about to come out of the closet to the whole world on America’s Next Superstar. And if he made it through the elimination rounds, it would be all the more important that he conceal his orientation. In previous years, certain contestants who were rumored to be gay had gotten voted off. The general public just wasn’t yet ready for an openly gay Superstar… especially not an openly gay cowboy Superstar.

Three

 

 

“OH GOOD God, stop the fucking insanity,” Reuben whined as his limo pulled up to the front entrance. “Another mob of talentless, moronic wannabes.” The fact that these talentless wannabes were the same people who’d made him filthy rich didn’t even cross his mind. All he could think about was what a long process it was going to be over the next fourteen days. Four hundred sniveling brats all vying for the coveted top slots, all willing to do just about anything to ensure their secure place in the competition—well, maybe that part wasn’t so bad.

Reuben’s position as judge gave him tremendous power. And contrary to the naïve beliefs of the general public, he was far more than just a single vote on a panel of four judges. This was his reality show. If he chose to have a contestant eliminated, he could make it happen. To simply state that he wanted something to happen would result in his desires becoming reality.

It was a very comfortable position to be in, especially while here in the midst of all these gorgeous teen heartthrobs. Every year since the competition began, Reuben had handpicked his favorite playmates. They were all basically the same. Eighteen to twenty-three-year-olds. Slender to medium builds, not too bulky. Smooth. He liked the all-American, clean-cut look. He liked narrow waists and clear complexions. He preferred blonds with tight little bubble butts and pearly-white smiles.

In past years, some had been crooners, the type you’d see in just about every boy band. Some were beat boxers, some country boys, and some rockers. He didn’t much go for the thug, bad-boy look. A couple tasteful tattoos in the right places were okay, but none of that wild hair or grotesque body piercing. What Reuben preferred was purity. He wanted his boy meat to be undefiled and innocent, and most of all—compliant.

How could they not comply with his wishes? They all knew how much power he wielded. If they were not fully aware that he held their fate in the palm of his hand, he could easily make it crystal clear to them. Sure, there had been a few who’d resisted his advances. It wasn’t really surprising. Pride often led people to make stupid decisions about their lives. But the smart ones, the ones who truly wanted to succeed, knew better than to say no to him.

If one of the chosen boys was unwilling to submit to Reuben’s wishes, he simply eliminated him. There were plenty more where they came from. And there were times when Reuben himself tired of a particular boy toy. After being with him a few times he was no longer undefiled, and it was time to move on to the next one.

His assistant Renee had often scolded him for playing this game. “You’re fucking filthy rich,” she reminded him. “Just hire yourself an escort. Get yourself a boyfriend and come out of the closet. Get yourself ten boyfriends if you want. Reuben, for God’s sake, you can have any kind of guy you want—any kind that money can buy.”

But that was just it. He didn’t want to buy sex. He didn’t want some prostitute that had slept with hundreds of men. He wanted innocence and purity, and he wasn’t just looking for a trophy boy to show off to the world. Reuben had a public image to maintain. He was regarded as an enormously successful businessman and one of the most powerful forces in the music industry. That was what it was really about—power. Renee was right about it being a game. Not only were each of these young men his conquests, but he also held their fate in his hands. He was the ultimate kingmaker, and this gave him an incredible rush.

As he made his way through the crowd and into the building, he headed straight for his dressing room. He placed his briefcase on the vanity, opened it, and removed a manila folder. It contained the headshots of the contestants he’d chosen. There were three in particular who had caught his eye.

Ah yes, Corey Dunham. He’d sung some sappy boy-band ballad. Perfect. He was gonna be a huge hit. Christ, he’d be a star even without his voice. Every teenage girl in America would be tuning in—fantasizing about seeing him shirtless. They’d rush out to buy his CDs and memorize every syllable of his songs. He chuckled as he thought of it. The very thing these teen girls craved the most would be what Reuben himself already had. Staring at the cherubic face of his next teen superstar, Reuben reached down and groped himself. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing himself to visualize his fantasy.

After a deep breath, he moved on, leafing through the stack of photos. Another one he liked was in there someplace. Yes, here he is…Jimmy. Jimmy Sawyer, the country boy. The kid also possessed that same innocence. Although not as refined and soft as Corey, Jimmy was pure. He had a down-home quality to him, and that accent of his, coupled with the deep baritone voice, was exquisite. Reuben imagined the sound of it. He was sure by the time he was done with the boy, he’d be singing at least a few notes a couple octaves higher.

And there were others. Plenty of them. It had been a good season after all. Of the 198 male contestants who had been selected, a good three dozen of them appealed to Reuben’s taste. He just had to get through the drudgery of the first few days, let the kids get settled in. Allow them to begin feeling the pressure of the competition—then he’d make his move. And he had already decided which boy he’d go after first.

 

 

ALTHOUGH THE flight consisted of several passengers who were America’s Next Superstar contestants, Corey didn’t recognize any of these fellow travelers. The two faces he’d hoped to see were Jeremy the punk rocker and Jimmy the Kentucky cowboy, but he had no way of knowing whether or not they’d made it through. Even if they had been successful in their auditions, they were from other cities. Jeremy said he was from Toledo and Jimmy lived near Louisville.

Corey had thought a lot about that Jimmy, and he wondered if the kid’s little brother was doing okay. He deeply regretted the tactic that Megan had used to secure Corey’s audition, and he was afraid that Jimmy probably pretty much hated his guts at this point. He didn’t blame him. Corey hoped that Jimmy was there in New York, and if so, he’d apologize to him.

He had to admit that his interest in Jimmy stemmed from more than just his guilty conscience. From the moment they’d started talking to each other, Corey had felt a connection to him. For one thing, the guy was hot. He was smoking hot, and with his tight Levis and form-fitting muscle shirt, little had been left to Corey’s imagination. The guy was built like a brick house, and every brick was in place.

Of course, it made no sense for him to allow his thoughts to head in that direction. He was going to New York for a sole purpose. He was going to focus every bit of his energy and attention on winning the competition. He didn’t have time for romantic fantasies. They were a distraction. Besides, fraternization was forbidden. It was right there in the contract in black and white. Contestants were not allowed to become sexually involved with each other or with any member of the Superstar staff.

Still, thinking about Jimmy was a difficult thing to avoid. That deep, baritone voice. The broad shoulders and blond hair. Though not exactly the type of guy Corey had always considered himself attracted to, he just couldn’t get the Kentuckian out of his head. It was crazy—silly, even. The possibility that Corey would ever see him again was next to nothing. Out of all those thousands of contestants, only four hundred from across the country had been chosen.

“You must be a Superstar.” A voice beside him pulled Corey from his pensive state back into the present.

He turned to the girl and smiled. “And you too,” he said. “You just have that look.”

“So, you from Michigan?” she asked.

“Clear up north. Petoskey.”

“Ah, up in ski country. My family vacations there sometimes, at Boyne Highlands.”

“I have a friend who works there,” Corey acknowledged. “My name’s Corey, by the way.”

“Sam,” she said. “Samantha, officially.”

“Nice to meet ya, Sam. Is this your first year?” he asked.

She nodded. “But it’s been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.”

“Me too,” he said, turning slightly in his seat to face her. “I’m so psyched.”

“Psyched and scared shitless. I’m so afraid that after all this anticipation I’m gonna be voted off right away.”

Corey sighed, placing his hand on her forearm. “Believe me, I totally know what you’re sayin’. There are, like, four hundred of us, and over the next two weeks that number will be whittled down to only forty. The odds of survival are not in our favor.”

“I just can’t think about it,” she said. Sam had wavy, shoulder-length auburn hair, and it seemed to bounce when she got excited. Corey thought she should be in a shampoo commercial. “If I let myself obsess on it, I’m gonna go crazy.”

“I know,” he agreed. “So where are you from?”

“Saginaw. Born and raised.”

“Wow, my mom has a cousin or something from that city.”

“You ever been there?” she asked.

“Nah. I’ve never been anywhere, actually. This is my first time on a plane. It’s my first time out of Michigan.”

“Seriously? You’ve never even been to Cedar Point or Disney World or anything?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “What can I say? My family… well, it’s just my mom, sister, and me… we never had a lot of money.”

“Well, that explains why you’ve been staring out that window,” Sam said. “First time fliers always do that—look out the window at the clouds and all the little tiny buildings and mountains below.”

“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “I guess I was kinda obvious. So, ya know, even if I don’t make it through the elimination round, I’ll always be thankful for the adventure. The trip itself is pretty exciting.”

“After this is done, you should come visit me. I’ll take you to some clubs.”

“Really? I’m not even old enough….”

“Don’t worry. I can get us in. There’s a really cool gay club right in Saginaw. You ever hear of Bambi’s?”

Corey felt his face getting hot. “A gay club? Why you think I’d go to a place like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know… because maybe you’re, um… gay?” She cracked up. “Dude, you are gay, aren’t you?”

Corey released a sigh of defeat. “How the heck did you know?”

“Sixth sense,” she said. “Half my friends are gay. I can sense it.”

“But you’re not gay yourself?”

“Fuck no.” She lowered her voice. “I love cock too much.”

At this point Corey was certain his face was bright crimson.

“You’re kinda cute when you blush like that,” she said. “And don’t worry. Three-quarters of the music industry is gay… at least.”

“There are always rumors that Dylan Seagraves is gay.”

“Oh, he totally is,” Sam stated, matter of fact. “And maybe Reuben. I’ve heard that rumor too.”

Corey made a face. “Ew, I wouldn’t wanna think about that possibility.”

She laughed again. “Not your type, huh?”

“I don’t know. He’s just so unattractive to me. I think the fact that he’s so mean to everyone just makes him seem ugly.”

“I kind of like him,” Sam admitted. “I know he sounds mean, but he gives very blunt, honest advice.”

“You think so? I think he’s half-cocked most of the time. Some of his so-called advice is just meanness. I could see if he offered genuine criticism, something constructive. But what Reuben does is belittle people. He rips them to shreds and tries humiliating them.”

“How was he during your audition?”

“He rolled his eyes a couple times, but overall he wasn’t too mean. He voted me through.”

“Wow,” she said. “I wish I could say that. He voted against me, but the other three liked me.”

“All that matters is you got through,” Corey said, smiling. “And now we all start with a clean slate.”

The captain made the announcement that they were preparing to land, and the seat belt lights came on. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe we’re here already,” Corey said.

“Look out, New York, here we come!”

 

 

FORTUNATELY, JIMMY was not the only America’s Next Superstar contestant on the flight from Louisville to New York City. He’d never been to a big city like New York. He found Louisville and Detroit to be challenging enough. When the plane landed and he stepped into the terminal, he just followed along, trailing behind the excited group of fellow contestants as they made their way to the baggage claim area.

He’d never seen such diversity. Thousands of people surrounded him, all different ethnicities, speaking different languages. It seemed odd that so many people shared the same space at the exact same moment and yet didn’t even notice one another. Where Jimmy came from, people greeted each other. Being friendly toward strangers was just the proper thing to do. Jimmy had been raised to be mannerly, to always demonstrate hospitality. Those values appeared nonexistent in this city. Everyone just hurried about, pushing and shoving their way to the head of the line. After a mere twenty minutes in JFK airport, Jimmy was already beginning to feel homesick.

At the baggage claim, he spotted the sign for Superstar. Relieved that he’d made it that far, he just had to retrieve his two pieces of luggage and guitar from the conveyer and check in with the company representative. As he tried edging closer to the revolving belt, others crowded around him, pushing him back. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, pardon me.” Ten seconds later: “No please, after you… go ahead.” This continued for the next five minutes until Jimmy realized he was not one inch closer to the luggage than when he’d started. Finally he opted for a slightly less polite approach and pushed his way through the crowd.

He spotted one of his bags on the other side of the belt. He just had to wait for it to make its way around to him. As he stood there, a heavyset traveler reached in front of him, grabbed a large suitcase off the conveyer, and whipped it off the belt. The bag flew into Jimmy’s midsection, and he gasped, stumbling backward. The force of the blow took him by surprise, and he flailed his arms as his feet slid out from under him. Suddenly he was flat on his behind amidst a sea of impatient airline passengers who were anything but sympathetic of his fall. “Move it, asshole!” someone shouted. “Hey, you fucking klutz!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Jimmy tried desperately to gain some footing and right himself, but with so many people pressed against him, it appeared he was about to be trampled. Out of nowhere, a hand reached down, and he grabbed hold of it appreciatively. As he rose to his feet, his mouth dropped open when all of a sudden he was face to face with the one person he’d hoped to never see again.

“Jimmy, you all right?” Corey said.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling his hand away. For a few seconds, they stared into each other’s eyes, then Jimmy turned away. By that time, his bag had come around, and he reached down to grab it. Fortunately his other suitcase and guitar case were right behind it. Once he had his luggage, he pushed his way back through the crowd.

“Dude.” He heard Corey’s voice behind him. “You all right?”

Jimmy spun around. “I’m fine. Thanks for the help.” He turned to head toward the Superstar sign.

“Wait,” Corey said. “Please….”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Jimmy spun around once more. “Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk to you.”

“I know,” Corey said quickly, “and I don’t blame you. I feel so bad….”

“You should feel bad. My brother almost died.”

“How is he? Is he doing better now?”

Jimmy couldn’t believe the audacity of this kid. Did he actually think Jimmy was going to tell him anything about himself or his family ever again? “Not to be rude or anything, but you oughta mind your own business.”

“I’m sorry, really I am. I had no idea my friend Megan would do that.”

“But you went along with it. You didn’t stop her.”

“I know.” Corey was hanging his head shamefully. He looked up, making eye contact with Jimmy again. “It was an awful thing for me to do, and after I got in there I told them the truth.”

“The judges?” Jimmy asked. He found this hard to believe.

“No, the judges didn’t even ask anything about it. I’m so glad you made it through your audition. I was worried I’d never see you again. I was afraid I’d never be able to tell you how sorry—”

“Look, man, you said you were sorry. You’ve got a clean conscience, so can you just leave me alone now?”

Jimmy turned around and headed briskly across the room to register for his shuttle.

 

 

“WHO WAS that guy?” Sam asked him. They were on the shuttle on the way to the hotel.

“Look! It’s the Statue of Liberty,” Corey said. “I hope we get a chance to see some things while we’re here.”

“Yeah, I forgot… this is all new to you. But anyway, that guy who fell back at the airport.”

Corey sighed, still staring out the window. “Some kid I met during auditions. His brother has a heart condition and had to have like six surgeries. He’s from Kentucky.”

“He’s cute as fuck,” she said.

“He hates my guts.” Corey turned to her, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, I doubt that, judging by the way he looked at you.”

“He looked at me like he wanted to kill me, and I don’t blame him.”

“What do ya mean?”

“It’s a long story, but things didn’t go too well when we met in Detroit. I was hoping I’d see him here so I could apologize to him. I’m just glad he made it through.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it didn’t seem to me that he hated you. I couldn’t hear what he said to you, but he looked surprised to see you more than anything. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to make up with him.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “Sam, I really don’t even know the guy. We just met briefly, and like I said, he despises me. I’ve gotta stay focused on the competition. I don’t have time for that kind of drama.”

“Or romance?” she said.

Just then one of the other contestants on the shuttle began to sing “I’ve got a Golden Ticket,” the theme song from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The shuttle bus was packed, and nearly everyone joined in, including Sam. Corey sat there grinning, thinking about Jimmy with a golden ticket. He joined in on the chorus:

“’Cause I’ve got a golden ticket. I’ve got a golden chance to make my way, and with a golden ticket, it’s a golden day….”

When they got to the hotel, it was pandemonium. The lobby was bustling with people, all fellow contestants pouring in from the shuttle buses. Corey looked around at all the happy faces, realizing that it would be very soon that the numbers would begin dwindling. Within the first three days, half of the competitors would be eliminated. After that, there would be two rounds of group competition, followed by one final round of solo performances. By the end of the two-week process, there would be only twenty contestants remaining. He looked around at all the people and did the math. Only one out every twenty would survive. It was scary.

He stood in line with Sam, waiting to register.

“You got your paperwork?” she asked.

“Yup,” he said confidently, pulling a file folder from the side pocket of his suitcase. He began leafing through the documents. “Indemnity waiver, nondisclosure clause, code of conduct agreement, rights to my first born….”

She cracked up. “No shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked for a blood sample.”

“Or urine,” he said, more seriously. “They could do drug testing.”

She guffawed. “God, I hope not. I’ll be on the next flight out. Last night I was so freaked about the competition, I smoked a big fat one.”

“Really?” he said, laughing. “I never got into it. Weed, I mean. I don’t like the taste… or smell.”

“Well, I could like use a good buzz right now.”

“I know what ya mean, but we can’t even drink.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “I read the rules. We can drink… ‘in moderation’. And believe me, I’m gonna very moderately get my ass wasted, just as soon as we’re checked in.” She winked at him.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re older and more worldly. I’m not old enough to even be served.”

“Well, there’s such a thing as a liquor store, ya know. I can get us a bottle….”

“We’ll see,” he said. As much as he liked Sam, he was not about to go get drunk or stoned, especially not on his first night there. Getting through the competition was going to be challenging enough on its own without complicating things. He knew if he were lucky enough to make it through the elimination rounds, there’d be plenty of opportunity for celebration afterword.

When they got to the head of the line, Corey turned in his paperwork and was given a packet containing the itinerary, a name badge, and a voucher for his return flight. He pulled the voucher from his packet and held it up. It looked so ominous, a bleak reminder that he was only one screw-up away from complete failure.

After they’d registered, they had to go to the front desk to check into a room. “I wonder if we’ll be assigned roommates,” he said.

“Let’s see if we can room together,” Sam suggested.

“I’m sorry,” the desk clerk informed them thirty seconds later, “room assignments have already been made, and we have strict orders not to make changes.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam pleaded. “Who’s gonna find out? There are so many people, they’ll never know.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” the dark-skinned male clerk assured her. “All roommate assignments are same-gender. If I put a guy and a girl together, that’d cost me my job.”

She rolled her eyes in disgust. “So I’m getting stuck with some chick I don’t even know? What’s the difference if I room with a girl or a gay guy?” Her voice was getting loud as her tone became more argumentative.

“Sam, just chill,” Corey said. “I’m in the same situation… I’ll be with someone I don’t know….”

“Dude, these rules make no sense. They don’t want guys and girls bunking together because of some Puritan bullshit prudishness. But you’re gay! They’re gonna put you with some other guy. The whole thing is so self-defeating. I mean, think about it. You’re far more likely to do something naughty and, God-forbid, sexual with another guy than with me!”

“Sam, for God’s sake, will you shut up?” She was starting to piss him off. Why on earth would she think it was okay to just out him like that in front of everyone?

“Just relax, dude,” she said. “You’re in New York now. Half the people here are gay. I bet you’re gay, right?” She turned to the desk clerk. He didn’t answer but instead raised an eyebrow.

“Look,” he said, “all I can do is give you your room keys. Where you decide to actually sleep is up to you. Perhaps you could arrange a swap or something.”

“Well, thanks for nothing… Raif,” she said, reading his nametag.

“You’re more than welcome, miss,” he said with the most insincere smile Corey had ever seen. He handed them their keys, and as he did so winked at Corey. Maybe Sam’s gaydar was right again.

 

 

JIMMY HAD never felt so flustered. This whole America’s Next Superstar thing was starting to seem like a really bad idea. He felt out of his element in the big city with all the huge buildings and noisy crowds. He’d never seen so many cabs. As he sat in the backseat of the shuttle bus, he stared out the window behind him, and all he could see were taxis.

He was sitting next to a rather nerdy-looking kid with spiked hair. The guy was tall and super slender and was wearing headphones. He bobbed his head, humming along to the music. It appeared as if everyone involved with this competition was either rude or obnoxious. Or they were dishonest, like that Corey dude.

Jimmy couldn’t believe his bad luck, running into Corey again at the airport. Well, actually, Corey had kind of saved him right when he was about to be trampled. It didn’t matter, though. That didn’t excuse what he’d done. Back in Detroit he’d pretended to be Jimmy’s friend only to use him. Jimmy wasn’t about to let that happen again.

As he sat quietly in his seat on the bus, he took a deep breath and looked around. Why was he allowing himself to feel overwhelmed? Why was he being negative? This was the most amazing experience of his life, and he should be celebrating. He should be overjoyed right now.

How many people actually got a chance to live their dream like this? This was no time for self-pity or depression. For all those years growing up, he’d sat in front of the TV, glued to the screen during every episode of Superstar. Now here he was a part of it!

As soon as Jimmy got inside the hotel, he called home. “Mama, you wouldn’t believe this city. It’s so huge… and busy. And there are so many people racin’ round here like chickens with their heads off. I ain’t never seen nothing like it. … Aw, now, don’t you worry. Everything’s fine. I just wanted you to know I made it all right. And I’ll be home in about two weeks… hopefully not beforehand. … Yes, I love you too. Tell Daddy I love him… and Charlie. Listen, I gotta go. I got to put my bags in my room and meet my roommate. There’s just one meetin’ tonight for everybody, then tomorrow we start the elimination rounds. I’ll call you after I get my results.”

Jimmy then registered and picked up his room key from the front desk. He wasn’t exactly sure what nationality that desk clerk was, but he sure was cute. Seemed like he was flirting too. Obviously he was not a true New Yorker or he wouldn’t have been so friendly.

There was no point waiting for a bellhop. With so many guests checking into the hotel at the same time, they were all running their tails off. Besides, Jimmy just had the two pieces of luggage and his guitar. The one suitcase was a mite bit heavy, but he’d manage. It helped that they had those little wheels on the bottom.

When he got into the elevator and pushed the button for his floor, a young lady slipped in just before the door closed. “Floor eight, please,” she said, smiling broadly.

“You from Superstar too, ma’am?” he asked. It was kind of a dumb question. She was carrying a registration packet just like his own.

“I am,” she said, nodding. “I’m Teri, and you are?”

“Jimmy,” he said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure meetin’ ya. Where y’all from?”

“LA,” she said. “And you must be from Kentucky?”

“How’d you know?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting.

“Lucky guess,” she said. “You’re a cutie. I knew you must be from either Kentucky or Alabama or Georgia. Somewhere in that vicinity….”

“Or Tennessee,” he said. “They talk the right way there too.”

She laughed. “Let me show you a little secret,” she said. She reached down and pulled up the handle of Jimmy’s suitcase. “It’s a lot easier to pull your suitcase behind you when you use the handle. Here, let me see your smaller bag.” She grabbed it from him and flopped it atop the big suitcase, sliding the strap around the handle to secure it. “See? Isn’t that easier?”

“Ain’t you smart?” he said. “I guess you can tell I ain’t done much travelin’.”

“Well, if you need help with anything else, you let me know, cowboy,” she said. The elevator bell rang and the door came open. “This is my floor. Good luck!”

Jimmy decided he’d been entirely too hasty in his assessment of the people here in New York. That was the second friendly face he’d encountered in the past five minutes. God must have been smiling on him after all. Now if he could just be lucky enough to end up with a decent roommate….

It took him a minute to figure out exactly how to use the room key. When the desk clerk first gave it to him, he thought it was a mistake. It didn’t look like any key he’d ever seen before. Seemed more like a credit card, but when he saw the handle, it all made sense. He had to push that credit card thing into the slot. It took him three tries to get it to work. After his second attempt, he pulled the card out and read the instructions. “Insert this side up and remove quickly. Turn handle when green light appears.”

As he stepped through the door, it became obvious his roommate had already arrived. There was a big suitcase on one of the beds and clothes hanging in the closet. Apparently he was in the bathroom. Jimmy thought about knocking and letting him know he’d arrived but wasn’t exactly sure what he’d say. He decided instead to take a seat over in the desk chair and wait for his room companion to finish up in the bathroom.

About two minutes later, he heard the bathroom door opening. Jimmy stood up and stepped toward the door. His mouth dropped open when he saw who emerged. Dripping wet and wearing only a towel, it was Corey.

Four

 

 

“NO WAY!” Jimmy objected. “You are not my roommate.”

Corey, slightly embarrassed by his seminudity, grinned sheepishly. “Wow,” he said, “what a coincidence.”

“Dude, I ain’t gonna room with you. There’s no way!”

Corey frowned and shrugged, still standing in the hallway by the bathroom door. “Suit yourself. I guess you could go sleep in the lobby. They already told us that no one could change rooms.”

“I’m going down there,” Jimmy said in a huff. “I’m gonna get this straightened out right now. They can’t make me share a room with you.”

“Dude, calm down, would ya?” Corey wanted to laugh. Jimmy was kind of cute when he got all pissed. “Before you storm out of here, at least let me finish telling you what I was trying to say earlier.”

“I already told you, I’m not interested in nothin’ you got to say.”

“You were totally right about what you said,” Corey said, plowing ahead with his explanation in spite of Jimmy’s objections. “I should not have let my friend Megan do that. I shouldn’t have gone along with it. I should have told that Renee woman right away that none of that shit was true.”

“Damn right!” Jimmy said, scowling. “But you didn’t.”

“So when I got in there and got my golden ticket, I spilled my guts. I told them the whole truth.”

“Ain’t this supposed to be a singing competition?” Jimmy asked. “Why does all this personal stuff matter, anyway? Why would you feel like it was okay for you to lie, make stuff up about yourself? Why pretend to be my friend?”

“I wasn’t pretending, Jimmy.” Corey sighed. He stepped over to the bed, and Jimmy backed away from him. As Corey sat there, Jimmy began pacing back and forth in the hallway. “Why don’t you sit down,” Corey suggested, “you’re making me nervous.”

“I don’t care!” Jimmy shouted. “I don’t give a flip if you’re nervous.”

At this point Corey couldn’t contain himself any longer. He burst out laughing, covering his face with hands, and then he flopped back on the bed.

“What? What’s so… oh, you make me so flippin’ mad! What’s so gol darn funny?”

Corey removed his hands from his face and rolled onto his side. He used one arm to prop up his head. “You are. You’re really cute when you’re mad. Do you ever actually swear, though? Do you ever say ‘fuck’?”

“Well, it’s not funny! And sure… sure, I swear. I swear all the dang time!” His face was beet red. He turned away from Corey and stepped toward the door. Suddenly he spun around, his hands on his hips. “Did you just say I was cute?”

Corey nodded, staring wide-eyed at the irate country boy. “Afraid so,” he said. “You gonna beat me up now?”

Jimmy squinted, scowling. “I ought to. I ought to clean your clock.”

Corey was still grinning. “For saying you’re cute?”

“No! For what you did… back in Detroit. And for what you’re doin’ now, making fun of me.”

Corey pushed himself up into a sitting position on the mattress. “Dude, I swear I’m not making fun of you. I don’t mean to laugh, but if you could only see yourself. Your face is, like, fire-engine red.”

“Well, ain’t that what folks is supposed to look like when they’re mad?”

Corey held his arms out and shrugged.

“Would you get some flippin’ clothes on?” Jimmy said. “You’re buck nekkid.”

“Sure,” Corey said. “If it bothers you. I still say you’re cute when you’re mad, though.”

“Stop sayin’ that!” Jimmy said. “What is wrong with you, anyway? Guys don’t tell guys they’re cute.”

“Some guys do,” Corey said.

“Are you sayin’ what I think you’re saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying?”

“Never mind. I’ll wait in the hall till you get dressed.” He stepped to the door and grabbed hold of the handle.

“No, wait,” Corey said, standing up. “I can get dressed in the bathroom. What did you think I was saying?”

“It don’t matter. Just don’t be callin’ me cute.”

“Okay. No problem. I’ll never say you’re cute again. Even though you are.” He unzipped his suitcase and began throwing his clothes onto the bed. “And if you were asking if I was saying I’m gay, yes! That’s exactly what I was saying.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said, staring at Corey intently.

“Are you?” Corey turned to him, looking him in the eye.

“That’s none of your business.” He folded his arms defiantly across his chest.

Corey turned back around, sorting out his clothes and smiling to himself.

 

 

JIMMY WAS locked inside the bathroom, leaning against the door. What were the odds he’d end up assigned to the same room as that kid from Michigan? As if it weren’t bad enough that Corey had manipulated and used him back in Detroit, now here they were sharing the same room, and the guy was making fun of him.

Jimmy really wanted to stay mad at him. He had every right, but it didn’t help that Corey was strutting around the room in his birthday suit. Jimmy’s heart was pounding in his chest, but it was something other than anger he was feeling. And his heart wasn’t the only thing that was pulsing. He had a wicked hard-on straining against the tight denim fabric of his jeans.

He didn’t want to trust the guy, and he definitely wasn’t ready to acknowledge that he liked him. But Jimmy couldn’t deny that Corey had apologized—twice now—and he’d helped Jimmy back at the airport when he was about to be trampled. It was weird how he’d been so confident, coming right out and admitting he was gay.

Part of Jimmy wanted to go back and tell Corey the truth about himself. He wanted to be brave enough to just be honest about who he was. He wasn’t sure if the guy was really trustworthy, though. It could be another trick. Corey could just be trying to get Jimmy to confess something personal about himself—like he had before—and then later use it against him.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like it was any of Corey’s business who Jimmy was attracted to. There certainly was no possibility of a romance between them. They weren’t even allowed to do anything like that. He’d read all the rules, and he wouldn’t dream of breaking any of them. This was his once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he was not about to blow it just because his roommate was some hot-looking blond kid with gorgeous eyes, a smooth, well-defined chest, and a cute little bubble butt.

“I did not just say he had a cute butt,” Jimmy whispered. He reached down and squeezed himself, massaging the obvious bulge between his legs.

“Screw this!” Jimmy said, a little too loudly. He stripped off his shirt and turned on the water in the shower. Peeling off the rest of his clothes, he then adjusted the water temperature. Cold! He needed to stop thinking thoughts like this and get his head back in the game. He had a competition to win, and he couldn’t allow any distractions to interfere.

Ten minutes later, it was his turn to step out of the bathroom in the raw. He found a robe hanging next to the shower and wrapped it around himself.

“I see you found my robe,” Corey said as he walked past.

“This is yours?” Jimmy said. “Sorry, I thought it was… ya know, from the hotel.”

Corey laughed. “It is from the hotel. I’m just messin’ with ya.” Corey was now fully dressed and sprawled out on his bed. He had the television on.

“Oh,” Jimmy said. He opened his big suitcase and began rummaging through it, pulling out some clothes. Stepping over to the far side of his bed away from Corey, Jimmy slipped on a pair of briefs. He was still wearing the robe, so he was confident he wouldn’t be giving his roommate a show.

“Whooot whoo!” Corey whistled.

Quickly Jimmy spun around and glared at him. “That’s not funny!” He felt his face turning red.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Corey said.

“Look,” Jimmy sighed exasperatedly, “we’re stuck with each other… I mean if it’s true what you said about them not letting us change rooms. So we gotta figure out how to get along.”

“I think we’re getting along just fine,” Corey said. “But you know what? You’re right. I shouldn’t whistle at you and say things to make you feel uncomfortable. You’re probably not used to….”

“To what?” Jimmy asked when Corey didn’t finish his sentence.

“Uh, well, to other guys whistling at you and saying you’re cute.”

“This ain’t the time nor place,” Jimmy said, nodding for emphasis. “We’re not here for messin’ around. We’re here for a music competition.”

“Okay, then,” Corey said as he jumped up from the mattress. “Then I guess I should try singing to you….”

“No!” Jimmy protested.

Before Jimmy could say another word, Corey had picked up a hairbrush from the dresser and was wielding it like a microphone. He began to sing:

 

“If I could turn back time

If I could find a way

I’d take back those words that hurt you and you’d stay….”

 

He started dancing around the room, all the while staring directly at Jimmy. As he sang, he gave Jimmy a pouty, apologetic look, and belted out the words of the Cher song while using one hand to clutch his chest. He held out his arm, palm up, and looked into Jimmy’s eyes, fluttering his eyelashes flirtatiously.

In spite of himself and his desire to be pissed, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly he had to give in. He burst into laughter as he shook his head.

Corey thrust the hairbrush into his hand, as Jimmy tried composing himself. He then opened his mouth and began to sing, same song but second verse. When he got to the chorus, they were singing in unison. Corey crawled over Jimmy’s mattress and stood beside him, draping his arm around Jimmy’s neck as they shared the mic.

“Our first duet,” Corey said when they’d finished.

Jimmy was cracking up, but then grew more serious. He felt a little bit silly. He was still in his bathrobe, hair still wet, and was holding onto some hairbrush pretending it was a microphone.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Corey said. “Puh-leez?”

“I’ll think about it,” Jimmy said. He took a step away from Corey, then turned and handed him back the brush.

“Good! Then let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, that’s right. They’ll be serving dinner soon… then we have a meeting.”

“Well, hurry up… unless you wanna just go like that.” Corey looked Jimmy up and down, assessing his current attire.

Jimmy laughed. “Nah, I think I better get dressed. I don’t parade around nekkid like some people.”

It was Corey’s turn to chuckle. “I love the way you express yourself. Some of the stuff you say is so funny.”

Jimmy furrowed his brows and cocked his head slightly. How else would you say it? Nekkid’s nekkid. Right?

 

 

A BUFFET was set up in the conference room, and as Corey walked in, he soaked up the enthusiastic energy of the four hundred young competitors. Twenty-six was the maximum age to compete on America’s Next Superstar, and there were contestants as young as fifteen. Everyone seemed excited and happy, acting as if they were all best friends. While it was true they were all in the same situation—all passionate about doing their best in the competition—there was no denying that once the performances began, it would be every man (or woman) for themselves.

Jimmy was right behind him and leaned over to speak into Corey’s ear. “This here is our competition,” he said.

“Scary, isn’t it?” Corey said.

“And kinda sad. There’s gonna be a lot of disappointment. So many of us….”

“Of them,” Corey corrected him. “Dude, you can’t think like that. You gotta be sure of yourself and know you can make it. Just keep thinking about why you’re here. Think of your brother.”

Jimmy smiled at him and nodded. “You’re right. We’re gonna kick butt tomorrow.”

“Hmm, well, you can kick butt if you want. I’m gonna kick ass.”

Just then Corey noticed a flash of fluorescent green. It was his punk rocker friend’s Mohawk. “Jeremy!” he shouted. “Dude, you made it.”

The punk rocker stepped over, offering a high five. “Hey, man, you too.”

“Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you again. I lost track of you back in Detroit.”

“Well, this is it, man,” Jeremy said. “Are you guys in line?”

“Uh… not yet, I guess. Jeremy, this is my roommate Jimmy.”

It took them nearly twenty minutes to make it through the buffet line, and then the three of them got a table toward the back of the room. When Corey spotted Sam, he motioned her over. She had another girl with her, perhaps her roommate.

“Hey, Teri,” Jimmy said, offering a warm smile.

“You two know each other?” Corey asked.

“We met in the elevator,” Teri said.

“How weird,” Sam said. “You two know each other, and we know each other.” She pointed to Corey. “And we’re each other’s roommates.”

“And what am I?” Jeremy said. “Chopped liver?”

“I’m Sam and this is my roommate Teri,” Sam said, providing an official introduction. “And you are anything but chopped liver.” She winked at the studly rocker.

“It’s gotta be the tattoos,” Corey said sarcastically. “Sam, I can tell already you’re a bad girl.”

“Bad to the bone,” she said.

The girls pulled out chairs and joined the table, placing their trays in front of them.

“You know Jimmy?” Corey asked. “He’s my roommate.”

“Howdy,” Jimmy said, nodding obligingly.

“I saw you back at the airport when you about got trampled,” Sam said. “You all right?”

Corey noticed Jimmy’s face begin to flush. “Klutz, I guess,” Jimmy acknowledged.

“And now you two are roommates,” Sam said. “Small world, huh?”

“So you guys ready for tomorrow?” Jeremy asked. “Only half will make it.”

The group let out a collective sigh. “And then it’s on to group round,” Teri said. “If we all make it through this first round, we should form a group together.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jeremy said, “except you can’t officially start rehearsing until all of the solo round has been completed. There’s a room here in the hotel that has computers in it. They’ll give each group an iPod and then you go to the computer database and pick out a song. There are thousands of songs in there. You just choose the one you want, print out the lyrics, and start rehearsing.”

“How do you know all this?” Sam asked.

“I was a contestant two years ago,” Jeremy said. “Made it through the solo round but got booted during groups. This time I wanna make sure I’m in a serious group.”

“Well, we can start practicing even before the solo round is finished… unofficially,” Corey suggested.

“Long as we don’t put the cart before the horse,” Jimmy said. “Gotta make it through the solo round first.”

Corey laughed at the outdated metaphor. “True, but the solo round is three days. If we get lucky and make it through in the first or second day, that’ll give us some lead time.”

“But if one or more of us don’t make it,” Jeremy said, “that will change everything. We’ll have to find replacements… or relearn our parts.”

“It’s just I’ve seen it on TV, right before group, there are always a bunch of people scrambling around trying to find a group to join,” Teri said. “I don’t wanna be one of those people.”

“Well, this gives us a starting point, anyway,” Corey said. “Once we have the solo competition behind us, we’ll all know where to start looking….”

“No offense, dude, but we’re all kinda different,” Jeremy said. “Not sure I can even do country.” He looked right at Jimmy.

“I’m flexible,” Jimmy said. “I can sing about any kinda music.”

“We were singing Cher together a few minutes ago,” Corey said to back up Jimmy’s statement.

“Cool… well, let’s do it, then,” Jeremy said.

“Do you guys mind if I sit here?” All eyes turned to the newcomer, a slender blond kid who Corey thought looked no older than twelve.

“Sure,” Corey said, “more the merrier.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’m Tristan.”

“Dude, how old are you?” Jeremy asked. “You look, like, ten.”

He laughed and looked down at his plate. “I do look young, I guess, but then so does Justin Bieber.”

“You do look like Justin Bieber,” Sam agreed. “Do you sing like him?”

“God, I hope not,” Jeremy interjected.

“Actually, I like him,” Tristan said, “and yeah, sometimes I sing his songs. That’s what Krystal said during my audition, that I reminded her of Bieber.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tristan,” Corey said. “This is Sam, Teri, Jimmy, and Jeremy.”

“Where are you guys from?”

“Sam and I are from Michigan,” Corey answered. “Jeremy’s from Toledo, Ohio, and Jimmy’s from Kentucky. I don’t know where you’re from, Teri.”

“California,” she said. “Los Angeles.”

“I’m from Denver,” Tristan said. “This is my first time in New York. First time anywhere, really.”

“Ain’t your folks with you?” Jimmy asked.

“Nope. My mom couldn’t come. She takes care of my grandma, and she couldn’t be gone for that long. Well, hopefully it’ll be long… if I make it through the competition.” Tristan’s voice was quiet, and Corey thought he seemed shy.

“Well, don’t worry,” Jimmy said, “we’ll look out for ya.” He turned to Tristan and winked.

Corey didn’t like the way the kid responded. It was like he was checking Jimmy out, maybe even flirting with him. Corey bit his lower lip and turned away, starting a conversation privately with Sam.

They were still eating when an official stepped up to the podium positioned at the front of the conference room. She was a twentysomething woman, wearing a pantsuit. She introduced herself as Margaret Billings, and she began by congratulating all the contestants. For the next forty-five minutes, she went through a presentation, covering the itinerary and explaining all of the rules, most of which were a repeat of the things Corey had already been told.

After she finished speaking, she turned over the program to a far more enthusiastic presenter named Harry. He had a wiry frame and a nasally voice, and his movements were very animated when he spoke. He explained the reality-show aspect of Superstar, reminding everyone that there would be a lot of cameras. “Try to act natural,” he said. “Pretend the cameras aren’t even there.” He went on to explain that the film crews would be looking for interactions. After filming a particular scene, they might pull some of the contestants aside and interview them privately. He warned against speaking directly to the camera. “It’ll come across as phony most of the time,” he said. “If there are comments you want to make to the audience, save them for your private interviews.”

When Harry finished his presentation, they were dismissed.

“Well, it was nice meetin’ y’all,” Jimmy said.

“Don’t you wanna go do something?” Sam asked. “We’re in New York, City,” she reminded them, “and the night is young.”

Jimmy shrugged. “I think I’m gonna stay here… go back to my room and practice for tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Tristan said. “If you want, you can come over to my room, and we’ll practice together.”

“What’d be the point?” Corey interrupted. “I mean, it’s a solo competition.”

“Oh, okay,” Tristan said. “Sorry, I just thought….”

“It’s okay, kid. If we make it through, we can practice together for group. I mean, if you wanna be in our group.”

“Sure,” he answered, his voice going up an octave.

“Well, good luck tomorrow,” Jimmy said as he rose from his seat. “It was nice meeting everyone.”

Corey glared at Tristan after Jimmy had left. The kid was being so obvious. He clearly had the hots for Jimmy and was flirting. He tried laughing it off, telling himself it didn’t matter, but for some reason it bugged him.

“Guess I’ll go back to my room too,” the kid said.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Teri said.

Once he was gone, Corey turned to Sam. “Didn’t it seem like that kid was a little strange?”

“What do ya mean?” she asked. “He seemed okay to me.”

“I don’t know. I just kept thinking he was… ya know… flirting with Jimmy.”

Sam cracked up. “Dude, the kid looks like he’s in junior high. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Corey said defensively. “Who said I’m worried? I was just making an observation.”

“I think you’re jealous,” she said.

At this point, Jeremy and Teri were talking with each other, not listening to Corey and Sam’s conversation. “That’s crazy. Why would I be jealous?” Corey asked. “Jimmy doesn’t even like me… and I couldn’t care less what he thinks of that kid. Or of me, for that matter.”

“Oh, okay. If you say so.”

“Anyway, I’m gonna go back to my room,” he said.

“Dude, no way!” Sam objected. “We gotta go do something. I didn’t come all the way to New York just to sit in my hotel room.”

“Well, if we make it through the solo competition, we can celebrate. But Jimmy’s right. We need to focus on this first, or at least I do.”

“Well, wait. At least give me your cell number before you go.”

They exchanged numbers before Corey headed back to his room. In all honesty, he knew he didn’t need any more practice. He’d rehearsed his song a thousand times. What he really needed was to get back to his room and check on Jimmy. He didn’t like the way things had gone at dinner. There was no question that Tristan had been hitting on him, and Sam was right. It did make him a little jealous. Yeah, the kid looked really young, but he was cute, and Corey sensed that Jimmy had been attracted to him.

Well, Corey was gonna have to fix that. He needed to give Jimmy something else to think about.

 

 

WHEN JIMMY got back to his room, the first thing he did was call home. Charlie answered and was thrilled to hear his big brother’s voice. Jimmy took a seat in the corner, using the only chair in the hotel room, and spent twenty minutes talking about his flight and the things he’d seen so far.

“And guess what? There’s this kid here who looks almost exactly like you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, not exactly, but he reminds me of you. His name’s Tristan.”

“Is he… ya know, like you?”

“Oh, gay, you mean? Nah. Well, I don’t know. I guess I didn’t even think of that. I doubt it.”

“That’s cool, though,” Charlie said. “It’ll be like watching myself on TV.”

“Yeah, they’re gonna start the cameras tomorrow. Ya know who is gay, though? My roommate.”

“Wow. Do you like him?”

“I dunno. I didn’t like him at first. I met him back in Detroit when I auditioned. He was kind of a liar.”

Charlie laughed. “How can you be ‘kind of’ a liar?”

“Let’s just say he fibbed a little to get on the show. I didn’t like it.”

“Can he sing?”

“Oh, he can sing. His voice is amazing. Very talented.”

“So he’s your competition,” Charlie reminded him.

“Well,” Jimmy sighed, “I’m not really thinking of anyone in that way just yet. We’re all here for the same reason—to get through this week. I’m tryin’ to be friendly to everyone.”

“Just remember, bro, if that dude would lie to get on the show, he’d probably do anything to win. So watch your back.”

“Good point,” he said. Just then the door opened and Corey walked in. “Hey, listen, I should get goin’. I gotta practice and get ready for tomorrow.”

“Call me afterward,” Charlie said.

“I will. Hey, I love ya, man.”

“Love you too.”

Jimmy set down his phone and looked up at Corey, who was now standing by his bed. “I thought you were goin’ out with the gang,” he said.

Corey shook his head and flopped down on his mattress. “Nah, you were right. I need to focus on tomorrow. It’s too soon to go out celebrating.”

“It’s still early,” Jimmy said. “Just ’cause I’m a homebody don’t mean you gotta be.”

“No, it’s not that,” Corey said.

“Well, I know we just ate, but I can get us a pizza later if you’re hungry.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?” Jimmy said. “Don’t you like pizza?”

“I love pizza, but I’ve got to be careful. I don’t have much money.”

“I wouldn’t have much either,” Jimmy said, “but my daddy slipped me some cash before I took off. What kind of job you got up in Michigan?”

“I work at a grocery store. Cashier.”

Jimmy grinned. “That’s funny. I used to be a bag boy. Now I work at a garage.”

“Really? You mean you’re a mechanic?”

“Sort of. I work at one of those quick lube joints.”

Corey raised his eyebrows and looked over at Jimmy, a smile on his face. “Quick lube, huh?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes and bent over to pick up his guitar. “You have a dirty mind,” Jimmy said.

“What do ya mean? I didn’t even say anything? I think you’re the one with a dirty mind.”

“So you’re gay, huh?” Jimmy said. He didn’t look at Corey when he said it. “You got a boyfriend?”

“Why?” Corey responded.

“Just wondered. Figured it was the polite thing to ask.”

“Oh… well, no. I’m single.”

There was a pause as Jimmy positioned the guitar on his knee.

“What about you?” Corey asked.

“What about me what?” Jimmy said, looking down at his guitar while positioning his fingers on the frets.

“Are you single?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, then he strummed a note.

“Oh. I heard you on the phone, saying you loved someone.”

Jimmy raised his head, unable to resist the urge to grin. “Yeah? Well, I get around. Don’t mean I’m serious about any one person.” He couldn’t believe Corey thought he’d been talking to a boyfriend when it was only his brother.

“So does he think…?”

“What’s it to you?” Jimmy asked. He strummed a couple chords.

Corey shrugged. “Nothin’, I guess. I just….”

“I was talkin’ to my baby brother, dude,” Jimmy said, laughing. “I always tell him I love him before I hang up. Ya know, when you almost lose someone in your family….”

“Oh, sorry,” Corey said. He lay back on the bed and covered his face with his hands as he sighed. “I just can’t ever say the right thing to you,” he complained.

Jimmy continued to stare at him. Corey looked kind of cute, the way he was lying there, stretched out. And there was no denying the guy had a nice body. Jimmy didn’t respond to Corey’s remark, but instead started strumming the guitar and singing.

It was a ballad, a Josh Turner song, one of Jimmy’s favorites. The lyrics were quite suggestive. “Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low….”

As he began to sing, Corey sat up again, looking over at him.

He got to the second verse: “There’s no need to hurry, don’t you worry, we can take our time….”

Corey pulled his legs up, sitting cross-legged on the bed as he leaned forward, listening to every word.

“Wow,” Corey said, his voice a whisper. “That was… um… beautiful.”

“You like?”

“Very much,” Corey said. “The judges are gonna love your deep voice.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy said. “What’s your song?”

“‘Flying Without Wings’,” Corey answered.

Jimmy immediately began to strum the guitar. He knew the song well, and as he played, Corey sang. The song began softly and built up to a crescendo, which Corey belted out. He was on his feet at the edge of the bed, hands outstretched, as he sang the words to Jimmy.

“Amazing,” Jimmy said, setting the guitar on the bed beside him. Corey was out of breath and appeared on the verge of becoming emotional. “Are you okay, man?” Jimmy asked.

“It’s the song.” Corey reached up to wipe his eyes. “Maybe not the greatest choice. I mean… well, I don’t wanna lose it tomorrow, get all emotional.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jimmy assured him, “and even if you do cry, that’s not always a bad thing. They might like it.” He stood up and stepped over to Corey, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, they’ll love it. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” Corey said, smiling through his tears. “It’s just… God, I’m so nervous.”

“You think I’m not nervous too?” Jimmy said. “I’m scared out of my mind. If I get sent home during the first round, it’ll be like everything I ever dreamed of has suddenly been shattered.”

“I know,” Corey said. “That’s how I feel too. That’s why….” He exhaled and looked into Jimmy’s eyes. “That’s why I picked that song. From the time I was old enough to walk, I’ve been singing. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, but now here I am, grown up, working at a grocery store and going to community college.”

“Least you ain’t a grease monkey, like me.” Jimmy winked at him.

“Someday you’re gonna be a country megastar. Mark my words. It may be sooner than you think too. When I hear you sing, Jimmy, it touches my heart. You have one of the most beautiful, smooth voices I’ve ever heard. I don’t think Josh Turner himself sings that song as well as you do.”

In spite of all Jimmy’s apprehension, when Corey said those words to him, he seemed sincere. Jimmy believed him. He reached up with his other hand and placed it on Corey’s opposite shoulder, now holding him at arm’s length.

“Thank you,” Jimmy whispered. And then in spite of himself, he leaned in. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even logical, but it was the only thing he could do. He leaned in to press his mouth against Corey’s. As their lips brushed together, they were startled by a banging on the door. Jimmy quickly let go of Corey’s shoulders and jumped back.

Corey stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Uh, I’ll get it,” he said, spinning around and then stepping over to the door.

“Hi,” Tristan said as Corey opened the door. “Sorry to bother you….”

“Come on in,” Jimmy said. “We were just practicing.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Tristan said.

“Yeah, I’m totally sure. Come on, you can have pizza with us.”

“Uh… I don’t wanna intrude. It’s just… uh, well, I don’t have a roommate. They put me in a room by myself because one of my parents was supposed to come with me. My mom couldn’t come, though.”

“You’re cool,” Jimmy said. “Right, Corey?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Corey said, rather unconvincingly.

Tristan stepped in, and Corey closed the door behind him.

“Hey, I wanna show you something,” Jimmy said. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “See this picture here? That there’s my kid brother. His name’s Charlie.”

“Wow,” Tristan said. He started laughing. “He looks… well, like me.”

“Weird, ain’t it?” Jimmy said.

“Let me see,” Corey said. “That’s crazy. Same eyes, same nose.” Corey took the wallet from Jimmy’s hand and held the photo up next to Tristan’s face. “Are you sure you two aren’t related?”

“So do people tell your brother he looks like Justin Bieber too?”

Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t think either of you look like Bieber. Maybe a little bit. You two look a lot more like each other. You’re even the same height and everything.”

“Your brother’s hair is shorter,” Corey said.

“In this picture it is,” he said. “It’s longer now. His eyes are a little different too. But anyway, there is definitely a resemblance.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet him,” Tristan said. “If we both make it through….”

“That’d be cool. Charlie’s been sick, though. I don’t know if he’ll be up to traveling though. And if we make it through, we gotta go clear out to California.”

Corey sat down on the bed and grabbed the TV remote from the nightstand. He turned the TV on. Tristan sat on Jimmy’s bed, while Jimmy sat next to him in the chair. The three of them talked, and it became clear to Jimmy that Tristan was basically just a little nervous. He was a bit insecure and kind of freaked out being away from home by himself. He thought about Charlie’s question on the phone, whether or not Tristan was gay, and Jimmy really didn’t get the impression that he was.

Corey, on the other hand, didn’t seem overly fond of Tristan. He noticed Corey rolling his eyes a couple times behind Tristan’s back. At least he was being nice to the kid. Jimmy had already decided that he was going to look out for Tristan. As long as the kid was there, Jimmy would make sure he was all right. Maybe part of it was that he looked so much like Charlie.

After surfing through the channels a few times, Corey finally settled on a reality TV show.

“And now here we are on a reality show ourselves!” Tristan said. “It’s gonna be weird tomorrow with all those cameras.”

“They say that after a while you stop noticing them,” Corey said. “Well, that’s what contestants from Real World have said, like in interviews and stuff.”

“On Superstar last year there was this one mother who was badmouthing all the other contestants,” Tristan said. “She was saying all kinds of mean things about everyone and then going on camera to brag about how great her daughter was. Then when the other contestants were around, she was, like, hugging on them and being all nice.”

“I remember that,” Jimmy said. “She was a total B.I.T.C.H.”

“You can say ‘bitch’, Jimmy,” Corey teased. “Yeah, and then her daughter was one of the first ones voted off.”

“So the moral of the story is: don’t talk smack about people behind their back—at least not on camera,” Jimmy summarized.

Jimmy was beginning to feel a little bit embarrassed. His thoughts kept returning to what had happened between Corey and him. He wondered where that kiss would have led them had Tristan not interrupted. A part of him wanted to get rid of the kid so that he and Corey could be alone again. Another part was thankful that Tristan had arrived when he had. He knew that the decent thing to do would be to invite Tristan to stay with them. The kid was obviously uneasy about being alone in his room, but Jimmy wanted some privacy with Corey.

Around eight o’clock they ordered a pizza and found a movie on TV. Corey had changed into comfortable clothes—a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt, so Jimmy decided to do the same. He pulled out an oversized tee and a pair of shorts from his suitcase, then went in the bathroom and changed. When he came out of the bathroom, Tristan was sprawled out on his bed, lying on his belly with his head at the foot of the bed, watching the movie. Corey was on his own bed, sitting upright with pillows propped behind his head.

Corey stared up at Jimmy, a look of exasperation on his face. Jimmy smiled and winked, and then Corey quickly slid over, patting the mattress with his palm. Jimmy plopped down beside him, easing his back against the pillows. He looked over to Tristan to see he was engrossed in the movie, then glanced at Corey, who smiled sweetly. Jimmy didn’t pull away when Corey slid his hand onto Jimmy’s thigh. As they sat there watching the movie together, Corey began to rub his leg gently. When it became obvious that Tristan was starting to doze off, Jimmy stretched his arms out, wrapping one behind Corey’s shoulder and pulling him against himself.

When the movie ended, Jimmy got up and grabbed a blanket from the closet, draping it over Tristan. He turned off the TV and dimmed the lights, then crawled back onto the bed next to Corey. “Good night,” he whispered as he leaned in and gently kissed Corey’s soft lips, then rolled over on his side, away from the boy he wanted so badly.

As he began to doze off, he tried to not think about the guy in bed beside him, but when Corey sidled up to him, spooning behind him, his heart began to race. Corey wrapped his arm around Jimmy’s torso and then leaned in, whispering in his ear, “Thank you, Jimmy Sawyer. You’re a really good kisser.”

And they slept.

Five

 

 

THE MORE of Jimmy that Corey saw, the more he liked him. When Jimmy had sung to him the night before, it hadn’t felt like Jimmy was just practicing for the competition. Corey felt that Jimmy was singing directly to him, and his heart had swelled. The rich, sensual tone of Jimmy’s deep voice had moved him, and it felt like his heart had literally melted.

Jimmy must have felt it too. As Corey sang to him, Jimmy responded to his emotion. He responded in a way that was beyond anything Corey could have hoped for. That sweet, tender kiss had swept Corey right off his feet. Later, lying in bed with him, Corey had inhaled Jimmy’s clean, masculine scent. He was so sexy. So incredibly manly, with his broad shoulders and hard muscles. Jimmy had a body that wasn’t bulked up by weightlifting and steroids, but that was still tight and toned. Everything about him was straight out of Corey’s wet dreams.

The way Jimmy walked, confidently with a firm, masculine stride, was enough alone to make Corey’s heart skip a beat. Add to that the deep baritone voice, the dark-brown eyes, the sexy smile—Jimmy was sex on legs.

It didn’t matter to Corey that Jimmy was nothing like the other gay guys he’d met. Clearly he knew nothing about fashion. He wasn’t gossipy. Didn’t swish and sashay and tell snarky, campy jokes. Jimmy was the kind of guy who probably had never said an unkind word about anyone. It was like he looked for the good in others, assumed they were trustworthy.

Perhaps that was naïve. Maybe Jimmy really was a hick who’d just fallen off the turnip truck, but Corey viewed him differently. Jimmy trusted other people because he himself was trustworthy. He was kind to other people because he was genuinely a good person, not because he was trying to manipulate others for his own personal gain. The way Jimmy had responded to Tristan was a case in point. Corey’s gut reaction was just to get rid of the kid. He was annoying and immature, but Jimmy had treated him with such patience and understanding. He’d even gotten up and covered the boy with a blanket and had sacrificed his own bed.

Not that Corey was complaining. He hadn’t minded in the least sharing his bed with Jimmy. It was a little embarrassing when he awakened the next morning hard as a rock. He hoped Jimmy had not noticed his arousal. Corey climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. After his shower, he discovered the two other guys were awake.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” Tristan said. “I didn’t mean to take Jimmy’s bed. Jimmy, why didn’t you wake me up? I could’ve gone back to my room.”

Jimmy laughed and shrugged. “You were out like a light. Thought I should just let you sleep.”

“Well, I better go back to my room now. I need to grab a shower before breakfast.”

“Good luck today, kid,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“Thanks, you too.” He then turned to Corey. “And you too, Corey. Thanks again.”

“Come back after your shower. We’ll all go to breakfast together.”

“Really?” Tristan said. “Okay, cool. See you in a few.”

When Corey and Jimmy were at last alone in their room, the awkward silence was deafening. Corey was at a loss for words. He knew he should say something about what had happened, but he didn’t know what. It wasn’t a problem for long, because Jimmy hopped into the shower before Corey actually marshaled the courage to speak.

When Jimmy stepped out of the bathroom, Corey at last mustered the courage to open his mouth. “So I guess that answers my question?”

“Your question?” Jimmy repeated. He was rubbing his head vigorously with a towel.

“When I asked if you were gay.”

The grin on Jimmy’s face was priceless. Sort of a half smile, or smirk, and his hair was mussed… and he was wearing just a towel. Corey wanted to drop to his knees right then and there.

“I guess it wasn’t such a good idea,” Jimmy said.

“What wasn’t?”

“What I did….”

“You mean kissing me? That wasn’t a good idea?”

“Yeah. Against the rules ’n all.”

“There is nothing in the rules about kissing,” Corey insisted. “Just sex.”

“And I don’t even know I can trust you. I mean, after what happened….”

“I swear, Jimmy, you can trust me. And I’m not about to go broadcasting we’re gay. I’m not here to come out of the closet to the whole world. I came to sing and to win a competition.”

“I like you,” Jimmy said. “You’re cute and sexy and funny. You’re really talented too, and I liked that you put up with Tristan last night. Most people would’ve just tried to get rid of him.”

“I wanted to. I thought at first he was hitting on you.”

Jimmy burst out laughing. “Dude, be serious.”

“I am. I don’t know how you can’t see that he’s majorly crushing on you.”

“Well, I kinda have that effect on guys, ya know.” Jimmy’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“You really do.”

“Tristan is scared. Alone in the big city, he’s homesick. If it were my kid brother in that situation, I’d be thankful if someone befriended him and looked out for him. That’s all I’m doing.”

“So why’d you kiss me? After your speech yesterday… you know, when you said this wasn’t the time or place.”

“’Cause I’m a darn fool,” Jimmy said. “’Cause there was this sexy, gorgeous guy standing right in front of me, and I… I just didn’t think. I just did it.”

“And then we slept together.” Corey laughed.

Still grinning, Jimmy shook his head. “I gotta get ready.”

Corey crossed the room and grabbed hold of Jimmy’s face with both hands. He pressed his lips firmly against Jimmy’s, this time not a gentle little peck. Jimmy chased his kiss, pulling Corey into him. Their mouths opened, and their tongues met, as Jimmy guided Corey backward toward the bed. The next thing Corey knew, he was flat on his back with Jimmy atop him, and they were kissing passionately.

Suddenly Jimmy pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “I’ve gotta get ready.” He jumped up and grabbed the clothes he’d laid out on his bed, then rushed back into the bathroom, where he slammed the door behind him.

“We’ll talk more later,” Corey whispered.

 

 

THE AUDITORIUM where they began the competition was next to the hotel. The doors did not open until the celebrity judges arrived in their limousines, which meant that all four hundred contestants were waiting outside. The camera crews were also there, filming conversations and conducting interviews.

Jimmy carried his guitar case on his back as he followed Corey and Tristan into the crowd. When they spotted the fluorescent green Mohawk, they knew they’d found their friends. Jeremy had his arm around Teri, and Sam stood by, an unenthusiastic look on her face.

“You okay?” Corey asked her.

“Uh, could you ask me that again, a little quieter?”

“Sam got a little carried away celebrating last night,” Teri explained.

Sam’s voice was hoarse, and Jimmy couldn’t believe she’d do something like that right before the competition. “Sam, are you gonna be able to sing?”

“Oh, I’ll sing,” she said. “I just need a little more water. Hopefully I don’t have to perform early this morning.”

A few people around the edge of the crowd began to cheer, indicating they’d spotted the judges. One of the crew members stepped up and motioned for the crowd to separate, parting them like the Red Sea to create a path for the judges to enter the building. He then called someone on his cell phone, and seconds later the doors to the auditorium opened.

Reuben was the first to get out of his limo. Wearing sunglasses and a stone-faced expression, he walked briskly toward the door. He stopped for a moment when he got to Jimmy and his friends. “Good luck,” he said soberly, and then he continued inside.

“Who was he talking to?” Corey asked.

“I dunno. All of us, I guess,” Jimmy responded.

As soon as the judge was inside the building, the doors were pulled shut.

“I guess none of us get to go in until all the judges are here,” Tristan said.

“Photo ops,” Jeremy explained. “They’ll take footage of each judge arriving and then splice them together, make it look the Oscars. The judges arriving in limos and walking down the red carpet.”

Jimmy looked down, and sure enough, the runner leading to the front of the door was bright red. It was another fifteen minutes until the next judge arrived—Krystal. Tyler and Raymond followed closely behind. After all the judges were inside, the doors were opened for the contestants. As they entered, each of them was handed a program schedule.

“Wow,” Corey said excitedly, “they have assigned everyone a time.”

“It’s tentative,” Jeremy said. “They’re not likely to stick to it exactly, but at least it gives you an idea when you will be performing.”

“I’m only the fifth name on this list!” Corey said.

“Dude, you’re lucky,” Teri said. “You’ll have it over with quick.”

“But… if I don’t make it through….”

“You’ll make it,” Jimmy assured him. “At least the three of us are all on the Day One page.” He was referring to himself, Corey, and Tristan.

“Oh, thank God,” Sam said. “I’m not scheduled till tomorrow. Can I go back to bed now?”

“No!” the other four said in unison.

“My mama always said, ‘If you’re gonna dance, you gotta pay the piper.’”

They all laughed. “No offense to your mama, but that piper can kiss my ass,” Sam groaned.

Teri and Sam were scheduled on the second day, and Jeremy was day three.

“I might get moved up to day two if they make it through the round quicker than expected. They try to get them done a day early if possible. Corey, you’re gonna be in the first group. They’ll call like the first ten people backstage and get you set up. The judges will do like two or three groups and then take a break.”

“Oh my God, I’m so nervous,” Corey said.

Jimmy reached up and rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re gonna do great. Just sing like you did last night, and you’ll be fine.”

It was another twenty minutes before everyone was in the auditorium. Many of the contestants were still milling about and socializing when Margaret Billings stepped on the stage and addressed the crowd. “Everyone please take your seats,” she said authoritatively. “I trust that everyone received a program schedule. We’ll begin by having the first ten contestants come backstage. When we get to the fifth contestant on the list, the next group of ten will begin prepping. Be respectful of your fellow contestants. There is no talking or rehearsing allowed in the auditorium during performances. Each contestant will be given their results immediately following their performance. Those who do not make it through to the next round will have twenty-four hours to check out of the hotel. Those who do make it through are encouraged to remain in the auditorium and be supportive of the remaining contestants. Good luck to everyone. Without further ado, let’s begin with the first ten performers.”

Jimmy reached down and grabbed Corey’s hand, squeezing it. “Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” he said, and then he headed down the aisle toward the front of the auditorium.

“You like him, don’t you,” Tristan whispered into Jimmy’s ear.

Jimmy turned to the shorter boy, smiling. “Sure, don’t you?”

“Yeah… but not like that.” The kid must’ve seen Jimmy holding Corey’s hand. Jimmy didn’t know exactly what to say. “It’s cool,” Tristan said, “I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Thanks,” Jimmy said, winking at him.

Ten minutes later, the first contestant was on stage. It was a girl named Brianna, and she was extremely nervous. Sadly, she botched her song, beginning in the wrong key and then forgetting some of the lyrics.

“That was painful,” Reuben chastised her. “I’ve heard lounge singers that weren’t half as bad.”

The entire crowd groaned at his remarks, and Jimmy empathized with the poor girl. She must be mortified. Krystal was much nicer. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. You were just so nervous, but that’s a part of entertainment. You have to be able to rise above your emotions.”

Needless to say, she was voted off by unanimous decision.

The next two contestants fared much better, both making it through. Contestant four did okay, but he was a little pitchy. He didn’t make it. At last it was time for Corey.

“Corey Dunham,” Raymond said, as Corey stepped to center stage. “What’ll you be singing today?”

“‘Flying Without Wings’,” Corey said confidently, and then he began to sing.

As he reached the climax of the song, he moved closer to the edge of the stage, stretching his arms wide and belting out the powerful lyrics. The crowd began to applaud as he hit his high note, and soon everyone was on their feet, giving him a standing ovation.

Even the judges stood, well, three of them, anyway. “Beautiful!” Krystal exclaimed. “Corey, that was absolutely amazing.”

“Dude, you set the bar! You’re in it to win it!” Raymond shouted.

Tyler leaned into his microphone, flipping his long hair to the side, “Man, that was incredible,” he said in his raspy voice. “You definitely can sing.”

Reuben sat there with his arms crossed. “Well,” Krystal said to him, “give us your words of wisdom, oh mighty Reuben.”

“It was okay,” he said, “though a bit karaoke. Corey, if you want to be taken seriously in this competition, you’re going to have to give a memorable performance. What I saw here today was nothing more than a rehashing of a 1980s boy band.”

Krystal reached over and slapped Reuben on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to him,” she shouted into her mic. “Corey, you were magnificent!”

The crowd applauded and cheered.

“Let’s vote,” Krystal said. “I say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Hell yes!”

“Very well,” Reuben conceded, “you’re through to the next round.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Corey exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air before heading offstage.

 

 

“I MADE it through!” Corey shouted into his cell phone.

On the other end of the line, Megan squealed delightedly. “I knew you’d make it! Now what?”

“Now it’s on to group competition, which will be Thursday.”

“You got a group picked out yet?”

“Sort of. Remember that guy from Kentucky? Jimmy. The one who’s brother was sick?”

“Uh, yeah, of course I remember.” Corey wondered if it was a tinge of guilt he was hearing in her voice. “What about him?”

“Well, he’s my roommate, and if he makes it through, we’re gonna be in group together.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Corey, be careful!”

“What do ya mean?”

“After what happened in Detroit, I wouldn’t trust him.”

Corey couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his best friend. “Jimmy didn’t do anything back in Detroit. If anyone should be leery, it should be him. We were the ones who knifed him in the back… and ya know what? I feel like shit about it. I’m just glad I had a chance to make it up to him.”

“Hold on a minute,” she said. “You didn’t do anything to that kid, and neither did I. We just did what we had to do to get you an audition.”

“I don’t know. He got an audition and made it through, and he didn’t have to lie about it.”

“Let’s not argue, okay? I’m just happy you made it through! All I’m asking is that you watch your back.”

“Thanks,” Corey said, “but I don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about, not with Jimmy. He’s a great guy, and he’d never betray me.”

“Did you call your mom yet?”

“I’m doing that next. I just stepped outside to call you. Then I’m going back in to watch some more of the competition.”

“Okay, baby. Good luck in group, and let me know. I can’t wait to tell everyone you made it through the first round.”

“Love you.”

“Love ya too, sugar.”

Corey ended the call and turned around, nearly crashing into Jimmy, who was suddenly standing behind him. “Oh,” Corey said, “how long have you been standing here?”

“Long enough,” he said. Jimmy reached out and placed his hand on Corey’s arm. “That was a nice thing you said about me.”

“Well, it was true.”

“But you didn’t tell her everything.”

“You mean about us? About us kissing?”

Jimmy just smiled.

“Megan’s got a big mouth. When I’m ready to tell the whole world about something, I just tell her. She doesn’t need to know every detail of my life.”

“Now you can relax,” Jimmy said. “For a day or two, anyway. It’s my turn to be nervous.”

“Well, if they liked me, they’re gonna love you,” Corey said.

And Corey was absolutely right. The judges did love Jimmy, and even Reuben was kind in his remarks. Though Reuben had previously made no bones about the fact that he didn’t particularly like country music, he couldn’t deny that Jimmy’s performance was spectacular.

It was when Tristan took the stage and began to sing that Corey held his breath. The kid definitely had a fantastic voice, but it was obvious he was extremely nervous. At one point during his performance, he faltered, and Corey feared it would be his demise.

Raymond immediately voted no. Tyler was undecided, and Krystal voted yes. The deciding vote went to Reuben. “Not the best song choice,” he said, “but you have the stage presence and the voice. I vote yes.”

The three of them had made it through! And it all happened on the first day. This was a cause for celebration. After sitting in the auditorium the entire day, the three boys left a bit early. They were all starving and took a cab to the Hard Rock Café.

It was after eight o’clock when they made it back to the hotel. Their spirits were high, and they were chattering nonstop, mostly about the competition, debating which song they’d choose for their group performance. As they walked into the lobby, Sam was at the front desk, and she had her suitcase.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Corey rushed up to her.

“I got called to sing today after all. They made it through about thirty of the contestants on the Day Two list. I didn’t make it through.” Her voice cracked, and tears formed in her eyes.

“Oh no,” Corey empathized, grabbing hold of her and hugging her tight. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”

She pulled back and shrugged, tossing her head to the side and flipping her hair from her face. “I guess it’s my own fault. I never really recovered from last night. I still don’t completely have my voice back.”

“It’s not really fair,” Corey complained. “All day long you weren’t even planning on singing.”

“I wasn’t even there for most of the day,” she said. “I happened to go back around four thirty and discovered they’d started calling from Day Two, so I had no choice but to hang around.”

“Can’t you stay here one more night?” Corey asked. “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

She shook her head. “I just wanna go. It’s too hard… seeing everyone that made it. I’d just rain on your parade.”

“Aw, no, you wouldn’t.”

“It’s too late now anyway. I already got my ticket. My plane leaves in three hours. But listen, you’ve got my number, and you don’t live that far from me. We’ll have to get together. I know you’re gonna go far in the competition, and I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks,” he said, feeling his own eyes well up with tears.

“And I’ll vote for you too, once you make it to Hollywood.”

“Do you know if Jeremy and Teri sang today?”

“No, Teri will be one of the first ones tomorrow morning, and I bet they’ll get to Jeremy by the end of the day.”

Sam’s departure was sobering. It was a stark reminder of how quickly everything could change. Of course, she wasn’t the only one that day to face defeat. More than half the contestants received the crushing news that their journeys had ended. Although Corey was ecstatic that he and Jimmy had made it through, he couldn’t help but feel sad about Sam.

When they got back upstairs, Tristan headed back to his room. He said he was going to take a shower and maybe a nap. Corey was kind of relieved. At last he’d have some time alone with Jimmy. Corey flopped down on his mattress as soon as they entered their room, and he let out a huge sigh. He felt an odd combination of exhilaration and sadness.

“I can’t believe Sam didn’t make it,” he said. “How disappointing.”

“I know, but we knew it could happen. Overall, we’re lucky. Both of us and Tristan all made it through….”

“You know every single one of us is in the same situation,” Corey said. “Every contestant wants to win. For most of us, it’s been a lifelong dream. The worst thing about Sam’s case is that she got voted off on the first day. There’ve been all these weeks of anticipation after the auditions in Detroit.”

“I know what you mean,” Jimmy said. He sat down on the bed beside Corey. “I’d lie in bed at night and listen to my own heart pounding in my chest. Then I’d close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to be up on that stage performing for the whole world.”

“And you know, we could be the next ones to go. Any one of us could be cut. In fact, most of us will be cut, and when I think about it that way, I’m scared shitless.”

Jimmy placed his hand on Corey’s chest. “No matter what, we’re in this together,” he said.

Corey stared directly into Jimmy’s eyes and nodded. “I’m so glad it was Sam and not you,” he whispered.

Jimmy leaned over him and they kissed.