by Jeff Erno
“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.”
Chapter 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.”
“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 ev
ent 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.”