by Lacey Black
Note to self: Contact the CIA and see about adding Brazilian wax to their list of techniques to make a man speak. Slap a little wax across their balls and I bet any man would sing like a canary.
As I wait to go back on stage, I’m not as nervous about my individual performance as much as I am my duet with Beau. I can belt out No Doubt with the best of them. It’s the romantic country-rock crossover ballad that I’ll be singing with my superstar coach this evening that has me all sorts of flustered.
I’m up first tonight for individual performance. As I wait for my cue beside the stage, I hear the clicking of heels behind me. I ignore her presence as much as I can. I refuse to let Shawna instigate me into a verbal sparring match right before I hit the stage.
Evidently, my ignoring doesn’t seem to faze Bitchy Barbie. “Break a leg,” she says sweetly, yet dripping with as much sarcasm as she can muster.
“Thanks,” I reply sweetly.
“Oh no, I mean really break a leg.” Blond Barbie struts away in her sky riser stilettos as I receive my cue to take the stage.
The lights are still low as I wait for my introduction. Even though I can’t see Beau sitting at the coach’s table, I can feel his presence. I know his eyes are glued to me, running up the length of my body from my black heels to my wildly teased hair. Goose bumps pepper my skin at the thought of him watching me, but not being able to see him in return. It’s exhilarating and intoxicating all at the same time.
Finally, Becker speaks the words I’ve been waiting for. The house band begins the opening notes of No Doubt’s “Spiderwebs” as I bring the microphone up to my mouth. “You think that we connect, that the chemistry’s correct, your words walk right through my ears, presuming I like what I hear…”
The beat is up-tempo, the words quick off my tongue, and the stage calls me as I move with each line I hastily deliver.
“Sorry I’m not home right now, I’m walking into spiderwebs, so leave a message and I’ll call you back. A likely story, but leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
Two minutes later, my performance is ending. As I have for each week before, I wait for Becker to join me center stage. The applause is almost deafening, the smiles on the faces of the coaches–especially Beau–beaming. “Layne, let’s hear from some coaches. JoJo?”
“Wow, Layne. We’ve seen you rock the house. We’ve seen you cross over to the dark side and step into some country music.” JoJo gives Beau a bright smile. “We’ve even seen you tackle something a bit on the bluesy side. And tonight, you showed just how versatile you are as a singer and as a performer, by leading with that song. You nailed it, sister. ” The audience applauds again as her words soak in. What an amazing compliment from such an acclaimed artist.
“Felix?”
“Girl, you are the Rising Star.” His words steal my ability to breathe. I try to suck in air, but for some foreign reason, I’m unsuccessful. “Gwen Stefani is an icon. She has one of the most unique voices in music. It’s edgy and rocker-chick, and you stepped up to the plate and knocked it out of the freaking park. Hell, out of the state,” he adds.
After the applause dies back down, Becker turns to Beau. “Beau, she’s your girl. What did you think of tonights performance?” The way Becker said “your girl” didn’t go unnoticed by me or by Beau if the way his eyebrow raised and that half cocky grin strikes beneath his Stetson, is any indication.
“Ya know,” Beau starts, but seems to stumble on his words. “I thank my lucky stars every day that she picked me. I feel like I’m on the ride of my life right now, and the best part is, I know this is only the beginning for her.”
As Beau speaks those words, I get the distinct feeling that he isn’t entirely talking about my performance on the show. Tingles of awareness and exhilaration ripple through me at his implication. This is only the beginning of my music career, sure, but it’s also the beginning of something more. Something deeper. Something real. And that is the greatest praise I could ever receive.
“Layne, this has been a busy week for Team Beau. Last weekend you went to Denver with your coach and performed on stage. How was the experience?” Becker asks.
“Eye opening, to say the least. To feel that energy, that excitement was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I am honored to share the stage with such a dynamic performer.” The massive room erupts into applause at my mention of their beloved cowboy.
“Layne, since I have you here, the rumors are flying rampant this past week following your performance and stay with Beau. What would you say in response to those rumors?”
“That they’re just that–rumors. Any relationship made on this show has been professional and moral.”
“Thank you, Layne Carter. If you’d like to see Layne in the final three, be sure to cast your vote when the polling period begins. Up next, a duet between Ben Atwood and Beau Tanner.” And when the spotlights fade, I’m finally free to step off stage.
Later in the show, I walk out onto the riser on the stage and await my cue. After performing my song earlier in the show for votes, this piece is purely for entertainment. No votes will be cast. No comments will be made. Just Beau and I performing together on stage. Again.
The familiar melody of Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson’s “Don’t You Wanna Stay” fills the auditorium. I’m positioned above Beau on a riser on the opposite side of the stage. The choreography has us singing apart, yet slowly working our way towards each other until we meet in the middle of the stage.
“I really hate to let this moment go, touching your skin and your hair fallin’ slow. When a goodbye kiss feels like this…”
My mind is flooded with memories of kisses shared with Beau. The janitor closet, the hotel room, backstage in his dressing room. All of those kisses come flooding back in bright, Technicolor. Each one better than the last.
“Let’s take it slow, I don’t wanna move too fast. I don’t wanna just make love, I wanna make love last. When you’re up this high, it’s a sad goodbye…”
My feet are moving down the steps of the riser on their own accord. It’s as if they know, that with each step they take, they’re heading towards Beau. Like some invisible, cosmic pull, we move in unison towards one another. Our eyes locked and unable to look away, we get closer and closer to the other as we sing the song we’ve rehearsed only a handful of times.
“Don’t you wanna stay here a little while? Don’t you wanna hold each other tight? Don’t you wanna fall asleep with me tonight? Don’t you wanna stay here a little while? We could make forever feel this way. Don’t you wanna stay?”
As if I didn’t feel those words reaching into my soul, I sure feel their power when Beau reaches out with his left hand and caresses my cheek. It’s a sweet, seductive, and possessive gesture that leaves me breathless and slightly off-kilter. Thank God we’re reaching the end of the song, because I’m not sure how much more of his touch I’d be able to handle in front of millions. There’s no way to appear unaffected when my entire world is spinning out of control. I long to throw caution to the wind, step into his arms, and kiss his lips. Television show be damned.
But before I can act on the desire, the song ends and the spotlights fade. When the main lighting comes back up, Beau and I are still staring at one another, transfixed on the person standing mere inches away. His hand drops and shifts possessively onto my lower back as we turn and wave to the crowd. My smile feels forced as I politely acknowledge the throng of people, wishing they would all just disappear and transport Beau and I back into our own little cocoon of togetherness. Where cameras, stages, and fans screaming our names don’t exist.
Beau and I head backstage as Becker introduces the final performance of the night. Shawna takes the stage, but my attention is anywhere but on her. In fact, the only place my attention is focused is on the man holding my hand, leading me towards one of the back hallways. As soon as we round the corner, I’m engulfed in his arms and pulled tightly against his chest. His cologne mixes with a hint of sw
eat as he runs his hands down my back to rest at the place where my back meets my ass.
When he shifts and looks at me with those needy gray eyes, he whispers, “Not kissing you out there was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
I start to lean into his body to claim the kiss he was insinuating, when a shadow falls on the hallway floor. Instantly, my mind remembers where we are. I jump back, disentangling our bodies from one another, a fraction of a second before the camera turns the corner and is positioned right in front of us. I can only pray that my guilt and embarrassment isn’t written all over my heavily make-upped face.
Beau seems to recover quickly as well. “Great job tonight, Layne. I hope the votes come through in your favor.” He offers me a wide, friendly smile and heads back the way we came, the camera hot on his heels.
I wait a few seconds before following in his black-leathered boot wake. I catch Beau chatting with the other contestant remaining on his team: Ben.
Last Sunday night, I had to slide on my big girl panties and have the painfully awkward conversation with Ben that has been needed for several weeks. Telling him that there was absolutely no chance for anything to happen between us seemed to dim the light in his eyes. I needed him to understand that I wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship from him. He said he understood but the look of hurt in his eyes still ripped at my guts. We parted with an awkward hug, and haven’t had anymore exchanges since.
Even though Beau looks calm and friendly as he chats with Ben, I know the storm is brewing within him. Not only is he not a fan of Ben’s, but if the way his back is ramrod straight is any indication, I’d say Beau is annoyed. Frustrated, maybe.
Huh. Maybe he’s sexually frustrated like me.
A girl could only hope, right?
Note to self: See what’s left in the liquor cabinet to help relieve this sexual frustration.
*****
“Mine.”
That one word threads through my mind in a flood of raw need and hunger. His hands lift my shirt, exposing the lace bra underneath. His fingers are calloused and warm against my oversensitive nipples, pushing against the coarse material.
Desire pools deep in my belly, consuming me like a raging wildfire.
His mouth sucks greedily at one of my nipples through my bra. With each swipe of his masterful tongue, I’m pushed closer and closer to the edge of nirvana. As he slowly moves the restraining material aside, steel gray eyes lock on me, devouring me as if I were a Thanksgiving Day feast.
The feel of his tongue against bare flesh causes a deep moan to rip from my body. He laps and sucks at one, then my second exposed breast. I wriggle against his engorged cock, my body seemingly completely out of my own control.
Slowly, his hand slides down my stomach. His eyes remain locked on mine as his hand pushes past the waist of my pants and finds damn wet lace. He closes his eyes and groans a possessive, strangled cry. His fingers move past the thin material of my hopeless panties and meet smooth, bare skin.
His eyes slam into mine once more as his fingers flex against my wet, swollen flesh.
“Mine.”
I startle awake once more with my fingers pressed firmly against my core. My body calls to Beau as I reach orgasm without even fully waking. And that’s okay. I long for my dreams. Dreams where it’s okay to be with Beau.
Dreams where he can be mine.
Note to self: Sometimes justice is best served cold.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have our final elimination before next week’s big finale show. Four contestants stand beside me on this stage, but at the end of the show, only three will remain. Who will move on? Ben Atwood from Team Beau? Shawna Reece from Team Sophia? Layne Carter from Team Beau? Or Jamal Jefferson from Team Felix? Tonight we find out which three move on and which one goes home brokenhearted.” Becker smiles a blindingly white grin at the camera before the light on the camera turns off, signaling we’re off air.
The four remaining contestants are ushered backstage and into the green room. This place has practically become our second home, after the studio in which we practice day in and day out. However, steadily over the last several weeks, the quantity of room occupants has shrunk considerably.
Tonight’s show is a star-studded affair. Blake Shelton, One Direction, and last season’s big winner, Shay Douglas, will all light up the Rising Star stage throughout the course of the show. I’m secretly hoping to catch a few minutes with Shay so that I can tell her how much I enjoy her music. She doesn’t sing my usual style, but I can appreciate her pop music. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t danced around the bar after it closes to her latest single, “Just You Wait.” Doc MZ has a thing for the leggy brunette, and feels the need to blare her music as much as he can.
The hour long reveal show actually flies by. Before I know it, I’m standing on the stage next to Shawna. Jamal and Ben were both declared safe for next week’s finale earlier in the show. It’s seems like some sort of cosmic déjà vu that I’m standing beside the one woman I went against in the very first week, and won.
Now as I stand beside Shawna in her beautiful red and gold dress with her red cowboy boots and perfect blond hair, I realize I’m just as nervous now as I was that very first week. Except now I feel like there’s more riding on this announcement. I’ve vested weeks of time, sweat, and even tears into this show, and I’m so close. So very close to the end.
So close to winning.
“It’s time to find out who moves on and who goes home. Layne, Shawna. Only one of you will be moving to the finale next week to compete to be the next Rising Star. And it’s time to find out who.”
Becker has the dramatic pause down pat as he takes his sweet-ass time removing an envelope from his suit pocket. I want to throw my arms in the air and scream at him to get on with it. You know, fling myself down on the ground and flail my arms around like one of Eli’s temper tantrums. I’m sure America would love to witness that moment of glory.
Becker makes a big show of tearing it open and pulling out the enclosed card. I don’t watch what he does from this point on because my eyes move on their own accord and focus on the steel pair across the stage. Beau’s eyes are fixed on me, gazing intently and offering me every bit of confidence and encouragement that he can. Shy of standing up, walking up on the stage, and taking me in his arms, I feel his comfort and support as we wait for my fate to be revealed.
“Layne, Shawna. It was an epic battle in the first round where Layne emerged the victor, as chosen by Beau Tanner.” I hear Shawna growl beside me, but I keep my eyes fixed on the pair that is grounding and calming me. “Tonight, the decision is based upon fan votes. The woman moving on to the final round is…”
I suck in a deep breath, my eyes glued to my favorite cowboy, and wait.
“Layne Carter.”
*****
I have no clue what time it is when I finally make it back to my hotel room. Following the show, Ben, Jamal, and I had to pose for dozens of promotional photos that will be used over the next several days. After several group shots on stage, we then each posed with our respective coaches. Having Beau stand so close to me and not be able to touch him the way I wanted to, was torture. It didn’t help that during one round of photos, Beau wrapped his hand around my side and pulled me snuggly into his hard chest. I just pray that the pictures don’t show the primal reaction with which my body responded to him.
I wish I could say Shawna left respectfully and with dignity. But if I know anything about Shawna Reece, it’s that she lacks the ability to think rationally and behave appropriately. Lord knows she’s shown her ass more times than I’d like to have seen over the course of this show. Fire practically shot from her ears when my name was announced as victor. She glared at me with such intensity, I should have dropped dead right there in the middle of the stage from the voodoo eye-death she dealt me.
Of course, it didn’t help that she was practically shooed to the corner so that the crowd could get their first g
limpse of the final three. The cameras were thrust in my face and the questions from Becker flew, all to catch my initial reaction to his big announcement. It was almost completely overwhelming. I started to feel panicky until I looked up and caught Beau’s reaction. He was standing up and clapping his hands, all while gazing hungrily up at me from beneath that sexy Stetson. When I caught sight of his excited look, laced with concern for me, I started to calm down. The cameras and the voices all faded away until I was able to focus on one thing at a time: namely Becker’s questions.
Following the show, everyone within a two-block radius of the studio heard Shawna’s dramatic exit. She threw profanity-laced insults and bogus accusations at me, claiming once again that I was sleeping my way through the show. But this time, she started throwing around network names including Jackson Zimmerman. Her allegations included terms like “lawsuit” and “lawyers” and “daddy” throughout her rage-induced eruption. But when the powers that be themselves arrived at the stage, she quickly shut her mouth. Even Shawna must have realized that running her mouth was going to get her nothing but the door against her ass on her way out.
After the necessary photos and a handful of television and radio network interviews, we were finally ushered towards an awaiting car. Adrenaline had run its course as we slowly made our way towards the hotel. Exhaustion had set in and the excitement of the live reveal had left us each wrung out and drained.