I shook my head.
“Do you mind just answering a few questions or speaking with Connor for a little bit, then? Usually we like to have something shot the day of your audition,” she told me, smiling. “Plus, if you make it all the way to the end, maybe you’ll love having the footage of the start of your career. Discussions about how your journey to Superstardom began, your home life and backstory, that sort of thing.”
I almost laughed out loud. I hadn’t planned on watching any of the footage of me on this show, and that was before I idiotically trashed my mother during my audition. Nor did I believe for a second that I would be in the finale looking back on this day like a Hail Mary football pass.
But I was willing to do anything at that moment for an excuse not to go home without attempting to salvage the day.
I thought I needed air.
An escape.
I really needed a parachute. A chance to save myself from the jump I’d taken earlier when I spoke on camera for the first time. If I were going on camera a second time, I prayed I could redirect the way my comments landed.
I hoped Connor Graves would be willing to help me inflate my parachute and land safely.
He was laughing with a man holding a camera on his shoulder when I walked into the room. When they heard the door close behind me, their laughter abruptly ended, and they both turned to stare at me.
Connor recovered faster than the camera operator and approached me with a big smile across his face.
“Hi, Billie. Thank you so much for agreeing to chat with me. We didn’t really get a chance to speak with one another before you wowed the judges,” he smoothly told me before running a hand absently across his neck.
He seemed perfectly genuine and kind, except the glint in his eye when he looked at my tank top had me wishing I had a sanitary wipe.
I felt greasy.
“Danielle said she wanted me to talk to you about my backstory?” I asked meekly.
“That would be a great start. I know you talked a little about coming here alone during your audition. We can talk about that a bit more if you want, or we can discuss something else entirely.” His sympathetic smile and outstretched hand almost made me feel guilty for distrusting him so quickly.
“Um, I was hoping we could talk about my momma and best friend again, but maybe how they encouraged me to do things outside my comfort zone?”
“Sounds good to me,” Connor reassured. “Matt, you ready with the camera?”
“Yep, all good.”
“Okay, Billie, I’ll need you just to stand in front of the Superstardom banner and we’ll just have a casual chat, yeah?”
I nodded and moved into position.
The interview went quickly. I discussed the deals Zach and I made with each other every year. I mentioned how my momma was never afraid of anything. I praised how she moved to a small town as a single teenage mom and became one of the best sous-chefs in the state. I feared there weren’t enough good stories to prevent the words I’d said earlier from being on everyone’s mind, but I hoped that with each comment I expressed how much they meant to me. How I wouldn’t have been here without them. How the show had to present them in a positive light because I needed them in ways that were more important than just standing beside me while I sang to a panel of strangers.
I had no control over what the people in charge of the show would do with the footage. I had no idea if the questions Connor Graves slipped into our discussion about my love life were for his own curiosity or were being directed from some higher power whispering in his ear. Although I knew it didn’t matter, because my answers were all boring. I didn’t have any ex-boyfriends who would regret dumping me after they saw the show or a potential love interest who would profess their undying love after seeing me perform.
There was no secret love story for me.
I had friends and family. That was all.
Or at least I did.
Tell me
Zach
“Can we please stop talking about me and focus on the fact that you have practice and tryouts next month?” Billie pleaded. I gave her my you’ve-got-to-be-shitting-me look and examined the way she sat in the passenger seat of my truck, her feet tucked under her legs and her gaze shifting from me to the window. She was in total avoidance mode.
“You leave in three days to fly to Las Vegas to be one of the fifty contestants on Superstardom, yet you would prefer we talk about my high school basketball schedule?” I shook my head and turned onto the main street leading to our high school. “You’re crazy.”
“I hear Chelsea is going to keep cheering this year even though she’ll be seven months pregnant by the time the first game starts. I’m thinking about making her a sign. I’ve never made a sign, and I’m pretty sure I’m not a huge fan of glitter, but she might be my new idol. The girl totally gives zero f*cks about what people think of her.”
“B, don’t try and change the subject. You met Russell Conway, three-time CMA star of the year. You didn’t even tell me if Claudia ever revealed her last name or if Jax Bone is as obnoxious as his name sounds. Although the dude was photographed wearing leather pants to a Wholefoods at their last audition city, so it’s not like I really need you to clarify that.”
I laughed before pulling into the school’s parking lot, then turned and stared at Billie, knowing my green eyes, which always turned a shade darker when I got serious, would likely be almost black right now. “Besides telling me that they made you sing two songs before you were given the ticket and that you met some girl in the coliseum who you hope will make it to Vegas, it’s been nearly a month and I haven’t gotten all the details. We tell each other everything. I’m not stupid here. I know you left out some major details for a reason. If they were hard on you, you don’t need to be embarrassed. If they were raving about your voice like only sane people would and you’re trying to be modest, it isn’t necessary. This shouldn’t be like the time you lost my favorite leather jacket. You should be able to tell me things.”
I knew she heard my words—I saw her flinch—but she remained silent. I barely heard her whisper, “I just wanted to live normally for as long as possible before I leave.”
I sighed. I didn’t believe her, but after years of friendship, I could tell when pushing her would motivate a response and when it would cause her to dig in her heels. It seemed like this was a day for the latter, so I let go of my concerns and curiosity, accepted that she would tell me all about the show when she was ready, and embraced her change of topic. “You’re right about Chelsea. Our mothers totally love her more than both of us. They made me bring organic cookies to my last practice to give her. I even heard my momma call her and let her know that if her parents ever did what our moms’ parents did to them, she can choose whose house she stays at. I think they secretly wish they could adopt her.”
“I love you, Zachary James Montgomery,” Billie told me with relief and affection sparkling in her eyes, unaware that her casual words were like throwing stars digging into my chest.
“Don’t use the L-word, B. It’s weird.” I groaned and then chuckled, pretending I didn’t wonder what it would be like to hear those words spoken from her lips with a little more than friendship behind them.
When we exited my truck, I casually threw my arm over her shoulder as we walked a few yards toward the gymnasium. Finally she exhaled and shared the one thing I’d been waiting to hear since we’d worked out how long we would be separated for the competition. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do without your company for months.”
“That’s easy. You’ll sing, rehearse, and call me all the time to tell me about the annoying jerks you have to room with until they get voted off the show.”
“What if they’re all delightful?” She laughed.
“There’s only one winner at the end of Superstardom, B.” I scoffed. “At least in basketball you’ve got teammates on your side to help defend against the enemy. In your position, everyone is the enemy.”
> When she burst out laughing, I relaxed and forgot about the things I was always avoiding. When she sat in the stands to watch me practice like usual, pulling out her notebook to write down lyrics while the team ran drills, I could even fool myself into believing that it was all I ever wanted.
When we walked into Billie’s house, she was smiling wide. We had stopped discussing the singing competition and instead focused on talking about my upcoming tryouts. She thought after seeing the way I played today, there wasn’t a chance in hell I wouldn’t be made captain this year. I wasn’t so sure; there were a lot of other guys on the team with just as much talent and a few less blonde singing distractions on their minds.
“Billie? Zach?” Billie’s mom, Michelle, called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, we were just going to chill and watch some TV before studying. Watching Zach practice is exhausting work,” Billie called back, her eyes smiling up at me.
“Sit for a spell with me in the kitchen first.”
I saw Billie’s face drop, but she quickly recovered and put her usual smile on before waltzing into the kitchen without a care in the world.
Neither Billie’s nor my house was very big, only two bedrooms and one bathroom each. They wouldn’t be on those home shows any time soon unless someone was gutting every room and redecorating the damn things. They were both located on one of the busiest roads in the whole town, so the rent was cheap. Unlike at my house though, Billie’s mom had convinced the owners to remodel their kitchen with crisp white cabinets and porcelain countertops. After spending almost my entire childhood between our two houses, I knew Michelle always gravitated toward the kitchen when she was stressed or sad.
I hung back, letting Billie stride in to talk to her mom as I leaned against the doorframe. I could see that Michelle was chopping up carrots, still in her work clothes but looking like she’d just left a television talk show. Billie’s mom was always the best-looking mom I’d ever seen. Even without makeup, she looked like she was barely out of high school and about to walk a runway. If I hadn’t grown up around them, I would mistake them for sisters just like every stranger did.
There was only one difference between them, and that was that Billie’s hair was like sunshine while her mom’s was the color of chocolate. It was that one difference that made Billie unable to see how alike they were, or how pretty she really was. She never covered her entire face with makeup or lip gloss like the other girls in our grade, but in her mind, if her mother was beautiful, she was something else.
One day, I figured I’d try and explain to her how much better being something else made her. Although, from the sound of a clearly angry sous-chef chopping vegetables, I knew today wouldn’t be it.
“I got those letters in the mail this morning,” Michelle rigidly stated while she continued to chop carrots without looking at either of us.
Billie glanced at the stack of envelopes. I peeked around her to notice the bills and a flyer for the local gardener always begging to fix their lawn before I noticed the two letters separated from the pile. The first had our school emblem in the corner and the other the Superstardom logo.
Ah, sh*t.
“They were addressed to me,” Michelle informed Billie, still not looking up from her vigorous cutting. “I didn’t have a clue why a television show felt they needed to contact me, but apparently I needed to sign a release form if I wanted to join my daughter during the second stage of the audition process or request seats if she makes it through to the live voting—”
“Momma, I meant to tell you—” Billie tried explaining.
“You were going to tell me?” Michelle scoffed. “The school also sent me a note informing me of their approval of the leave I apparently requested and wished you luck in chasing your dreams.” After she finished talking, she put down the knife and looked directly at Billie. As far as either of them were concerned, I wasn’t there, just furniture in the background. The word disappointment didn’t need to fall from Michelle’s tongue; it swam in her blue eyes. The exact same eyes Billie had. Ones that never managed to conceal how they were feeling. The Bishop women’s curse.
“I’m sorry,” Billie whispered.
“You’re leaving on Thursday for Las Vegas, is that right?” she softy inquired.
“I was going to leave you a note. I wouldn’t have just vanished.”
“Ha. A note. Just like your father.”
“Not like my father. I’m coming back. I’ll likely only be gone for a few days. I’ll be back before Zach even has his first game of the season. I just need to see….”
“See what?”
“If I’m any good.”
“You have a beautiful voice. Everyone says that. Why you need strangers behind a desk to tell you is ludicrous. Why you need to give up parts of your final year at school to pursue some childish notion of fame is spitting on everything I’ve ever done to help you have a better start than I did.”
I wanted to interject. I wanted to tell Michelle the reasons why I encouraged Billie to audition. How uninterested she was with everything at school and how amazing she was when she sang. If there was a better way to make singing a career, I would have found it for her, but Michelle had to know that Superstardom was the best option.
But Billie was already telling her mother, “Now who’s being ludicrous? It’s a singing competition, Momma. It isn’t a show about how to live like a starving artist or give up all other possible future careers. The show doesn’t even film for twelve months.” I could hear the tears beginning to choke her up, even with her back to me.
“People will watch you on that show, Billie, and those people might twist your appearance or portray you as someone you aren’t. Future employers might see it and never want to hire you. The time you spend on that show might be just a blip in your life but have devastating effects. Do you know how many restaurants I had to beg to give me a chance? I had no qualifications outside working as a waitress and being the girl who stacked food at the supermarket late at night. I wanted better for you. I don’t want you to have to beg people to give you a chance.”
“I’m not begging. I’m singing. If you don’t like it, then when it comes on TV, don’t watch,” Billie choked out before she rushed out of the room and didn’t look back.
When Michelle looked at me standing there, defeat etched into every line of her usually perfect face, I muttered, “She needs to do this. Her microphone is just like your knife and my basketball. You take it away from her, you’ll be like all those restaurants who didn’t give you a chance.”
“Zachary, you couldn’t possibly understand. You’re both only eighteen—”
“I know I don’t know everything, but I know Billie. She needs this,” I softly replied before I turned and headed toward Billie’s bedroom.
When I entered, I found her curled up on her bed with tears silently falling down her cheeks. We had discussed keeping her Las Vegas plans from both our moms because we knew this was how Michelle would react. However, deep down I secretly hoped that once she found out about Billie making it to the Las Vegas auditions. She would be proud, impressed even, with how well she had done.
“She gave up her childhood for me. The least I can do is give up a silly competition,” Billie told me before she curled back up and went to sleep.
“You can’t give up Las Vegas. I won’t let you,” I murmured. “You aren’t risking your future career options, you’re expanding your horizons. She’ll get over it. I’ll make sure of it.”
Two days went by without Billie or her mom speaking. I kept visiting after school and basketball practice like I always did, hoping to encourage Michelle to say something positive about Billie leaving or at the very least prevent Billie from giving up.
“You should stop coming over until we’re back to normal,” Billie groaned before opening the kitchen fridge and passing me a can of Coke. “We eat breakfast together and she cooks dinner each night, but she isn’t saying anything. She just goes to her bedroom, closes the door
, and the house stays silent.”
“When you both went through that vegan stage, I still kept coming over, and the things you guys were eating were nasty. Silence I can deal with.” I smiled at her, encouraging her to smile back. Her face remained blank though, and I tried not to give in to the urge to shake her. “Plus, your fridge always has way more food than ours.”
“That’s because you eat it all and then come over here and eat ours,” Billie muttered before reaching for her own can of pop.
She had barely lifted her drink to her lips when her mom walked into the kitchen.
It was super awkward. They stared at each other. Billie tried to take a step forward and Michelle took a step backward. Their identical eyes both filled with sadness.
“Momma—” Billie attempted to reach out, and I reacted. I lifted Michelle’s favorite knife like I was holding the Olympic torch.
Michelle looked from Billie to the knife and then out the window before retreating into the living room.
Billie turned her head to me and rolled her eyes. “Why are you holding a knife?”
“You guys might have started to have a catfight. Every guy needs to be able to defend himself in situations like that.”
“You’re crazy.”
By the time we finished our drinks and I had eaten at least half of the snack-worthy contents of their fridge, we walked into the living room.
Standing in the middle of the room was Michelle’s favorite luggage set. I didn’t say anything to Billie, just walked forward, lifted the two plastic purple suitcases, and carried them to Billie’s bedroom. When Billie followed me, staring at the suitcases like they were rattlesnakes about to bite her, I told her firmly, “Start packing your stuff before she changes her mind.”
“I should check with her and make sure this is what she wants. Maybe she was just cleaning out the attic.”
Childish Dreams Page 4