The theme song for the show plays and Viola steps out on the stage with her mic. If I had never met her before I might look at her and find her attractive, but she’s a fake bitch and nothing like Peyton. Maybe I was hoping to escape my feelings for her by dating someone like Viola. What a fucking mistake that was.
Rebecca Martinez is up first. A nineteen-year-old waitress from Portland. Her intro plays on the big screen. She grew up in foster care, she’s diabetic, and loves giving back by volunteering at her local animal rescue. Walking out onto the stage she’s bubbly and cute in her pink dress and white heels though she kind of remind me of Little Bo Peep in her get up. Whoever dressed her was hoping to play on her youth, but it doesn’t work. The music to God Bless The Broken Road starts to play. Her voice is soulful for someone her age.
Next is Hunter Calloway. A thirty-year-old single father of two who loves Jesus and his little girls. He’s on the heavyset side but he’s a seasoned singer who has made his name known locally singing in bars and at events. I remember hearing him one weekend when I went to a festival with my Aunt and Uncle. He’s damn good. I don’t remember seeing his audition tape. He just might be the man to beat.
Four more contestants sing, and they are mediocre at best and could really use the one on one time they are going to get with their mentor. J.J. Reese is twenty-five and grew up in Texas on his grandfather’s cattle ranch. He’s got the looks and the talent to go far. I can see him landing a record deal whether he is successful on the show or not.
They saved the best for last. Peyton. Her tape plays. They filmed her walking around the streets of Nashville in a pair of Daisy fucking Duke shorts that should be illegal with how they hug her ass. I try to remain calm and not show any reaction to her but it’s damn hard. I love her. “When I was seventeen, I was in a bad car accident that nearly took my life. I was thrown through the windshield when my boyfriend struck a telephone pole. I was down and out for a while but now I’m back and ready to take on the world.” Her infectious smile lights up the screen as they closeup on her face. The lights turn down low and Peyton takes to a stool that is setup on the stage with a guitar. She’s singing an Allison Krauss and Union Station song, Let me Touch You For A While.
Her voice washes over me and soothes places in me I never knew ached until now. Chill bumps pimple across my arms and down my spine. Her vocal caress me and everyone in the room. “It’s been…let me touch...” She looks up at me on the word you and it takes every ounce of control I have to stay in my seat and not rush the stage and kiss her full lips.
She can say she doesn’t love me but that song just now the way she was singing right at me, I know she is only lying to herself. My
Fancy can’t hide from me. She never could. After her performance the other contestants join her on the stage and each judge spends a moment giving their pitch. Each of us telling what we can do for them. The order they get to pick their mentor in is based on who scored the highest. Peyton was first place and Hunter placed second with J.J. in third.
The spotlight shines on Peyton. “Mr. Cyrus, I have been a huge fan all my life. My Nan plays you every Sunday while she cooks. Gwen, I hear you on the radio all the time and think I’d love to do lunch or a girls day with you, but I’m not a pop singer. I love alternative rock and know in my heart that Jameson Lewis is the man for me.” When I smile at her she looks away to Viola and hands her the microphone back. Gwen and Jace end up with three contestants each, and I have Peyton and this kid who is fifteen named Kyle Mertzer. He has potential, and I look forward to seeing what I can teach him. My focus may be on winning Peyton back, but I still have a job to do.
Taping ends and we are all loaded up into two limos and taken back to the house for dinner. Tomorrow we will be filming in the recording studio.
The mentors are served in a separate dining room tonight. Viola is nowhere to be seen. I heard someone say she was feeling sick. It might make me an asshole, but I hope it is something that takes her from the show.
**
Everyone exits the studio, leaving Peyton and me alone in this room with a soundman and camera guy. “Well, are you ready to get started?” I ask her as I take a seat on the couch.
She clenches her jaw, giving me a jerky nod and comes to sit down, pulling a notebook out of her bag. “I know the show wants to do covers and you’re to help with tuning my voice and all that, but I don’t want to do that. I want to sing my own songs.”
I don’t blame her one bit. Who says we have to play by the rules? Sure, they gave us the set list, but they don’t need to know what’s happening until it does. We’ll deal with them after.
“Sounds good to me. I’ve never been much on rules.” I wink at her and she rolls her eyes. “Let’s see what you have.” I grab the notebook out of her hand and look it over. “We’ll start without music. Show me what you got. I’ll give the song you choose to the band when we finish up, and we’ll work on it tomorrow before dress rehearsals.” As I read over her lyrics my gut tightens. Pain squeezes in my chest. Are all these songs about me? About the pain I inflicted on her?
I wanted to love you
Stolen kisses
Playground memories
All you were though was child’s play
Nothing more
Nothing less
And yet your face haunts me
I wanted to love you
To taste your lips
Feel your fingers bruise my hips
My first
My last
Stolen kisses
Playground memories