“Come on Kurt, you’re up.” A man motioned for me to walk out onto the stage.
Here we go. America’s Top Talent. One song can change everything.
I stepped out into the light with my guitar over my shoulder and heard the crowd cheer. They weren’t really cheering for me—not yet, at least. They were just cheering because a new contestant was making their way out. I had made it through the preliminary stage of the talent competition with a Beatles cover, but that wasn’t going to be enough to win it. I had watched the show enough to know that the only way to get the finals was with an original song. I had one ready and I hoped it would be enough to dazzle the judges.
“Your heart, your fucking heart—it makes me bleed!” I belted out the opening line and instantly realized my mistake. “No wait, hold on!”
It was too late. The judges were already voting me off. I had just said fuck on live television. It was the original line of the song, but not the one I rehearsed. I was supposed to say freaking, not fucking. My microphone was cut before I could even try to explain and then I was escorted off stage. They didn’t even escort me to the dressing room. I was escorted straight to the exit and a few minutes later, another member of the security team walked to the door and tossed my duffel bag on the ground beside me. The door slammed and my my opportunity was over.
“Fuck! Why did I say fuck?” I ran up to the wall and slammed the side of my fist into it.
I returned home to the small mountain town of Blue Ridge with my head hung in shame. Everyone I knew was watching that show. The mayor had hung a banner for me in the middle of town after I qualified for the show. He even set up a booth for tourists to get their pictures taken with a cardboard cutout of me holding my guitar. Blue Ridge was a tourist trap, so it got a lot of traffic. I had never known depression like I felt when I stepped off that bus and realized I was going to be stuck in Blue Ridge forever. The show was my ticket out.
“I’m sorry, honey.” My mother walked up and wrapped her arms around me. “Come on, let’s go home.”
“Dad didn’t come?” I looked towards the car when we approached.
“No, he—well.” She sighed.
“He’s ashamed of me.” I shook my head and tossed my guitar in the backseat.
“I would say he’s ashamed—it was just unexpected.” She sighed again. “The guitar part sounded good.”
“Thanks...” I turned towards the window and stared as my mother drove me home.
I quickly became the laughing stock of Blue Ridge. Someone created a video of my performance and the deer in the headlights look I had on my face after I said fuck. They edited it to make me look as awful as possible, and of course—it went viral. People mocked me by asking for an autograph or playing the video when I walked by. Even my girlfriend dumped me. I had gone from budding rock star to social outcast. My high school graduation couldn’t come soon enough, and although I couldn’t really afford to leave Blue Ridge, I did so anyway.
I’d rather sleep in my car than deal with anymore of this shit.
I started over in New York City where it was easy to blend into the crowd. I grew my hair longer, dyed it black instead of blond, and started waiting tables at a restaurant. It wasn’t the rock star life I wanted, but it was better than the stardom I ended up with. I even started going by my middle name, Mark, just to further distance myself from the stigma my first name had. Kurt Dawson would always be the kid that said fuck on television. He would always be the guy that became a YouTube meme. I just wanted to forget it and live my life in the cold misery I had created for myself.
PRESENT DAY
“You’re Kurt Dawson, aren’t you?” The man at one of the tables I was waiting looked up when I approached.
“No.” I felt every muscle in my body tense up as I shook my head. “My name is Mark.”
“Relax, I’m not here because I want to harass you about your past.” He waved a hand at me. “I’d like to talk with you about something—an opportunity, perhaps? When do you get off work?”
“I’m not doing an interview and I’m sure as hell not doing one of those Where Are They Now segments.” I clicked my pen. “But if you’d like to order some food, welcome to Olive Ranch.”
“Like I said, I’m not here to harass you about your past. This is about something else. I promise it’ll be worth your time.” He picked up the menu and scanned it. “I’ll even give you a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wait, what?” My eyes got so wide they nearly bulged out of my head.
“My name is Ethan Prince—you’ve probably seen my name on the big building downtown.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “PrinceSoft?”
“Yeah, I know who you are. Well, I mean—I know your name.” I nodded and stared at the card.
“I’ll have the spaghetti.” He put the menu down and smiled.
I knew about PrinceSoft. Their name was on several of the dating apps I used to get through the lonely nights. I had even tried their premier one—Soulmate. It was a complete disappointment. As it turned out, that was the app Ethan Prince wanted to talk to me about. He said I did have a soulmate and she was right there in New York City. The hundred thousand dollars he mentioned was mine if I agreed to meet her. After living in poverty for long, I would have done about anything for that kind of money, so I quickly agreed to sign the contract. I had no idea if I would like the girl that was my supposed soulmate, but I would sure like spending Ethan Prince’s money.
“WHAT ABOUT YOU, KID? What’s your story?” Boyd looked over at me and tapped a cigarette out of his pack.
“I’m a waiter.” I shrugged and looked around the group. “I tried the app and didn’t get a match.”
Violet was stuck in Madison Grove with Gary due to a storm so the rest of us, minus Ethan, were just killing time on the back patio. I appeared to be one of the youngest guys there, and I felt out of place between a gigantic mechanic named Boyd and a former cage fighter named Miguel. They made me feel like a small child with their bulging muscles and rugged looks. If that wasn’t bad enough, the two guys across from me were twins that looked like they were cut out of a Calvin Klein magazine and photocopied.