Rock Idol (Reality With a Twist Series) (3 page)

For
some reason, Rick looked paler and more ill than he had when Mitch had berated
him, so Ember decided to throw in a bit of encouragement. She smiled warmly and
added, “I believe you can do it.”

Instantly
Rick’s smile returned full force. “Thank you, Ember,” he shouted. “Next week
I’ll show you all what I can do!”

Jonathan
King took control of the stage again. “Thank you, Rick, you can exit this way. America, if
you’d like to vote for Rick, call or text the number at the bottom of the
screen as soon as our show ends this evening.”

Week Two

“Ember!
Ember!”

Ember
twisted about to see Rick Rogers hurrying toward her from way down the hallway.
He had shockingly good looks: blonde hair hanging down just far enough to
almost cover his clear blue eyes; a lean hard body which probably resulted more
from good genetics than from workouts in the gymnasium; and of course, that
dashing smile that seemed to infuriate Mitch Daniels so much.

“Ember!”
Rick called out one more time before coming to a stop in front of her.

“I
thought you were supposed to be rehearsing in the studio,” she said.

He
smiled sheepishly. “I’m on break. With the show tonight they aren’t working us
as hard as they did the rest of the week.”

Somehow,
Ember doubted that. The singing coaches would be pushing their talent harder
than ever to make certain their baby wasn’t the one who got cut this week. Rick’s
coach would be more worried than most, because even though America’s votes
had kept Rick out of the bottom three, he really hadn’t given a very impressive
performance last week. The kindest thing she could do for this young man was
get him back to practicing—that and give him some fashion advice. That shirt
with the horizontal stripes looked like something a ten year old should wear.

“What
can I do for you?” Ember asked.

Rick
smiled again. Whatever else you could say about his comments, Mitch was right
about Rick’s smile. It was dangerous and probably explained more than any other
factor why this young man was still on the show. “I, um, just wanted to thank
you for what you said to me last week. After Mitch got through with me, I was
almost ready to hitchhike back to New
York City, and Fawn…well, I don’t really understand
what Fawn said. But you really encouraged me and well, every time it’s gotten
difficult this week I’ve remembered you saying:
I believe you can do it!
”

Rick’s
comments genuinely touched her.
 
“It is
so sweet of you to tell me this. I meant every word.” She hadn’t at the time,
but it would be cruel to tell him that now. Besides, she knew from her own
career that sometimes the strongest encouragements appeared unexpectedly. The
path to fame was often dark and arduous. She decided to try and give Rick’s
spirits a little more of a boost. “You have it in you to be phenomenal
tonight.”

“Yeah,
I really hope I do,” he said.

“Now
you’re not sounding so confidant anymore,” Ember told him. “You listen to me! I
was facing live crowds ten times this big when I was younger than you, so I
know what I’m talking about here. When the lights go up tonight, and you start
to feel nervous, you look at
me!
And you know what you’ll see? You’ll
see me smiling at you. And you know why?”

“Why,
Ember?” He looked so nervous, like the thought of going out on that stage again
was starting to seem unbearable.

“Because
I
still
believe in you!”

Impulsively,
she gave him a slight peck on the cheek. His skin was warm beneath her lips—not
feverish, just pleasantly warm. “Now go out there tonight and make us all proud
of you!”

With
his smile lighting up the hallway, Rick turned and walked away.

Ember
turned back around and found Fawn looking at her, a mischievous smile on her face.
“Didn’t Fox warn us about kissing the contestants?”
 

“He’s
a sweet kid,” Ember told her.

“Yes,
he is!” Fawn agreed. “And he’s got a great ass too!”

Instinctively,
Ember followed Fawn’s gaze to Rick’s body just before the young singer turned
the corner of the hallway. It was a great ass—tight and firm and just begging
to be squeezed and fondled.

Then
she remembered it was Fawn who had said it. She pivoted to examine her friend.
There was something off about her smile. It was just a little bit goofy. Could
she be high?

“I
bet you’d like him to kiss you back,” Fawn mused.

“Who
wouldn’t?” Ember asked her as the two started down the hallway after Rick.

She
imagined what that would be like for a moment, Rick Rogers taking her into his
young strong arms and looking down into her face with that awesome smile. Then
his lips would dip towards her and…

“I
sure as hell wouldn’t mind,” Fawn muttered beneath her breath.

Ember
shook herself out of her little daydream to look again at her friend.
 
Fawn had a wistful little smile on her face
that probably wasn’t all that different than the one Ember wore herself.

Oh
well, there was nothing wrong with dreaming, was there?

Mitch
took his turn at the microphone. “Zach, I’d like to tell you that was
absolutely awful, but it just wouldn’t be honest.”

Zach
started to smile, but something in Mitch’s eyes must have warned him off and
the smile faltered.

“Because
you made
awful
look good this week. I truly don’t understand what Fawn
and Ember see in you.”

The
Zach Donderhue fans in the audience groaned.

Mitch
was undeterred. “This is a professional competition, Zach! And if this is your
A-Game, you’re not going to be here very much longer. You’re not singing church
songs or old Sinatra hits. This is
Rock Idol
and you’ve got to put some
muscle into your lyrics.”

“It
wasn’t all that bad, Mitch,” Fawn protested.

“Yes,
it was!” Mitch insisted.

Jonathan
King ushered Zach off the stage with the usual spiel to vote for him by calling
or texting the number on the screen.

Mitch
took the time to look over his shoulder at the audience. “Who’s next again?”

Fawn
glanced at her notes. “Rick Rogers.”

Mitch
groaned and shut his microphone off. “They ought to let us drink out here if
they’re going to make us listen to clowns like Rick Rogers. I mean, is that a
real name? And if it isn’t, who’s he trying to make us think of, Roy or
Ginger?”

“It’s
still not as bad as Donderhue,” Fawn observed.

“That’s
not saying a whole lot, Gladys,” Mitch retorted.

“Shush,”
Ember whispered. “He’s coming out.”

“I
can’t see why he’d do that on stage when a Facebook posting would serve just as
well,” Mitch muttered. Ember had to squelch a grin at Mitch’s remark, but Fawn
just looked confused.

The
spotlight caught Rick in the center of the stage standing nervously in hot
leather pants and a dorky striped shirt. Not that
dorky
was a word Ember
wanted to use anymore. It was so old it was past passé, but unfortunately it
perfectly described Rick’s upper outfit. Who in wardrobe would let him be seen
in public in such a thing? And why on earth were they still working for Fox
Atwood?

Rick
looked around as the music came up and for just a moment, Ember thought he was
going to give in to his panic. Then his eyes met hers and she remembered to
smile her encouragement.

Rick
smiled back, brightening the whole stage. He didn’t look away from Ember as his
foot began to find the rhythm and his body eased into the mood. He sang the
whole song—beginning to end—without once glancing away from Ember’s face.

“Rick
Rogers, America!”
Jonathan King proclaimed as the young blonde man took a second bow to the
cheers of the audience.

When
he straightened again, Rick’s face had flushed with excitement, giving a rosy
hue to his otherwise pale cheeks. His eyes gleamed and his smile continued to
light up the stage around him. He looked incredible. If not for the stupid
striped shirt, he’d be halfway to mastering the look and gravitas of the
Rock
Idol
mantle.

King
started his post act mini-interview. “Rick, you got off on the wrong foot last
week. How do you feel about tonight’s performance?”

“I
feel incredible!” Rick shouted, throwing one fist up into the air in symbol of
victory. “I really wanted to get my heart into the music and show America what I can do and well, I guess it’s up
to America
to decide, but I feel I hit it one hundred percent.”

“That’s
wonderful,” King told him, “but let’s see if our judges caught your enthusiasm.
Mitch?”

“Well,
I’m not as excited as Rick is,” Mitch announced. His short salt and pepper
haircut made him look especially severe. “While there’s some definite
improvement here, you started out at such a low level last week that that was
almost inevitable.”

Several
young women in the audience began to boo, which made Fawn smile at Ember and
wink.

“Now
I’ve been in this business a lot of years,” Mitch reminded everyone, “and I’m
just calling them the way I see them. Your performance this week probably
elevates you to the bottom level of talent in this competition, but in my
opinion you’re still relying on your smile and your baby blues. I mean, you
aren’t even dressing well. That’s a heavy load for a couple of eyes and a
dimple.”

The
audience began booing again and Fawn took her turn at the microphone. “Mitch is
right in saying your performance is far better this week. You touched something
in yourself that let you touch something in all of us as well.”

She
stopped talking and looked at Ember.

Jonathan
King was caught flat-footed by the short speech. “Thank you, Fawn. What did our
final judge think?”

Ember
smiled as the camera came in for a close up. “Fawn is right, Rick. This is a
whole new level of performance for you. The sort of singing that got you into
this competition. Last week you weren’t certain you wanted to be here. This
week you’ve begun to take ownership of the stage. You’re still hitting a few
notes off-key, but this was an encouraging step forward. If there’s one piece
of stagecraft you should keep in mind next week, I’d suggest that it’s
remembering to sing to the whole audience, not just the judges’ table.” She’d
save the observation about his terrible shirt until she could make it in
private. There was no need to embarrass him.

The
audience cheered wildly at her comments.

She’d
be very surprised if Rick went home this week.

Week Three

“Fawn?
Are you in here?” Ember asked as she opened the door to her friend’s dressing
room.

A
confusion of sounds greeted her ear and what might be a chair falling over.

“Fawn?”
Ember called out with greater volume and more urgency. She let the door swing
closed behind her as she hurried inside. Someone had pulled a rack of dresses
into the middle of the room so she couldn’t see Fawn’s dressing table.