Choosing America's Next Superstar (8 page)

“It don’t matter. Just don’t be callin’ me cute.”

“Okay. No problem. I’ll never say you’re cute again. Even though you are.” He unzipped his suitcase and began throwing his clothes onto the bed. “And if you were asking if I was saying I’m gay, yes! That’s exactly what I was saying.”

“Oh,” Jimmy said, staring at Corey intently.

“Are you?” Corey turned to him, looking him in the eye.

“That’s none of your business.” He folded his arms defiantly across his chest.

Corey turned back around, sorting out his clothes and smiling to himself.

J
IMMY
was locked inside the bathroom, leaning against the door. What were the odds he’d end up assigned to the same room as that kid from Michigan? As if it weren’t bad enough that Corey had manipulated and used him back in Detroit, now here they were sharing the same room, and the guy was making fun of him.

Jimmy really wanted to stay mad at him. He had every right, but it didn’t help that Corey was strutting around the room in his birthday suit. Jimmy’s heart was pounding in his chest, but it was something other than anger he was feeling. And his heart wasn’t the only thing that was pulsing. He had a wicked hard-on straining against the tight denim fabric of his jeans.

He didn’t want to trust the guy, and he definitely wasn’t ready to acknowledge that he liked him. But Jimmy couldn’t deny that Corey had apologized—twice now—and he’d helped Jimmy back at the airport when he was about to be trampled. It was weird how he’d been so confident, coming right out and admitting he was gay.

Part of Jimmy wanted to go back and tell Corey the truth about himself. He wanted to be brave enough to just be honest about who he was. He wasn’t sure if the guy was really trustworthy, though. It could be another trick. Corey could just be trying to get Jimmy to confess something personal about himself—like he had before—and then later use it against him.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like it was any of Corey’s business who Jimmy was attracted to. There certainly was no possibility of a romance between them. They weren’t even allowed to do anything like that. He’d read all the rules, and he wouldn’t dream of breaking any of them. This was his once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he was not about to blow it just because his roommate was some hot-looking blond kid with gorgeous eyes, a smooth, well-defined chest, and a cute little bubble butt.

“I did not just say he had a cute butt,” Jimmy whispered. He reached down and squeezed himself, massaging the obvious bulge between his legs.

“Screw this!” Jimmy said, a little too loudly. He stripped off his shirt and turned on the water in the shower. Peeling off the rest of his clothes, he then adjusted the water temperature. Cold! He needed to stop thinking thoughts like this and get his head back in the game. He had a competition to win, and he couldn’t allow any distractions to interfere.

Ten minutes later, it was his turn to step out of the bathroom in the raw. He found a robe hanging next to the shower and wrapped it around himself.

“I see you found my robe,” Corey said as he walked past.

“This is yours?” Jimmy said. “Sorry, I thought it was… ya know, from the hotel.”

Corey laughed. “It is from the hotel. I’m just messin’ with ya.” Corey was now fully dressed and sprawled out on his bed. He had the television on.

“Oh,” Jimmy said. He opened his big suitcase and began rummaging through it, pulling out some clothes. Stepping over to the far side of his bed away from Corey, Jimmy slipped on a pair of briefs. He was still wearing the robe, so he was confident he wouldn’t be giving his roommate a show.

“Whooot whoo!” Corey whistled.

Quickly Jimmy spun around and glared at him. “That’s not funny!” He felt his face turning red.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Corey said.

“Look,” Jimmy sighed exasperatedly, “we’re stuck with each other… I mean if it’s true what you said about them not letting us change rooms. So we gotta figure out how to get along.”

“I think we’re getting along just fine,” Corey said. “But you know what? You’re right. I shouldn’t whistle at you and say things to make you feel uncomfortable. You’re probably not used to….”

“To what?” Jimmy asked when Corey didn’t finish his sentence.

“Uh, well, to other guys whistling at you and saying you’re cute.”

“This ain’t the time nor place,” Jimmy said, nodding for emphasis. “We’re not here for messin’ around. We’re here for a music competition.”

“Okay, then,” Corey said as he jumped up from the mattress. “Then I guess I should try singing to you….”

“No!” Jimmy protested.

Before Jimmy could say another word, Corey had picked up a hairbrush from the dresser and was wielding it like a microphone. He began to sing:

If I could turn back time
If I could find a way I’d take back those words that hurt you and you’d stay
 

He started dancing around the room, all the while staring directly at Jimmy. As he sang, he gave Jimmy a pouty, apologetic look, and belted out the words of the Cher song while using one hand to clutch his chest. He held out his arm, palm up, and looked into Jimmy’s eyes, fluttering his eyelashes flirtatiously.

In spite of himself and his desire to be pissed, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile. Suddenly he had to give in. He burst into laughter as he shook his head.

Corey thrust the hairbrush into his hand, as Jimmy tried composing himself. He then opened his mouth and began to sing, same song but second verse. When he got to the chorus, they were singing in unison. Corey crawled over Jimmy’s mattress and stood beside him, draping his arm around Jimmy’s neck as they shared the mic.

“Our first duet,” Corey said when they’d finished.

Jimmy was cracking up, but then grew more serious. He felt a little bit silly. He was still in his bathrobe, hair still wet, and was holding onto some hairbrush pretending it was a microphone.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Corey said. “Puh-leez?”

“I’ll think about it,” Jimmy said. He took a step away from Corey, then turned and handed him back the brush.

“Good! Then let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, that’s right. They’ll be serving dinner soon… then we have a meeting.”

“Well, hurry up… unless you wanna just go like that.” Corey looked Jimmy up and down, assessing his current attire.

Jimmy laughed. “Nah, I think I better get dressed. I don’t parade around nekid like some people.”

It was Corey’s turn to chuckle. “I love the way you express yourself. Some of the stuff you say is so funny.”

Jimmy furrowed his brows and cocked his head slightly.
How else would you say it? Nekid’s nekid. Right?

A
BUFFET
was set up in the conference room, and as Corey walked in, he soaked up the enthusiastic energy of the four hundred young competitors. Twenty-six was the maximum age to compete on
America’s Next Superstar
, and there were contestants as young as fifteen. Everyone seemed excited and happy, acting as if they were all best friends. While it was true they were all in the same situation—all passionate about doing their best in the competition—there was no denying that once the performances began, it would be every man (or woman) for themselves.

Jimmy was right behind him and leaned over to speak into Corey’s ear. “This here is our competition,” he said.

“Scary, isn’t it?” Corey said.

“And kinda sad. There’s gonna be a lot of disappointment. So many of us….”

“Of
them
,” Corey corrected him. “Dude, you can’t think like that. You gotta be sure of yourself and know you can make it. Just keep thinking about why you’re here. Think of your brother.”

Jimmy smiled at him and nodded. “You’re right. We’re gonna kick butt tomorrow.”

“Hmm, well, you can kick butt if you want. I’m gonna kick
ass
.”

Just then Corey noticed a flash of fluorescent green. It was his punk rocker friend’s Mohawk. “Jeremy!” he shouted. “Dude, you made it.”

The punk rocker stepped over, offering a high five. “Hey, man, you too.”

“Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you again. I lost track of you back in Detroit.”

“Well, this is it, man,” Jeremy said. “Are you guys in line?”

“Uh… not yet, I guess. Jeremy, this is my roommate Jimmy.”

It took them nearly twenty minutes to make it through the buffet line, and then the three of them got a table toward the back of the room. When Corey spotted Sam, he motioned her over. She had another girl with her, perhaps her roommate.

“Hey, Teri,” Jimmy said, offering a warm smile.

“You two know each other?” Corey asked.

“We met in the elevator,” Teri said.

“How weird,” Sam said. “You two know each other, and we know each other.” She pointed to Corey. “And we’re each other’s roommates.”

“And what am I?” Jeremy said. “Chopped liver?”

“I’m Sam and this is my roommate Teri,” Sam said, providing an official introduction. “And you are
anything
but chopped liver.” She winked at the studly rocker.

“It’s gotta be the tattoos,” Corey said sarcastically. “Sam, I can tell already you’re a bad girl.”

“Bad to the bone,” she said.

The girls pulled out chairs and joined the table, placing their trays in front of them.

“You know Jimmy?” Corey asked. “He’s my roommate.”

“Howdy,” Jimmy said, nodding obligingly.

“I saw you back at the airport when you about got trampled,” Sam said. “You all right?”

Corey noticed Jimmy’s face begin to flush. “Klutz, I guess,” Jimmy acknowledged.

“And now you two are roommates,” Sam said. “Small world, huh?”

“So you guys ready for tomorrow?” Jeremy asked. “Only half will make it.”

The group let out a collective sigh. “And then it’s on to group round,” Teri said. “If we all make it through this first round, we should form a group together.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jeremy said, “except you can’t officially start rehearsing until all of the solo round has been completed. There’s a room here in the hotel that has computers in it. They’ll give each group an iPod and then you go to the computer database and pick out a song. There are thousands of songs in there. You just choose the one you want, print out the lyrics, and start rehearsing.”

“How do you know all this?” Sam asked.

“I was a contestant two years ago,” Jeremy said. “Made it through the solo round but got booted during groups. This time I wanna make sure I’m in a serious group.”

“Well, we can start practicing even before the solo round is finished… unofficially,” Corey suggested.

“Long as we don’t put the cart before the horse,” Jimmy said. “Gotta make it through the solo round first.”

Corey laughed at the outdated metaphor. “True, but the solo round is three days. If we get lucky and make it through in the first or second day, that’ll give us some lead time.”

“But if one or more of us don’t make it,” Jeremy said, “that will change everything. We’ll have to find replacements… or relearn our parts.”

“It’s just I’ve seen it on TV, right before group, there are always a bunch of people scrambling around trying to find a group to join,” Teri said. “I don’t wanna be one of those people.”

“Well, this gives us a starting point, anyway,” Corey said. “Once we have the solo competition behind us, we’ll all know where to start looking….”

“No offense, dude, but we’re all kinda different,” Jeremy said. “Not sure I can even do country.” He looked right at Jimmy.

“I’m flexible,” Jimmy said. “I can sing about any kinda music.”

“We were singing Cher together a few minutes ago,” Corey said to back up Jimmy’s statement.

“Cool… well, let’s do it, then,” Jeremy said.

“Do you guys mind if I sit here?” All eyes turned to the newcomer, a slender blond kid who Corey thought looked no older than twelve.

“Sure,” Corey said, “more the merrier.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’m Tristan.”

“Dude, how old are you?” Jeremy asked. “You look, like, ten.”

He laughed and looked down at his plate. “I
do
look young, I guess, but then so does Justin Bieber.”

“You
do
look like Justin Bieber,” Sam agreed. “Do you sing like him?”

“God, I hope not,” Jeremy interjected.

“Actually, I like him,” Tristan said, “and yeah, sometimes I sing his songs. That’s what Krystal said during my audition, that I reminded her of Bieber.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tristan,” Corey said. “This is Sam, Teri, Jimmy, and Jeremy.”

“Where are you guys from?”

“Sam and I are from Michigan,” Corey answered. “Jeremy’s from Toledo, Ohio, and Jimmy’s from Kentucky. I don’t know where you’re from, Teri.”

“California,” she said. “Los Angeles.”

“I’m from Denver,” Tristan said. “This is my first time in New York. First time anywhere, really.”

“Ain’t your folks with you?” Jimmy asked.

“Nope. My mom couldn’t come. She takes care of my grandma, and she couldn’t be gone for that long. Well, hopefully it’ll be long… if I make it through the competition.” Tristan’s voice was quiet, and Corey thought he seemed shy.

“Well, don’t worry,” Jimmy said, “we’ll look out for ya.” He turned to Tristan and winked.

Corey didn’t like the way the kid responded. It was like he was checking Jimmy out, maybe even flirting with him. Corey bit his lower lip and turned away, starting a conversation privately with Sam.

They were still eating when an official stepped up to the podium positioned at the front of the conference room. She was a twentysomething woman, wearing a pantsuit. She introduced herself as Margaret Billings, and she began by congratulating all the contestants. For the next forty-five minutes, she went through a presentation, covering the itinerary and explaining all of the rules, most of which were a repeat of the things Corey had already been told.

After she finished speaking, she turned over the program to a far more enthusiastic presenter named Harry. He had a wiry frame and a nasally voice, and his movements were very animated when he spoke. He explained the reality-show aspect of
Superstar
, reminding everyone that there would be a lot of cameras. “Try to act natural,” he said. “Pretend the cameras aren’t even there.” He went on to explain that the film crews would be looking for interactions. After filming a particular scene, they might pull some of the contestants aside and interview them privately. He warned against speaking directly to the camera. “It’ll come across as phony most of the time,” he said. “If there are comments you want to make to the audience, save them for your private interviews.”