Music Notes (5 page)

Note to self: Take up knitting. Basket weaving. Sudoku. Anything is better than staring at four walls with a raging prima donna and listening to country music all day.

Just when my tolerance of shitty music has hit its limit, a knock sounds at the door. I practically throw myself at the solid wooden gateway, fumbling with the doorknob in my excitement to get it open. It has been three hours since we returned to our room after lunch. Three long hours while Shawna plays every female country song known to man. And if I don’t get out of this room quick, I will slowly bleed out every ounce of blood my body contains through my ears. I. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore.

Corie is all smiles as I open the door.

“How did it go?” I ask with an equally bright smile.

Corie looks over my shoulder and sees Shawna lounging in the chaise while flipping through a fashion magazine looking completely bored and uninterested in our guest. “Can we go somewhere else?” she whispers.

“Abso-freaking-lutely!” I exclaim. Grabbing my bag and keycard, I follow her out the door and towards the bank of elevators.

As soon as we’re enclosed in the privacy of the elevator, I turn to see her huge smile. It’s infectious and you can’t help but smile right back at her. Corie is practically glowing as we make our way to the lounge on the first floor.

“Spill,” I tell her as we find two empty seats at the bar.

“Oh my God, it was so exciting and so scary all at the same time. I can’t believe I just sang in front of those four people,” she says in one quick breath. “I thought I was going to die from nerves.”

“So, did you make it?” I ask as the bartender places to draft beers in front of us.

“Well, let me start at the beginning. That room is pure intimidation. When you walk in, all four coaches are sitting at a long table. Felix, JoJo, and Sophia each smiled at me while Beau kept his head down and didn’t make eye contact. It was like he was waiting to hear me sing to form his first impression. The very first thing you do is introduce yourself. They asked me about where I was from, my musical inspirations, and my song selection. Then, your chosen music starts. It was the longest two minutes of my life. They all sat there, straight faced, without giving up any inclination as to what they were thinking or whether they liked you, until the very end. I was just starting to think that I wasn’t going to make it when JoJo flipped her flag! JoJo freakin’ flipped her flag! I practically started jumping up and down and was barely able to finish the song. She even got up and hugged me when I was finished. Then, I was out the door.”

I absorb what she said and return her huge, flashy smile. The excitement and energy is radiating off her in tidal waves of delight. “Congratulations, honey,” I tell her with a big hug. I’m happy to know that I honestly mean it. Even if I don’t make it on the show, I’m happy that Corie is getting her shot.

“Have you heard from the guys yet? Are they back?” she asks as she wipes tears from her eyes.

“They’re not back yet. They left at two o’clock. Since they’re the last group to go, I can’t imagine them getting back before six, right?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. At least I don’t have to head home tomorrow,” Corie says. “I get to stay until Thursday.”

True. Now that Corie was chosen for a team, she gets to attend the big meeting on Thursday. I only hope that I’ll be attending that meeting with her. Otherwise, this has all been for nothing.

At six-thirty, everyone is gathering on the ground floor when the final van returns to the hotel. I notice the group waiting is slightly smaller than it was the night before. Eliminations have been made and those hopefuls are now disappointed, returning home to their everyday lives. Corie and I watch as Troy and Ben each make their way out of the van. Their smiles aren’t mistaken. There’s no camouflaging their excitement. They’re in.

“I can tell by the way you’re smiling that you both have good news,” Corie says with an equally bright smile.

“You first. Did you get in?” Troy asks Corie.

“Yes!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around his large chest. She doesn’t quite get her arms wrapped around him, but that’s okay. Troy picks her up and swings her around like a rag doll. “I’m on JoJo’s team!”

“Congratulations, darlin’,” Ben adds with his own hug.

“So, now you two,” she says.

“We’re both in,” Ben exclaims.

“What teams did you get?” I ask as others around us eavesdrop on our conversation.

We slowly start to make our way towards the restaurant as Troy says, “I’m on Beau’s team. Both he and Sophia flipped their flags. Even though Sophia has a lot to offer as a coach, I just felt like Beau was the better fit for me.” I nod in agreement.

“And I’m also on Beau’s team. He flipped his flag after I got into the chorus of the song. As soon as he flipped, Felix and JoJo both flipped, too. It was a no-brainer for me being that he has the country background, and he was the one I wanted.”

“So you’re both on Beau’s team. That’s awesome,” I tell them as we make our way to the back room of the restaurant. Many empty seats are now scattered around the room, and after tomorrow’s round of eliminations, there will be even more. I just hope I’m not one of them. Especially with all three of my new friends each making it to the live show.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Corie asks me while we enjoy our dinner.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I wanted to practice a bit this afternoon, but Superstar Barbie was always in the room. I guess I’ll just have to wait until I get there tomorrow morning,” I say.

“Come down to my room. My roommate got the boot, so I’m sleeping solo tonight. You can come down and practice a bit,” Corie offers.

“I may just take you up on it,” I reply, though the thought of leaving Shawna alone in our room for any length of time doesn’t sit well. You never know what she may have planned.

Note to self: Buy a new toothbrush before you go to bed tonight. Just in case…

Dinner is pleasant as we listen to those around us recount their auditions. I’m sitting near three people on Felix’s team, one on JoJo’s team, two on Sophia’s team, and one other on Beau’s team. I wish we could have watched their auditions–you know, check out the competition, and all.

Later that night, after a twenty-minute phone call to Mom and Eli, I head over to Corie’s room. She has her stuff spread out everywhere since her roommate is gone, but makes a little room for me on the other bed. I feel like a girl at a sleepover suddenly, which is a crazy feeling because I was never one for girl-talk and sleepovers. I was more of the sneaking out and cuddling with your boyfriend in the backseat of his dad’s old Chevy kind of girl.

“So, what are you singing?” she asks.

I haven’t told anyone about my song selection yet. In fact, the week prior to coming to Los Angeles, I changed my mind probably ten times. Every song was too happy or too sad. I have so many that I love to sing that it was hard to decide.

“I’m singing ‘Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ by Journey.”

“Really? I love that song. Let’s hear it,” Corie says from her post, cross-legged and wide-eyed on the other bed.

I jump straight in, not afraid to sing in front of my new friend. The lyrics roll off my tongue so naturally it’s as if the song was made for me. And, in a way, it was.

“Wow, you’re a Shoo-in! That was amazing,” Corie says when I finish the song.

“Thanks. I really connect with that song and it’s easy to sing the words when you feel them so deeply, you know?” I ask without really thinking about what I’m saying.

“So, you were cheated on?” she asks in response to my off-the-wall comment.

I look at her for several heartbeats before I finally answer. “Yeah. I was cheated on.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That sucks,” she says. The silence between us is louder than the song I just sang.

“So, do you have a favorite movie?” she asks, breaking the ice and steering the conversation to safer territory.

And just like that, we’re talking like old friends. I learn all about her life outside of the audition, and I find myself easily sharing some of the details of my life that I usually guard intently. Of course, I steer clear of the Colton saga, which includes Eli.

An hour later, I’m heading back to my hotel room. Just before I press the button for my floor in the elevator, I remember my toothbrush fear and decide to detour down to the lobby and snatch a new, complementary one. A girl can never be too careful when she has a crazy, diva roommate from hell.

When I make it back to my room, the alarm clock on the nightstand between the beds says ten-thirty. Shawna is softly snoring in her bed; satin eye mask covering her freshly scrubbed face. She looks beautiful, even in her sleep. She’s the kind of woman who wakes up with perfect hair, glowing skin, and as fresh as spring rain. And then she opens her mouth and talks, and it’s like the devil reincarnated as a blond with big boobs.

I bet her manicurist cringes every time she walks through the door.

It takes me longer than usual to fall asleep. I’m edgy and fidgety and know exactly what is causing it. I tried a shower to relieve some of the tension, but I ended up running out of hot water halfway through. Apparently, Conceited Barbie took an extra-long shower this evening.

After flipping through all of the channels three times, I end up turning off the television. Even if I actually found something worth seeing, trying to watch it on mute doesn’t exactly do it for me. Even if I found
Friends,
which I’ve seen every episode at least forty times, I’d still be hard-pressed to enjoy the show. Reading is out and the Internet proves to be useless.

As I toss and turn for the better part of another hour, my mind continues to wander to the judges and my audition tomorrow. What if no one throws a flag? What if they laugh me off the stage? And that shit will probably be broadcasted front and center on the first show they televise in a few months. Hell, they’ll probably use it in all of their promotional coverage leading up to the show! Shit, people will YouTube it. I’ll be the laughing stock of Chicago. Of the Midwest. Of the United States. I’m going to be the next Justin Beiber or Miley Cyrus. Christ! I’m going to be that Justin guy from the first season of American Idol. No one remembers his name.

Sleep doesn’t come until the early morning hours, and even then it’s sporadic and light.

Welcome to the longest night of my life.

Note to self: Sing like no one is listening. And in case they really aren’t listening, chase your dreams with a shot of tequila.

Would you believe that I overslept this morning? Shocker, right?

I was lost in a fitful dream where Sophia and JoJo were demonstrating the proper ways to give bikini waxes when a distant door slamming pulls me out of my nightmare. I shudder as I recall the great detail of the dream–or nightmare, as I prefer to call it–and it took me several minutes to rouse myself out of my coma.

The door slamming turned out to be my hotel room door. The door leading to the hallway. The same hallway Shawna just entered to go meet up with our group for the audition.

The audition!

I jump out of bed and take quick stock of my appearance. I have to be downstairs and in the departing van in fifteen minutes. I grab the vintage dress that my mom purchased for me and throw it on my body with way less finesse than normal. Thank God I took a shower last night.

My hair doesn’t look too bad considering I washed it last night as well, so I quickly brush it out and pull it back in a sleek ponytail at the nape of my neck. The dress fits like second skin and, with my vintage black ankle boots, I appear sheik and retro. Stylish. With a quick sweep of dark eye shadow, a few swipes of black mascara, and a quick–yet thorough–brush of my teeth with my new toothbrush, I’m out the door. No time to spare.

I’m the last one in the bus so I squeeze into the only available seat left. Shawna sits in the row behind me and smirks as she plays on her smartphone, all while I’m trying to settle my racing heart.

Note to self: There is no such thing as an “accident” anymore. Her toothbrush is getting dipped in toilet water.

The ride to the studio is fairly quick by Los Angeles traffic standards. The buzz inside the vehicle bounces between excitement and vomit-inducing nerves. I’ve flip-flopped between the two emotions so many times myself that I might actually feel both–simultaneously. Nervous chitchat fills the time as we pull up in front of the large building. Then, silence ascends the now motionless vehicle.

And I forget how to breathe.

We’re filed inside and led to a large vestibule. Since we’re the first group of the day, the room is empty and lifeless. The ceilings are huge and echo as we all settle into the chairs provided. Women immediately begin digging out compacts and hair products while the men try to relax and warm up. Groups form as warm-up runs begin around the room. While the person standing next to you may be your biggest competition, everyone seems to be helpful and friendly towards his or her neighbor.

Everyone except Shawna.