Travis Starnes
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From the Top - Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2023-11-29 16:00:02 +0000 UTCParking in Atlanta was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I ended up blocks away from the auditorium where the contest was being held, in an area that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure even my crappy car would be okay when I returned.
The area in front of the arena was a madhouse. People were lined up halfway around the building, waiting to get their tickets to get in as part of the audience. The side of the building, where they were directing contestants, wasn’t much better. Near the side door was a roped-off contestant area, the inside of which held long fold-out tables with workers checking IDs and handing out contestant number, which were needed to get past the security and into the building.
It wasn’t as bad as the New Year’s Eve event we’d played, but that was the only thing I’d experienced that was more chaotic. People were literally everywhere, going in every direction. I’d read the instructions we’d been sent, after my application with the filled-out question and audition tape had been approved, but without the posted signs I would’ve still had no idea where I needed to go.
After what felt like an hour of shuffling forward a few feet at a time, I finally made it to the front of the line. The woman at the table checked my ID against her list, made me sign a few forms, and handed me a laminated number one-twenty seven on a lanyard.
“Go through those doors and follow the signs to the contestants’ waiting area. There will be more signs in the waiting area telling you where to go when they call your name. Next,” she said, already looking past me to the next person in line before I could respond.
I followed the signs pointing me towards the waiting area, which was really just a large empty room with rows of chairs. There were easily a couple hundred people crammed in there, fiddling with instruments, reviewing lyrics, or staring at the walls impatiently.
I found an empty seat near the back and settled in, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. I wasn’t nervous about playing since I’d done that in front of audiences enough times that it was never a problem. I think it was more the stakes involved here, which were the highest of anything I’d done yet. When I’d auditioned for the scout from MAC, I hadn’t really expected to get it and I didn’t have so much riding on it. This time, everyone was counting on me making it, which really piled on the pressure.
Thankfully, I had enough experience to know practicing at this point wasn’t really worthwhile. It wouldn’t settle my nerves, and I’d almost certainly not be focused, which might lead to getting into my own head by the time I got on stage. I had prepared for this the same way I had for the Charlotte or New Year’s show, and I knew that once I got on stage, I’d be fine. So I just sat there patiently, thinking through various things I’d been working on, just to keep my mind busy.
Every now and then, a camera crew would come through, and it was like a switch flipped in the room. People who had been just sitting nervously, staring straight ahead, suddenly popped up and started vocalizing and “warming up.” It was incredibly transparent, although I’m sure the show would edit it to make the waiting area look busy and exciting instead of nerve-wracking.
As soon as those cameras moved on to another part of the room, the people practicing went back to just staring straight ahead, only to repeat their antics as soon as the cameras came back. The judges were almost certainly not watching this, so I wasn’t sure what they thought was going to happen. Maybe they thought it would get them some TV time.
During one of the downtimes when no cameras were around, a producer strolled through the rows casually suggesting that “it might be a while until you’re called, you should chat with some of the other contestants to pass the time.”
While it was obvious they were just trying to make for good TV, the way several of the others practically jumped their neighbors in order to start a conversation, you would have thought it was a requirement to get on stage or something.
I noticed that a girl a few seats down from me kept glancing my way until, after a few minutes, she finally moved, plopping herself into the empty seat right next to me.
“Hey there,” she said brightly, flashing me a wide smile. “I’m Amber. What’s your name?”
“Charlie,” I replied.
“Nice to meet you, Charlie! Are you nervous? I’m so nervous I can barely sit still. But also super excited, you know? This has been my dream forever. I just know I’m going to make it big one day. Everyone always tells me I should be famous. My church is always asking me to sing solos, and all my friends are just obsessed with my voice. I posted some of my songs online and got hundreds of views. So I just know the judges are going to love me!”
All of it came out in a tumble that I barely followed, like someone had turned a spigot on and left it.
“Well, let me tell you, I’ve been singing forever,” Amber said excitedly. “My mom always said I have a natural talent. By the time I was five, I was getting solos in my church choir and doing little talent shows and stuff.”
“That’s grea …” I started to say, but she barreled on.
“Oh my gosh, and high school was so much fun. I totally loved being in the choir. The teacher said I have a really good voice. And I did musicals and talent competitions outside of school too. Those were a blast, although I never won or anything. Those things can be kind of political, you know?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she kept talking over me.
“I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I think I’ve got a good shot here. The other people, well …” She glanced around disparagingly. “Let’s just say I’m not too worried about the competition. Did you see that one girl? She’s a freaking whale. No one’s going to want to put her in front of a camera. And that guy with the mullet? Don’t even get me started. Like, did they even think about how to present themselves before coming out here? I talked to my mom and singing coach, and we worked everything out so I’m ready for the camera. Stylish but not too much, you know?”
I’d been annoyed by her when she started, but now I actively didn’t like her. There was no call for being a bitch to other people like that. Not that it was worth making a scene. That would definitely end up on camera and might give the producers a reason to not let me on stage. A bad element, or whatever.
I looked down at how I was dressed. She hadn’t made a snide comment about me, so maybe what I’d picked out was okay. I’d gone with my normal stage outfit, the one that I’d bought when we first started getting MAC money. Boots, a nice pair of jeans, a tight but not too tight white T-shirt, and a dark brown, worn leather coat that said stylish but not too fancy. I’d gone with it because it worked for country, rock, or pop venues and stuck with it because it was comfortable.
Amber only stopped talking when a camera crew made their way through the seated contestants toward us, her chatter cutting off mid-sentence as they approached. She sat up straighter, tossed her hair back, and turned so she was facing the aisle and the oncoming cameras.
As the camera operators drew closer, Amber launched into song, belting out a few wobbly, slightly under-pitch lyrics of one of Ronnie Ralston’s songs. She was staring right at the camera, throwing in over-exaggerated facial expressions and hand gestures like she was already center stage.
Desperate was the only word I could think of for it.
The camera crew slowed as they reached Amber’s row, and one of the operators swung his camera in her direction for a few seconds. Amber grinned wider, stretching her face almost comically as she increased her volume. But after only a moment, the camera moved on, the operator looking for something else to record.
Amber’s face fell instantly as the crew moved further away down the aisle. She slumped back in her seat with a huff, the diva attitude disappearing as quickly as it had emerged.
“I’m gonna grab some water,” I muttered, taking the opportunity to escape.
Without waiting for a response, I picked up my guitar and hurried away down the aisle. Finding an empty seat on the other side of the large room, I dropped down with a sigh of relief.
“Howdy,” a voice drawled next to me.
I looked over to see a guy about my age sliding into the vacant seat beside me. He had shaggy blond hair tucked under a black cowboy hat and was dressed in a pearl snap shirt and worn jeans.
“Name’s Cole,” he said, offering his hand.
I shook it. “Charlie.”
“Good to meet ya,” Cole said, settling back comfortably in his seat. “Sure are a lot of folks here. You nervous at all?”
“Trying not to be,” I said.
“I hear that. Trick is not letting the nerves get to you before you even start,” he said, eyeing me curiously. “Play many shows yourself?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted to publicize I’d had a record deal or played any serious shows. My gut said Cole was a good guy, but you could never be too careful.
“A few here and there,” I hedged. “Bars, clubs, whatever I can get.”
“Man, that’s real cool,” Cole said earnestly. “Way I see it, getting up on any stage takes guts. I bet you’ll do just fine once you’re out there.”
“I hope so,” I said with a small smile. “You play many gigs?”
“Nothing too fancy, just local joints. But let me tell you, once you get that first taste of playing for a real crowd, it’s addicting.”
“No doubt,” I said. “It’s a pretty great feeling.”
“’Course I’m hoping this show will get me some bigger gigs, maybe even that record deal if I win,” he chuckled self-consciously. “Probably dreaming big saying that out loud. But a guy can hope, right?”
“Hey, you never know,” I said sincerely. “Gotta chase your dreams. Just focus on doing your best out there.”
“You playing anything while you’re here in town?” he asked.
“I’d like to, but I don’t have time. I have to hustle back home tonight, ’cause I have school in the morning. It was a pain to get out of it, today.”
“College?” he asked.
“High school,” I said, almost sheepishly. “I’m a senior.”
“Damn,” he said. “I don’t think I would have had the balls to try this when I was in high school. Hell, I’ve barely got them now.”
“You’re here, right? That’s all that matters,” I said.
We chatted casually after that, carefully avoiding mentioning anything too personal, just in case we had to compete against each other. Despite only just meeting, I found myself liking Cole. He had an easygoing manner and seemed like a genuinely nice guy.
Eventually, I heard a production assistant call out, “Contestant one-twenty seven, you’re up!”
“That’s me.”
“Good luck, man,” Cole said, extending his hand.
“You too,” I said, shaking it and grabbing my guitar.
I followed the production assistant through a dim hallway to the wings of the massive stage. Even from here, I could hear the crowd on the other side of the curtain, a dull roar of hundreds of voices blending together.
Right in front of me was the girl from earlier, Amber. She was pacing back and forth, humming under her breath and shaking out her arms like an athlete about to compete.
“Next up, Amber Collins!” a voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
Amber let out a little squeal and bounced on her toes.
“This is it!” she said, to no one in particular, before plastering on a dazzling smile and striding confidently onstage.
I moved to a spot where I could see her, but not the crowd or the judges, to watch her performance. Amber launched into the Ronnie Ralston song she’d sung earlier, gesturing in the same theatrical manner as she had before. It quickly became apparent she was in over her head. She didn’t necessarily have a bad voice, but she was even more off-key than she had been earlier and her timing was haphazard, missing several cues.
She finished and lowered her hands in front of her. I think it took her a moment to realize the applause could be described as muted at best. Her smile vanished, and she suddenly looked nervous.
A female voice, one of the judges clearly, said, “Well, Amber, you certainly have … spirit. But your vocals need some work. You were consistently under pitch, and your melodic choices were confusing.”
Another woman with a slight country drawl spoke up next, “I have to agree, darling. You’ve got some pipes on you, but you were all over the place on that melody. With some more practice, I think you could really improve.”
Next, a male voice, this one with a British accent, added, “You need to work on your technique, nail down your fundamentals.”
“I’m afraid I just didn’t hear star potential from that performance,” an older-sounding man said. “Honestly, I don’t think this is for you, regardless of the work. You should consider another career choice. Chorus girl, maybe.”
“Judges, your votes please,” the MC said.
“It’s a no from me,” the British man said regretfully.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to say no too,” the country woman said.
“No from me as well,” the first woman judge added.
“And it’s a no for me. I’m afraid you won’t be moving on, Amber,” the older man concluded.
Amber’s face, which had been ecstatic, then worried, had turned into fury.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my singing was amazing!” she snapped. “Maybe you idiots just don’t know real talent when you hear it!”
Before they could say anything, she threw the microphone down on the stage, hard, and angrily flounced off, nearly knocking me over as she stormed past. The crowd booed and jeered as she disappeared into the wings.
“Good luck,” the production assistant said, not even seeming fazed by the outburst.
I took a deep breath as I walked out onto the massive stage, looking down at the floor at first to let my eyes adjust before looking up, to keep from being blinded by the stage lights. The crowd was nothing but a dark blur beyond the glare. In front of the stage was a raised platform where the four judges sat, their backs to the crowd and facing me.
“What’s your name?” the younger British man, who I now recognized as Dexter Heart, the pop singer, asked.
“Charlie Nelson,” I said, stepping up to the mic stand, center stage.
“And where are you from, Charlie?” the non-country sounding woman, who I didn’t recognize, asked.
“A little town called Wellsville, up near Asheville, North Carolina.”
“A country boy,” the woman, who I was pretty sure was the country singer Dakota Rayne, said.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“How old are you?” The older man, who I thought was a producer or record label head, but I couldn’t remember his name, asked.
“Seventeen. I’m a senior in high school,” I said.
“How long have you been performing, Charlie?” Dexter asked.
“Pretty much my whole life,” I replied. “My dad was a musician. He and my mom used to take me on the road with them when they could, even when I was just a little kid. I grew up backstage at his gigs.”
“Is that where you learned to be a performer yourself?” the older man inquired.
I nodded, “Yeah, I was always surrounded by music. Learned to play guitar and sing from my dad and I don’t know how many other musicians.”
“And what will you be singing for us today?” Dakota asked.
“An original song I wrote called ‘Supposed To Be.’ It’s about finding that one person you’re meant to be with, no matter what tries to pull you apart,” I explained.
“Take it away,” Dexter said.
I settled the guitar strap over my shoulder, took a deep breath, and launched into the song. It didn’t always make our set list, but I liked it and enjoyed how upbeat it was. As I started the first verse, I felt myself relax, leaning into the mic stand. This was just like playing any other gig. I let muscle memory take over, fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings as I sang.
I opened my eyes as I hit the second chorus, comfortable now, looking at the audience and at the judges, moving my eyes around like I would at any show.
This thing between us, I can feel it pullin’
We both know this is how it should be
We can try to deny it, but it’s just us we’d be foolin’
In the end it’s just you and me
I hit the short but complex guitar riff, not so long that I’d lose the judges, but enough to show that I wasn’t just playing four chords over and over. My fingers flew through the bridge, building towards the final chorus. I felt energized, even though this song usually had Lyla and Seth really filling out the sound. That was the other reason I’d chosen it. It still worked even without accompaniment.
Hitting the last verse, I sang:
Let’s leave them all behind, Let’s start out on our own
I want you to be mine, I want to be in your arms alone
This is where I’m supposed to be
This is where I’m supposed to be
The final note rang through the silent theater. For a split second, I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Then the applause started. It rippled through the crowd, growing steadily louder until it was thundering through the massive auditorium. I squinted against the glare of the stage lights, able to make out some of the audience. They were on their feet, clapping and cheering enthusiastically.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Breaking into a grin, I gave a little bow and stepped back from the mic. The applause swelled even louder. I waited patiently until one of the judges started making a settle down gesture, getting the people to sit back down so the judges could speak.
“Charlie, that was fantastic,” the older man said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You have an incredible voice. Rich, textured, emotional ... everything I’d want in a vocalist. And your guitar playing is top-notch as well. It’s not really the focus of this competition, but it’s clear you’ve got some real skill there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Next up was Dakota Rayne, who tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder as she leaned towards the mic.
“I have to agree, hun, you’ve got some serious pipes on you,” she said in her honeyed drawl. “And I just loved the passion in your performance. You really sold that song, made me feel every word of it. You’re the real deal, Charlie.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” I said, getting a smile from her as I put a little bit of extra country on the “ma’am”. “That means a lot coming from you.”
She flashed me a megawatt smile. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing.”
Dexter was next, saying, “Charlie, I think you have a tremendous amount of potential. Your voice has this gravelly, bluesy quality that gives your sound real depth. And you have a natural charisma on stage. I could feel you connecting with the audience. Keep developing your artistry and you could go far.”
I just nodded, not wanting to just say thank you again, and not sure what else to say.
“Charlie, you absolutely commanded that stage,” the woman I didn’t recognize said enthusiastically. “You have such an easy confidence up there. I could tell you were totally in your element. And the way you engaged with us, the judges, made it feel intimate even in this huge theater. Stellar stage presence. You seemed very comfortable.”
“Honestly, being on stage feels like home to me, so I guess I am.”
She gave me an approving nod.
“Judges, it’s time to vote,” the MC announced. “Dakota, yes or no for Charlie?”
“That’s a big yes from me. You blew me away up there.”
“Dexter?” the MC continued.
Leaning back in his chair, Dexter said, “Charlie, you’re definitely someone I’d like to see more of. Yes from me.”
“Lexi?” he asked the woman I didn’t recognize.
“It’s a resounding yes from me for Charlie! You deserve to be in this competition.”
“That’s enough for Hollywood, but let’s see if you get all four,” the MC said to me, and then looked to the older man. “Hal? What do you think? Yes or no?”
The older man, who I now realized was Hal Stiener, one of the biggest music producers and part owner of the American Record Company, who was the name behind the contest and the one offering the contract, leaned forward on the judges’ table and steepled his fingers.
“Charlie, you’re one of the most promising talents I’ve seen in all the years we’ve been doing this competition. You have a musicality well beyond your years, and stage presence that can’t be taught. I believe you have the potential for a long, successful career,” he said solemnly before leaning back with a grin. “It’s a yes from me. Congratulations, you’re going to Hollywood.”
The crowd erupted into deafening cheers as I pumped my fist in the air. I’d done it.
Comments
Travis Starnes
I told yall we were coming out of the gloom and doom of Elegy. :)
James Bartling
I love it when Charlie has a great outcome.
Phil
Well done! Looking forward to the next couple of chapters.
Idaho Spud56
What a great chapter!
