Choosing America's Next Superstar Read online

  “I made it to New York, and was voted out during the group performances. I got stuck with the lamest group of the competition. It totally sucked.”

  “And what about last year?”

  “I didn’t even get through the first interview. That was in Cincinnati, and I got there too late. They’d already filled all the spots.”

  “What are the judges like?” Meg asked. “Is Reuben as mean in person as he is on TV?”

  “Reuben doesn’t know jack,” Jeremy said, laughing. “He has virtually no musical talent himself. He couldn’t tell you if someone had pitch or not. To him, it’s all just showmanship. He’s the mastermind behind this whole scene. He says humiliating shit to people because it makes an entertaining show. Like I said—drama.”

  “So what’s he really like then?” Corey asked.

  “I never really talked to him one on one other than in the audition. He made fun of my hair and said I needed a makeover.” Corey could believe it. Jeremy had a fluorescent green Mohawk, and he was totally right about Reuben. He was a complete asshole. He made fun of everyone and offered very little constructive advice.

  “My favorite judge is Krystal,” Megan said.

  Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, everyone likes her. The girls like her ’cause she’s sweet, and the guys just like her tits. Half the time she’s either drunk or stoned.”

  “Really?” Corey asked. “I always thought she was the best judge.”

  “You do realize that the celebrity judges are not the real judges….”

  “What do ya mean?” Corey asked.

  “It’s a show!” he exclaimed, holding his hands out for emphasis. “The producers of the show ‘consult’ with the judges before they make their final cuts. Even during the auditions, the so-called judges are wearing earpieces. They’re actors, doing what the show tells them to.”

  “Is the voting at least real?” Corey asked. “I mean, after they begin broadcasting the live shows.”

  “Supposedly,” Jeremy answered. “Who knows. I think it’s probably pretty much legit. But everything prior to that point—all the auditions and various rounds of competition—that’s all rigged. The producers are looking for a mix of contestants who will make a great entertainment show. It has very little to do with musical talent.”

  “Damn,” Corey said. “What the hell am I even doing here?” He turned to Megan. “I don’t have a sob story or anything….”

  “What are you talking about?” she said, slugging him on the shoulder. “You have an awesome sob story. Tell them about being raised by a single parent who worked all her life in a factory. Tell them how you knew from the time you were six that you wanted to be a singer.”

  Jeremy guffawed. “Dude, that’s everyone’s story.”

  “Maybe,” Megan said. “But not everyone can tell the story the way I can. I’ll have them bawling their eyes out. I’ll tell them how Corey won the talent competition in high school and told everyone how he felt his dad looking down from heaven….”

  “I never said that—”

  “Yes, you did!”

  “Megan, my dad is still alive!”

  “They don’t need to know that,” she said. “And you don’t have to lie… let me do it.”

  “You might have something there,” Jeremy said. “Don’t worry, everyone lies about shit to get on the show. If they don’t at least fib a little, they don’t even make it in to the auditions.”

  “But don’t they eventually find out?” Corey asked. “I mean, the show. Don’t the producers find out these stories are bogus?”

  “Eventually. They don’t care either. Like I said, it’s all fiction. They’re just putting together an entertaining show. If you’re lucky enough to make it through the auditions, then you can set everything straight with the media when they start hounding you for interviews. It’s all just part of the game.”

  “So let me do the talking,” Megan said. “You just stand there and look pretty.”

  “Meg, they probably aren’t gonna even let you into the interview with me….”

  “You’ll see when we get in there,” Jeremy said. “There’ll be chairs set up everywhere. After you fill out your application, they’ll give you a number, and then they’ll come around and interview you right where you’re sitting. After that, you just wait and hope they call your number.”

  “How long do you wait?” Corey asked.

  “Till they say it’s over. You might be waiting until tomorrow night….”

  “Oh, man, that sucks!” Corey complained.

  “We won’t be waiting that long,” Meg said with confidence. “You watch. You’re gonna get your audition… or I’m gonna die trying.”

  THREE hours later, when they at last made it into the auditorium, it was as Jeremy described. On the main floor, there were tables and chairs set up. Corey took an application and began filling it out. Meg snatched it from him and took over.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  “At least let me see what you’re writing… so I know when they question me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Like I said, I’ll do the talking.”

  After completing the form, she jumped up and stepped over to the cubicle where the applications were collected. She had to wait in line for about five minutes and then returned to Corey. “Okay, now we go over here to these chairs and wait for them. Here’s your number.” She was holding a big white label with red print. It had the number 748 on it. “You wear this like a necklace,” she explained, sliding the rope over Corey’s head.

  “Wow,” he said. “Like a beauty pageant or something.”

  “Or a marathon.”

  Corey pulled out the small cooler from under his seat and grabbed a bottle of Diet Coke. “Want one?” he offered Megan.

  For the next hour, they waited as the chairs around them filled up. Corey glanced around him to see if he could spot any other contestants being interviewed.

  “They’re over there,” Meg said, pointing to one of the female contestants. “And she’s number 722, so it won’t be much longer.”

  “Do they only have one person interviewing?” Corey asked. “That’s crazy.”

  “I think they have one per section. We’re in the seventh section which is why our number is in the 700s. When they get up to 799, they start over with the numbering.”

  “God, it’s taking long enough,” Corey complained.

  “This is nothing,” another contestant said. Corey turned to see the boy seated beside him. “I hear that the real wait comes after the interview. That’s when we have to go camp out in the audience section and wait to see if they call our number for an actual audition.”

  “Yeah, we heard that,” Corey said. “Have you been through this before?”

  The kid shook his head. “Nah, it’s my first time.” Corey looked down at the guy’s number, and it was 781.

  “I’m Corey,” he offered. “Aka, number 748.”

  “Jimmy, number 781,” the dirty-blond kid said, smiling. He looked to be about Corey’s age but a little better built. Corey couldn’t help but notice his muscular chest. He was wearing a navy colored T-shirt and jeans, and he had a bit of a Southern accent. “Where are y’all from?” Jimmy asked.

  “Up north… do you know where Petoskey is?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, I’m from Kentucky… northern Kentucky.”

  “Is this the closest audition for you?” Corey asked.

  “They had one in Louisville, but I missed it,” he said. “My brother was having surgery that day.”

  “Really? Is he okay?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I hope so. He was born with a rare heart condition. This is, like, the sixth operation, but they say he’s doing pretty good.”

  “Aww, wow.” Corey suddenly felt a pang of guilt for the sob story he knew Megan was planning to tell on his behalf. “You should tell them about your brother,” he said. “I mean, when they interview you.”

  “You think so?” Jimmy
asked. “Why would they want to know that?”

  “I dunno. I just think it’s a touching story, how you almost missed your chance at an audition in order to be with your brother. Is he older than you?”

  “He’s two years younger. We always been close, though.”

  “Well, I’ll keep him in my thoughts,” Corey said, smiling sincerely.

  “Thanks, man. You know what you’re gonna sing?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Corey said, “if I’m lucky enough to get an audition.”

  “I’m singing Garth Brooks,” Jimmy said. “‘The Dance’.”

  “Oh, I love that song. I like a lot of country, but I’m gonna go with a boy band song. ‘Shape of My Heart’ by the Backstreet Boys.”

  Jimmy started singing the chorus to the song, smiling at Corey. “Lookin’ back on the things I’ve done….”

  “I was tryin’ to be someone…,” Corey finished.

  They both laughed. “Cool, so you know a variety of stuff?”

  “I love all kinds of music,” Jimmy said. His chocolate-brown eyes seemed to light up as he smiled at Corey. “What about you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m the same way. I have this knack for remembering song lyrics. If I hear a song once, I’ve pretty much got it in my brain.”

  “Me too… I thought I was the only one like that.”

  “Do you know this one? ‘When superstars and cannonballs are runnin’ through your head’,” Corey started singing.

  “‘Television freak show, cops and robbers everywhere’,” Jimmy continued.

  Corey cracked up. “Dude, you have an awesome voice!”

  “You too, man.”

  “This is my best friend, Megan,” Corey said. He thumbed his fist in her direction, but she was busy talking to someone else and had her back turned.

  “I came alone,” Jimmy said. “It was a five-hour drive.”

  “That’s almost exactly how long our drive was, but we never left our state. Weird.”

  “Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and both make it through,” Jimmy said. “We can hang out together.”

  “I’d like that,” Corey said.

  “Are you number 748?” a voice said from the other side of him. Corey quickly turned to see an official-looking lady carrying a clipboard.

  “Yes! That’s me,” he said, jumping up from his seat.

  “Corey Dunham?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

  “I’m Renee, and I conduct the preaudition interviews.”

  “I’m Corey’s best friend Megan.” Corey heard his companion introduce herself. “I’m the one who brought him here.”

  Renee shook hands with both of them. Looking around, she located an empty chair and pulled it over in front of them. “Well, let’s just talk for a few minutes. Tell me about yourself, Corey, and why you want to be America’s Next Superstar.”

  “Forgive me,” Megan blurted out before Corey could open her mouth. “Corey is a little bit shy when it comes to talking about himself, but he has the most amazing story.”

  “Oh?”

  “Corey has a brother—two years younger than him—his name is Jimmy, and he has a heart condition.” Corey’s mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. Megan must have been eavesdropping on his conversation. “Jimmy and Corey are very close, and Jimmy just had to have a life-saving surgery. Corey wasn’t even going to come to the audition, but Jimmy insisted. He told Corey to go and win his way to New York. Corey’s doing this for him, his dying brother.”

  “Wow,” Renee said. “Has he been ill for a long time?”

  “It was a condition he was born with, and they didn’t expect him to even live this long. Jimmy prays every day he will be able to hang on long enough to see his brother crowned America’s Next Superstar.”

  “Amazing, that’s truly a touching story,” Renee said. “You know….” Her voice was beginning to choke up. “You know, I think we’re going to just go ahead and put you through to the auditions. Corey, why don’t you come with me?” She stood up and grabbed Corey by the arm.

  “But….” Corey turned and looked at his new friend Jimmy, who was just sitting there with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

  “Go ahead!” Megan urged him. “Corey… go!” Megan stood up and grabbed Corey’s other arm.

  “You come with us,” Renee said. “They’ll need to film Corey’s supporters. Are you with him too?” she said as she turned to Jimmy.

  “Uh… no. I have nothing to do with him,” Jimmy said, quickly turning away.

  Corey felt his face redden. Suddenly he was being escorted across the huge auditorium floor toward an area that had been cordoned off with large collapsible walls. They were like huge cubicles. Corey assumed that this was where they did the actual filming.

  “Wait here,” Renee said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Corey turned to Megan. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Did what?” Megan said, as she grabbed Corey and spun him around. Suddenly he was staring directly at a television camera. “You mean that I told the touching story of your dying brother? Corey, you shouldn’t be shy or embarrassed by how close you are to Jimmy. He’s so proud of you.”

  Corey looked up into the camera and gulped, suddenly unable to speak.

  Megan wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Don’t you worry. I have so much faith in you, Corey Dunham… and so does Jimmy.”

  The next thing Corey knew, someone had stepped up beside him. Corey’s jaw just about came unhinged when he turned to see it was Dylan Seagraves, the host of Choosing America’s Next Superstar.

  “Corey, I’ve heard your story… our producer just chatted with me. It’s very moving. Can you tell us what you’re feeling right now?”

  “Um… I’m a little nervous….”

  “I can understand that. It must feel like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. If you don’t do well and make it through the audition, you’re going to feel as if you let your brother down. This may be your very last chance to make this dream a reality for him….”

  “Uh… yeah.”

  “He gets very emotional about this,” Megan said. “Surely you understand….”

  “Oh, of course,” Dylan said, nodding emphatically.

  Just then Renee stepped up behind them. “Okay, Corey, do you happen to have a photo of your brother?”

  “Uh… no.”

  “We’ve got lots of pictures we can bring you,” Megan volunteered. “I might even have one in my purse. It’s locked in my trunk….”

  “Good,” Renee said. “Regardless of what happens with the audition, we’ll want those photos. We can get them later, though. This show won’t be aired until several months from now. Corey, I see your song choice is ‘Shape of My Heart’. Does this have any significance to your brother?”

  “It’s his favorite group,” Megan said. “Corey sang him this song just before he went into surgery.”

  “Mmm, very good,” Renee said, jotting down notes on her clipboard. “Okay, Corey… usually you’d sing in front of one of our voice coaches before going on camera, but we’ve decided to go with this… whether you can sing or not.”

  “He can sing—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Renee interrupted. “He has the look, he has the story… that’s all that matters.”

  “But…,” Corey began to protest.

  “They’re ready!” Dylan said. “Time to go in.” He grabbed Corey by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing him toward the door.

  “But what do I…?”

  “Just march right in there. They’ll tell you what to do.”

  Renee grabbed Corey by the arm and led him through the door and down a long hallway. When they reached the end, she stopped. “Here,” she said, handing him the papers from her clipboard. “Give these to the gentleman right over there.” She pointed to a man who was wearing a headset. “He’ll give your paperwork to the judges, and they’ll call you when they
’re ready.”

  Corey took a deep breath and grabbed the papers. He stepped forward, into the next room. When he got up to the man Renee had pointed to, he held out the papers. The man turned and placed his finger over his lips to indicate silence. He glanced at the papers and nodded, then pointed to a bench, indicating Corey was to sit.

  He could hear the activity in the next room. It was an audition, and the contestant was embarrassingly flat. It was a male singer, and he had a serious pitch problem. Corey couldn’t tell exactly what the judges were saying, but there were shouts followed by laughter. After a few moments, the contestant stormed off the stage into the room where Corey was waiting. He was dark haired and skinny, and at this point he was obviously crying. He didn’t stop to say anything to either Corey or the man with the headset. He just marched right on by.

  “Okay,” the man said, turning to him. “You’re next. Wait here till I come back.”

  The man disappeared, stepping out of the room onto the stage. About thirty seconds later he was back. He waved his hand, motioning for Corey to stand. “When the green light comes on, they’re ready for you.” He pointed to a light on the opposite side of the stage. “Sometimes the judges take breaks in between contestants. Sometimes not. You just have to wait here.”

  Corey nodded. “There’s a problem with….”

  “You’re on!” the man said, shoving him out toward the stage.

  He stumbled at first, then righted himself. Taking a deep breath, Corey willed himself to place one foot in front of the other. When he looked up, he was center stage, standing directly in front of the four judges he’d seen thousands of times on TV.

  “Hey there,” Raymond said. He was the heavy-set rap singer whose trademark was his dark sunglasses and excessive bling. “Who do we have here?”

  Corey swallowed hard, and then forced a smile. “Corey… uh… Corey Dunham.”

  “Nice to meet you, Corey,” Krystal said. She was smiling broadly.

  “Thank you,” Corey said, looking at each judge. It was all so surreal. He felt as if he were dreaming. There they were, all four of them. Reuben, Krystal, Tyler, and Raymond. He knew all about them—or he thought he did. He’d watched them on the show since he was a little kid.