Choosing America's Next Superstar (5 page)

“
ANS
is a reality television show, and you will be required to consent to the filming of any and all activity, conversations, arguments, disagreements, emotional outbursts, or expressions of intimacy. In other words, you will have very little privacy. Refusing to be filmed or to allow camera crew access to you when requested will result in a breach of contract and legal action up to and including disqualification from the competition.”

In other words, don’t plan on having
any
privacy.

“During the initial elimination rounds, you will be on your own, so to speak. If you make it through, a team of specialists will begin working with you. You’ll be assigned a wardrobe consultant, a hair and makeup specialist, a voice coach, a choreographer, a media consultant, and a personal adviser.

“Participation in all scheduled events and activities that have officially been designated as part of the
ANS
itinerary are mandatory. Failure to comply will result in legal action up to and including disqualification.”

Corey was beginning to wonder if he was stepping into something that was more than he’d bargained for. He didn’t realize there’d be all these rules and regulations. It was so orchestrated, and everything seemed so rigidly planned and controlled.

As if sensing his trepidation, the associate producer paused. “You still with me, hon?”

“Yes… yes, ma’am,” he answered.

“I know it’s a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. Anyway, everything I’ve told you will be in the packet I mail you. You should receive the material along with your airline ticket and return-trip voucher by certified mail within the next three days. Try to relax and enjoy the experience. We’re thrilled to have you on the show, and we wish you the best of luck. Cary, do you have any questions for me?”

“Um… it’s Corey. My name’s Corey, not Cary.”

She laughed dismissively. “Oh yes, sorry about that. Any questions, Corey?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”

“Very good. There is a contact number in the packet. If you have any problems with your flight, call that number. If not, we’ll see you in September.”

“Thank you so much,” Corey said.

The night before his departure, Megan threw him a going-away/good-luck party. A group of coworkers, friends, and family members gathered at the bowling alley. Even though Corey wasn’t allowed to talk to the media, word had gotten out in the community that he was going to be on
Superstar
, and the local paper had run an article about him. It was weird how already he was beginning to feel like a celebrity.

Megan dragged him into the bar where a local band was playing and convinced the band to let Corey sing. Not used to being in the limelight, Corey was a bit taken aback, but as he took the stage he relaxed and found his voice. The response of the crowd was encouraging, bolstering his lagging self-confidence. He knew he had a big challenge ahead of him. Here at home he was quickly becoming a celebrity, but he’d soon be a small fish in a very big pond. With four hundred competitors all vying for the top slots, he knew the odds were against him, and he prayed he would not return home with disappointing news.

J
IMMY
’
S
family rallied around him, as did most of his small-town community. Word of his success during the auditioning process spread like wildfire throughout the county, and Jimmy’s phone had been ringing off the hook. Former classmates from high school that he’d barely ever talked to were suddenly friending him on Facebook. People were already making fan pages for him and posting pictures of him from years ago, during his early childhood.

Jimmy also received a phone call from an associate producer at
Superstar
. When she explained the nondisclosure clause, he was concerned.

“But they already talked to me. The paper and the TV station. They came right to the house and it was on the news.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Going forward, refer all media inquiries to our publicists, and do not talk to anyone about the selection process from this point on.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he promised.

Jimmy’s send-off was a small gathering consisting of close family members and friends. They had a pizza party in his mama and daddy’s family room. It felt great being surrounded by so much love and good wishes, and the loved ones who’d gathered were all just as supportive of his brother Charlie as they were of Jimmy. The family had been through so much.

“I’m gonna win this thing for my bro,” Jimmy said, holding up his soda can in a toast. “Here’s to you, Charlie. I love ya, man.”

The next morning Jimmy’s parents drove him to Louisville where he boarded his flight at 7:00 a.m. The departure itself was uneventful and rather anticlimactic. This was likely a good thing, Jimmy surmised. His mama was crying, probably due to a combination of genuine pride and anxiety. This would be the first time in Jimmy’s life that he’d be away from home for so long.

Jimmy was not ashamed to admit he was a mama’s boy. He and his mother had always been very close, and she was the very first person Jimmy had ever confided in about his sexual orientation. It had come as no real surprise to her; she told him she’d always sensed it. Mamas were just that way. They could sense things.

Daddy was another story. Telling him was the hardest, but he didn’t take it too badly, all things considered. He gave Jimmy a short lecture about how he loved him no matter what. Maybe it wasn’t the most politically correct way for a father to express support of a gay son, but that was just Daddy. He was a man of few words.

Even after Jimmy came out to his family, he didn’t flaunt his sexuality. He was a very private person, and he didn’t think it was really anyone else’s business whom he chose to love. He also didn’t think it was true what all the TV shows and movies said about gay people. The famous gay male celebrities all seemed to be so flashy and girly acting. He liked to think of gay men as being more like Ennis and Jack in
Brokeback Mountain
. To Jimmy, that was what being gay was all about. He was a man—a
real
man—and he didn’t see why any man would want to go around acting like a woman. That wasn’t what he was attracted to, and that wasn’t how he wanted to be himself.

It surprised him how much he’d liked that kid at the auditions. Corey. It was too bad the guy was such a conniving, lying little snake, because he was actually kinda sexy. But even Corey wasn’t what you’d call flamboyant. He had softer mannerisms but was far from girly.

It didn’t matter. There were lots and lots of hot guys in the competition. He’d have plenty of eye candy, but that’d be all it was. Jimmy had already been severely warned about fraternization. Sex of any kind with any of the other contestants or employees of
Superstar
was strictly forbidden.

Seemed kind of weird to him. Every year during the live broadcasts there were always rumors circulating about on-set romances. Two years ago, Krystal had been rumored to have had a torrid affair with one of the Top Forty contestants. It was a great big scandal. And there always were all kinds of stories going around the Internet about Dylan Seagraves. A lot of people said he was gay and took young male contestants home with him to share with his live-in boyfriend.

Honestly, Jimmy didn’t care about all those rumors. He suspected most of them were spread on purpose. The old saying was that there was no such thing as bad publicity. As long as people were talking about
Superstar
, they’d be tuning in.

Jimmy knew it would be necessary to keep his private life private. He wasn’t about to come out of the closet to the whole world on
America’s Next Superstar
. And if he made it through the elimination rounds, it would be all the more important that he conceal his orientation. In previous years, certain contestants who were rumored to be gay had gotten voted off. The general public just wasn’t yet ready for an openly gay Superstar… especially not an openly gay
cowboy
Superstar.

Chapter Three

“O
H
GOOD
God, stop the fucking insanity,” Reuben whined as his limo pulled up to the front entrance. “Another mob of talentless, moronic wannabes.” The fact that these talentless wannabes were the same people who’d made him filthy rich didn’t even cross his mind. All he could think about was what a long process it was going to be over the next fourteen days. Four hundred sniveling brats all vying for the coveted top slots, all willing to do just about anything to ensure their secure place in the competition—well, maybe that part wasn’t so bad.

Reuben’s position as judge gave him tremendous power. And contrary to the naïve beliefs of the general public, he was far more than just a single vote on a panel of four judges. This was
his
reality show. If he chose to have a contestant eliminated, he could make it happen. To simply state that he wanted something to happen would result in his desires becoming reality.

It was a very comfortable position to be in, especially while here in the midst of all these gorgeous teen heartthrobs. Every year since the competition began, Reuben had handpicked his favorite playmates. They were all basically the same. Eighteen to twenty-three-year-olds. Slender to medium builds, not too bulky. Smooth. He liked the all-American, clean-cut look. He liked narrow waists and clear complexions. He preferred blonds with tight little bubble butts and pearly-white smiles.

In past years, some had been crooners, the type you’d see in just about every boy band. Some were beat boxers, some country boys, and some rockers. He didn’t much go for the thug, bad-boy look. A couple tasteful tattoos in the right places were okay, but none of that wild hair or grotesque body piercing. What Reuben preferred was purity. He wanted his boy meat to be undefiled and innocent, and most of all—compliant.

How could they not comply with his wishes? They all knew how much power he wielded. If they were not fully aware that he held their fate in the palm of his hand, he could easily make it crystal clear to them. Sure, there had been a few who’d resisted his advances. It wasn’t really surprising. Pride often led people to make stupid decisions about their lives. But the smart ones, the ones who truly wanted to succeed, knew better than to say no to him.

If one of the chosen boys was unwilling to submit to Reuben’s wishes, he simply eliminated him. There were plenty more where they came from. And there were times when Reuben himself tired of a particular boy toy. After being with him a few times he was no longer undefiled, and it was time to move on to the next one.

His assistant Renee had often scolded him for playing this game. “You’re fucking filthy rich,” she reminded him. “Just hire yourself an escort. Get yourself a boyfriend and come out of the closet. Get yourself
ten
boyfriends if you want. Reuben, for God’s sake, you can have any kind of guy you want—any kind that money can buy.”

But that was just it. He didn’t want to
buy
sex. He didn’t want some prostitute that had slept with hundreds of men. He wanted innocence and purity, and he wasn’t just looking for a trophy boy to show off to the world. Reuben had a public image to maintain. He was regarded as an enormously successful businessman and one of the most powerful forces in the music industry. That was what it was really about—power. Renee was right about it being a game. Not only were each of these young men his conquests, but he also held their fate in his hands. He was the ultimate kingmaker, and this gave him an incredible rush.

As he made his way through the crowd and into the building, he headed straight for his dressing room. He placed his briefcase on the vanity, opened it, and removed a manila folder. It contained the headshots of the contestants he’d chosen. There were three in particular who had caught his eye.

Ah yes, Corey Dunham. He’d sung some sappy boy-band ballad. Perfect. He was gonna be a huge hit. Christ, he’d be a star even without his voice. Every teenage girl in America would be tuning in—fantasizing about seeing him shirtless. They’d rush out to buy his CDs and memorize every syllable of his songs. He chuckled as he thought of it. The very thing these teen girls craved the most would be what Reuben himself already had. Staring at the cherubic face of his next teen superstar, Reuben reached down and groped himself. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing himself to visualize his fantasy.

After a deep breath, he moved on, leafing through the stack of photos. Another one he liked was in there someplace.
Yes, here he is…Jimmy.
Jimmy Sawyer, the country boy. The kid also possessed that same innocence. Although not as refined and soft as Corey, Jimmy was pure. He had a down-home quality to him, and that accent of his, coupled with the deep baritone voice, was exquisite. Reuben imagined the sound of it. He was sure by the time he was done with the boy, he’d be singing at least a few notes a couple octaves higher.

And there were others. Plenty of them. It had been a good season after all. Of the 198 male contestants who had been selected, a good three dozen of them appealed to Reuben’s taste. He just had to get through the drudgery of the first few days, let the kids get settled in. Allow them to begin feeling the pressure of the competition—then he’d make his move. And he had already decided which boy he’d go after first.