Choosing America's Next Superstar (7 page)

She cracked up. “No shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked for a blood sample.”

“Or urine,” he said, more seriously. “They could do drug testing.”

She guffawed. “God, I hope not. I’ll be on the next flight out. Last night I was so freaked about the competition, I smoked a big fat one.”

“Really?” he said, laughing. “I never got into it. Weed, I mean. I don’t like the taste… or smell.”

“Well, I could like use a good buzz right now.”

“I know what ya mean, but we can’t even drink.”

“Bull
shit
,” she said. “I read the rules. We can drink… ‘in moderation’. And believe me, I’m gonna very moderately get my ass wasted, just as soon as we’re checked in.” She winked at him.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re older and more worldly. I’m not old enough to even be served.”

“Well, there’s such a thing as a liquor store, ya know. I can get us a bottle….”

“We’ll see,” he said. As much as he liked Sam, he was not about to go get drunk or stoned, especially not on his first night there. Getting through the competition was going to be challenging enough on its own without complicating things. He knew if he were lucky enough to make it through the elimination rounds, there’d be plenty of opportunity for celebration afterword.

When they got to the head of the line, Corey turned in his paperwork and was given a packet containing the itinerary, a name badge, and a voucher for his return flight. He pulled the voucher from his packet and held it up. It looked so ominous, a bleak reminder that he was only one screw-up away from complete failure.

After they’d registered, they had to go to the front desk to check into a room. “I wonder if we’ll be assigned roommates,” he said.

“Let’s see if we can room together,” Sam suggested.

“I’m sorry,” the desk clerk informed them thirty seconds later, “room assignments have already been made, and we have strict orders not to make changes.”

“Oh, come on,” Sam pleaded. “Who’s gonna find out? There are so many people, they’ll never know.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” the dark-skinned male clerk assured her. “All roommate assignments are same-gender. If I put a guy and a girl together, that’d cost me my job.”

She rolled her eyes in disgust. “So I’m getting stuck with some chick I don’t even know? What’s the difference if I room with a girl or a gay guy?” Her voice was getting loud as her tone became more argumentative.

“Sam, just chill,” Corey said. “I’m in the same situation… I’ll be with someone I don’t know….”

“Dude, these rules make no sense. They don’t want guys and girls bunking together because of some Puritan bullshit prudishness. But you’re
gay!
They’re gonna put you with some other guy. The whole thing is so self-defeating. I mean, think about it. You’re far more likely to do something naughty and, God-forbid,
sexual
with another guy than with me!”

“Sam, for God’s sake, will you shut up?” She was starting to piss him off. Why on earth would she think it was okay to just out him like that in front of everyone?

“Just relax, dude,” she said. “You’re in New York now. Half the people here are gay. I bet
you’re
gay, right?” She turned to the desk clerk. He didn’t answer but instead raised an eyebrow.

“Look,” he said, “all I can do is give you your room keys. Where you decide to actually sleep is up to you. Perhaps you could arrange a swap or something.”

“Well, thanks for nothing… Raif,” she said, reading his nametag.

“You’re more than welcome, miss,” he said with the most insincere smile Corey had ever seen. He handed them their keys, and as he did so winked at Corey. Maybe Sam’s gaydar was right again.

J
IMMY
had never felt so flustered. This whole
America’s Next Superstar
thing was starting to seem like a really bad idea. He felt out of his element in the big city with all the huge buildings and noisy crowds. He’d never seen so many cabs. As he sat in the backseat of the shuttle bus, he stared out the window behind him, and all he could see were taxis.

He was sitting next to a rather nerdy-looking kid with spiked hair. The guy was tall and super slender and was wearing headphones. He bobbed his head, humming along to the music. It appeared as if everyone involved with this competition was either rude or obnoxious. Or they were dishonest, like that Corey dude.

Jimmy couldn’t believe his bad luck, running into Corey again at the airport. Well, actually, Corey had kind of saved him right when he was about to be trampled. It didn’t matter, though. That didn’t excuse what he’d done. Back in Detroit he’d pretended to be Jimmy’s friend only to use him. Jimmy wasn’t about to let that happen again.

As he sat quietly in his seat on the bus, he took a deep breath and looked around. Why was he allowing himself to feel overwhelmed? Why was he being negative? This was the most amazing experience of his life, and he should be celebrating. He should be overjoyed right now.

How many people actually got a chance to live their dream like this? This was no time for self-pity or depression. For all those years growing up, he’d sat in front of the TV, glued to the screen during every episode of
Superstar
. Now here he was a part of it!

As soon as Jimmy got inside the hotel, he called home. “Mama, you wouldn’t believe this city. It’s so huge… and busy. And there are so many people racin’ round here like chickens with their heads off. I ain’t never seen nothing like it. … Aw, now, don’t you worry. Everything’s fine. I just wanted you to know I made it all right. And I’ll be home in about two weeks… hopefully not beforehand. … Yes, I love you too. Tell Daddy I love him… and Charlie. Listen, I gotta go. I got to put my bags in my room and meet my roommate. There’s just one meetin’ tonight for everybody, then tomorrow we start the elimination rounds. I’ll call you after I get my results.”

Jimmy then registered and picked up his room key from the front desk. He wasn’t exactly sure what nationality that desk clerk was, but he sure was cute. Seemed like he was flirting too. Obviously he was not a true New Yorker or he wouldn’t have been so friendly.

There was no point waiting for a bellhop. With so many guests checking into the hotel at the same time, they were all running their tails off. Besides, Jimmy just had the two pieces of luggage and his guitar. The one suitcase was a mite bit heavy, but he’d manage. It helped that they had those little wheels on the bottom.

When he got into the elevator and pushed the button for his floor, a young lady slipped in just before the door closed. “Floor eight, please,” she said, smiling broadly.

“You from
Superstar
too, ma’am?” he asked. It was kind of a dumb question. She was carrying a registration packet just like his own.

“I am,” she said, nodding. “I’m Teri, and you are?”

“Jimmy,” he said, holding out his hand. “Pleasure meetin’ ya. Where y’all from?”

“LA,” she said. “And you must be from Kentucky?”

“How’d you know?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and squinting.

“Lucky guess,” she said. “You’re a cutie. I knew you must be from either Kentucky or Alabama or Georgia. Somewhere in that vicinity….”

“Or Tennessee,” he said. “They talk the right way there too.”

She laughed. “Let me show you a little secret,” she said. She reached down and pulled up the handle of Jimmy’s suitcase. “It’s a lot easier to pull your suitcase behind you when you use the handle. Here, let me see your smaller bag.” She grabbed it from him and flopped it atop the big suitcase, sliding the strap around the handle to secure it. “See? Isn’t that easier?”

“Ain’t you smart?” he said. “I guess you can tell I ain’t done much travelin’.”

“Well, if you need help with anything else, you let me know, cowboy,” she said. The elevator bell rang and the door came open. “This is my floor. Good luck!”

Jimmy decided he’d been entirely too hasty in his assessment of the people here in New York. That was the second friendly face he’d encountered in the past five minutes. God must have been smiling on him after all. Now if he could just be lucky enough to end up with a decent roommate….

It took him a minute to figure out exactly how to use the room key. When the desk clerk first gave it to him, he thought it was a mistake. It didn’t look like any key he’d ever seen before. Seemed more like a credit card, but when he saw the handle, it all made sense. He had to push that credit card thing into the slot. It took him three tries to get it to work. After his second attempt, he pulled the card out and read the instructions. “Insert this side up and remove quickly. Turn handle when green light appears.”

As he stepped through the door, it became obvious his roommate had already arrived. There was a big suitcase on one of the beds and clothes hanging in the closet. Apparently he was in the bathroom. Jimmy thought about knocking and letting him know he’d arrived but wasn’t exactly sure what he’d say. He decided instead to take a seat over in the desk chair and wait for his room companion to finish up in the bathroom.

About two minutes later, he heard the bathroom door opening. Jimmy stood up and stepped toward the door. His mouth dropped open when he saw who emerged. Dripping wet and wearing only a towel, it was Corey.

Chapter Four

“N
O
WAY
!”
Jimmy objected. “You are
not
my roommate.”

Corey, slightly embarrassed by his seminudity, grinned sheepishly. “Wow,” he said, “what a coincidence.”

“Dude, I ain’t gonna room with you. There’s no way!”

Corey frowned and shrugged, still standing in the hallway by the bathroom door. “Suit yourself. I guess you could go sleep in the lobby. They already told us that no one could change rooms.”

“I’m going down there,” Jimmy said in a huff. “I’m gonna get this straightened out right now. They can’t make me share a room with you.”

“Dude, calm down, would ya?” Corey wanted to laugh. Jimmy was kind of cute when he got all pissed. “Before you storm out of here, at least let me finish telling you what I was trying to say earlier.”

“I already told you, I’m not interested in nothin’ you got to say.”

“You were totally right about what you said,” Corey said, plowing ahead with his explanation in spite of Jimmy’s objections. “I should not have let my friend Megan do that. I shouldn’t have gone along with it. I should have told that Renee woman right away that none of that shit was true.”

“Damn right!” Jimmy said, scowling. “But you didn’t.”

“So when I got in there and got my golden ticket, I spilled my guts. I told them the whole truth.”

“Ain’t this supposed to be a singing competition?” Jimmy asked. “Why does all this personal stuff matter, anyway? Why would you feel like it was okay for you to lie, make stuff up about yourself? Why pretend to be my friend?”

“I wasn’t pretending, Jimmy.” Corey sighed. He stepped over to the bed, and Jimmy backed away from him. As Corey sat there, Jimmy began pacing back and forth in the hallway. “Why don’t you sit down,” Corey suggested, “you’re making me nervous.”

“I don’t care!” Jimmy shouted. “I don’t give a flip if you’re nervous.”

At this point Corey couldn’t contain himself any longer. He burst out laughing, covering his face with hands, and then he flopped back on the bed.

“What? What’s so… oh, you make me so flippin’ mad! What’s so gol darn funny?”

Corey removed his hands from his face and rolled onto his side. He used one arm to prop up his head. “You are. You’re really cute when you’re mad. Do you ever actually swear, though? Do you ever say ‘fuck’?”

“Well, it’s not funny! And sure… sure, I swear. I swear all the dang time!” His face was beet red. He turned away from Corey and stepped toward the door. Suddenly he spun around, his hands on his hips. “Did you just say I was
cute
?”

Corey nodded, staring wide-eyed at the irate country boy. “Afraid so,” he said. “You gonna beat me up now?”

Jimmy squinted, scowling. “I ought to. I ought to clean your clock.”

Corey was still grinning. “For saying you’re cute?”

“No! For what you did… back in Detroit. And for what you’re doin’ now, making fun of me.”

Corey pushed himself up into a sitting position on the mattress. “Dude, I swear I’m not making fun of you. I don’t mean to laugh, but if you could only see yourself. Your face is, like, fire-engine red.”

“Well, ain’t that what folks is supposed to look like when they’re mad?”

Corey held his arms out and shrugged.

“Would you get some flippin’ clothes on?” Jimmy said. “You’re buck nekid.”

“Sure,” Corey said. “If it bothers you. I still say you’re cute when you’re mad, though.”

“Stop sayin’ that!” Jimmy said. “What is wrong with you, anyway? Guys don’t tell guys they’re cute.”

“Some guys do,” Corey said.

“Are you sayin’ what I think you’re saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying?”

“Never mind. I’ll wait in the hall till you get dressed.” He stepped to the door and grabbed hold of the handle.

“No, wait,” Corey said, standing up. “I can get dressed in the bathroom. What did you think I was saying?”