Fifteen Minutes: A Novel (35 page)

He hesitated, their eyes locked. “Thank you. I’ll . . . keep that in mind.”

“You do that.” She crossed her arms. “And when you hit the pillow tonight, I want you to think about something else. I took this job for two reasons.” She hesitated, making sure he heard this last part. “So I could find meaning in all this. Meaning, because by winning . . . I lost everything.” She paused. “You wanna know the other reason?”

“What?” His tone was just short of rude.

“So I could warn someone like you.” She came to him and found control once more. Gently, she took his hands in hers. “I promise you something, Zack Dylan. Right here I promise you. I haven’t prayed to God since my parents died. But tonight . . . tonight when you perform in front of America I will be praying for
you
. Praying that despite all the madness, you might find a way to win.” She released his hands. “Go.”

Zack held her eyes for another few seconds, then disappeared down the hallway. Chandra shut the door, grabbed her computer, and sat down. She found the photograph again, the one of her and her parents and her fiancé in the moments before she drove off to audition.

For the next ten minutes she didn’t want to live anywhere else.

ZACK COULDN’T RETURN
to the rehearsal room. He wasn’t even sure he could compete after that. He walked blindly to the end of the hall toward the emergency exit. That’s what he needed, right? An emergency exit. So he could stop the madness and think about his life, about what Chandra had told him.

He hated her approach, how she had yelled at him and blamed him. But somewhere deep inside he had the horrible suspicion that she was right. That every single word was the truth. The absolute truth.

Facing the wall, his forehead pressed against the cool brick, he let the singer’s warning play in his mind again. She was right about Twitter. He didn’t have to check. Gaines had warned him enough times that he’d convinced himself his faith could wait. As if he could put God on hold while he finished the show run and then later . . . after he won . . . he would tell the whole world about Jesus.

The plan disgusted him now, made him want to burst through the door and run as far and fast as he could. He thought about her accusation that he loved this new life more than the old. That couldn’t be true, right? But how else could he explain
some of the changes he’d made? Changes that were intended to please the producers and the audience without thought for how they might affect Reese or his family back home. One at a time he examined Chandra’s statements and he could only admit what was painfully obvious.

She was right.

The realization shocked him. How had he allowed it to happen? And if a stranger could see it, what about his family? His parents and his brother and sister? Grandpa Dan?

What about Reese?

No wonder she was moving to London. He’d texted her every few days since she broke up with him, but she never texted back. With each ignored attempt, he felt his heart grow colder toward her. Zoey understood. She was here and she was his friend. No more private moments or make-out sessions. They had reached an understanding after that first live show, and now they were more careful.

Not that it mattered. The cameramen caught what they wanted. Nearly every week the show ran some sort of update about the two of them—either how they were fighting or hiding from the others or falling more deeply in love.

But somehow along the way he had called home less often. The drama with Zoey had begun to feel real, while his life in Kentucky faded a little more each day. Chills ran down his arms. So much drama, so much public scrutiny.

He thought about the lyrics of the song he would sing that night. They were about being too drunk to remember last night’s girl and maybe even last night’s fight. Drinking until he couldn’t see the stars and waking up under the sun. It was a song William Gaines had suggested. “People need to see the edgy cowboy,” he’d told Zack when they were picking songs.
“You’re a guy’s guy. Like David from the Bible. Time to show a little of that muscle.”

Zack had found himself nodding along with Gaines, agreeing. Who wouldn’t want to be like King David, ready to slay any giant who got in his way on
Fifteen Minutes
? But a drunken-cowboy song couldn’t point people to the Bible. How could he have thought that for even a moment?

Then there were his clothes. Tonight he would wear a cutoff T-shirt and tight jeans—an outfit the wardrobe assistants said was inspired by an Abercrombie ad. Both decisions had seemed right at the time. Anyone would want to be a handsome, well-dressed guy’s guy. The most masculine voice on the show. The at-home audience would go crazy for both the song and the look. Those were Gaines’s words. “You’ll be through with more votes than everyone else combined.”

Nausea tightened Zack’s gut. How could he have agreed to any of it? What had happened to praying about his performance and asking for God’s will, whatever it might be? Zack stood straighter and stared at the emergency exit. He couldn’t leave now. News crews and police would spend the evening searching for him. He’d embarrass his family and the show and probably wind up being sued.

No. He had to go on. He’d made his decision long ago.

When he couldn’t wait another minute, he returned to the rehearsal room. The other contestants were seated in the front row and Gaines was about to use the megaphone. When he spotted Zack, he threw his hands in the air. “You scared us half to death.” His shout could be heard throughout the cavernous room. “Get over here.”

And like that Zack stepped back on the roller coaster from which there was no getting off. He took his place next to Zoey,
and in the minutes before heading over to Carnegie Hall, the two of them ran through their duet again. The competition was turning Zack into an actor. He could sing a love song with Zoey and convince just about everyone in the room.

Zack realized something as they were whisked across the street to Carnegie Hall. He no longer found it natural to pray in the moment. The noise around him was so loud, the screaming fans and demanding production assistants, the rehearsals and sound checks and wardrobe issues. All of it had become so overwhelming he could barely think, let alone pray. One more cost to add to the list.

A list that no doubt would be longer after tonight.

T
he show that night would go down in history. At least that’s what Cullen announced as they moved past the individual performances to the duets. Zack’s drinking song had been met by thunderous applause. He’d grinned and laughed, but he had never felt more empty in all his life. Now he had changed into his cutoff T-shirt and jeans and stood backstage with Zoey, trying to figure out what to feel, how to feel.

He was there when Gaines found him.

“I have a note for you from Meier.” Gaines was all business, a clipboard in his hand. He seemed to read something from the paper. “Here it is.” He looked up, serious. “Push-ups. Drop and give me twenty push-ups.”

Zack looked around at the other singers. “What?” Was this some kind of joke? He chuckled and took a step back. “What do you mean?”

“You heard me.” Gaines’s voice turned gruff. “We don’t have
much time. Drop and give me twenty. They want you to look more buff during the duet.” He gave Zack’s bare biceps a once-over. “They look fine to me. But production wants your muscles to pop for this performance.”

Zack wasn’t sure whether to laugh or tell the man where to take his clipboard. He caught Samuel Meier watching him from the far corner of the room, surrounded by staff. His look told Zack no one was kidding. So with Zoey standing beside him and the other four contestants watching, Zack did as he was told. He dropped down and did twenty push-ups. Twenty became forty and forty became sixty. The push-ups became one sure way to release the anger he felt toward himself and the show and his compromises.

Finally Gaines returned. “That’s enough. You won’t be able to sing.”

Zack rattled off five more for good measure and then hopped to his feet. He was out of breath, but he felt more alive than he had since his talk with Chandra. Suddenly the noise of the contestant coordinator faded along with every other sound in the room.
God . . . what am I . . . what am I doing here? What’s happened to me?
The prayer came in fits and starts, but it was the first time he had prayed in longer than he could remember. Gaines’s mouth was moving, but Zack couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t hear anything but his pounding heart and the gentle whisper of the Holy Spirit.

I have been with you all along, son. . . . Turn to Me. I know the plans I have for you.

“Zack!” It was Zoey’s voice. “You okay?”

He looked around and saw her standing in front of him, searching his eyes. “Yeah, I’m . . .” Her blond hair looked fuller than usual and she wore a short tight black dress and boots. He
let his eyes drift over the length of her before he caught himself. She looked gorgeous. If they were alone now he wasn’t sure . . .

What was he thinking? He blinked and stared at the ground. Panic seized him. Chandra had just warned him, and still he couldn’t stop the slide. A thought hit him square in the heart. Wherever Reese was tonight—if she watched the show—she would be sure she’d done the right thing.

“Zack, what’re you thinking?” Zoey moved closer, her voice a whisper. As if she didn’t want the others to think something was wrong. “Are you sick?”

“No.” He came back to the surface. “I’m all right.”

Across the room, Gaines called for them. “You’re up in thirty seconds.”

Zack took her hand and led her to the stage door. This was how they were supposed to enter, whether he liked it or not. He’d made his commitment to tonight’s show. Now he had to follow through. They could hear the countdown behind them and at the right time they walked onto the stage to a standing ovation. Zack remembered Meier’s statement from yesterday.
America has never loved a
Fifteen Minutes
couple more than the two of you.

The lighting became more romantic and Zack noticed the setting, the one they had practiced with. There were trees and a small bridge and a park bench. He almost forgot the blocking. But as the song began, the movements came easily. Hand in hand they sauntered across the bridge, stopping to sing while looking into each other’s eyes. Next they moved to the bench and then to a pair of microphones at the center of the stage.

“We’ll make love tonight and make love last,” Zack sang to her.

“Like we never had a yesterday before today,” Zoey added.

They finished the song together. “Like we never had a past. Never had a past.”

Again the crowd was on its feet, screaming and applauding and making the walls of Carnegie Hall feel like they might fall from the sound. They each bowed and then Zoey caught his eyes. Before he could stop her, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. On impulse alone, his hand came to the side of her face as the kiss played out.

It didn’t last longer than a second or two, but it doubled the noise in the building. With that the two of them walked off, still holding hands. Zack didn’t take a breath until they were backstage. A production team seated at a distant table began to clap. “Perfect, you two.” Gaines added his applause to the mix. “The kiss was brilliant.”

Zack couldn’t speak. He led Zoey out of the room and down a long cement hall. There was precious little dressing room space in the back of the building, but Zack found a supply closet and pulled her in behind him. When they were alone—definitely alone—he faced her, hurt and seething. “How could you do that?”

“What?” Her own frustration added to the moment. “That kiss?” She glared at him. “Don’t worry. It didn’t mean a thing.” She was shaking. “The audience wanted something extra, so I gave it to them.”

“That wasn’t your choice. I had no idea.”

“Oh, right, . . . and you hated it. Just like you hated kissing me in that upper lobby.” She crossed her arms and laughed, sarcasm working its way around her words. “Whatever. Listen, Zack. I want to win this thing. If that means kissing you on a live show, so be it.”

“Yeah, well, maybe check with me first. How am I supposed to explain that?”

She hesitated, her silence consumed with what looked like a dozen conflicting emotions. Finally she dropped her voice and took a step closer. “How are you supposed to explain that
kiss
?” This time her laugh sounded bitter. “Come on, Zack. How are you going to explain the song about getting drunk? Or the way you let them dress you like some pinup boy tonight?” She tossed her hair, and her haughty eyes burned through him. “I’m the least of your troubles.”

With that she spun around and left.

Zack stayed in the closet another five minutes, fighting for control. Of all the things he hated about the night, he hated this most of all—the fact that she and Chandra were right. He had only himself to blame for the people he’d lost and for the person he had quickly become.

When he finally made his way to the main room backstage, the show was winding down. The last couple was onstage singing their duet. One of the production assistants saw him and motioned him closer. “Zoey isn’t doing so great.”