Fifteen Minutes

chapter 13

Zack wished they had another day to rehearse. The producers had them busier than ever, filming a Jeep commercial all day Monday and hosting a number of reporters on Tuesday in anticipation of the show’s debut next week. Every remaining hour was spent in rehearsals, but even that didn’t feel like enough.

On top of everything, Zack had exchanged only a few texts with Reese and his parents. The pressure was intense. Reese had assured him that she understood. His parents, too. Zack needed to put everything into making it through to the next round. And that meant he had to focus on his group’s number.

Zack sat eight rows from the front, next to Zoey. Like always. The girl was like glue. No matter how much he talked about Reese, Zoey found her way beside him. It could’ve been his imagination, but it seemed whenever Zoey leaned in to talk to him, one of the cameras caught the move. Kip had asked earlier today for an update on the budding romance.

“There’s no romance.” Zack had tried not to sound angry. Last thing he wanted to do was get on Kip’s bad side. Still, he was tired of the talk about him and Zoey. “She’s a friend. Nothing more.”

“Sure.” Kip had winked at him.

Now Zack looked to the wings and saw Kip talking to one of the production assistants. Standing beside them was a cameraman and sure enough his lens was aimed straight at Zack and Zoey. He looked at the stage and tried to block from his mind whatever story the producers were creating.

The rest of their group sat nearby.

“We’re up in three acts.” Zoey leaned in and whispered near his ear. “I’m scared to death.”

“We know the song.” He smiled at her. The sort of smile reserved for his sister. “We’ll do great.”

“I wish we had more time. We need it. You said so yourself.”

“Everyone needs more time. We’re good.” Regardless of what he thought, he needed Zoey to be calm. “You’ll be great.”

“But Zack”—she brought one knee up to her chest—“aren’t you a little scared? I mean, we’re at Carnegie Hall.”

“Zoey.” Zack forced a smile. “You need to focus. No more questions.”

“What?” She looked like a child who hadn’t gotten her way. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” He cast her a side glance. “Carnegie Hall or not, you can sing. You’ll be fine.” He looked straight ahead. “Just give it a rest for a minute.” He drew a deep breath. Why did she have to be a part of every waking moment of his Fifteen Minutes experience? There were other guys. Single guys. He felt bad for her, for her insecurities, so he tolerated her. That was all.

Even when he could feel the cameras on them.

She folded her arms. “I was just saying. I mean, Carnegie Hall. I still can’t believe it.” Zoey leaned back in her seat and looked around the hallowed white ornate walls. “Think of all the people who’ve performed here.”

She wasn’t going to be quiet. Clearly. Zack kept his eyes straight ahead and thought about her last statement. She had a point. They knew their song, and in most ways this audition was only a means to an end. William Gaines had told their group that morning they’d have to forget most of the words or fall off the stage to be sent home at this point. Zack and the others were pretty much through to the top forty. A troubling thought came to Zack. He hadn’t prayed about their upcoming performance since first thing this morning. The realization felt strangely foreign. He couldn’t be too busy to pray, couldn’t rush past this moment without taking it in, without thanking God for getting him this far. Lord, use me today . . . use our group. Let me shine for You. Thanks for letting me be here at all.

Zoey leaned in close to his arm. “What do you think of them?” She nodded to the stage. The group was mostly country singers, and the sound attempted to be something close to Lady Antebellum. It fell short, but Zack didn’t want to say so. “They’re all right.”

“I think we’re better.”

Zack shifted so there were a few inches between him and Zoey again. “No guarantees today. We’ll need to bring it.”

“You’re right.” Zoey leaned in again. “But you think we’re ready, right?”

Zack didn’t say a word. He looked at her and then at the stage again. He couldn’t make her be quiet. He scanned the front of the auditorium. Production assistants were everywhere, bringing meals and water, connecting contestants with instructors brought in for wardrobe expertise, vocal training, and movement design. Whatever that meant. All of them talked. The consensus seemed to be that Zack’s group was one of the strongest. The gospel singer from the first round back in the tent was one of their five. Each of them could sing.

Zack definitely believed his group was one of the best. Certainly better than the country singers onstage. He felt a surge of competitiveness mix with an ugly kind of pride. The sort he barely recognized in himself. The feeling didn’t sit well and Zack closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? If God allowed him to make it through to the next round it would be to glorify Him. Not because he had sized up his competition and decided he was a better singer or a stronger performer. He had to keep himself in check on so many levels.

He blinked his eyes open as one of the singers onstage forgot several seconds of the lyric. Zack felt for the guy. The next singer forgot words, too, and the youngest girl in the group began to cry midsong. Long before the country group finished, Cullen Caldwell waved them off. “Stop!” He stood and scowled at the five singers. “Are you blokes serious?” His Australian accent was sharper than usual. “You’re trying to make the top forty with that? You don’t even know the words.” Cullen wore all white as usual, this time with a fluorescent green knit cap. He motioned them off the stage once more. “Someone get the next group out here. The five of you are done. Go home!”

Just like that their time on Fifteen Minutes was finished. Theirs was the first group eliminated, even though according to show tradition, no group was officially eliminated until tomorrow, after everyone had competed. Zack pressed his back to the hard pew and winced at Cullen’s harsh tone. The singers hung their heads, all but one. A woman in her late twenties. “Please.” She walked to the edge of the stage, her eyes scanning the judges. “This is my last chance. I mean, I have two kids at home and this is my dream. Can we try it again? We didn’t even finish.”

“No.” Cullen was still standing. He pointed her off the stage. “You sounded like cats locked in a freezer.” He sat down and stared at his notes. “Next group!”

Zoey looked at Zack, her eyes wide. “Intense,” she mouthed. “Now I’m really scared.”

“Pray.”

“I don’t know how.”

Zack held his finger to his lips. If they got caught talking, they could be the next ones kicked out. Especially with the tension in the room.

Zoey pressed. “Let’s talk later, okay? I want to know how to pray. I need it. I’m so nervous.”

Zack nodded, more so she wouldn’t keep talking to him. Did she really want to learn how to pray? Was that what she hoped to talk about? Zack wanted to believe her. Maybe if he talked to her about God she would understand him better, how he was only here because of his faith in Christ, how that and his family and Reese were what kept him going.

The next group took the stage, this one full of hipsters singing a whiny folk song from the sixties. Zack watched, wondering what Cullen would say or if he’d let them finish. The trouble with Zoey’s flirting, the way he missed Reese, the conversation he’d had with his father last night—all of it weighed on him. The farm was in worse shape than any of them thought. It wasn’t just the mortgage that was behind. They owed back taxes, too. His father didn’t share many of the details, even when Zack pressed. But yesterday he could hear the despair in his father’s voice.

“Don’t worry about us. God has a plan,” he had told Zack. “You’ll stay as long as He wants you there.”

Zack had felt his emotions get the better of him as the call ended. “I love you, Dad. Tell Mom the same.” If it weren’t for the fact that he’d made it this far, he would’ve climbed in a cab, headed for LaGuardia and caught the next flight home. He couldn’t, though, because the Lord had allowed him to make it this far. He would see where the next round might take him.

The hipsters were allowed to finish, but watching Cullen mutter in Kelly Morgan’s direction told the rest of them that the group didn’t have long. They’d almost certainly be cut the next day. Zack and Zoey and their group filed to the side stage, and Zack motioned for them to hold hands. “Is it okay if we pray?” He looked at Zoey and the gospel singer and the other two. The group nodded, all of them clearly nervous. William Gaines and Samuel Meier had made it clear they weren’t to overtly involve faith in their time on the show. Zack didn’t care. If he didn’t pray now he might as well go home. Besides, they were in a room where they couldn’t be heard from the main stage and auditorium.

Zoey took his hand first, and the others followed suit. Zack didn’t hesitate. “Dear God, we know that Your purposes are greater than ours. Help us shine for You on that stage. Make it clear what Your plans are for us. In the name of Jesus, amen.”

A TV monitor showed a group of pop singers on the stage, one of the strongest of the day. Chandra Olson gave them a standing ovation, which made Cullen laugh out loud. “They were good, Chandra, not great. Save the standing O for perfection.”

Whether it was an act for ratings or Cullen was having a rough day, Zack wasn’t sure. But the judge’s harsh intensity made him question his earlier confidence about his own group number. Maybe they weren’t as ready as he thought. Either way their turn had come. Zack led the five of them onto the stage and tried not to notice the multiple layers of balconies in the storied auditorium. A set had been built at the base of the stage, a place for the judges. The remainder of the show would be filmed at Carnegie Hall, the first time Fifteen Minutes had been broadcast from here. The buzz was that ratings might be higher than ever.

As they took their places, Zack smiled and nodded at Kelly, then Chandra, and finally, Cullen.

“G’day, Zack. You look awfully happy.” Cullen gave Zack a smirk. He nodded in Zoey’s direction. “And look at you, Zoey girl. You look cheery, too. Something going on you wanna share with the viewers?”

Zack had hoped this wouldn’t come up, but he was ready. He chuckled, keeping his demeanor and tone easy. Beside him, he could feel Zoey blushing, shifting uncomfortably. “We’re a tight group.” Zack held out both arms and, as if on cue, the other four singers filled in around him. “We’re all happy, right?”

The others nodded. Definitely happy.

“Zoey, you look happier than everyone else.” Cullen raised his brow. “Doesn’t she look happy, Kelly? Chandra?”

Kelly laughed and shook her head, but Chandra gave Cullen a teasing shove on his shoulder. “Leave them alone.”

“Just saying . . . I think we’ve got ourselves a couple of lovebirds.” He shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Zoey and Zack.” Kelly grinned. “Has a good ring to it. Cutest couple we’ve seen on the show for sure.”

Chandra leveled her gaze at Zack. “You have a girlfriend, right?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. Her name’s Reese.”

“See!” She shoved Cullen again. “Leave them alone.”

“Play your cards right, Zack.” Kelly gave the two of them a sly smile. “Sometimes you have to let go of the old and grab on to something new.”

“Someone new,” Cullen added. He and Kelly shared another laugh.

Zack figured the comment had something to do with Kelly’s boyfriend hooking up with some South African singer. The story was all over the media.

But still . . . he wished the producers would quit assuming some kind of affair between him and Zoey.

Deep breath, Zack. You can do this. Clear my mind, God . . . Please, clear it.

“All right, enough.” Cullen waved his hand, his face still lit up in a grin. “What are you singing this afternoon?” He leaned his elbows on the table and studied the group. He looked more relaxed than he had all day.

Zack leaned in to the microphone. “ ‘I Can Only Imagine.’ The Wynonna Judd version.”

“Keeping it country, huh?” Cullen raised his brow. His expression said the group had a lot to prove.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, good on ya’ll, then.” Cullen crossed his arms, focused. “Give it a go.”

Zack took a step back and looked at his group. Then he cued the music and they began. The song was a hit from Christian group MercyMe, and it spoke of the first moments in heaven, the glory of meeting Jesus face-to-face. Wynonna’s version added folk flair and a fiddle, but the ballad soared just the same.

The lead vocal went to Zack. He watched the red light come to life on the camera just behind the judges’ table and he sang straight into the lens. As if he could see his parents and Grandpa Dan and AJ and Duke. As if Reese were sitting across from him, cheering him on.

“ ‘I can only imagine, what it will be like . . . when I walk by your side . . .’ ”

Zoey stepped up. “ ‘I can only imagine . . .’ ”

They each took a part and on the chorus they harmonized in a way that made Carnegie Hall sound like heaven. Midsong Zack saw Chandra rub her arms and say something to Cullen, as if she had chills at the beauty of the music. At least that’s what Zack hoped was happening.

When the song ended, the audience of contestants erupted into applause and shouts. Kelly and Chandra jumped to their feet, and Kelly pulled Cullen out of his chair. “Get up! You said we could give a standing ovation for perfection.” Kelly shouted above the cheering contestants. “That . . . was perfection.”

Cullen looked reluctant, but even he rose to his feet. He clapped slowly at first and then more powerfully. “Okay, okay,” he quieted the crowd. “Yes. That was impressive, Zack. Your group sounds ready for the stage. Maybe you should stick together when this is all done.”

“We might just do that.” Zack motioned for the others to join him again, arms around one another. “We liked group week.”

Chandra waved off the cheering crowd again. “That was easily the most beautiful rendition of that song I’ve ever heard.” She shook her head, clearly amazed. “Where did that come from, that sound?”

Zack didn’t hesitate. He leaned in toward the mic. “I think it only could’ve come from God. We asked Him to shine through us.” He smiled at the others. “I think He did that today.”

“I guess so.” Kelly Morgan chuckled, though something about her expression looked off. She looked at her peers and held out her hands in a grand shrug. “You sing a song about God, that’s what you get.” She spun around and pointed at the remaining contestants. “It’s not too late. You can sing a song about the Father, too. Everyone can use a little divine help, right?”

She was making light of the situation, but Zack didn’t care. The song, the moment, the glory to God—all of it had been captured by the cameras. Never mind the romance they were trying to conjure up between him and Zoey. This was the real story. And now all the watching world would see it. Never mind the limitations Meier and Gaines wanted to put on him. The judges had asked and he had answered. Nothing wrong with that.

As they filed off the stage, each of them swapped hugs. Zoey held on a little longer and spoke close to his face. “I was serious about talking later. I want to hear more about God, okay?”

Zack pulled back and met her eyes. “Yes.” He couldn’t tell if she meant it or if this was just another ploy to spend time with him. “After dinner.”

Her eyes lit up. “Perfect. I can’t wait.”

They headed back to their seats to watch the final groups. Seventy-five contestants remained in the room, all eighty minus the country group Cullen had sent home. As the performances played out, Zack allowed for the fact that maybe one of them—and not him—would be better suited to win this year. Whatever You want, God . . . whatever You want. Throughout the afternoon, Zack prayed and watched and wondered. Every few minutes he fielded another question or arm touch by Zoey. Finally three hours later they broke for dinner.

By then Zack wasn’t hungry.

Not when all he could think about was his looming talk with the relentless girl beside him.

THE STORY ABOUT Michael Manning ditching Kelly was all over the Internet, no surprise. With all eyes on her, she had stopped at a clinic on the Upper West Side early that morning before the office opened. A doctor she knew had given her eyes and cheeks a treatment, a mix of mild Botox and glycolic acid intended to remove any proof of her tears.

On top of that, her fellow judges had been nothing but kind since they arrived early that morning. Cullen had pulled her aside before the taping began. “The guy’s a jerk, Kelly. You’re rich and beautiful and famous. You deserve better.” He pointed to the Fifteen Minutes logo atop the famous microphone. “Your star is rising. He’s an idiot.” He hugged her neck and pinched her cheek. “When the bloke figures that out, don’t take him back, you hear me?”

“I won’t.” Kelly appreciated Cullen’s support.

All day her tight skin reminded her to keep smiling. She wasn’t a victim. She wasn’t. As the groups paraded in front of them, Kelly reminded herself to call her parents that night. Samuel Meier had said she could take off three days for a trip back to Greenville, South Carolina. Kelly figured she could take care of the visit in two.

Now that it was time for dinner, Kelly was about to leave the auditorium when Chandra tapped her on the shoulder. Kelly turned around, surprised.

“You have a minute?” Chandra didn’t look happy.

“Sure.” Kelly never knew what to expect from Chandra. The woman was young and beautiful, but she had a past full of heartache and lately she seemed distant. Kelly had no idea what to expect.

When they were alone, Chandra put her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to talk about Michael.” Her eyes looked deep, concerned. “I heard you on the phone with your manager when we were at lunch in L.A. Your husband wants reconciliation, right? He doesn’t want the divorce?”

“Wow.” Kelly bristled. “That’s none of your business.”

“I know that.” The singer’s tone was sharp. “But you’re going to hear me out.”

No one talked to Kelly Morgan like this. She opened her eyes wider, too surprised to do anything but listen.

“You and Cal had one of the most beautiful marriages in Hollywood.” Chandra spoke with all the diva attitude she was known for. “That’s right. I followed your story. It was a fairy tale right up until a few years ago.”

“You don’t know—”

“Wait!” Chandra pointed at the ceiling. “I’m not finished. I know this is your breakup day and your heart’s all in a knot and I’m sorry about that. But let me tell you something, Kelly Morgan. You looked like a fool dating that boy. And right now you’re gonna listen. At this point in my life I have nothing to lose.”

Again Kelly could only hold her breath and listen, curiosity winning over her outrage.

“All right.” Chandra smoothed the wrinkles in her red silk top and found a new level of composure. “The way I see it, you changed. Not Cal. You.” She jerked her thumb toward the stage. “All that fame crap got to your pretty head and you started believing it. Next thing you know you’re talking about your trainer this and your Botox that. Your husband ain’t good enough and you’re too busy for your kids. Your family, your home, everything that used to matter fell to the idol of fame.” She looked Kelly up and down. “Why? Because you decided you’re all that. When you’re not.” She lowered her voice. “No one is.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. Her stomach felt bunched up and she needed a restroom. A lecture was the last thing she’d expected from Chandra today. “I don’t need this.”

“Listen to me.” Chandra leaned closer and pointed at her. “You call that husband of yours and figure it out.” She settled back a few inches. “My parents were a beautiful example. They loved each other and took care of each other. They’d be here right now cheering me on if . . . if they had the chance.”

A light dawned in Kelly’s heart. This was about Chandra’s parents, not her and Cal. She folded her arms and let the woman finish.

“Marriage is beautiful. Fame is ugly. Your boyfriend’s out of the picture, fine.” Chandra’s words were rich with passion. “Call your husband. Before it’s too late.” She raised both hands in the air and shook her head. “That’s all. I had to say it.”

Chandra started to leave, the tension between the two of them still thick. Kelly called after her. “Wait.”

The singer stopped, her eyes flashing with emotion. “What?”

“You’re as famous as I am. Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s a prison.” Chandra took a step closer, her tone seething. “I’d give it up right now.” Her voice settled into a deep sorrow. “To be back at home with my parents, the day before my Fifteen Minutes audition. All of it!” She said the words “fifteen minutes” as if they were poison. Chandra pointed at Kelly again. “There’s no escape. I’m here this season so I can whisper the truth to a few people about fame. Maybe you.” She held up her hands again and headed for the door. She looked back at Kelly once more. “Call your husband.”

Chandra left the room and Kelly leaned against the wall, exhausted and trembling. What was all that? The diatribe was misplaced and uncalled for. How had she felt the right to say those things? Kelly shouldn’t have to deal with this. If Samuel Meier asked Kelly back next season, she would tell him how Chandra felt. Then the black queen of pop music could be cut from the panel. Kelly’s problem wasn’t fame or her refusal to call Cal or even Michael Manning. Her problem was Chandra Olson. One of them would have to go next year.

The show had room for only one diva.