Fifteen Minutes

chapter 19

Something inside Kelly Morgan was changing. She could feel it deep inside.

Somewhere at the center of her heart a softening was happening, whether she liked it or not. She noticed it in quiet times as she watched the top twenty practice their choreography for group numbers or when she and the other judges sorted through music for the live shows.

Usually it started with a memory.

She would see herself at seven years, playing catch with her dad in the backyard. Other girls played with dolls; Kelly played catch. Back then she thought she would pitch for the Yankees one day. Her dad humored her, telling her she could do whatever she set her mind to. Then the image would change. She would be twelve, pigtails and braces and sitting in the front row at church while her dad practiced his sermon. He’s the greatest man in the world, she would tell herself. And when he finished he would take her by the hand and they’d go to Della’s Diner for chocolate shakes. “Extra sprinkles,” he’d tell the guy behind the counter. “Give my girl extra sprinkles.”

Sometimes she’d be older when the memory started up out of nowhere. Seventeen and behind the wheel for the first time, her dad there beside her. “You can do it, baby girl. You’re gonna be the best driver in Greenville.”

When she took out the family’s mailbox that year, her dad only blinked a few times and smiled at her. “We needed a new one, anyway.” The memory would put down roots and she’d close her eyes for a few seconds, feigning weariness so the other judges wouldn’t ask what she was thinking about. In the darkness another image sometimes took shape. She and Cal, holding hands and singing songs to God by Steven Curtis Chapman and Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith. Songs that still played in her mind if she let them.

Kelly tried to stay busy so she could find shelter from her memories.

She talked more to the contestants. They were a mess by now. A few of them had marriages in trouble and others were starting to crack under the pressure. They cried more often. Forgot to eat. Kelly found herself wanting to be there for them. But the contestant she talked to most often was Zack Dylan. The guy always seemed to be around, and every time their eyes met Kelly was struck by him. Yes, he was good-looking—though her early infatuation over him was more of a joke. Her way of making an impact as a judge. Now, though, she knew Zack. She had talked to him about his family and the horse farm, his sick sister and his longing for Kentucky. His love for God and his girlfriend. At this point in the show, Kelly could no longer lie to herself about what drew her to Zack Dylan.

It was his clear-eyed, full-hearted faith. A faith he talked about less than before, but one she recognized all the same. Because she’d seen it all her life growing up.

The faith of her father.

The cast and crew of Fifteen Minutes was in the midst of the quiet period, a time for learning group numbers and preparing for the debut of the live shows. The feeling was a little like summer camp. She and Cal used to go every summer with their church group. Like camp, the break allowed camaraderie to run deep and spirits to run high. Everyone was on equal footing and anything was possible. On the days when the top twenty weren’t busy perfecting the live show, they made appearances around New York City. The Today show had them perform two group numbers and they appeared on Letterman and Leno. The publicity was at an all-time high, and Kelly loved the distraction.

But when they were back at the leased studio across the street from Carnegie Hall, when she had time to sit and actually think about her life and her father and the little time they had left, the memories came. Kelly couldn’t stop them. And gradually, one day at a time, they were changing her.

It was late Monday night, eight days into the most intense rehearsals. The contestants were on the makeshift warehouse stage—all twenty of them. Carnegie Hall had only been reserved for the group auditions and live shows. Rehearsals were here. The choreographer was one of the best in the world, responsible for Beyoncé’s last Super Bowl and Katy Perry’s world tour. Kelly sat watching with Chandra and Cullen.

The choreographer, Demetrius Davidson, clapped, clearly in a hurry. “Okay, come on. Everyone in your lines. That’s two lines, people.” Demetrius put his hands on his hips. “And . . .” He pointed at three guys sitting at a soundboard. “Music!” Over the blare of the song, the choreographer shouted again. “Five, six, seven, eight.” He clapped to the beat as all twenty contestants launched into the moves.

Cullen leaned near Kelly and Chandra. He spoke loud enough so they could hear him. “We need two more weeks.”

“They’ll be fine.” Chandra nodded at the stage. “I see enough dancers out there to carry the left feet.”

“Maybe.” Cullen stroked his chin as he settled back into the long leather sofa. The producers had rented comfortable furniture for the judges and enough sofas for the contestants to use during breaks. It felt like a glorified clubhouse.

Even the lighting was conducive to what would eventually be the polished live show.

“Cut . . . cut it!” The instructor waved off the music and moved onto the stage to two girls. They looked terrified. “Have you never seen a pivot turn?”

One of the girls bravely spoke first. “Not before tonight.”

“Really?” Demetrius looked at her, then back at the three judges. He raised his voice. “Really?”

Cullen laughed out loud. “You’re the magician. Make it happen.”

The music stayed off while those who understood the dance helped those who didn’t have a clue. Kelly let her eyes settle on Zack. He was helping one of the guys in the back row, a big farm boy from Iowa with a voice as deep as a storm cellar. Good luck. Kelly covered her mouth, careful to keep her laughter hidden. The farm boy wasn’t going to be a dancer. But the kids were trying, she had to give them that.

Especially Zack. Kelly still watched him. How different would he be at the end of the season? And what if he won? Maybe Chandra was right that the fame and celebrity would change him. As Kelly pondered that from the comfort of her corner on the couch, a lead production assistant stormed up to Zack. Whatever the guy said, he pointed at Zack and then motioned him over to Zoey.

A hush fell over the room and the cameramen took a break. The judges weren’t sitting close enough to hear every word, but whatever had been exchanged, Zack looked surprised. He said something in response and nodded to the farmer. This time the assistant took a step closer, clearly upset. “Look, Zack, you’ll do it our way or you can sit this one out.”

Chandra and Cullen were also drawn to the drama onstage. The assistant stormed back to his place at the side of the stage and cued the cameras. When the music resumed, Zack danced next to Zoey. Someone else had been assigned to the farmer.

Kelly blinked a few times. “Did that just happen?”

“I believe it did.” Cullen crossed one leg over his knee. He chuckled. “Better bloke than me, letting some bludge assistant tell him what to do.”

“Wow. I guess I didn’t know they were that serious about the Romeo and Juliet thing.” Kelly stood and walked slowly to the edge of the stage. She stayed in the shadows so the contestants wouldn’t notice her, as close as possible to the spot where Zack and Zoey danced together.

The music stopped and Zoey looked up at Zack. She mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” Her expression showed her helplessness. In response, he put his arm around her and gave her a brief hug.

Kelly couldn’t hear what he said but she didn’t have to. She was suddenly angry. She marched over to the side stage where the production assistants were clustered. The lead guy turned to her as she approached. “Kelly, what’s up?”

“Them.” She pointed at Zack and Zoey. “Are we that desperate for ratings?”

“It’s not coming from me.” The guy looked tight-lipped. “Boss says they’re a couple. America will love ’em. Nothing this adorable since Justin and Kelly on Idol.”

“That’s crazy. They’re not a couple.”

“The kiss says otherwise.” He shrugged. “Anything these contestants say or do will be on the show.”

“That’s lousy.” She turned her attention to the stage. The group was running through the number again. Zack and Zoey were still together. She glared at the PA. “Things happen on a show like this. It’s all fantasy, you know that.”

“Exactly.” He chuckled, clearly unconcerned. “And the fantasy this time around is Zack and Zoey.”

Kelly stared at him, not sure what to say. How could Samuel Meier feel good about manipulating people? Was this what celebrity had come to? Fifteen Minutes creating situations and relationships for ratings? The producers would present whatever picture they wanted, and the public would eat it up. The show turned people into stars for the sake of ratings and profit. Something about that was plain old ugly.

“I’ll talk to Samuel.” She crossed her arms and looked from the PA to the dance floor and back. She searched his face. Then she took a step closer. “It isn’t real.”

“Well, Ms. Morgan”—he took a step closer, obviously not threatened by her—“the cameras say it is. For a show like Fifteen Minutes that’s all that matters.”