Fifteen Minutes

chapter 4

It was time.

In a blur of anxious conversations and shuffling feet, Zack and his group moved into the tent. The instructions were nothing new. All of it was on the show’s website. Still, the fifty singers stayed silent while a man with a megaphone explained. “We will announce a start time.” The man’s accent was distinctly British. “At that point you will sing your best song to the best of your ability.” The man seemed bothered, looking down at them from his place on a small platform at the front of the tent. “You will have three minutes. If your number isn’t announced at the end of the round, you will go home. No questions. Thank you for trying out. If your number is called, wait inside the tent for further instructions.”

Around Zack, people moved their feet and cleared their throats and tried to separate themselves from the crowd. Nervous energy sucked the air from the tent. Zack had seen TV footage of this part of the audition, fifty people singing every sort of song from every genre, trying to push their voices above the noise, desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame. But nothing he had seen prepared him for this, how it felt to have just one shot, one chance to impress the judges.

He glanced at the people in black shirts standing around the perimeter of the tent. None of them looked glad to be there. It had been a long day for everyone, and by now chances were Atlanta had given them what they were looking for. A few of them whispered to each other, and another checked his watch. The man in charge was talking to another group. The contestants began to whisper. A few squeezed in vocal exercises.

Here I go. Help me, God . . . He was going to sing “Wind Beneath My Wings,” an old country classic, something familiar that would showcase his tenor voice. According to a forum of past contestants, the more familiar the song the better. It helped the singer stand out.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Zoey leaned toward him. She had been quiet since they entered the tent.

“You’ll be fine.”

The man in charge returned to the platform and glared at them. “Silence!” He nodded to a woman who was clearly his assistant. “Timer ready?”

“Ready.”

“Okay. Set . . .” He turned to the contestants. “Go!”

All around him people began singing, creating a noise that shook the tent and took Zack by surprise. The decibels must’ve been near that of a jet engine or a cheering stadium. If he didn’t focus quickly he would lose himself and his song in the mass confusion. Help me, God . . . I can’t do this without You. He closed his eyes and began to sing. After a few seconds something miraculous happened.

He couldn’t hear any voice but his own. Instead of worrying about who was walking past or evaluating him or crossing his name off a list, he forgot about everyone else in the tent. He hit the first chorus singing for a familiar audience of One.

God alone.

By the time he reached the second verse, Zack opened his eyes. Never mind the vampires bopping out to some fifties tune a few feet away or the pop song Zoey was belting or any other sound or song around him. He could hear only his. A spot on the tent wall caught his attention, but instead of red and white canvas, in his mind’s eye he was looking across a serene and distant ocean, the presence of God like a breeze against his face. He was able to get through the second chorus and halfway through the bridge before the man waved his hands. “Time. Everyone silent.”

Like that the contestants stopped. Several were breathless and a few had tears spilling down their cheeks. Zoey was one of those. She hung her head, her shoulders shaking. Though he’d tried to keep his distance all day, here she needed his support. He put his arm around her while they waited.

“This was one of the best groups we’ve seen.” The man looked surprised. “Most of you look more suited for a Halloween party than a hit reality show.” He took a piece of paper from his assistant. “That said, we’ve chosen four of you to move on to the next round. Here are those contestants.”

The man read a number and across the tent one of the gospel singers screamed. He grabbed the necks of his friends one at a time. “Praise Jesus . . . hallelujah!”

“Quiet, please.” The man waved his paper at the guy. “No celebrating until I’ve read all four numbers.”

“Yes, sir.” The gospel singer whipped back around, breathless. “Sorry, sir.”

The next number caused a vampire to drop to the ground, her hand across her mouth. Her companions looked more disappointed than happy for her. Zoey’s number was called third and she was immediately engulfed by her cheer squad.

Zack could already feel himself walking back to his truck. What had he expected from a situation like this? Instant success? No, he would go home with his future and his answers firmly in hand. And he would work three jobs if that’s what it took to save the—

“Our last contestant from this round is . . .” The man rattled off the number.

CHANDRA OLSON COULDN’T take her eyes off the television monitor.

This was the first day of Atlanta auditions, and for the most part—since this was the last weekend of city stops—Chandra knew the routine. She hadn’t paid much attention to today’s tent singing. She and the other judges weren’t needed until tomorrow afternoon, and in the meantime the show’s producers kept them busy with local media.

The judges had suites at the downtown Hilton, but they also had custom trailers in the back lot of the Georgia Dome, each with a live feed to the mass performances happening in the tent. Chandra had done interviews here all day and spent dinner with local network executives, so she hadn’t made it back to her hotel room.

She had just wrapped up a phone call with her manager and was about to grab her bag and have her driver take her to the Hilton when something caught her attention. The group of contestants filing into the tent. Six of them looked like gospel singers from a high school or college. She could sense something different about them even through the satellite feed.

Chandra turned up the volume and sank slowly into the trailer’s leather sofa. She watched the hodgepodge mix of singers, some who looked barely out of middle school and others who might be seizing their last chance at fame. William Gaines, the show’s contestant coordinator, led the audition process. Chandra smiled to herself as he barked at the contestants. She remembered this, the first step. How it felt to be crammed into a tent ready to sing alongside so many others.

After a few minutes of instructions, the singing began. Several sweet voices stood out among the chaos. Chandra focused on the gospel group. It was tough to pick out which of their voices sang so beautifully above the rest.

She watched them, suddenly aware.

Could it be one of them? Was this why she was a judge? So she could warn one of the innocent-eyed kids in that group about the perils of winning?

The trap of having the whole world idolize them?

Chandra stayed till the singers stopped and waited, watching William tally the results. Four of them had survived—more than any other group. Chandra slid to the edge of her seat. How could they know what lay ahead? That every perceived victory was only a step closer to losing themselves, losing life the way they’d known it. There would be no going back, but none of them knew that now. The choir group linked arms, waiting. They were dressed for church, nice and respectful. Not crazy like most of the contestants around them.

William took the podium and made his announcement. One of the gospel guys was in. Chandra gasped softly. She moved to the small screen anchored to the wall of the trailer. Her fingers brushed the surface, the spot where the choir guy celebrated. Sweet boy. You’re just like me. Chandra wanted to shout at him, warn him not to celebrate. Fifteen Minutes swallowed up church kids like this, like Chandra had been back then. Innocent, regular people with light in their eyes. The show loved that kind of singer. Who of them ever counted the cost?

“Boy, you have so much to learn,” she whispered to the screen even as William announced the other names. A vampire, a cheerleader, and then . . .

Chandra squinted at the white boy whose number was called last. Slowly she stepped back from the screen, scrutinizing him, his dark hair, his fine features. He looked like a young Elvis. Better, maybe. Taller, more fit. But there was something else about him, a charisma and energy. He looked like top-ten material. The gospel guy could probably sing, and the same had to be true for this guy. But this one had that intangible quality a person couldn’t fake or learn. Like he was destined for fame.

The feeling remained strong, so strong Chandra didn’t have to wonder if she’d have a chance to talk to him during the audition process. She was convinced. As she turned off the TV monitor and the lights and left the trailer, she did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She prayed. For the handsome black singer and every other contestant who’d made it to tomorrow’s round.

And for the guy who looked like Elvis. Especially him. Because if her hunch was right, the boy would need it.

Maybe more than all the others combined.

IT TOOK ZACK three full seconds to realize why the cheerleaders had shifted their celebration to him. Since the man was finished, the contestants were free to talk again. The cheers and screams were almost as loud as the singing had been earlier.

“Zack, we both made it!” Zoey yelled to him from across the tent where she was receiving congratulatory hugs from a dozen singers. “Way to go, Zack!”

The news was still trying to find a place in his mind. He’d made it through? He was one of the contestants chosen for the next round? Clarence Brown, the gospel singer who’d become Zack’s friend, hadn’t made it through. Now he smacked Zack on the shoulder and hugged him. “You got a gift, man. Keep singing for Jesus.”

“I will.” Their eyes met. For the first time that day Zack felt like himself, those two words summing up his word and his promise to God. “You, too. Keep singing. This isn’t the only stage.”

“I know it.” Clarence pointed up. “God’s got a plan.” He tapped his finger at Zack’s chest. “Go shine for the rest of us.”

The tent began to clear and the four contestants made their way to the front platform. Again the guy running things seemed impatient. “You’ll meet at the stadium gates at nine tomorrow morning. Once you enter we’ll usher you into a large room where you’ll wait your turn. You’ll have one round with our producers. Eighty of you will survive that. Tomorrow afternoon those eighty will go before the TV judges.” He nodded toward the tent flap. “Thank you.”

Zack and the others headed out as the next group filed in. The vampire girl was hitting on the gospel singer before they reached the bleachers. Zack did the only thing he wanted to do—he silently thanked God, promised to sing for Him always. No matter what.

That done, he couldn’t wait to tell Reese. He pulled out his phone, turned it on and was about to call her when a producer with a camera crew motioned the group closer. “Winners over here. We need an interview.”

The questions weren’t easy. This was the part of the process where the show executives figured out who was in their midst, what set them apart and what aspect of their lives might be featured on the live show if they made it that far. The questions went on for half an hour and after that an escort took the four of them to an office near the players’ locker rooms. There they were given a packet of paperwork to fill out.

The show’s producers had booked hotel rooms for the winners but it was nearly three in the morning before Zack checked in. He shot out a single tweet on his Twitter account. I made it through! Someone tell me this is really my life! Thank you, Jesus! His roommate was the gospel guy, but both of them were too tired to talk. Not until he hit the pillow did Zack realize he hadn’t called Reese. Frustration dampened the elation of the evening, the excitement of surviving the first round. He honestly hadn’t had a single minute, and now he’d have to call her in the morning. He checked Twitter. Forty-three new followers. More than he’d had all year. A strange thrill passed through him. This could be huge. The stage, the platform, the chance to shine for God.

Zack’s whole body buzzed with adrenaline. He could still feel the nervousness and hear the songs from those few crazy minutes in the tent. How had he gotten through? He must’ve projected better than at any time in all his life. He blinked a few times in the dark, picturing the moment. Then the truth hit him. God had gotten him through the tent audition. Not his own ability. How had he lost sight of that? He let the moment pass. God had given him his voice, so whether he got through on his own or by some miracle, God got the credit.

And now . . . now he would sing his heart out tomorrow and who knew? All those years of leading worship in Danville, and now this.

Suddenly anything was possible.

He closed his eyes and settled into the pillow. A certainty filled him and helped him fall asleep. Reese would understand why he didn’t call tonight.

No one believed in him more than her.