“This might get really sticky, baby girl, because people think I’m your main squeeze.”
“You’ll just have to be careful out in public when you’re with Candace. I’m sure you two will end up on the front of the tabloids if you don’t. Wear a hat and sunglasses; that should help.”
He sighed, “How are you going to sleep when you’re in L.A.?”
“I don’t really know. Your tee-shirt helps, but I might need you to visit me once in a while-if Candace doesn’t get too mad at us.”
“I’ve told her that I love her, but I’ve also told her she’s got to give me a little leash when it comes to you.”
“Come on leash-puppy, let’s get in a nap before she gets out of school.”
He laughed and followed me to the bedroom.
The time to make my temporary move to L.A. arrived way too soon. I wasn’t going to be staying in a hotel. They rented a mansion and put all of us in it-men and women. The house had eighteen bedroom suites and a huge, Olympic size pool, but it was a little unnerving for me to know we were all going to be together. They hired a pair of full time chefs to keep us fed and, of course, they kept a full time camera crew in the mansion. We had a weight room, sauna, and four limousines with drivers in case we felt like getting out of the house for a while.
Our first two weeks of live shows were still going to be divided as women on Tuesdays and the men on Thursdays, but, when we got down to four men and four women, the final eight would be singing together and it would no longer be an elimination of one from each side. Instead America would simply vote and every show the person with the least votes from the previous show would be let go.
We could still choose what we wanted to sing, but the live shows were themed and we had to pick from within the genre chosen by producers. The first week was pop. I made my choice and, for once, I didn’t have to go anywhere; the artist was coming to a private studio in L.A. for the practice. I had chosen the slow version of ‘Bleeding Love,’ by Leona Lewis. Kitkat and several others told me I was making a grave error by choosing one of her songs.
“She is like the next Mariah-you never touch the biggies like Streisand, Dion, Houston, Carey, those are the divas of death for someone to imitate-no one can compare to them.”
“Well then, I’ll be out of your way and you can win the competition,” I said. I honestly was ready to get out of all of this, but I certainly wasn’t going to back down from a challenging song. I was going to put my all in what I was doing and if I failed, then I got to go home, but if I succeeded then I’d prove my worth as a singer.
I never practiced quite as hard as I did with Leona to get that breathless kind of sultry, smoky quality to my voice. By the time I felt like I had the song down really well, I understood this was a song that had to be sung with as much sex appeal as I possessed. That wouldn’t be hard; all I had to do was think of Micah and the sex appeal came gushing out. I had a fashion designer help me with my outfit, and I spent extra time in the makeup chair. My hair didn’t need much more than a simple wave look because it was going to get a lot of hand-tousling on stage as I sang. I also needed a stage prop; I decided on a long, black leather couch.
My rehearsal turned a lot of heads, all of them male (and a few of them female). Don was telling me I was going to put our already soaring ratings completely through the roof if my performance went off as flawless as my rehearsal.
The night of the live show I was nervous, but I had hugged Ryan’s tee-shirt all night and managed five hours sleep, so I was rested and ready.
The lights were low as I started with the first whispered breaths, then the lights came up as I slowly rose from the couch, running my fingers through my hair. My full-length, red dress had a slit all the way to my upper thigh, a rhinestone band ran around my hips and one strip of stones went up the center of the dress, but other than that the entire midriff was totally sheer and then the rhinestones branched out and made a bikini type top and went over my shoulders as thin straps. My scar showed on my chest, but that was okay because the song contained the lyrics, ‘I’ll be wearing these scars for everyone to see.’
I looked at the camera as if it were Micah’s face as I continued to pour out the emotions the words begged for, “…something happened…the very first time with you. My heart melted to the ground, found something true. And everyone's looking round thinking I'm going crazy. But I don't care what they say. I'm in love with you. They try to pull me away, but they don't know the truth. My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing-you cut me open and I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love.”
I danced slowly to the routine I had rehearsed so well that it was now completely natural. I finished the song as I laid back on the couch, my back arched and my hands clasped over my heart. The lights dimmed and then came back up to the roar of the crowd. I immediately rose and took my place in front of the panel of four judges. The comments ranged from, “This is what I was talking about stretching yourself,” to “You’ve set the bar tonight for the remainder of this competition. We might be looking at our winner.”
I hated the feeling of over-confidence, but I was on a natural high when I walked off the stage. The guys in the contestant waiting area were more than enthusiastic. Kitkat told me I did a good job, but she still seemed really annoyed that I had pulled off what she told me would be impossible.
Kitkat and the twins did a great job when it came time for their turns on stage, but Dobrey and Nicole both had an off night, and I knew one of them would be going home by the next show.
When I got back to the mansion it was eleven p.m., but I told Ryan I was going to call him and see what he thought about the show. It was one ring and he answered his cell.
“Hey,” I said, still feeling the euphoria pumping through my veins, “so what did you think?”
“Well, I got in a fight with Candace over it.”
“What?” I couldn’t imagine why they had a fight over my performance. It was then that I could hear the occasional swish of passing cars and I realized he was driving, “Did she toss you out of the house?”
“No, of course not, it’s our-I mean it’s my place, but I volunteered to go for a drive, so she could cool off.”
“Did you say something to piss her off?”
“No, baby girl, I didn’t have to say a word; the problem was body language.”
I was still stumped, “What do you mean?”
“You remember the night you were kissing my neck and we got a little too-”
“Yeah, I remember,” I stopped him before he could say more.
“I said what you did was so freaking sexy that I thought I was gonna die-well, that performance was right up there with the one in the bedroom and I must have, unconsciously, got a little too excited watching you. When she noticed, she slugged the crap out of me.”
I kept reviewing what he said as I tried to get the meaning. It finally hit me as he began to explain.
“I ended up with a-”
“Don’t say it!” I stopped him, “I got it. I wasn’t going for trashy,” I started to say, thinking my performance may have not been exactly what I had hoped.
“No, no, no, baby girl. You were not trashy. You were sexy-sexy like some hot Hollywood starlet. You were fabulous. It’s just that I kept thinking I’ve been in the same bed with you and never realized exactly what I was holding on to.”
“Ah nuts, Ryan. Does this mean we aren’t going to be able to manage sleeping together anymore?”
He laughed hard, “Man, I hope not. It might take me a little longer to fall asleep, but…”
I told him to go home and apologize profusely to her and get out of the cold weather. He agreed, told me he loved me, and hung up.