Hazel fine sings along, p.23
Hazel Fine Sings Along, page 23
But first she had to get the votes.
She knew just what to do.
—
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Zoey asked, biting her nails nervously. She was wearing an old-fashioned cowboy shirt tucked into tight, dark jeans.
“It’s the only way I can think of to get votes.”
“You might attract the wrong kind of attention too.”
“I know. I can handle it.”
“Okay, sit in that chair, then.”
Hazel went to the corner of her hotel room where there was a wing chair near the window, with a light above it. She sat and checked herself on her phone. Her makeup was good, her hair was smooth, and she looked much calmer than she felt.
Zoey was mounting her phone on a ring light that she’d finagled off one of the assistants, and had cued up Instagram. “Ready to go live?”
“Ready.”
Zoey clicked a button on the remote and held up her fingers, counting down to three, two, one.
“Hi, everyone, Hazel Fine here. First, I wanted to thank Zoey for her support and for letting me squat on her Insta. Some of you know that I’m not really on social media other than the socials I put out for the show, and probably wondered about that. If you asked, I would’ve spun some bullshit about it being a distraction and toxic, but the truth is that even in the competition, I wanted to keep a low profile.
“Anyway, I guess everyone knows who I am now. Or you think you do. Maybe you think I’m Daisy Dawson, a girl who was always tripping over her own feet and saying cute catchphrases. Maybe you think I’m a liar and not a very nice person. And you’d be right in some ways. A lot of that is true and those are things I’ve been at some point in my life.”
Hazel paused to take a breath. The camera was close enough that she could see that thousands of people were watching her. Comments were scrolling by too fast to read. She saw a lot of multicolored hearts, but also devil emojis and other symbols she didn’t even understand.
“But it’s not everything there is to know about me. It’s just points on a map in my life. Public things you can point to and say, ‘I know that girl.’ To put me in a box, to categorize me, to decide how you’re going to feel about me.
“It’s one of the problems with being in the public eye. How much do you share? How much do you reveal? Do you know that at the start of your career they sit you down and ask you to fill out a questionnaire about every bad thing that happened in your life so they can decide when to deal out the details? Which movie or album or whatever they’ll work best for? Only when you’re a child star, that’s not how it happens. All those mistakes you hear celebrities talking about when they’re promoting something—you make all of those with everyone watching.”
There were tens of thousands of people watching the live feed now. More hearts, more harsh words flashing by.
Hazel Suxs.
Daisy forever.
Whoops-a-daisy.
#TeamBella
Lock her up!
Hazel dragged her eyes away from the feed. “I’m not complaining. I know no one wants to hear anything about how difficult it is to grow up in the spotlight. But whatever you think you know about me, it isn’t the whole story, and it wasn’t a story I wanted to tell. It’s my story, my life. I wanted to keep something for myself.”
Hazel paused. There were fifty thousand people watching now, a number that was both unbelievable and unsurprising. Everyone likes a train wreck. She’d been counting on that.
“And I also wanted to sing. That’s what I started out trying to do when I was a kid. I got the chance to be Daisy, and I took it because I thought it would get me there. Music was always what drove me, what consoled me, but no one would take me seriously. If I wanted to be a manufactured pop princess, I could put out a record. But record my own stuff? Show my personality? No, thank you, Hazel, we want Harper.
“Problem was, Harper was an invention. And I didn’t want to keep pretending. So I turned away from it for a long time. It gave me time to think and reset, to become a different person—Hazel, who’d had a normal childhood, gone to college, had real friends. It gave me an opportunity to fall back in love with music. To find my voice.”
Kick her off!
Hazel deserves to stay!
This bitch talks a lot.
“I knew no one was going to let me sing, though. Not Harper. But maybe Hazel might have a chance. I didn’t want to be Harper anymore, if I ever was her. So I lied. I hid my past. That’s not The Sing Along’s fault, it’s mine and I own it. But what you’ve seen from me in this competition, that’s the truth. Me singing. Me writing those songs.”
Screw Bella!
Bella should go.
I’m going to fuck that bitch up.
Hazel paused. Whatever Bella had done, she didn’t deserve threats. And maybe she wasn’t the one who’d told on Hazel. She’d denied it, even if she was gloating about it.
“One more thing—if it was Bella who told on me, it’s not her fault. This competition pits people against each other, and I did some things wrong too. If I’d been a better friend to her, a better ally, she wouldn’t have done it. So I forgive you, Bella, and I’m sorry.”
Zoey made a face behind the phone, but Hazel felt genuine in the moment. She’d disregarded Bella’s feelings and manipulated her to get what she wanted. Whether Bella deserved it or not was beside the point.
“And for everyone else I care about who I’ve hurt, I’m sorry too.” She paused, wanting to say Nick’s name and Benji’s. Were they watching? Nick would barely look at her in that meeting with the suits. She should put any thoughts about him away.
She cleared her throat and continued. “All of which leaves you with a choice. The producers have said that if I get the votes, I can stay. They’re going to let you, the viewers, decide. So, it’s in your hands. If you want me to be in the finals, vote for me. And if you don’t, that’s all right. I get it. Every single person still in the competition is supertalented and everyone deserves to be here. Including me.
“I believe that now, and that’s a gift I won’t forget. Thank you for listening.”
Hazel nodded to Zoey, and she turned off the feed.
“You think you did enough?” Zoey asked.
“I guess we’ll see tonight.”
—
The afternoon was a mess of nerves, none of them eating, all of them avoiding each other except Zoey and Hazel. The hotel was under siege by journalists, so they holed up in Hazel’s room, playing with Checkers and telling each other that it was all going to be fine.
But it wasn’t, because only one woman and one man were going through to the final round. It could be any one of them, but everything that had happened had taken the focus off Zoey. Hazel felt bad about that. Zoey deserved as much attention as anyone. If Hazel didn’t make it, she wanted Zoey to get in.
Around five, they separated to get ready, then went through the motions onstage. They each had individual performances and then a group number. Hazel floated through them like she was having an out-of-body experience. And now it was ten minutes to the end of the show and Keshawn had gathered them all onstage. Hazel linked her hand through Zoey’s and squeezed tight.
Keshawn flashed a smile at the audience and tapped the envelopes against his hand. Hazel wondered whether he knew the results. He was too good of an actor for her to tell.
“The moment you’ve all been waiting for, tweeting for, hashtagging for.”
The audience laughed.
“But first, let’s do the men, shall we?”
The audience groaned. Hazel’s heart felt like it might explode.
“Benji, Cole, Dave—please step forward.”
The men advanced in a line but they didn’t hold hands like the women usually did. Cole was self-assured, Benji was nervous, and Dave was his usual inscrutable self, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten this far. He’d sung like it, too, and if there was any connection between talent and success, he should be one of the ones going home. But between Benji and Cole, it wasn’t clear who the favorite was. They’d both sung their hearts out, and they both had their fan bases.
Hazel wanted Benji to stay. She understood why he was mad at her, and she couldn’t blame him. He’d made it clear since the beginning that honesty was important to him, and all she’d done was lie. If she’d told him the truth that moonlit night on the beach, and opened up to him fully, would things be different now? Was that even what she wanted?
No. She found Nick in the wings and smiled at him. He’d kept his distance, too, but it had a different quality to it. Hazel couldn’t explain why, but his silence didn’t feel hostile, only cautious. Besides, she’d screwed things up there before any of her secrets had come out.
As if to confirm her thoughts, Nick smiled back before turning away and answering a question from one of the crew.
“Dave, you sang an Elvis medley. Martin thought it was off balance, and Georgia said it was ‘just okay.’ Cole, you sang John Mayer’s ‘Gravity,’ and Martin called it transcendent, but Georgia simply fanned herself. Benji, you sang ‘Tangled Up in Blue’ and Martin said that Dylan would be envious, and Georgia gave you a one-minute standing ovation. Two of you are going home.”
Keshawn opened the envelope and then paused. “Dave, this is the end of your journey on the show.”
The audience erupted in applause. It wasn’t entirely clear if they were applauding Dave leaving or if they were congratulating him on his journey. Dave took it as the latter, smiling through his montage, then taking a bow before leaving the stage. Benji and Cole moved closer together. Benji towered over Cole, who hadn’t finished growing.
“We love you, Cole!” someone in the audience shouted, likely his mama.
“We love you, Benji!” screamed three girls together, and the audience laughed and applauded.
“Benji, Cole, lot of love for you out there. You both have an assured future in this business. But one of you is going home tonight.” He tapped the card, hiding the answer he was about to reveal. “Cole, I’m sorry, but it’s the end of the line for you.”
Hazel let out the breath she was holding. So, it was Benji. If she made it, she was going to have to go up against him. That felt fitting.
There was some booing from the crowd, again mostly from Cole’s camp, and then a retrospective of Cole’s time on the show started to play. Hazel watched the screen, Zoey’s hand shaking in hers, Bella unnaturally still next to her. When Cole’s film ended, he took a bow, then rushed off the stage in tears.
Benji waved to a room full of applause, then followed him.
“All right, ladies, your turn,” Keshawn said, a fresh envelope in his hand.
Hazel and Zoey stepped forward, but Bella was rooted to the spot. Hazel reached back and extended her hand to Bella. Bella looked incredulous, then took it and stepped forward. A cheer rose from the crowd.
“That’s nice to see,” Keshawn said. “Truly.”
Hazel smiled at him, and he gave her a brief nod. Was he telegraphing something to her?
“Hazel!” someone in the crowd screamed.
“Maybe!” Keshawn answered, chuckling at his own joke.
Hazel closed her eyes as he went through his usual spiel summarizing their performances and reminding them of the judges’ comments.
“Zoey,” Hazel heard him say, and for a moment Hazel thought it was over. But then she realized he was saying that Zoey was going home, and it was down to her and Bella. The perfect moment for the show.
Hazel hugged Zoey as hard as she could, then held on to her as Zoey’s montage played, her arm around Zoey’s shaking shoulder. It wasn’t the place to talk, but she hoped Zoey would be okay. Thankfully, Brooke had arrived late in the day to be her support system.
The montage was over, and Zoey left. Hazel stepped toward Bella, their hands linked. Whatever happened, she had to be okay with it. Whatever happened, she was okay with it. Whatever happened—
“Hazel, Bella, your competition has been one for the ages. And by only fifty votes, Bella . . . you’re going home tonight.”
Hazel felt like she might pass out. She’d done it! She’d made it into the final. She started shaking, letting out the emotion she’d been holding in. She felt the tears fall as Bella pulled her into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Bella said, and Hazel hugged her tighter.
“Me too,” Hazel said. “Me too.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The next morning, Hazel woke early and clearheaded.
Her mind was full of the same mantra as the night before. She’d done it. She’d made it. She was in the final two. It was down to her and Benji now. How had this even happened? Hazel hadn’t had the energy to think about it the night before. She’d just begged off the after-party and gone to her room, diving into her bed like she was diving for pearls.
But now the sun was streaming in the windows because she’d forgotten to close the blackout blinds, and Checkers was hopping around and scratching, and her heart was racing.
She was terrified.
She could admit that now. All the feelings she’d pushed aside, the things she hadn’t thought through. How she was never going to remain anonymous if she made it to the end. Someone, somewhere, would’ve dredged up her past and exposed it. If she was being honest, she never thought she’d get here. And if she did, then she supposed she would’ve had some insulation. In the moments she’d let herself think about it, she’d assumed that if it happened after her success, then it wouldn’t be that bad. That she might even find a way to tell the story herself, like a controlled explosion used to bring down a building before it fell on its own.
What was she supposed to do now? The building was down and she was standing in the rubble. It hadn’t taken her out, but she was wounded. She still had enemies. People who wished her harm. When it came down to it, were they going to let her win?
Or had she already won? Coming in second was still a potential path to fulfilling her dreams, and that scared her too. Did that happen nowadays, though? She couldn’t think of the last runner-up on The Sing Along, or any other singing competition, who’d gone on to make it big. It happened back in the heyday of American Idol, but that was when the whole concept was new and fresh. Now the attention and prize money went to the winner, and then the next season started up and everyone moved on.
To assure her future, she needed to win. For now, there was nothing she could do but wait it out. The final show was in two days, but today was an off-day before the final preparations began tomorrow. She needed to get out of the hotel. Do something normal, something for herself that would take her mind off everything.
She rose and fed Checkers, then cleaned out his cage. Then she dressed in running clothes, shoved her hair into a baseball hat, and grabbed her phone and the earbuds that had been in the favor bags for the special guests a couple of weeks ago.
She left her room as she slipped the earbuds into her ears, feeling the luxury of something she couldn’t afford. She couldn’t believe the things they gave away to the special guests. Rich people didn’t need favors, and that’s why they left them behind week after week. The contestants were allowed to take them once the show was over, hence the perfect sonic quality that was now in her ears.
She cued up “Heat Wave” by the Glass Animals and loped out the back way that she used to get Checkers in and out of the hotel. She ran a few blocks and felt free. Her feet on the pavement, the song repeating in her ears. This was what she needed.
And then she saw them. A huddle of cars up the road with telephoto lenses hanging out the windows. Vultures. She wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t evaded them, but she was resentful. Couldn’t she just go for a run in peace? She was only trying to get some peace.
“Hey, get in.” It was Nick, driving a black SUV. He reached across the passenger’s seat and opened the door.
Hazel looked up the street, then back at Nick. This would get caught on camera, too, but who cared? No one knew who Nick was, sad to say. Hazel jumped into the car and closed the door. Nick did a U-turn, then sped down a side street, glancing back over his shoulder. “They don’t seem to be following.”
“I’m not Britney.”
“And you never want to be.”
“Amen.”
They drove in silence, Hazel aware of the fact that she was sweating on his expensive leather seats. “Where are we going?”
“My place isn’t far from here. If that’s okay?”
“Sure.”
They drove into Studio City. Hazel hadn’t been in that area of town for a long time, and she admired the bungalows flashing past. She’d love to own her own home someday, but one of these places seemed out of reach.
“Sorry to get you involved in all this,” she said.
“It’s fine.”
She watched his hands on the wheel. They were gripping it tightly. “Is it, though? You’ve barely spoken to me in days.”
Nick glanced at her, then back to the road. “Things have been hectic.”
“Sure, but . . .”
“And you did accuse me of helping you to sleep with you.”
Hazel sank in her seat. “Okay, true.”
“But?”
“I didn’t mean it. Someone was putting ideas in my head.”
He slowed to a stop at a red light. “What does that mean?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.”
“You had a lot on your plate.”
Hazel wished he’d look at her for more than a second. “You weren’t mad?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Okay.” That was it then. She’d screwed this up too.
The light changed and Nick stepped on the gas. “But anger passes.”
“Does it?”
