Playing the Game Read Free

though I couldn’t see why - he still had
excellent command and they were leading by two runs. A quick camera
shot in the dugout showed the trainer taping a huge bag of ice to
Jess’s left shoulder and I winced in horror. Was he hurt? I hadn't
noticed any traces of pain on his face, and I’d been paying far
more attention than was healthy. For me that is.
    Sighing, I shut off my television. My mother
would be home soon and I was certain she’d have tons of things for
me to do.
    ***
    My mother paced the backstage waiting area
of the Channel 4 Indianapolis studio with other eager parents,
spouses, partners, etc. My lips curled into a wry smile as I
realized the only people in the room who had a little more control
of their emotions were the ones who actually had to perform.
    Even though I appeared calm, my nerves were
jangled like the strings of Christmas lights my father cussed each
year – tangled and knotted. When my name was finally announced, I
ignored my mother as I strolled confidently behind the man with a
headset onto the stage. I’d been through this before so the lights
glaring in my eyes didn’t bother me in the least. The group of
people in the front row of seats, however, they scared the hell out
of me. All five of them had made a name for themselves in the music
industry somehow and now they were all staring at me, waiting to
judge whether or not I was worthy to come back tomorrow for the
final cut.
    I cleared my throat and smiled.
    “ What’s your name, honey?”
Chelsea Miller, perhaps the sweetest of them all, asked.
    “ Aubrey Quinn,” I replied,
holding in my smirk. My mother would fume that I hadn’t inserted my
middle name but there was no way I would be known as Aubrey Rose if
I did make it to the televised competition.
    “ I see here that you’ll be
singing Somewhere over the
Rainbow ,” Marissa Castle, the wicked witch
of the show snarled. I knew it was her least favorite because
unlike my mother, I watched the specials on the making of this
show.
    “ Yes, that’s true,” I said
sweetly, smiling like the good little girl I am. Take that, I
thought.
    “ Show us what ya got,” Big
D, probably my favorite judge on the show, urged.
    So I did. I put every emotion and feeling
into every note and heard my voice echo off the auditorium walls,
bouncing back to me like a faithful hound. I finished to a short
burst of applause from three out of five of the judges. Of course,
Chelsea was smiling. Marissa, on the other hand, nodded grudgingly.
She turned to her equally evil partner in crime, Richard Daniels
who lifted a shoulder. It was as good as a ‘yes,’ though I wasn’t
ready to celebrate.
    “ Lovely, Miss Quinn,”
Marissa said. She glanced down at her panel who all nodded. “We’ll
see you tomorrow.”
    “ Thank you,” I said
politely with another dazzling, dimpled smile. I almost curtsied
but thought that might be a little over the top. Instead, I
strolled just as confidently off the stage and into my mother’s
overexcited arms.
    “ You were so wonderful,”
she gushed, kissing my cheek.
    “ Thanks, Mom,” I muttered.
“Can we get out of here now?”
    “ I have to find out what
time tomorrow,” she said, flagging down the man with the headset.
He handed her a paper after scrawling my name at the top. He
flashed me a quick grin then hunted down the next
victim.
    ***
    The next day was pretty
much the same except I chose to sing a Whitney Houston number – one
that didn’t require me to hit as high a note as she could. Yeah, I
could sing but nobody can sing like Whitney. I’m talking the pre-Bobby Brown
Whitney. The one I also knew Marissa adored. Maybe Gwen was rubbing
off on me.
    And it worked, much to my
beaming mother’s delight. I was dubbed an official contestant
of American Star: Indianapolis.
    Now I was nervous. Live TV. Marissa and
Richard snarling at me. Although I was of legal age, I didn’t drink
but I had a feeling I’d turn into a raging alcoholic by the