a couple of times, but he hasn’t gone in the pool.
The show has given me an entire day to prepare a song for each of the contestants which they’ll perform for the cameras over the next two days.
I’m pretty sure the people of The X Factor never had to put up with this stuff. I’m sure all those “judges’ houses” visits were not a twenty-four-hour thing. But we have to be bigger and better than all those other shows.
It’s not like I’m not used to having people in my space, but all those meaningless parties I’d throw had an ending. I usually didn’t know when. I’d wake up hungover with my house trashed and people gone. That worked for me.
It also doesn’t help, and I’m not being harsh when I think this, that out of my five acts, I think maybe Reggie and Cece have the potential to make it really big.
Right now, I’m with Isla, and every flat note makes me cringe. I’ve thought about turning it into a drinking game where I take a drink every time she screws up, but getting blackout drunk always gets me in trouble, so I refrain.
Knowing this industry, Isla will probably win because she’s blonde and has the right look even though her vocals need some work.
This is the other thing. Yeah, I used to sing in a boy band. I’ve had vocal lessons. But I’m not a vocal coach. I have no idea how to give these contestants what they need to make them great.
I’m not good at this stuff.
Mason would be brilliant at it, and I’m two seconds away from asking him for help because my head’s about to slam into the piano top in front of me.
“You’re frustrated with me,” Isla says.
“Not at all,” I lie. “I’m frustrated because I don’t know how to help you. I want to, but I don’t have the skills to teach. If you were on Alondra’s team, maybe you’d be getting real advice instead of trying a billion different things that don’t work for your voice.” Hell, even if she was on Brian Kimble’s team, the top music exec, he’d be able to tell her how to be marketable with what she’s got.
Maybe that’s the angle I should take.
Isla steps away from the microphone and moves to stand next to me at the piano. “What do I have to do to get through to the next round?”
“You need to work hard and try to get your best performance on film.”
She squeezes onto the seat next to me, her shoulder bumping mine. “Are you sure that’s all I can do?” Her voice takes on a sultry tone.
I turn my head and blink at her. Did she just …
The sliding door to outside opens, and I flinch at Mason’s voice.
“Hey, I thought I’d come check in to see how it’s all going in here.”
Thank fuck he came in when he did. Although, he looks really unhappy about it, and I can understand. Isla’s sitting a bit too close and suggesting things that will no way ever be appropriate.
I’m not naïve. Hell, I’ve dated actresses who have been dealing with casting couch situations for years. It’s disgusting and the biggest problem Hollywood has. I will never, ever contribute to that culture. No exceptions.
“We’re struggling,” I say to Mason. “I could really use some help. You were always so good at helping me back in the day. Why don’t you stay and see what Isla has to offer?” Oh no, did that sound as sleazy as her innuendo? “Musically. Of course. Duh. I mean, what else would there be?” Dig a deeper hole, Denny.
I’m either doing a great job of covering what actually just happened or a terrible one. Either way, Mason eyes me suspiciously as he agrees to stay.
I turn to Isla with a forced smile. “Go on. Back to the microphone.”
Mason folds his arms and stands at the other end of my piano, and hell, even I’m intimidated. Isla has no hope.
Surprising me, though, she sings it the best she’s done the whole session. Maybe she likes being under pressure. Even though it’s an improvement, it’s still not good enough.
“You have her singing in the wrong key,” Mason says.
“We’ve tried different keys, different arrangements, different … everything,” I say.
“Okay, so you’ve probably confused the poor girl. Let’s strip it back and start from the beginning.” He walks over to her, and the soft, encouraging Mason I’ve always known comes out. “Sing from your heart, not