live finale in two months after everything airs.
Gone are the horrible singers only brought on for comedic effect. The ones that are left have talent. Well, some more than others, but the core elements to make a pop star are there with each and every one of them.
Before we go to the live finale, we have to whittle that number from nine to six, and the audience gets to do that by voting with little keypads attached to their seats. Supposedly.
At least the hard work for the judges is done. We no longer have to mentor or give advice on their songs, and we no longer have to pretend like the decision was ever in our hands.
If it were up to me, I’d have a very different top three up onstage for my team.
Isla is up first, and she performs well. Surprisingly well for her. All the sessions we’ve had leading up to these last few qualifying performances were as bad as the home visits. She’s proven she performs well under pressure, so maybe she’s been saving it all up for the shows that count. Hell, maybe this is a strategy she’s been told to use by one of the production crew—pretend to struggle, pretend to be pitchy, and then look how much you’ve grown over the course of the whole show!
She’s still a little pitchy, but her stage presence makes up for it, and the crowd goes crazy for her.
“She has improved so much,” Alondra says to me.
“She has.” I still think she could do with some professional training, but I get the impression the show is setting her up for the win. Hopefully, she’ll take my advice and hire vocal coaches and a team to help her really succeed in this business.
The cameras focus in on us then, and because Isla’s on my team, I’m up first to deliver her critiques. “Where has that been?” I say into my microphone with a small laugh. “You’ve come a long way, Isla. I’m proud of you.”
I want to keep things short and sweet because I’m ready for this to be over.
We’re so close to the end.
So close to getting a break.
Well, not a total break because we have to do promo for the show in between now and leading up to the finale, but I won’t be in a studio for twelve hours a day.
I’ll actually get to spend time at home with Mason.
Our sexploration is going addictively well. I can’t get enough of him, and each night, Mason’s becoming increasingly eager to figure out all the ways to make me come.
Something I wasn’t aware of until just last night, but the prostate is apparently a whole other ball game when it comes to getting off. And if his fingers alone can do amazing things, I’ve been thinking all day about what his cock could do.
Alondra nudges me, and I realize I’ve spaced out. One of Brian’s contestants is up there waiting for my comments.
Okay, no more thinking about Mason’s cock at work.
I lean closer to the microphone. “Good job.” At least, I think he did a good job. “Ah, nice pitch, great sound. Yeah …” Great feedback, Denver, really.
When Brian calls for a bathroom break, we’re given ten minutes to freshen up.
Alondra turns to me. “You’re distracted today.”
I smile. “What gave that away?”
“Your answers are short.”
“I want to go home.” I laugh.
“Oh? Shacking up with another actress?”
“No. And don’t believe anything you read. You should know that. I’ve lived on my own forever.”
“Then why the rush to get out of here? I find the house so empty when I’m not working.”
I realize she’s right. When we started filming this show, I was always eager to get out of here but not necessarily excited about going home to an empty space. Now, I get to go home to my best friend.
I stand. “I’m going to go to the bathroom and then to get coffee. You want one?”
“Thanks, honey, but I have an assistant for that type of thing.”
“I can get it.”
She looks up at me. “You’re such a sweet boy.”
“I don’t think someone my age is allowed to be called sweet. Or a boy.”
“Oh, honey, you’re half my age. You’re a boy.”
I don’t fight her on it. “I’ll be back soon.”
As soon as I step out of the lights and go offstage, someone in the wings grabs my arm and pulls me against them. I’m so out of it, I have no idea what’s going on. Then I smell that