Chapter 3
Doug
Alan Alders slid his hammy fingers together, half of them adorned with large, gold rings embedded with colorful gemstones. I wasn’t sure why he studied me so closely. I was sure he’d watched our kids show and knew more about me than I’d like, thanks to Willa.
We were at a fancy restaurant together and all I wanted was a meatball sub. I wouldn’t be getting anything close to that here.
The waiter came back to refill my water and Alan eyed it like it might be a glass of reptiles. He was on his second glass of expensive beer, the amber liquid beautiful against the sunlight coming through the windows.
Once upon a time, I would’ve loved to have someone buy me a beer. But time and experience had taught me I wasn’t a very nice drunk. And unfortunately, it didn’t take much to get me there.
“So, Doug. Willa was very insistent on having you. But I’m a little concerned. The dissatisfied judge is an important cornerstone of a show like this. Victoria Laurens will be the judge who loves everyone, and Justin Justice will be somewhere in between the two of you. Do you have what it takes to throw a mean one-liner?”
I’d thought this out. It was just like playing any other character, and if someone had to do it, it might as well be me. There were places I wouldn’t go, like making fun of a vulnerable teenager for their weight or hotness level. But first I had to know how much control I’d even have over what I said.
“Am I allowed my own one-liners or are you planning to pre-feed me?”
Alan leaned forward. “You’re being hired for your personality. I need to make sure you have one.”
Wow, he made my mother seem like Mother Theresa. I channeled everything she’d ever pulled off as a stage mom and met his glare, crossing my arms. I could not show weakness or this guy would suck it out of me like a dementor from Harry Potter. “What do you want me to do? Judge your outfit? Because that shirt might have cost you a grand, but it still makes you look like a computer programmer who lives in his mother’s basement.”
Alan’s eyes narrowed, but there was amusement there as well. “What do you think of Victoria Laurens?”
I didn’t hesitate. “I think I’ll keep my distance. I’m not interested in being husband number eight.”
Alan gave me a small bow. “Your line about my shirt was better.”
I was done performing and I had some questions of my own. “Are we real judges or just there to give feedback? Is this an audience vote thing?”
Alan’s eyes slid to the entry and I turned and saw Willa heading our way. She was in a blue wrap dress, a softer look than I usually got to see. She moved to Alan first and gave him a one-armed hug. “Sorry I’m late.”
He was all smiles now that she was here.
She moved to me next and air kissed my cheek. I was too surprised to reciprocate. We’d never done anything like that, so I knew it had to be for Alan’s benefit.
I recovered from my shock quick enough to jump up and pull out her chair, not bothering to check and see if Alan had been planning to do it.
“Willa, Doug asked for clarification on what the judges actually do. You want to explain who decides which contestants continue on?”
A waiter came over and Willa pointed to my water, indicating she’d like a glass. Alan rolled his eyes.
“Alan and I will look over the contestant footage with you three judges and we’ll all pick the top twenty together. Because of some voting glitches we’ve seen in the past, the ‘vote for the worst’ campaigns, the robo calls and such, we’ve decided to let you three judges whittle it down to the top ten while the cameras are running, making sure we don’t have any duds left. We’ll let America vote from there until we crown one triple threat.”
Alan swirled his glass. “She loves saying that word.”
“What? Triple Threat?” She enunciated it out, obviously not caring that she was proving his point.
Alan turned back to me. “I do think the concept is brilliant. America is going to eat this up.”
“You don’t think they’re tired of the talent show concept?” I couldn’t help playing devil’s advocate. If Willa had gotten it this far, me poking it for holes wouldn’t do any damage.
Alan pursed his lips, leaning forward. “I think we’re far enough past those other singing shows that there should be a little audience nostalgia. Plus, this is not some teenager attempting to belt out Whitney Houston on a stage. This involves acting and dancing as well. Skits, sketches, we’re going to create some brilliant careers here.”
Willa had definitely worked her magic on this guy, including pushing him to take me on. I wasn’t fooled for one second into thinking he was happy about it.
“So, are you in?” he asked, probably hoping I’d say no.
“I’m in.”
