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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Singer - 3. Green Room

“How old is she?” The Voice’s host, Carson Daly, sat on an armchair facing them. He knew the answer, but his question was for the benefit of the home audience.

“She’ll be a year in June.” Cristina, at Chipper’s invitation and insistence, had flown to Los Angeles with Carolina to watch his initial appearance on the show.

“Are you staying in town for a few days?” They sat in the green room, a large lounge full of contestants awaiting their turn on stage and their guests. “Your daughter seems enthralled by her uncle.”

Chipper bounced the giggling girl on his knee while she tried to grab the chest hair sticking over the neckline of his white muscle-shirt. “I want them to stay for a while. What with being in school down in Coral Gables, I don’t get to see either one enough.”

A video crew had followed Chipper around when he returned to campus after his initial foray to the West Coast. Much of what they shot at the University of Miami, and in New York, he knew might never air. He was told the footage would be edited and combined with subsequent filming for use in the future if he advanced in the competition.

“I can’t do that, Chipper. I need to get back home.” Cristina shifted her attention to Carson. “My husband and I separated recently, and I’ve filed for divorce. I need to return to New York and start putting my life back together.”

Again, this was not news to Carson. The show strove to humanize artists by having them share personal experiences. When Chipper informed producers he wanted to have his sister with him to help distract her from marital issues, they insisted on the current interview.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Carson sounded a tad more somber than he normally did. “It has to be tough going through something like that with such a young child.”

“It hasn’t been easy, but my brother and his squad have been amazing. The family of one of them is allowing me to stay in their Upper East Side apartment. Another one’s an attorney, and he’s handling the case. I’ve realized why Chipper values their friendship so much.”

“What is this squad your sister mentioned?” Carson shifted his attention to Chipper. “Is the ink on your arm because of it?”

Chipper had removed the sleeves of the Levi’s denim-jacket he wore over his t-shirt, and the tattoo on his upper left arm was visible. A star within a circle flanked by three stripes on either side. In a military-stencil font, The above and Squad below completed the design.

“Yeah…” Chipper absentmindedly ran a hand over it. “It started in high school. We had a group of six friends that were real tight. After graduation, we remained close. The group’s almost doubled in size. Three of them got the tattoo during a motorcycle trip last year, and the rest of us followed.”

“Are you a biker?”

“Not me! I did get my endorsement, I’ve ridden a couple of times, but I don’t own a bike. Maybe someday soon.”

Carson returned his attention to Cristina. “Was your brother always musical?”

“Oh, yes. He used to sing and dance in his underwear all over the apartment all the time.”

“Cristina!” Chipper looked mortified. “I was like six or seven.”

“Yeah? What about during junior high?” She shifted her gaze from her brother to their host. “Whenever he was late getting home from school, Mom used to send me to find him. We always knew where he was. At the subway station on 72nd and Broadway. Busking”

“Have you done a lot of street performing?” Carson sounded truly interested, which was a surprise considering how long he had been on the show. And how many hopefuls he had interacted with.

“Ouch! That stung.” Carolina had at last grasped some of his chest hair and yanked. Prying her hand off, Chipper returned his attention to Carson. “Not a lot. Not after I moved to Washington. In high school, I scored a couple of gigs which gave me spending money and allowed me to sing. One was at a Jazz Club a couple of nights a week and another at a Bar and Grille for their Sunday Jazz brunch.”

“Is that your preferred genre? Jazz?”

“Not really. I consider myself more of a pop-rock guy. But I do love the American standards, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Hoagy Carmichael, and a few others.”

“You should have heard him at my wedding. He sang ‘At Last’ for the first dance.” Cristina face seemed sad for a moment. “Oh, and he did the same with ‘We Have All the Time in the World’ for the first dance at his best friend’s wedding too.”

“That was fun. A buddy and I sang the processional before the ceremony and then I did the first dance. It was kind of cool to have President Clinton and President Obama congratulate me afterward.”

“Wow!” There was no disguising Daly’s surprise. “You have some very powerful friends.”

“Not me! That’s my friend who knows them. He’s into all that political stuff. Hell, I’m sure he’ll be President himself one day. I already told him I want to sing the National Anthem at his inauguration.”

“I’m impressed! Your friends sound like quite an interesting group. Do you plan to return to Washington when you graduate?”

“I have no idea.” Chipper’s smirk and shrug elicited grins from Cristina and Carson. “New York, Washington, and Miami are all special to me. Now I’ve added Los Angeles to the mix. I’m certain I’ll spend time in all four cities in the future. The career comes first, though. Wherever I can perform, that’s where you’ll find me.”

“Chipper Pereira, mike check.” The disembodied voice brought all conversations in the room to a halt.

“That’s you, bud.” Carson’s warm smile helped calm the instant nerves. “Go get ’em, Chipper. Cristina, Carolina, and I will be watching and cheering from the wings.”

Copyright © 2019 Carlos Hazday; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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