Singer - 23. Coach Duet

Since his father and Matt appeared fine spending time together, Chipper agreed to meet both for breakfast on Sunday. He made it clear, as he had to his mother and sister, he would be unable to spend time with them again until after the Monday night performances.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting with both of you at the same time.” Chipper shook his head and smiled. “I hope this is a good omen.”

“Forget omens. You’re good enough to win this thing.” Matt’s words elicited a vigorous nod from Chip. “Your dad and I are proud of you.”

“Matt’s right. Last night, I again apologized for being a dick. I’m sorry I screwed up, but I’m glad he was there for you.”

“The past’s in the past, Dad. I’m just glad you could both be here.”

The interactions with family elevated Chipper’s mood. He put aside worries about the show’s finale. While the preceding days had been full, he found himself with a little free time Sunday evening. He thought about seeing Bliss but did not feel it was the right thing to do the night before they competed head to head. Instead, he called Bryce and Zion. The guys were amenable to getting together. As a result, Chipper went to sleep sore but smiling.

“Tonight, I want you to ignore everyone and everything except for your performance. Don’t worry about winning or losing. Give it your best shot, and everything will work out.” The day after securing a spot in the finale, Adam picked Chipper up in a 1961 teal, Chevrolet Impala convertible. He had no idea where his coach had obtained it, but he was not about to turn down a ride. “You just sing your heart out.”

“Shit, easy for you to say. Every time I get up on that stage, I feel like I’m going to piss myself. Don’t you ever get nervous before a performance anymore?” They leaned against the car’s side while a camera crew recorded their conversation. Behind them, a wall mural echoed the car’s beach-culture vibe. Dressed in shorts and t-shirts, they resembled a pair of California beach boys.

“I was ready to puke before the Super Bowl’s halftime last year. But that’s rare these days. The more time you spend in front of an audience the more you learn to draw energy from them and channel it into your performance. You’ll do fine. Just don’t mess up the dancing.”

“Nahhh, the choreography’s easy this time.”

“How’d you get so good at it? The dancing stuff, I mean.”

“Mom taught my sister and me when we were little. I took a ballroom dance class at the fancy-ass prep school I went to through ninth grade. Then, at the University of Miami, I enrolled in one of those life-enrichment courses taught in the dorms. That’s where I picked up all the hip hop moves.”

They had spent a couple of hours talking when the camera crew decided it was enough. The audience would watch a short, edited version before their performance.

“Welcome to the finals of The Voice. We have a great show ahead of us. Over the next two hours, our four finalists will perform multiple times.” Carson Daly greeted the live and television audiences from center stage. He introduced the coaches and named the remaining contestants. “Let’s get started right away, performing an original song written just for her, here’s the sultry singer from Philadelphia, Bliss!”

A video clip preceded the performance and the pattern was the same when Jordan and Angie took the stage. After each individual finished, an army of stagehands moved props around, dismantled the set, and prepared it for the next singer. The break between each song was occupied by coaches’ comments, commercial breaks, and video clips. Chipper was amazed at how much they accomplished in such a short time period.

For their duet, Adam and Chipper asked for a minimalist setting. Two backless stools and two old-fashioned, stand microphones with the NBC logo atop them. The band would be arrayed behind them in front of dark-red curtains. It resembled the sets of early television variety shows.

Adam was not in his chair during the third performance; he and Chipper were backstage getting ready. The hair stylist had slicked back their hair, and the makeup artist had worked on them earlier. Both stood by for touch ups after the men were dressed. The tuxedos, crisp, white shirts, and thin, black bow ties were identical; footwear was different. While Adam tied his patent leather shoes, Chipper slipped bare feet into velvet formal loafers. He had already told the wardrobe coordinator he would be buying them after the performance.

In a bow to Chipper’s love of the American classics, Adam chose "The Lady Is a Tramp" for their joint performance. Composed in 1937 for the musical “Babes in Arms” by Richard Rodgers, with lyrics by Lorenz Hart, the song had been recorded by a multitude of artists. In 1957, Frank Sinatra sang it in a movie, and it subsequently became a signature tune for him.

A sendoff of New York high society, the lady expresses disdain for etiquette and for California—the state is too crowded and too damp. “Dude, it’s like the perfect song for a New York City upstart and a California boy,” Adam had said.

Their performance resembled a conversation between friends set to music. While alternating verses, they grinned at each other frequently. Back slaps and fist bumps brought to mind a pair of guys having a bull session. It was a joyous performance that earned them standing ovations from coaches and audience alike. The hug they shared at the end brought renewed applause.

“Thank you, Adam.” Away from the microphones, only his coach heard Chipper’s whispers. “I knew I could sing before I came on, but you strengthened my confidence. You showed me the sky’s the limit. Thank you for believing in me.”

“Dude! It’s been a pleasure.”