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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 - 10. Knockout Round
Hearing the balcony’s sliding glass-door open, Chipper turned and smiled. “Good morning. I see you found the coffee.”
“Yeah, and thanks for leaving aspirin out.” Bliss wore one of Chipper’s sweatshirts, which on her reached mid-thigh.
Two more sedate rounds followed their initial, frantic coupling the previous evening. During breaks, they ordered in food, ate, drank, and talked.
“So, you’re going shopping today?” Part of their conversation was about their plans for the day. Bliss would catch an afternoon train to Philadelphia. Both would fly to the West Coast the next day. “You want company?”
“Nope. Clothes shopping with men’s always a nightmare.” The smile and eye roll made Chipper chuckle. “You have your own things to do anyway. We’ll see each other soon enough in LA.”
The second round of the competition, the Knockouts, would pare each team from eight members to four. Once again, the coaches set two singers against each other and selected a winner. Unlike the Battles, the contestants chose which song to perform.
“Yo! Did you have a good trip?” Adam bro-hugged Chipper when he walked into the rehearsal room.
“Yeah, took my finals in Miami and visited with friends in Washington. In New York, I hired an attorney and lined up a couple of gigs for the long summer break.”
“Good. I hope you realize you’ve caused me some grief. A couple of people complained I showed you preference because I took you on stage with Lamar.”
“But that wasn’t planned!”
Adam smiled. “That’s what I told them. Screw them anyway. We have other things to worry about. Ready to work?”
With Chipper’s consent, show personnel raided his social media accounts; a camera captured an over-the-shoulder shot of him scrolling through a few of the pictures they downloaded. Portions of the current interview would be shown prior to his performance. A producer prodded him to talk about them.
“I’ve met most of these famous people thanks to my best friend. The pictures with Presidents Clinton and Obama were at my buddy’s wedding. The one with Cher was at The Cher Show on Broadway. We were her guests. She knows my friend too. I wonder if one day contestants will be sharing pictures with me.”
Chipper disliked being pitted against Aslan for the second round of competition. The Hawaiian surfer with the sun-kissed hair and brilliant smile chose a song from Dear Evan Hansen to perform. During a late-night bull session, Aslan had made it clear his goal was to one day star on Broadway. Musical theatre was where he wanted to be.
In contrast, Chipper craved a solo career. He wanted the opportunity to sing in front of auditoriums and arenas full of screaming fans. It was therefore surprising to his coach he chose Neil Diamond’s “I am, I said” instead of a pop anthem.
Aslan’s performance was nearly flawless; the standing ovation made Chipper realize he had to be at his best if he was to advance in the competition. Wearing a bulky, cream-colored sweater, blue jeans, and Air Jordans, he stood center stage while the guitarist for the show’s band strummed the opening notes.
The song, about a man caught between lives in New York and Los Angeles reflected Chipper’s feelings. Through three years of high school in Washington, and four of college in Miami, his love for his hometown never wavered. He yearned for a return to New York.
His voice, a whisper while he sang the opening stanza about Los Angeles, soared as he declared he was “New York City born and raised.” His emotions rose accordingly. When he blasted out the song title words, the crowd came alive. His anguish at being away from home was clearly heard, and he noticed Kelly Clarkson dab at her eyes. She was the first one to speak when he and Aslan stood side by side with arms around each other’s shoulders.
“Aslan, that was beautiful. I can’t wait for opening night when you star in a Broadway show. Chipper, you made me cry. The pain in your voice when you sang about being caught between two shores was palpable. Tough one, Adam. I’m not sure who I’d choose.”
Alicia Keys’ smile was immense. “You both killed it! Aslan, I’ll be sitting next to Kelly on opening night. That performance was brilliant. If producers aren’t calling you with job offers tomorrow morning, let me know. I’ll kick a few butts on your behalf.”
“Thank you, Alicia.”
“Unfortunately, I have to give this one to my fellow New Yorker. Chipper, you gave me goose bumps.” She paused to rub her arms. “I could so relate to your feelings. I miss our city just as much. I’m glad I was here for the birth of a musical star.”
“I…” Chipper was at a loss for words. “I’m usually not shy, but I don’t know what to say. I’m humbled. Thank you.”
“Your turn, Adam.” Carson Daly stood between the two contestants after congratulating both. “Your thoughts?”
“Oh, man. This sucks, you know? How am I supposed to pick? Both of you gave it your all. Both of you exceeded my expectations. And both of you belong on this show.
“Aslan... Man, you nailed it. I’m with Kelly and Alicia. You belong on Broadway. And when you get there—because you will get there—I’ll be sitting right next to them. Hell, we’ll even drag the dumb redneck with us.”
“Who’re you talking about?” Blake Shelton’s tongue-in-cheek question drew chuckles.
“You! Anyway, Chipper, we already knew you could belt out a tune. No surprise there. But the way your emotions reflected the lyrics was something new. I didn’t realize you had it in you. You drew us in—”
“Adam, your decision.” Carson interrupting one of Levine’s long monologues was not uncommon.
“I really hate this.” Adam’s eyes flickered towards the contestants. He lowered his sight and stared at his fingers drumming on the chair’s armrest. “The winner of this round is… Chipper.”
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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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