Charttoppers - 14. We’re All Stardust, pt. 2

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“And the award for Best Dance Recording goes to… ‘Sky High’ by MC Jax,” the presenter announced excitedly as she opened the envelope containing the name of the winner. The crowd erupted into cheers as MC Jax, a famous Brazilian DJ, got up from his seat and started making his way to the stage, a big, sexy grin on his handsome face.

“Woooo!” Samson shouted in support, raising his hand in the air. He always loved the DJ’s work and was excited as if he had won the award himself.

Despite all the drama about his performance slot being given to Tyler, Samson found himself enjoying the evening and having fun with Anna and Hank. They sat together at a table along with a few other singers, chatting as they watched the show. While the rest of them sipped on champagne, Samson refused, wanting to have a clear head for his performance. Still, he was having a great evening even without alcohol. He had managed to avoid seeing Tyler all night, which definitely contributed to his good mood.

As Kittycat Dolls, a popular Canadian girl group, took the stage, Hank leaned over to Samson.

“There should be another award presented after the Dolls finish, and then Tyler is up.”

“Ugh, thanks for reminding me. I’m going backstage to prepare, I don’t wanna sit here and watch him. I think I’ll puke if I stay,” the singer rolled his eyes, taking his phone and putting it in his pocket.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, that’s ok, you stay here and enjoy the show - if you can. I wanna run through everything once again with the dancers anyway,” Samson replied as he got up to leave.

“Hey, are we going?” Anna asked, receiving a nod in reply. “Ok then, let’s get you all pretty- uh, I mean prettier!”

“That’s more like it,” the singer smiled at her before slipping away together through one of the side passages that led backstage.

Back in his dressing room, Samson quickly changed into his stage outfit - tight, deep blue pants and a mint green silk shirt with a leaf pattern. Anna then sat him down in front of a mirror to fix his hair and makeup. Even though the singer already looked flawless, she had to make sure every single lock was in its place.

Once the girl was finished with the hair and started reapplying eyeliner around Samson’s eyes, the two of them suddenly heard some commotion outside the dressing room. Last minute hiccups and production problems were not at all unusual at large shows like the Stardust Awards, but this sounded even worse - someone was hysterically yelling in the hallway.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Anna wondered, stopping what she was doing for a moment.

“No idea, but I’m gonna find out,” Samson replied, bouncing over to the door and opening it ajar so he could hear the conversation.

“What do you mean you can’t find him? He couldn’t have just vanished! Have you checked his dressing room?”

He could see a short woman in a black bob yelling at some unfortunate young man. Her face was red, the veins in her forehead looking as if they were about to explode.

“Of course, that’s the first place we looked. You’re his manager, don’t you know where he could’ve gone?”

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be wasting time with you,” the woman snapped. “He’s supposed to be live in ten bloody minutes, where the hell did he go?!”

Gasping in realization, Samson quickly closed the door. They were talking about Tyler.

“Babe, what’s happening? What did you hear?” Anna asked, still holding the eyeliner in her hand.

“I think Tyler’s gone… At least they can’t seem to find him,” the singer whispered. “Stay here, I’ll be right back. Call me if you hear anything.”

“Ok, but where are you go-” the girl started to ask, but Samson was already out the door.

Tyler’s manager and the man she was talking to earlier descended down the stairs before heading in opposite directions. The woman still had her phone pressed against her ear.

“...no, nothing. Well, he was a bit nervous, but that’s just Tyler, he always has stage fright before performing,” Samson could hear her say. He quickly turned around and went down the hallway, looking at the names on the doors. They were all dressing rooms, just like his, each belonging to a different artist. He knew one of them had to be Tyler’s, and it was the best place to start the search.

When he turned the corner and entered the other hall, he finally found what he was looking for - the third door on the left had a paper with the words ‘Tyler Edwards’ printed on it. Bingo!

Looking around to make sure no one was nearby, Samson knocked on the door, but there was no reply. He went for the doorknob and it opened. His heart racing as if he were on a spy mission, the singer entered the room, finding it empty.

“Maybe he left a message or something,” he thought, going through the items scattered about the room, but he could find nothing of significance.

When he finally opened the door to the bathroom, he could see the small window in the back - it was halfway open. As if something was drawing him to it, he crept over, rising up on his toes to take a peek outside. It was then that he spotted the blond singer sitting on the stairs, his back turned toward the building. The Brit sighed deeply, running fingers through his hair, something he often did when he was nervous.

Samson opened his mouth as if to say something, but then quickly closed it, changing his mind.

“Sorry not sorry, Tyler, but you’re not stealing my moment,” he thought as he closed the window, double checking to make sure it can’t be opened from the outside.

As quickly as he could, Samson rushed out of the dressing room and headed straight for the producers’ office. It was now or never.

It was no surprise that Taylor’s manager was already inside, having a heated discussion with the producers. From what Samson could catch before entering the room, they wanted to continue the show with or without Tyler, while she insisted that they wait for him to show up.

“He’ll be here any minute, I assure you!” The woman was adamant, speaking as if she firmly believed in her own words. “You’ve seen him perform, you know he’s brilliant!”

“Yes, but he can’t perform if he’s not here, can he?” a tall man in an expensive, dark grey suit was firm. He turned his gaze toward the door as he noticed Samson walking in.

“I’m sorry, but what is all this noise?” Samson asked, pretending to be frustrated. “I’m supposed to perform in like twenty minutes and I can’t even focus!”

“Samson, we’re sorry to have disturbed you,” the shorter of the men spoke, standing up to greet the singer. “We’re dealing with some… surprise difficulties, but it’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Actually, it’s a good thing you came,” the taller man jumped in, turning to Samson, “Mr Flynn, can you be ready in five?”

“You can’t possibly suggest-” Florence started to protest, but the producer quickly cut her off.

“The show must go on, Ms Carter,” he replied sternly, leaving no room for discussion. “Mr Flynn, do you think you can perform in the next slot, instead of Mr Edwards?”

“Uh, I guess,” Samson replied, feigning confusion. “I just have to let my dancers know.”

“Excellent, be ready in five. We’ll handle all the stage props.”

Hank was sitting in the audience, sharing a table with pop-country singer Marie Gold and her husband. His eyes were on the main stage as he, just like everyone else, waited for Tyler to perform.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you all know our next performer very well, and you all love him,” the show host said after he came up to his spot on the podium. “He’s here to perform his new single The Perfect Place. Give it up for Samson Flynn!”

“What the hell?” Hank muttered in confusion as the crowd erupted behind him, cheering and applauding. He quickly checked his phone for messages from Samson, but there were none. Did the host make a mistake or was there some kind of a last-minute change of plans? Hank knew Samson wasn’t scheduled to perform until later in the show, once all the major awards have already been presented.

As the host stepped off the stage and all the lights came on, Hank could see the large fake tree on the right side of the main stage - the prop Samson was to use in his performance. His dancers appeared one by one from the left side, barefoot and dressed in black silk pants and long-sleeved shirts. Samson was the last to step on the stage, just as the mid-tempo ballad started playing. Against the backdrop of warm sunset colors, the dancers performed their ballet-like movements while Samson sang the song, the audience watching him entranced, recording the entire thing on their phones.

When he finished singing the bridge of the song, a love letter to his fans and loved ones, Samson joined the dancers in their choreography as golden leaves started falling all around them.

Hank watched the performance in awe, not even noticing when Anna returned from backstage to sit beside him. He had seen the singer practice this many times in the dance studio, but to see it all come together like this - it felt magical.

Once the song ended, cheers and applause broke through the arena. With a big, happy grin on his face, Samson and his dancers lined up and bowed down, holding hands.

“Thank you so much! You’re all amazing and I love you!” the singer shouted into the mic before leaving the stage, his heart still pounding with excitement.

By the time he got to his dressing room, Hank and Anna were already there, waiting to congratulate him.

“Great job,” Hank said as he approached Samson and gave him a hug.

“Great job?” Anna frowned, moving in for a group hug. “Bitch, that was amazing! I was shook! Literally one of your best performances ever. Like, top three!”

“Aww, thanks guys! You’re not just saying that?” the singer asked. His eyes were wet and mascara was starting to run down his face.

“Of course not, you were brilliant. But what happened, how come you performed? I was expecting Tyler to come out but... there you were,” the manager asked.

“Oh, yeah, Tyler had some problems, I guess. It was a whole thing,” Samson hesitated, contemplating how much to reveal. What would they think of him if they knew what he had done? “I’ll tell you all about it later, I need to change and wash my face first. Then we can go watch the rest of the show.”

“Oh, so you wanna stay now?” Anna perked up. She was hoping they would stay for the entire show and the afterparty. With so many hot famous guys around, she didn’t want to miss any of the action.

“Why not, I’m in a good mood,” Samson replied cheerfully as he went to the bathroom to clean his ruined makeup. His performance went swimmingly and he had the afterparty to look forward to - he was on cloud nine, ready to get drunk and enjoy the rest of the evening with his friends. He would deal with the nagging feeling of guilt later.

~~

“Where the hell have you been?” Florence stared daggers at Tyler, like an angry mother trying to discipline her disobedient child. “Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you caused for us here?”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler replied, looking down at the floor. “I was just nervous, I… I’m not sure if I can do this.”

After finding the bathroom window closed, the British singer had to climb down the fire escape and go through the back entrance. By the time he got back to his floor, it was already too late. Although he was hoping his manager wouldn’t be the one to find him, she was one of the first people he came across and, of course, she was pissed.

“You better be joking because you can and will perform tonight! So you better get over whatever fear you’ve got and-”

“That’s enough!” Mrs Edwards snapped as she appeared around the corner and proceeded to hug Tyler. “I do not appreciate you talking to my son that way, alright? Can’t you see that he’s in distress? The last thing he needs is for you to add fuel to the fire. He just needs a minute to calm down.”

“No, mom, I’m serious. This day’s been going all wrong,” the blond guy shook his head in frustration. “First Stacy doesn’t show up, and now… Remember that talent show when I was seven? That’s all I can think about now. I don’t know how I can get out there, in front of so many people.”

“Sweetheart, that was so long ago, you’re not that little kid anymore. I know you can do it, even if you don’t think you can. Dad, Lucy, Kit and I - we’ll all be there front row, cheering you on, just like we always do. Just pretend like you’re singing to us in the living room,” Marissa tried to console him as they all walked back to his dressing room. Once they got there, Tyler sat in an armchair while his mother brought him a bottle of water. “Here, take a sip if you want.”

Tyler nodded and took a few gulps of water, trying to calm his nerves.

“You sure you don’t want something stronger than that?” Florence asked, pointing to a stocked minibar in the corner. “There’s some good stuff in there, I checked.”

“No, thanks,” Tyler shook his head dejectedly. He still hadn’t developed a taste for alcohol - except beer, but he wasn’t in the mood for it at that moment.

“Suit yourself,” the woman shrugged, letting out a sigh. “Alright, kiddo, here’s the deal. First of all, I apologize for lashing out before,” she added, glancing at Marissa, but there was hardly a trace of remorse in her voice. “Secondly, they replaced you with Samson. They wouldn’t wait for you to show up, said they had to fill the slot somehow. And I don’t blame them. So that means you go on in… less than half an hour, almost at the end of the show.”

The singer still looked uncertain, his face paler than usual.

“Look, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that you’re contractually obligated to perform tonight unless in case of an emergency. You already know that. You have about twenty minutes, so I suggest you use that time to pull yourself together and get out there. And I don’t mean out of the building,” Florence said, looking at the expensive watch on her right hand. “But what I am going to remind you is that you’re here because you can do it. People love you for a reason - you’re cute, relatable, you have great music, but most of all, you’re a bloody brilliant singer, Tyler! Half the singers out there would kill to have your pipes. I’ve seen you perform a hundred times and I know you’ll do an amazing job. You just have to believe in yourself like the rest of us do.”

Still not a hundred percent convinced, Tyler didn’t say a word. Instead, he just sat there, staring at the wall, as his mother came over and squeezed his hand in comfort.

Florence left the room, leaving the mother and son so they could talk in private. When she returned ten minutes later, the two were standing in the middle of the room, hugging each other.

Tyler finally looked over and nodded, giving his mother and his manager an uncertain smile.

“Thanks, both of you. You’re right, this is my job and I have a duty to perform... I can do it,” he whispered the last part, more for himself than for anyone else. His family always believed in him and he knew that without their support, he would not have gotten that far. In her own strange way, Florence believed in him as well. Whether it was genuine or just because it was her job, Tyler wasn’t sure, but at that moment, he appreciated it nonetheless.

After the stylist touched up his makeup and fixed his hair again, it was already time to take the stage. Tyler went to the restroom one last time - just in case - before rejoining his manager and one of the producers, who led him to the main stage.

It was showtime.

“The moment you’ve all been waiting for is here,” the host started his announcement. “First time at the Stardust Awards, our next guest is coming all the way from the UK. Here to perform his brand new song, Distance, please give it up for the incredibly talented Tyler Edwards!”

Green and yellow lights lit up the stage, revealing Tyler standing in the middle, in front of a mic stand. There were so many people, and he was there all alone in the spotlight, for everyone to see. Why did he have to become a singer, he wondered, wishing he could trade places with anyone from the crowd. All he wanted at that moment was to sit in the audience and enjoy the show stress-free, but that was the one thing he couldn’t have.

As the opening notes started playing, he gave his best smile while his eyes searched the front rows for his family. It was difficult to see anyone from his position due to the spotlights, so he gave up after a few moments, grabbing the mic with an insecure hand. What if he fainted? What if his voice failed? His heart was pounding so loud, he wondered if the audience would be able to hear it if he brought the mic any closer. It didn’t matter anymore because there was no turning back.

With a gulp, he opened his mouth and started singing, the first few notes coming out shaky. At least he remembered the lyrics. He’d heard and sang the song so many times by now, there was no way he could forget them. Finding comfort in the fact that he knew the words and that his voice hadn’t failed him, Tyler kept singing. He was hitting all the right notes, his powerful voice echoing throughout the arena.

In all his anxiety, he had completely forgotten where he was supposed to look and what to do. He was supposed to move across the stage, make the performance more lively and interesting for the audience. Instead, he had just stood in one place, barely moving a finger, let alone his feet. Florence would tear him a new one for that later.

Before he even realized it, the song was over and he placed the mic back on the stand, taking a bow as the people in the audience clapped and cheered. “I didn’t deserve that,” he thought, forcing himself to smile. “But at least they’re faking it for me.”

Once he finally left the stage, Florence promptly caught up with him. He avoided her gaze, afraid of what she would say. He knew he did badly, or at least not as good as he could have.

“Superstar, you alright?” the woman barked at him, startling him for a moment. “You did good. Come here!”

Before Tyler could react, Florence pulled him into a clumsy half-hug, patting him on the back.

“Thanks, I guess,” he shrugged, wondering what his family thought of it. Were they regretting coming to the show? Maybe it was a good thing Stacy didn’t make it. At least she didn’t see him embarrass himself in front of thousands of people.

“See, you’re still alive! I told you that you could do it! Was it as scary as you thought it’d be?”

“Well… I was scared when I walked out there. I could’ve done a lot better,” Tyler mumbled.

“Hey, none of that self-pity now, alright? Now, you want to go and join your folks in the audience? Watch the rest of the show?” the manager asked. Tyler was surprised she was being so tame. Perhaps she just didn’t want to ruin his night and was saving all the lashings for tomorrow.

“Yes, please,” he said, eager to rejoin his family. Whatever happened on stage, he could count on them to cheer him up.

On his way to the VIP area, Tyler checked his phone, his face lighting up as he saw a message from Stacy. Along with the apology for missing his performance, she was letting him know that she was finally coming.