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Chapter 16
Ali
Giventhewaythepowers that be atSing Battlehad talked, they were going to enforce a strict new rule for the second half of the show. It turned out that it was what I’d suspected all along—each show would have a theme, and if contestants didn’t adhere to that theme, they would be disqualified. The first one was movie soundtracks—easy enough.
The other change was that the performances would be live. Honestly, it didn’t make that much of a difference, since they only let us do one take, anyway. The most major change was that we would film in the evening rather than the day.
We sat in Trenton’s sort-of studio, which had become our home base. “What are you thinking?” I asked.
Trenton strummed his guitar absentmindedly. “This is your show. I’m just window dressing.”
I pursed my lips. He frequently made little comments like that, and though he meant well, they irritated me. They had the opposite of his intended effect and reminded me how much of this season’sSing Battlewas about celebrities rather than finding new talent—I was the window dressing, not him. Sometimes, it felt like a karaoke talent show for celebrities with a few randoms—meaning the me and the other contestants—thrown in.
I exhaled. My attitude sucked, but try as I might, I couldn’t seem to change it on that point, at least not permanently.
It didn’t help that the last girl who’d been voted off had done a tell-all exclusive on her YouTube channel. The network had made her take it down, and she was probably going to get sued over violating the NDA, but the damage had already been done. I hadn’t seen the actual video, but the gist of it was that certain contestants had been given unfair advantages while she was stuck with a celebrity partner who’d been high or drunk the entire time. Considering that her partner had been in and out of rehab for the past five years, that might have been true. Either way, he was definitely suing her for slander.
Anyway, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the main contestant she felt had an unfair advantage was me—I was paired with the most famous celebrity who also was good friends with the host of the show. The worst of it was that she was right—I had an advantage over my competitors that had nothing to do with my talent.
I felt bad for the girl. If I’d been in her shoes, I probably would have been bitter too. I would have had the sense not to air my grievances on social media, though.
The situation was a mess, and I wanted to feel bad for Evan because he was having to deal with the fallout, but I simply didn’t. If the show had kept its usual format, none of it would have been an issue.
“Ali?” Trenton prompted. “Any ideas?”
“Sorry. I’m thinking.” Not about the song choice, but whatever.
He set his guitar on the stand and flashed a wicked grin. “Maybe you could think a little closer.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap, which had been happening so much that I’d had to institute a rule.
I allowed him one kiss then dragged myself out of his lap, using all my willpower. “We talked about this. No funny business in the studio.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “All right, all right. I can take a hint.” He grinned again. “How about we continue this conversation in the living room?”
“You are incorrigible.”
“You like it.”
“I do,” I admitted, “just not when we’re supposed to be working.”
The duet component ofSing Battlewasn’t all bad. Without it, Trenton would only have been a memory instead of… I wasn’t sure what we were. I didn’t live in LA. I hoped to, but that depended on my winning the competition and getting a recording contract. So I honestly didn’t know what I could realistically expect from our relationship.
“All work and no play,” he started to quip.
″Stop,” I begged. “How about ‘Up Where We Belong’?” I threw out the first song that came to mind. My grandmother had had a thing for Richard Gere, so I’d watchedAn Officer and a Gentlemanwith her several times. Since it was rated R, she’d covered my eyes for the naughty parts.
Trenton furrowed his brow. “Can you sing a few lines?” I complied, and he got it after a single line. “Joe Cocker? Yeesh.”
I arched a brow. “Can you handle it?”
He puffed up his chest, which had been the intended result of my challenge. “Of course. I’ll have to start smoking a few packs a day so I can imitate his raspy voice.”
I’d yet to find a song that Trenton had vetoed. He was willing to try anything, and so far, he’d nailed everything I’d thrown at him.
“Maybe you can wear naval dress whites and—ooh—an officer’s hat!” I tried to keep a straight face and failed. I hoped my grin would come across as excitement and not stifled laughter.
“Uh, that’s a hell no. I respect our military too much to wear their uniform as a costume.”
Huh.I hadn’t thought of it that way, but he had a point. Good thing I’d been joking. For all Trenton’s talk about putting me in a Cher wig, he wasn’t big on costumes or even wearing anything other than his beloved jeans and T-shirt. I didn’t care, though. It worked for him.
