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Chapter 17
Ali
Georgiapulleduptheclip on her laptop. “It’s just unbelievable. Can you believe we got a shout-out from Reba McIntyre?” She squealed. “I was called a young Reba by Reba herself! I can’t think of any higher honor.”
I could. I would much rather have been the best version of myself than a version of anyone else. It seemed Georgia didn’t have that same hang-up, though. So I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to ruin my friend’s excitement.
“I’m being selfish,” Georgia said. “Let’s see who they got for you.”
I grinned. “I have no idea. But I wouldn’t mind Christina Aguilera or Kelly Clarkson or Beyoncé.” I ticked off a few of the singers I’d idolized as a kid. If my name came out of one of their mouths, I would lose my mind. That was the kind of celebrity involvement I could support onSing Battle.
Much to my disappointment, Lindsey Piccolo, the star of the movieParadise Island, which I’d wanted to see but Trenton had vetoed, appeared onscreen.
“Odd choice,” I muttered, feeling disappointed that one of my idols wasn’t rooting for me. Then I was disappointed in myself for feeling that way. A movie star was about to cheer me on. Who was I to complain about that?
“Not really,” Georgia said. “They also used a celebrity chef and a baseball player. It’s been really random. Reba was one of the few musicians.”
That made me feel a little better, and I was glad that Georgia was one of the lucky few who’d gotten a shout-out from a music icon.
Lindsey looked at the camera and pursed her lips into her signature pout. “Trenton, babe, I wanted to wish you good luck, not that you need it. You’re going to win this thing. And my message to you, Ali—you’re sooo lucky to have my man as your partner.”
Georgia’s eyes bugged out of her head, and she gaped at the screen. “Did she say what I think she said?”
She replayed it while I stared at the screen, shocked. She’d called Trenton “babe,” and since when was he her man? He’d never said a single word about her, other than saying he didn’t want to see her movie.
The second time watching it, her words hit me for another reason. She hadn’t said a damn nice thing about me—she’d merely said I was lucky to haveher manas my partner.
I wished that Georgia and I hadn’t had that morning free together because I never would have seen the clip. Not seeing it wouldn’t have made it not exist, though. I was bound to have seen it eventually.
Georgia pursed her lips. “That’s shitty.”
That about summed it up. I stood and tossed my empty bottle of water in the trash. “I need to get ready for rehearsal.”
My friend grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry, Ali. Do you want to talk about it?” She knew without me having to tell her why I was upset. There were multiple things wrong with the clip they’d chosen. More than just Lindsey’s words hurt, though. Was she the best they could come up with? Was there no one actually rooting for me?
“Thanks, but no. I need to get going or I’m going to be late.”
“Ali!” she called, but I let her door close behind me as I left, pretending I hadn’t heard her. In my room, I quickly splashed some water on my face, changed clothes, and grabbed my bag. I ordered an Uber on my way down to the hotel lobby.
Trenton had had an appointment, which was why we hadn’t scheduled our rehearsal for first thing that morning. Traffic was shit, so by the time I arrived, I was half an hour late, and he was waiting for me.
He held a massive sandwich in his hand as he opened the door for me. “Have you eaten? I can make you one.”
I hadn’t eaten, but I couldn’t stomach anything, anyway. “I just want to rehearse.” My words came out clipped.
He peered at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I tried to lighten my tone and failed miserably. “We’re starting late, so I want to get going.”
He set his sandwich on the table and gripped my arms, forcing me to look at him. “Talk to me, Ali. If something is bothering you, you’ll be shit in rehearsal, anyway.”
He was right. Rehearsing with him came with a good amount of distraction, but at least that was a pleasant distraction. But what I was feeling was horrible, and I didn’t know how to tune it out.
“Who is Lindsey Piccolo to you?” I’d been holding out hope that he would deny knowing her, but resignation shone in his eyes. It was a punch in the gut.
“My ex-girlfriend,” he said with a sigh. “You saw the clip. Fuck. I swear I was going to talk to you about it today.”
The pieces clicked into place. “And that’s why you didn’t want to seeParadise Island.”
