Born Stars

  Born

  Stars

  Sara Hooper

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright © 2014

  Table Of Contents

  A New Start

  An Annoying Comedian

  Interesting Competitors

  Chilly Rooftop

  Mona Lisa

  The Shark

  Dance Under The Stars

  For The Applause

  More Than A Competitor

  The Final Ten

  Failed Pilot

  The Life Of Alice

  It’s Showtime

  Warm Embrace

  Hangover

  Sparks Fly

  The Missing Comedian

  Swift Justice

  My Lady

  A New Start

  “You’re gonna win this thing, baby!”

  Alice Rogers sat at the breakfast table that she had known for her entire life. Her mother presented blueberry pancakes and bacon as the coffee and orange juice flowed freely. They were joined by Miss Evelyn from next door and her sister, Lenore. The sisters, spinsters and proud of it, had watched Alice many a night while her mother pulled double shifts to make enough money for them to eat. Evelyn never charged a dime. She loved the chubby little girl who slowly blossomed into a leggy princess in toe shoes and a tutu. Evelyn was the first to notice the girl’s intrinsic rhythm, and one Christmas she gifted her with dance classes. Forget a pony or a dollhouse. Ballet was where it was at.

  “And they picked you out of how many?” Evelyn asked.

  She wasn’t sure of the exact number, but suffice it to say, it was big.

  Alice had seen the phone number flash on her television throughout prime time. The next big thing was here, and it was “Born Stars.” It was a limited series, but Alice knew how these things always went down. Three or four seasons from now, the network would stretch the competition until it threatened to snap, and eventually, it would.

  She was lucky enough to get in on the buzz that was to be the freshman outing.

  Anyone with any talent needed to make their way to one of five audition spots and try their luck. This wasn’t one of the myriad of singing competitions flooding the airwaves. Any talent, even a ballet dancer from Vermont, was welcomed to the table. Alice decided to take a chance and bought a train ticket to New York. The trip along the rails was exciting in and of itself. New England flashed by and gave way to the Big Apple. Alice reached the address listed in the letter and soon stood before three vaguely familiar judges. The only one she really recognized was Leticia Shore, formerly of the chart-topping girl group, Pentagon. Alice danced to the strains of Ravel’s “Bolero.” It was a little outside of her usual repertoire, but she hoped that her cornrows and the inevitable Bo Derek comparison would help and not hurt her chances with the panel. She got three yeses without hesitation and called her mom right away. Her happy tears on the other end of the line were nearly all of the reward that Alice needed. Alice couldn’t believe it; she was officially in the competition and was going to make her mark.

  Now it was time to board the train again and claim the grand prize.

  The ladies waved from outside her window as Alice settled into her seat. As much as she was looking forward to the upcoming contest, the northeast once again racing past her window was an equally desirable treat. Alice’s palm hit the glass, and she settled in for the view.

  “I… what? I didn’t get that. No. No, I did not hear that. I’m not under contract. If… wait. Wait! If I was under contract, I wouldn’t have to look for other gigs. Wait… what? No. No, you’re not hearing me. And… yes! It is your loss.”

  One seat away, a man in khakis and a blue sports coat ended his phone call. Alice caught a quick glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye.

  He was older. Maybe late thirties, early forties. His hair was brown, and she could see a few flecks of silver just starting to form. The man furiously swiped through the messages on his phone, and he settled on something that made him laugh. Alice watched him dial another number and press the phone to his ear.

  “Pick up. Pick up!” he demanded of no one. Alice felt a moment of sympathy when it seemed that the person he was trying to reach had no intention of answering. Was it a girlfriend? A boss? He finally leaned forward in his seat and started to speak..

  “Yes. Yes it’s me. What the hell, man? Yes. Yes I’m bailing. Like I’m getting so far licking up your scraps? Well…well that’s not my problem. It isn’t. Fend for yourself. No. No I don’t think you can. Why? Because you’re a lame ass who never had an original idea in his life. And… yes! Yes. And that’s why I’m going. What? Right. I said right.” The stranger let out a cruel laugh.

  Alice no longer felt any pity for him. He was brash and crude and loud. Now she just wanted him to go away or at least keep quiet.

  “A pilot? You? If I… fine. Fine! You shoot me a text when that goes down. I won’t read it, but…”

  Whoever was on the other end obviously ended the call, and the man eyed his phone with a vicious sneer. When he held the phone to his eyes and saw what Alice already knew, he kicked the back of the seat in front of him and stuffed the phone in his pocket. Alice kept looking at him. Had he been handsome once? Probably. Definitely. In some ways, he still was. But he also looked so angry and washed up that Alice didn’t give him a second look.

  It was too late. He had already caught the first one that she tossed his way.

  The man’s blue eyes met her face, and he raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

  “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

  Even if she had, that feeling evaporated as soon as he licked his lips. Alice could feel her face growing hot, and she quickly looked away in search of her phone, her music player, or one of the magazines that Evelyn gave her to help pass the time. She would just ignore him. The man would take the hint and return to abusing anyone else who happened to dial his number.

  “Where you headed, sweetheart?”

  Alice forced her eyes to the pages of “People” and tried to tune his voice out. In an instant she could tell that this train ride would not be as pleasant as her previous journey. She was disappointed but tried to focus on the the city and the competition ahead.

  The task grew harder when the man slipped across the aisle and sat at her side.

  “How you doing? I’m Peter.”

  Peter extended a slender hand to Alice and waited for her to shake. She didn’t like a guy who seemed so sure of his chances.. Someone sweet and shy was more her speed.

  This guy wasn’t that.

  Peter drew his hand back when Alice failed to take it and clasped his fingers behind his head. She kept trying to read as he sighed.

  “Quiet type, huh?”

  She turned the page.

  “That’s okay. I love to talk.”

  Alice glared over her magazine. “Obviously.”

  He moved closer to her and placed his arm around the back of her seat.

  “So you were listening. I thought I saw you looking at me. Couldn’t resist, huh?”

  Alice rolled her eyes and dropped the magazine to her lap. She willed her expression to shift and tell him everything that he needed to know. But he wasn’t worth her time. She just sniffed the air and hid her face behind the pages of royal babies and alcoholic directors facing law suits for arriving on set under the influence. For a second, Alice forgot the intruder at her side and silently sc
offed at those who had a chance and blew it big time. That wouldn’t be Alice. She had to, and would, maintain her concentration until she was bathed in a shower of confetti and the promise of a Vegas act.

  Peter’s fingers grazed one of her braids, and he started to twist it around his touch. Alice batted his hand away before he could move any further.

  “Hey! What’s wrong with you?”

  She punched his shoulder to drill her point home.

  Peter lifted both of his hands to a place where she could see them and smiled. “Sorry. They’re just so pretty. Call me curious.”

  Alice inched away from him and dropped her hand into her purse.

  “I got pepper spray in here,” she lied. “And I’m not afraid to use it. Now get back over there… buddy.”

  Peter laughed and kissed the air before her face as he returned to his seat. Alice relaxed some in the wake of his departure and flipped through her magazine.

  “Yeah? Yes. I’m on my way there now. Where? Believe it or not, I was in Vermont of all places.”

  Peter threw the name of her home in Alice’s direction like it was a spear. She didn’t let it pierce her and curled closer to the window.

  “I know, right? Hippies and freaks.”

  Alice felt Peter’s eyes on her. Which camp did he want to dump her into?

  “Yeah. But the view from here is just fine.”

  Alice saw Peter smiling at her. She resolved right then and there to stop him from ruining her trip any more than he already had. She stood and hoisted her bag over her shoulders.

  “Gotta go, man.” Peter got on his feet and followed Alice down the aisle. “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t turn back as she continued to move. “Away from you.”

  “Come on. Am I such bad company?”

  Alice refused to dignify his question with an answer. She was about to enter the next car when she tripped and the contents of her bag spilled behind her. Her hands moved like mad to retrieve all that she had suddenly lost. Alice managed to grab her hairbrush and caught hold of the condoms that Miss Evelyn had provided just in case.

  Peter seemed less interested in the rubbers and their promise when he spied the letter. He held it to his eyes and read quickly.

  “Really? No kidding. Guess we’re gonna be going toe to toe. I look forward to it.”

  Alice couldn’t move. Was it even possible? What could he do that warranted a place at center stage? Then again, the promos promised that anyone was eligible for the grand prize. Peter was suddenly more than a jerk on a train.

  He was her competition.

  She snatched the letter away from him and collected all of her belongings before starting away again. Peter stopped her in her tracks as he pulled her back to his side. She held her breath and waited for whatever he would say next.

  Leaning forward, he whispered into her ear.

  “And I’m going to win. But I really hope that you put up a fight.”

  Alice pulled away from him and finally found her way to the next car. She sat and breathed hard with her bag clutched to her chest. So he had his own golden ticket to the main stage. Fine. Right then and there Alice resolved to beat him at his own game.

  An Annoying Comedian

  She tried to forget Peter and settled into the farthest seat from him that she could find. “People” wasn’t cutting it, so she turned to her music. She had choreographed a routine to “Billie Jean” that she thought of as a revolutionary melding of ballet and pop. That would win the prize, and whatever he did wasn’t worth the price of admission.

  The landscape swept by in uninteresting frames. Alice was angry. She knew from the start that there would be pretenders to the throne that she was destined to claim. Her plan was to meet them under the hot lights in full makeup and costume and send them flailing with a wink and a pirouette. One of them showing up here was not part of the plan.

  She looked ordinary in her travel clothes and sans makeup. He was even more non-descript in his navy sports coat, and she was ready to tell him exactly that if he dared to approach her again. Alice constantly looked over her shoulder. When he didn’t appear, it was worse. She could feel him plotting her destruction on the judges’ stage. When the moment came, she’d have to fall back on a new plan.

  The train descended into darkness and emerged in the starkly lit tunnels that signaled New York City. Alice collected her belongings and clutched the back of her seat as the train slowed to a stop. When it finally ceased all movement, Alice bolted and found herself packed among other weary travelers as she stepped on the escalator. Escape was out of the question until the steps stopped moving beneath her feet. When she was back on firmer ground, Alice sprinted up a stationary set of steps in search of an exit.

  In a matter of seconds, she was lost.

  All around her was the promise of donuts and books, accompanied by a board that signaled departures back into the landscape. Alice needed a way to the street. She decided to follow a group that seemed to know where it was headed when she tripped and stumbled to the hard floor. Alice let out a light cry as she brushed herself off and swung her bag back over her shoulder. She turned to find the group and ran right into the last person that she wanted to meet at Penn Station or anywhere else.

  Peter Brandt had ditched the sports coat and stood before her in just his khakis and a black tee. If nothing else, he was cut. Alice would give him that.

  Peter tried to relieve the burden of the bag on her shoulders. She pressed it closer to her body and whooshed past him.

  “Hey!”

  Alice fought the urge to turn back at the sound of his voice, but when he whistled, she did just that. It was out of rage and nothing else.

  “Who do you think you are?” she demanded.

  He lifted his own bag and moved closer. Alice wanted to glare at him, but it was harder than she expected when he smiled.

  “Your worst nightmare,” he teased. ”But right now I’m just looking to get out and get a cab. Looks like you need a little help.”

  Alice wanted to slap him down where he stood, but she quickly thought better of it and lowered her lids as she clutched the strap of her bag. “Guess I am a little turned around. Can you?” She offered him her free arm.

  Peter surveyed it like a challenge and quickly accepted. “Good. Better like this. So we’re friends?”

  “For now,” she said. “And not a second longer.”

  Peter grinned and said, “I’ll take what I can get.” He took her arm and led her through the crowd, finally steering her to a table. “Hold up a minute. I got this.”

  He left her alone to watch other travelers rush past with rolling luggage and kids in tow. Some were leaving for parts unknown while others were happily arriving home. Alice just wanted to stay. She would see that her mother had all she had ever dreamed of once the prize was in her hands. That meant lasting through various eliminations and maintaining residence in New York until the night of the grand finale. She was determined. Nothing was going to stand in her way.

  Especially not the man who returned with a greasy tray of food and two sweating cups.

  Peter placed the tray between them, sat down, and tossed her one of two straws. He plunged the other into his drink and happily slurped before selecting a French fry from among the onion rings and popped it in his mouth. “Here,” he said as he pushed the tray closer to her. “Peace offering?”

  Alice nodded as she delicately nibbled on one of the rings and tasted her drink. It wasn’t diet, but it would do.

  “So… Alice, right?” He had obviously memorized her name from the letter he wasn’t supposed to see.

  Alice held her straw between her lips and smiled. “That’s my name,” she said as she pressed her cup back to the table. “Rogers. Alice Rogers. And it’s Peter?”

  He scarfed down another fry. “Brandt. Peter Brandt.” He was trying to sound sexy. The bits of golden potato product between his teeth were not aiding his cause.

  “I see,” Alice
said. “Guess you’re a super spy or something undercover?”

  Peter instantly got the joke and laughed. “Not bad. I might even riff on that in my set.”

  She realized in that instant that he was a comedian.

  Too bad for him.

  So much better for her!

  “Really? Interesting. So what’s your shtick?”

  Peter appeared impressed by her mastery of Yiddish as he continued to eat like a man recently rescued from a desert island.

  They had served food on the train but the sandwiches were rubbery, and the chips were stale. Alice had learned as much during her first trip to the city, so she packed enough granola bars to tide her over until she reached the Big Apple again. Upon arrival, she’d dreamed of the type of pizza unattainable in Vermont, even if the city had nothing on their trail mix. Fried fare was far from her wish list, but Alice took another onion ring and ignored the taste as she focused all of her attention on Peter.

  “I’m waiting,” she said.

  Peter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned.

  “You know. Slice of life shtick. I mean, everything is kind of ridiculous if you look at it long enough. And I’m the guy to point it out.”

  Alice sipped her soda again. “How very Seinfeld of you,” she said.

  Peter looked like he was about to fire what he hoped would be a devastating insult over the tray. She was ready and waiting for the blow to land, but he simply leaned back in his seat as he folded his arms across his chest. “Take a cue from the masters, right?”

  Alice wondered if she’d been wrong about him. Was there some humility lurking under his skin? Away from the dim light that had filled the train, he was now completely exposed under fluorescent lights. There was something sexy and even charming in his gaze. “And you? Alice? What do you do?”

  Where was the harm in a little truth-telling?

  “I am a dancer,” she said proudly as she circled her arm around her face.

  Peter laughed again and stroked his chin. “Oh my God!”

  She nervously lowered her arms to her lap. “What?”