The Greatest Show On Earth
A/N While I always enjoy Dayna stories, I also consider myself part of Team-Juliette. This oneshot was inspired by Janet Jackson, Taylor Swift's acoustic workouts and Cliff Richard in the rain at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships. To keep things in this universe we are somewhere in Season 4, post Jeff Fordham, pre Oscars. Grateful thanks to my friend Bonnie for providing the 'in play' commentary and hello and thank you to everyone who stops by to read. Feel free to feedback if that's your thing.
"Glenn, what are you doing at my house?" demanded Juliette, hand on hip, hair falling into her eyes, fresh off the treadmill. "You only ever come in person to bring me bad news."
The manager smiled wearily, default position when your client was quite so high maintenance. But you had to roll with the punches, if you took the lows then you enjoyed the highs.
"I've just found out who's been booked to give the half-time show at this season's Superbowl, and I thought you may be interested, that's all."
"Go on then, shoot."
"Female, blonde hair, country background, doing well with crossover audiences, has a strong, loyal fanbase…"
"Taylor" screamed Juliette, "Ahh, why does she always have to get ahead of me?"
"… Name of Juliette Barnes," finished Glenn. "You'd hate her."
"What? If you are teasing me Glenn I swear I'll never talk to you again."
"It's true Baby. We have just got the Superbowl lined up, you're playing the greatest show on earth."
She threw herself at him and he twirled her around like a 12 year old. When he let go she staggered back into the immaculate hallway. "Oh My God, I cannot believe it. Why didn't anybody tell me about this sooner?"
"Didn't want you disappointed if it fell through." replied Glenn, looking at the Warhol inspired print of multiple Juliettes on the wall, rather than the real article. With all of the star's history and histrionics, it had taken every ounce of skill Glenn possessed to persuade and reassure the NFL that this was the right call. The world needed stories, Glenn Goodman had gambled on that, and won. "Only a very few people know about this right now," he continued, "so it's obviously highly classified until the press launch."
"Well your first job, Mr Highly Classified, will be to get me Deacon Claybourne on guitar."
A day later Glenn pretty much repeated those same words in the soundproofed, wooden panelled surroundings of the Wheelin Dealin office. There were whoops and cheers of congratulations from around the table as a young lawyer collected up Non-Disclosure Agreements. Only Luke seemed less than enthusiastic.
"Weren't you married to of them football players once?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Briefly," said Juliette defensively, "but that was a long time ago now and we have all successfully moved on."
"Sean Butler," murmured the lawyer. "Retired from the game after an horrific injury in training, now the youngest coach ever in the history of NFL with the Lynxes."
"And the authorities are fine about that?" Luke continued. But it was the lawyer who answered before Juliette could.
"That's probably because the Lynxes have about zero percent chance of reaching a Superbowl final anytime this century."
"Well Dan, could history be about to be made?"
"The Lynxes lead The Braves 25-19 - Two seconds on the clock, the ball on the one yard-line, it comes down to this for a place in the Super Bowl against the Patriots. What do you call, Chad?"
"You've just got to go with your best play. You've got this far with the best offense in the league, just one more yard and you've booked your ticket to the final."
Juliette sat in front of the large plazma and sulked. "Go, Go, please Go! Come on guys, do the throwy-runny thing, but properly this time."
"Two receivers split out on the left, Marshall in the backfield. Six defensive backs for the Braves, they're clearly expecting a pass. And there's the snap, Davis fakes the handoff to Marshall and rolls to his left. Donaldson sheds the block and is bearing down on Davis. He steps and throws towards Harrison at the back of the end zone... but Sanders dives and knocks the ball down! What a play! No flags! The Lynxes win and are going to the Super Bowl! Davis drops to his knees in desolation as the Lynxes celebrate. An incredible finish to an amazing game!"
"Wow, I'm about all out, and I'm not even playing. I don't think anyone could have predicted this at the start of the season."
"And there you have it, a monumental win for the rank outsiders, taking them all the way to Superbowl final."
"You said it Dan, and many people are putting this incredible turnaround down to Sean Butler the wonder-coach in just his first full season. That man is something special and his players know it."
On the screen the camera was now focused on a young man in a suit, his long frame supported by a silver tipped ebony cane. Despite the hindrance he was making his way quickly onto the field before being surrounded by his team and borne onto the shoulders of two quarterbacks. Juliette growled at the world, pulled the Braves scarf she had been wearing from around her neck and threw the matching beanie across the room. Cadence, strapped in her chair looked up, wondering if this was a new game everyone could join in with. Just then the intercom buzzed, Emily.
"The game was on in my local bar, thought you may like some company."
Emily entered as Sean was being interviewed, his delirious players jumping madly around him. "This is the most amazing moment of my life, this team has worked so hard and now they have been truly rewarded."
"Plenty of folks reckon, that this success is down to you, taking an unfashionable team and turning them into Superbowl finalists."
"That's very kind, but I only saw what was already there in terms of talent and made them believe in themselves, you know Dan I've had up's and downs in my life, but that has never stopped me in believing I could achieve the goals I set."
The TV was flashed into silence by a flick of the remote. "Why," whined Juliette, "Why did he have to do this to me?"
"I guess because he's good at his job" said Emily.
"He's fluked a final at his first attempt, it should have taken at least a 5 seasons to get that good. So now the story's going to all be about him."
"Well it is the football final, a major sporting event, so naturally the focus will be on…"
But Juliette cut in. "Except I'm the one bringing my fans into their franchise, you know what Em' were just going to have to fight my corner, like we have always done. Sean Butler is not the only person with a point to prove."
The PA hurriedly decided that now would be a bad time to point out that cross marketing, by its very nature, worked both ways and was saved by Caidance's crys. She bent down to comfort.
"Ooh, Baby." She cooed, "Are you upset for Mommy too?" Picking the child up Emily stopped short. "Braves' booties Juliette, really?"
"Well" huffed the country singer "It might have worked."
Superbowl Sunday. The game was tense. Sean had motivated his players well. On TV the commentary duo wound the half up. "The Patriots on their own 38 so Brady will take a knee as they will get the ball first in the second half. So we're tied at 14 after the first half here in Super Bowl L. We will take a commercial break while they prepare the field for this year's sensational Halftime Show, featuring Nashville's very own Juliette Barnes. She is of course none other than the ex-wife of Lynxes' coach Sean Butler! This is going to be interesting."
"Certainly is Dan. I'm more of a Luke Wheeler guy myself, but my two daughters think Juliette is the greatest."
From the back of the Wheelin Dealin executive box Maddie looked up from her phone to see Luke open a fresh beer bottle. She had only really come along to watch her Dad play and briefly hang out with Juliette in hospitality. True she was also supposed to be keeping an eye on Daphne, but Sage seemed to be doing a great job of that. Daphne had always been comfortable around Luke and his family, even after Mom had called off the wedding. Right back to that dumb racecar. Now she was goofing with Luke's daughter as if they really had become step-sisters. Either Daphne was still just a kid who didn't really get it, or the younger girl was outwardly coping with the dramas of their lifestyle with more maturity than Maddie had ever given her credit for. For Maddie things were more complicated. Not only had Luke kept Deacon away from Mom, but now after going all the way with his son Colt, her boyfriend had turned cold, run off, and basically dumped her for the US Army. The reality of having her actual Dad and Mom as a permanent couple had not matched Maddie's fantasy, and it felt as if only Cash seemed to understand what she was going though. Maddie quickly finished her latest message to Cash and moved to front of the box to join the others.
Deacon was looping through the riff of their first song as Juliette bounded on stage. "Hey Everybody, having a good time? Of course I've got to be strictly neutral today." Juliette was wearing white denim cut offs with leggings, rhinestone studied trainers and a tailored harlequin football shirt, half in the colours of the Patriots half the Lynxes. Deacon cranked the band into the song proper, Juliette's latest single, and the girl shimmied. The performance was slick, it was professional, it, totally failed to connect with the live crowd. Juliette had played stadiums before, but she always had her fans on the park, right in front of the stage generating the vibe. Here the vast green stretch of outfield magnified the distance, both physical and musical between audience and performer. Juliette knew she wasn't really cutting it inside the ground. She glanced at a TV monitor and saw a handmade placard being brandished in the stands "Sean forever – Juliette Never!" This was the Opry all over again. Which was why…
Deacon rang out the opening chords to "Don't Put Dirt On My Grave Just Yet" and Juliette turned on her heel and strutted across the stage, to the place where Avery used to be. In the box the girls swayed. The Conrad sisters singing along, fell naturally into drop dead harmony. Sage, who's vocal abilities were on a par with her mother's wisely stayed silent. "Dirt," being the song Juliette was probably best known for began to do its job in lifting the atmosphere of the stadium crowd. Until in the final run in, there was a loud pop from behind the stage. The lights went out, Juliette's vocal cut off in mid flow and Deacon's guitar gave a sad metallic twang. Meanwhile the drummer clattered to a halt like an old time steam engine.
"Well," observed Daphne, "She's never finished it like that before."
"Power failure", Luke cried, "On coast to coast network." His face contorted has he pulled himself back from sweeping a row of water bottles off the table. Luke sat down heavily, head in hands while Maddie sighed for Juliette.
Back in Nashville, watching on TV Gunner and Will looked at each other. Will just raised his eyebrows, "Ooops."
Avery in another part of town slouched back in his chair. "Looks like she's screwed up again." He remarked to a blissfully unaware Cadence, before taking a large swig of beer.
But Juliette was frantically and repeatedly mouthing the word microphone towards the stage-side. A NFL suit appeared, one in hand. "Ladies and Gentleman," he began, his voice booming through the stadium PA. But Juliette took it away from him. "Sorry everyone, looks like we got a slight technical hitch. Someone forgot to put a dime in the meter." The half laughs were matched by restlessness, muffled shouts to "Get on with it" and a chant of "We want Sean."
"So," continued the singer, "Do y'all wanna sing at Superbowl with me?" Juliette squared her shoulders and lifted her exquisitely made-up face towards the drone camera. She closed her eyes and proceeded to hit the first note of "American Pie" with perfect pitch. The crowd where stunned into silence, then faint singing began to drift from the stands, as more and more people joined in. Soon whole blocks of fans were with her. The stage lights came back on, but Deacon kicked the peddle to disconnect his guitar and motioned for the other musicians to remain silent. Juliette was flying now, her voice soaring with rawness rather than complimented by clever production. The crowd's singing echoed around the stadium, with Juliette riding that wave. She was detached from the stage, from the hyperbole, locked into the song and she held the final "This'll be the day" line for as long as she possibly could. Silence briefly bookended the performance, and for the singer that fraction of a second lasted far, far longer. Then the roar of appreciation hit her. "Thank you very much," she murmured into the hubbub. "Enjoy the game," and placing the microphone by her redundant monitor ran down the back ramp and into the arms of Emily.
It was an hour and a half after the game had concluded, with a narrow win for The Patriots, before Glenn was able to join his artist on board the private jet. Juliette had been driven directly from stadium to tarmac and was curled up, cradling an ipad. Her grey yoga pants, baggy top and scruffy ponytail in contrast to the plush white leather of the cabin.
"Well, as you can see Twitter is in meltdown and the You Tube numbers are amazing. Luke can't decide whether to hug or punch you, Maddie Conrad now thinks you're the most amazing thing, ever, and even Rayna phoned to congratulate." He paused. "Meantime I need to confirm in the next 20 minutes with Good Morning America that you'll do a link up with them tomorrow."
Juliette put the screen aside. "Sure. But we need to give them something. Announce that "Pie" is being issued as a download, all profits to Veterans and medical charities. Then get it added as a bonus track for a tour edition of the album."
"Yes." There was a catch in Glenn's voice, Juliette was not always this far ahead on strategy. "You were outstanding today Baby, I'm so very proud of you."
"Well perhaps you ought to be proud of Emily too."
"Juliette?" The pit of Glenn's stomach crashed to the cabin floor.
"Well she, and that oh so cute lawyer talked to people, who knew people, who probably talked to other people. Seriously Glenn, you can't believe that there would be a critical power failure to the stage with a mic patched into the stadium PA so close at hand, without a tiny little push?"
"You sabotaged your own Superbowl set. That's insane!"
"Which is precisely why nobody told you, on my orders," responded Juliette, "But after today the whole world will remember the year Juliette Barnes sang at Superbowl."