When did screaming ever help matters?
That was the question that Roland asked himself when he shrieked for what felt like the millionth time on a beach that was a 20 minute drive from his apartment. He and Smokescreen stood at the shoreline that was furthest away from seafront properties and onlookers, with Roland letting out a panic against an ocean whose tides at least helped smother the sound of his panic. It was after what felt like the fourth or fifth one was where he felt his voice give out on him, the unpleasant scratch on his throat being the unmistakable sign that actual vocal rest was going to be necessary. There was no way he was going to be able to sing in his current condition, though he wasn't sure if he could stand singing in this current moment. The thought of America's Next Big Star made his stomach churn with an anxiety that could shut him down again, but he knew he needed to confront his audition being aired sooner rather than later.
How the hell was he going to explain this outburst to Smokescreen? By all accounts, he should be celebrating that he made it onto television in the first place. He should be celebrating each time he felt his phone vibrate with excited messages from co-workers that recognized his face on TV, his few social media accounts bombarded with tags just shortly after the season premiere of the show ended. The joy of being told 'yes' by the judges during the actual audition itself was a euphoria that could hardly be beat, and Roland knew he was on a string of victories that could easily be taken away in a heartbeat should he falter in any way through the process. Seeing the audition be aired and publicized as the lasting impression of the show's premiere should be a dream coalescing into the start of a hopefully successful career and run in the show, but Roland couldn't fight the panic that roiled within him when he thought of what this all represented and meant behind the veneer of the cameras and what he knew of what the producers wanted to see from him.
It felt like both a dream and a nightmare occurring simultaneously, with Roland barely able to explain how and why that was the case.
Eventually, his voice and his willingness to scream with total abandon would give way as he collapsed in front of the night tides. This was certainly some form of catharsis, but the emptiness both in mind and body felt far more palpable, eclipsing the relief in release he wanted so badly to have. He closed his eyes as he was prepared to turn around towards Smokescreen's way with a defeated look and not much in the way of a decent explanation. To his surprise, he felt one of his still rather huge metal digits awkwardly try to massage his back, leading Roland to lean into the touch as his already tired hands reached for the warm Cybertronian metal. He turned his face around to see Smokescreen's faceplates contorted into an awkward and warm smile, a normally boisterous expression now bearing a sincere look. Seeing him had begun to feel more like home the more time he settled in with the Autobot, leaving Roland sometimes wondering what a future without him would've looked like.
"Are you?..." Smokescreen asked as he pointed a digit to his own helm with his other hand, and Roland couldn't help but respond with a chuckle that soon after transformed into a saddened grimace.
"I'll… I'll live," his voice was still hoarse from all the screaming, the unpleasant scratch in his throat almost a cause for alarm. "Think… you can hoist me on your shoulder for a bit? We don't have to go too far."
"I'll oblige ya, little dude."
Roland was glad that Smokescreen's gregariousness was still present as he felt himself be gently lifted up on top of the rookie's shoulders. Before long, he found himself sitting against the nook of the Autobot's shoulders, feeling the otherworldly heat of his body and also seeing the strong glow of his optics. Exhaustion nearly tempted him to lean against Smokescreen, but he was afraid of crossing a line or making some strange impression. He resorted to twiddling his thumbs as Smokescreen maneuvered them through the sands, Roland knowing he probably wasn't enjoying the sensation. He could hear the rookie utter 'slagging sand… eugh' under his breath here and there. Before long, the Autobot found a suitable spot to sit down, Roland grabbing onto the nearest protrusion to ensure he didn't find himself tumbling into the ground. He was loathe to fathom just how tall Smokescreen was and he refused to look down to make a comparison.
They stood in silence for a moment, Roland wondering how to inevitably explain himself as he continued to twiddle his thumbs and relax his throat from what he'd done earlier. He gazed at Smokescreen with a guilty expression, shame filling his mind for the unexplained series of requests and odd behaviors since they both watched the show.
"You… need to talk?" Smokescreen took the initiative to break the awkward silence between them. For that, Roland was glad, leaving him able to at least step through the anxiety of having to start a conversation.
"I…" but if only Roland had an easy way to explain it all. "I… really wasn't expecting them to show… that. My audition," he fully turned his eyes towards Smokescreen's face. "I've… been trying not to overthink my time on the show. They've been generous like that with my singing… I wasn't expecting them to go for the anxiety angle like they did…" The frown on the rookie's face was unmistakable.
"Yeah… wasn't too particularly fond of it when they tried to make it seem like you can't even function without the whole trembling thing." He could hear something of a hard edge creep into the Autobot's tone. "'Side from that though… they really did say some great things about ya, man. They really thought you're something great, and I believe 'em. What's got ya so panicked though?"
Without delving into some second guessing of producer intention and appearing like a conspiracy theorist, the pressure of it all was the first thing that popped into the singer's mind. He hoped the explanation that would come out of him would be brief enough, though he doubted it would be the case. He let a moment pass through to gather his thoughts, sighing to at least indicate that he'd heard and acknowledged the question.
"You might want to buckle down and settle for a Roland rant," he tried to joke around as a way to get things started, but it came out far more defeated than he intended. At least, he heard Smokescreen softly chuckle in response before he saw his optics soften in concern.
"Floor's yours, man… even if it takes cycles."
"I'll take your word for it," Roland briefly paused there to try and gather his bearings for a starting point. "It's weird… I am still happy about how lucky I've been. It's… there is something to the fact that they did show one of the first victories I've ever had just trying to make it. That's not going to change, and the fact that they aired it… this whole thing of my voice getting people's attentions is actually real. I've… had texts from co-workers asking me if that was truly me and why I never told them that I was actually in the running. My social media has… gone crazy and it hasn't even been 24 hours." He'd meant to try and take on some Cybertronian terminology in the end, but his mind was too lost in what he was hoping to convey to try and switch vocabularies.
"But… do you ever feel like you're taking on so much that there's a pressure on your shoulders that's too huge to surmount?"
Roland feared he may have struck a nerve with such a question, the corners of his eyes seeing the Autobot's door wings seeming to 'droop' slightly if such a thing was even possible. He was prepared to advance his point and apologize, but he saw Smokescreen's face angle towards him with a wistful expression on his faceplates.
"Y'know… that's something I've been fighting over for a long time, little dude. Don't even wanna count how many vorns." Smokescreen began. "I haven't spoken much about when I was in the Elite Guard, huh?"
In response, the singer shook his head.
"Should speak more about myself, heh… Aight Ro. It was weird when I was training in the Academy and actually trying to get into the Elite Guard. It's a lot tougher now in the field, but back when I was training and all… the Elite Guard represented the best of the best. I'm… kinda like an elite squadron in a way if I had to compare it to your soldiers."
That knocked reality into Roland's mind. However, hearing such a statement interspersed with the embers of a cocky smirk from Smokescreen's expression was its own sense of levity, one that allowed Roland to feel an actual, palpable relief from the world of television talent shows. It was a sobering reminder of the kind of warrior Smokescreen was, someone who he knew would be more than capable especially if he had a team behind him.
"I… need to remember how hardcore you truly are," he flustered himself through his attempt at a joke, but it was worth it to see the grin and hear the laugh from the Autobot.
"Like to see you keeping the mood light! And I'm glad… because I remember the pressure of wanting to prove myself to my superiors as well as some certain 'Bots I knew. No less to someone like Optimus… 'Cause I wanted nothing more than to fight. I trained every single cycle just to feel like I was worthy of the Elite Guard. When I actually graduated into it… Frag, it felt like if I disappointed my officer, then what was all that training for? I wanted to kick 'Con aft, but the pressure…" He could hear Smokescreen's voice trail off. "It was something I try not to think about, especially when all I did was just end up guarding the Hall of Iacon anyway…"
Roland, even when exhausted, could hear the unmistakably bitter tone in the rookie's voice when his explanation seemed to end. He could see the door wings become stiff and his optics gaze into the waters of the pacific ocean. He wanted to reach out, some awkwardly phrased statement manifesting in his mind and his mouth beginning to open before the Autobot beat him to the proverbial punch with an apologetic look.
"Shouldn't have rambled so much. Sorry about that, Ro…"
"Smokescreen, no… you don't have to be." The singer immediately reassured him. "I want you to open up. I know… I won't be able to understand as well as another Autobot, but… I want to hear you too and what you feel. Are you okay to speak more, or?..."
"Ro… I'm good, little dude. There's some things I should let off my spark more, but another time. You were the one that… had a moment earlier." Smokescreen pointed out, something that caused Roland to look away in embarrassment. "Heh, should've said I related instead of going into a little story of my own. Just wanted to say that I relate in my own way. So, before you go quiet… what's making you feel this way?"
As much as Roland felt so silly for tripping up over some talent show while he surmised that there was something deeper to the story of Smokescreen's academy days during the Autobot-Decepticon war, he knew that trying to escape from explaining his outburst wasn't going to be a possibility. Smokescreen wouldn't respond well to forced and unnatural prying so trying to deflect the conversation wouldn't work. He felt awfully self-centered for focusing on something that honestly was trivial in comparison to what was on the rookie's shoulders. Maybe this was the perspective he needed; if only he had this so much earlier before knowing that he needed to explain the punch line behind everything. Roland took a deep breath as he tried to force his mind on the talent show, Smokescreen's story distracting him from the panicked weeds of details that honestly did become meaningless with some mental distance from the show. In theory, it felt easier to be blunt. He just hoped that it was actually true in practice.
"I've… watched the show for a couple of years now and I know some of the… tactics, I guess? Or at least how they present people." Roland began, hoping it made some sort of sense. He was hardly the type to be a pundit that overread and overanalyzed the cues of faceless producers that were the cogs that made the machine run. "They don't just put people in random spots for no reason. That spot they put me in… the last audition of the first episode. I try not to think about those details too much but people usually pay attention during the auditions to figure out who to watch out for and invest in.
"I watched the show last year and followed the whole season to its finale. During the first episode of that season, there was this boy band, group of singers basically, that appeared at the end. They, like me, had their entire audition aired and had a pretty extended segment and everything… Their audition was magical as hell and the judges loved them. It's probably just all coincidence and I really shouldn't be comparing this season or myself to last year but…" Roland sighed there, looking out towards the waters as he forgot that he was sitting upon Smokescreen's shoulders.
"But… what? What happened to this… boy band?"
"They won the entire thing, Smokescreen. They won the show, got a record contract and everything… They did it all. The voting and then making music after." Roland realized then and there what he could well be implying for himself, and he hoped he didn't send Smokescreen the wrong message. Still, he wasn't sure how to interpret the mech's optics widening for a moment and the ensuing silence after.
"I… Ro, maybe it's all just coincidence right?" That was the hope that Roland went for, but he'd watched enough to know that the show's manipulations were ones that were left up to random chance. "Anything else about like… the group or the show? Slag, I know they did things with your audition from what I remember… The whole nervousness thing was… a bit much, but you… when you sang that Over the Rainbow song…"
Roland could only look down with a sheepishly pained smile when he heard the awe from Smokescreen's voice, shame filling his mind at how even agreeing to go with the song was its own tussle. He remembered he had said in the past when describing his mother Joanne that the song was too sacred for him to ever consider it for a competition. Months later, Roland was ashamed to admit that the tides had turned even at the behest of producers who had insisted he sing that particular song.
"I know the group saw some success. They had some hits actually," which, as sad as it was to contemplate, already meant that the boy band whose name Roland could not remember were already a bonafide success story in comparison to past winners who lasted for just one release before fading into obscurity. "I'm trying to think it's all just coincidence… but I've watched the show too long to know that it's not… and I'm… really scared of what it all means."
There it was, the softening of Smokescreen's gaze and a concern that filtered through his expression. Roland felt awful to get to the heart of the matter on the same night that Smokescreen spoke more about his life before Earth.
"Go on, Ro…"
"When I mean pressure… I'm afraid of what this implies for me. I'm trying not to overthink this, but… I don't know what they're trying to do with me. Am I just a pawn?... Do they really think I can win or?... I don't know… I just… I've been at this for so long and I don't wanna disappoint anyone and I don't wanna disappoint you either…"
"Ro, stop yourself for a sec there. Look at me." It felt like quite a swerve from the rookie, but Roland complied. "Now listen to what you just said… you don't know. Even if you've watched this… show. You don't know."
"Yeah… what are you getting at?" Roland tilted his head in confusion when he saw Smokescreen chuckle in response.
"Little dude, I'm trying to stop ya from overthinking," Smokescreen answered. "Ro… y'know I'll always stand by ya, but you really gotta make sure you're not living in that little head of yours all the time. You think so much that I sometimes feel like I lose ya, y'know?"
"I… yeah… I do, don't I?..." Roland couldn't even muster a defense, the singer peering his eyes away in embarrassment.
"A lot, Ro. Heh, and it's something I've gleamed even all the way back in Chicago. I say that with love, Ro. Maybe it wouldn't hurt for ya to take the Smokescreen approach? There's a confident hot shot in you yet, we just gotta bring him out."
The singer raised an eyebrow by what Smokescreen exactly meant by that, beginning to shake his head for a second. With an amused sigh and with him beginning to lean his head to his knees, he then asked.
"What… exactly do you mean by that?"
"Not anything fancy, honestly. Well… it's more of a focus thing, helped me when I was training in the academy and when I saw what it took to get to the Elite Guard. I trained for… what's probably way too much, but if there's one thing that helped me is to focus on what I knew I could control. A lot of the other officers and 'bots had their own agendas… It took me a while to understand that there's a lot of slag I couldn't really control, and so… shouldn't really waste valuable memory banks thinking about it. There was what I needed to get in and that's what I focused on. I wanted to be a soldier and slag if I wasn't going to be the best there is.
"You overthink, you get offlined…" Roland visibly winced from the implications, causing Smokescreen to raise his other servo in alarm. "Okay, I know for your case it's not gonna be like that. Don't think about the war I'm in for a breem. Still with me?"
"Yeah… yeah."
"Aight, good. I know this is a different deal, but I kinda see those judges like some of the high command. Yeah, it's important to impress them, but you can't overthink what you think they're gonna do. Ro, what's the one thing you got they can't take away from you?"
"My… singing?"
"Exactly! Focus on what you got. Of course, don't just stop thinking… that was my mistake, but don't think so much that you end up paralyzed. Whatever the show thinks of ya or what the judges say… let them say it but remember to focus on what you can do. All that practicing? All that singing? Don't stop that."
It felt so painfully obvious now what Smokescreen was saying all along; Roland embarrassed that it eluded him so long. Trying to incorporate it into his routine or being able to take on the mindset was its own set of struggles for him, especially because he couldn't ignore the judges or the production entirely. However, he had overthought the machinations of the show for so long that he was completely at risk of losing focus on what he could do in the first place. That is, his singing. As much as he hesitated to speak on his own capabilities and limitations, it was his willingness to put himself out there and practice for as much as he had played some part in getting him to the position he was in.
Smokescreen was right. Losing sight of his craft and what he could control would render moot whatever the show itself could potentially have in mind. An idea hatched in Roland's mind as he wanted to more seriously put into practice the advice that the rookie was freely proffering to him, the singer hoping that he could better able to navigate these moments without relying on Smokescreen so much.
"I… think I know what to do, or at least I have an idea. You reminded me that I have to focus on Miami and the judges' houses sooner than later," much as he dreaded that part of the show that was not even due to be aired until at least a month later, he knew he needed to prepare. "Tomorrow… do you think you can help run me through the song I have to sing? I have the routine down, I just need to make sure the vocals are there and I'm delivering the song."
"There we are, Ro. That's what I wanna hear and you know my answer to what you're asking," it was heartening to hear the pride and excitement in Smokescreen's voice, the grin evident in his faceplates. Seeing that uplifted Roland's spirits in a way that rivaled the afterglow of hearing 'yes' from the judges when his televised audition was being taped. "And before I forget… Ro, I know I ain't the best judge of how you're gonna fare in the whole music thing, but just remember what I said, aight? I've seen how much you're trying. You're not gonna disappoint me, and I don't mean that you gotta do something impossible to make me happy. Frag no.
"I'm proud of ya for chasing your dreams and I always will be. Never forget that."
It was the kind of reassurance that Roland knew he could not take for granted.
The night of that conversation passed with more quiet time between the two and soon it would pass with another day that inched closer to when the singer would have to depart to continue to compete for the show. Roland would make good on needing to practice, getting straight to work the moment he clocked out of his day shift as a waiter. Despite the constant barrage of notifications on his phone alongside co-workers and even customers recognizing his face, he tried not to pay the increased attention any mind. Still, the deluge of questions about his audition, to co-workers asking him how he did it or how the show was, and to even being wheeled out for a moment as a brief trophy for the restaurant before he had to return to his shift. It all made for an awkward day at work.
Still, he focused on the words that Smokescreen freely gave him.
As soon as he was home, with Smokescreen's human holoform patiently sitting on the couch and Roland having grabbed an empty water bottle as a makeshift microphone.
"So the song you're singing is that I Wanna Dance With Somebody one? By… Whitney, right?" Smokescreen asked as Roland prepped the backing track on his phone.
"Yep. It's a short 90 second arrangement so it won't be like the one you hear in the radios and everything," the singer sighed as all he needed to do was press play and get into position. "Okay… should be ready to start from the top."
"You got this, Ro."
The start of this little rehearsal was tough, Roland trying to find his footing in the slightly slower arrangement of the Whitney song that the producers wanted him to sing for the last section of the show that was taped. He didn't hear his vocals become audibly flat or sharp, but he knew he was thinking his way through the chorus than necessarily trying to perform it. It was as if he was trying to anticipate each rehearsed move and focused on performing that, making sure he bobbed his head the right way or that the landing to one of the lines was executed well. As a consequence, the whole beginning to him felt and sounded rather rough, his vocals meandering and losing sight of what the lyrics were saying.
Any thought of the what ifs faded as he pushed through the truncated the first verse, beginning to properly let loose his vocals once he reached the vocals. What once was a forced sassiness at the first lines of the song disappeared as he belted out the chorus of the song, Roland finding it much easier to get through the song when he hit the register of his voice more oriented towards flashier dynamics and power than subtlety. The smile on his face was just a bit more genuine when he sang through the chorus, his mind able to calm when he sang the chorus with the fun and playful yearning it required. As soon as the instrumental ended, he would look down with a nervously bashful smile especially as Smokescreen cheered.
"How'd I do?" Roland would inevitably pop the question. The sly expression on his companion's holoform didn't help the nerves within the singer.
"You astound me every slaggin' time, Ro. You did great," Smokescreen began. "You were super tense before you got to the part where your vocals got powerful. Once I could tell you weren't really worried anymore… frag."
"Yeah… that first part gives me trouble." Roland admitted as he restarted then paused the backing track, preparing for another round of working through the song. "A lot of first verses do, but especially this one. The whole needing to make a great first impression gets me jittery. Then there's the fact that I'm covering Whitney… thank you, though."
"No sweat," Smokescreen's grin curled into a thoughtful expression. "Okay, gonna have to repeat from last night. Don't even need scans to tell just how nervous ya were at first. Hmmm…"
Roland couldn't help the wince. If his nervousness was that obvious without even the magic of television editing to emphasize it, he had no doubt that the celebrity judge that would watch his performance at a far rawer state would also notice.
"So, every time I listen to the song, I know it's pretty obvious that you have fun with it. I still remember that one time it came on the radio when we were on the road," there was a fond reminiscence in the way Smokescreen spoke about a past that was still recent, even though the memories were becoming more distant as the months drew. "It's also a pretty fun song to me too, even if what she's singing about kinda gets lost on me. Now, I ain't no judge on the whole technicalities of singing thing… but what else do ya think is making ya so nervous?"
Lord, that was a hell of a question.
"I… hmmm…" he paused there to percolate a response, even though he knew in his heart the kind of point he would make to Smokescreen. "I always get nervous at the start, especially for competition. It's not until I hit my… sweet spot, when I belt, right? It's not until the chorus is where I can kinda forget about that and step out of my head. It's like… I'm thinking through it for 20 seconds and then after that, I'm in the zone."
"Okay, that's what I thought. Aight." Smokescreen leaned back against the couch, scratching his 'chin' as he did so. "Remember that ya wanna have fun. That's what you wanna convey, right?"
"Of course, yeah."
"Awesome. Okay, for as long as you want, I'll be here working with and being with ya during your whole practice thing unless I got a reason to patrol. Focus on that part, what you want to convey, and… I know this is gonna sound ridiculous comin' from me, but give it time. Wish training came easy for me, but man did I have to put in so many solar cycles… Anyway, no putting pressure on yourself to get it right instantly, alright?"
Much as he knew saying it out loud would inflate Smokescreen's hot shot self, he was really enjoying this sageness. Around him at least, it felt so much easier to center himself and proverbially dig into what he was singing about and why that mattered. The rookie did not need any more reasons for his cockiness, but Roland truly did mean it when he once did say that a lot of those who were attempting to make it into the labyrinth of the American entertainment industry would benefit from having someone like Smokescreen in their lives. One's mileage would vary, but Roland certainly felt a bit more sure there was some sort of emotional safety net should things go awry and astray, as is the wont of any wannabe singer's career is oft to do.
He began again, trying to focus on both what was working and what was going wrong when he was navigating the first half of his performance. As it turns out, it was trying to marry the brief routine of ensuring his vocals were his place with trying to sell the song's message and appearing that he was having fun. It was something that he often struggled with when it came to balancing routine with a sense of spontaneity, the tightrope of wanting to appear put together without seeming like some sort of wind-up doll. He tried to navigate it by knowing his limits when his heart and mind felt anxious, trying to first perfect the routine and tapping into the fun the song was exuding. Of course, his mind drifted off to Smokescreen as he sang, the Autobot's infectious presence allowing him to sell some of the more uplifting parts of the song while he could dodge some of the more explicit implications of what the song was really about. With Smokescreen, Roland felt a freedom he thought he'd never feel again. Around him… he could feel that want to be happy without a cloud of guilt and reservation hanging over him, finding a truth to the young Autobot's insistence of keeping focused while going with the flow.
In this moment, he wanted to let go and just dance his heart away. There was still work he needed to do, but Roland felt like he could find a way through this song.
He wasn't sure if he could ever muster up the kind of confidence Smokescreen exuded, but he couldn't help but feel his heart soar when he saw Smokescreen's amazed expression at the end of what felt like the millionth iteration of the song. Roland was honestly getting sick of having to sing the same song for a sustained amount of time, but he knew this practice wasn't done for no reason. As he ended one last note, he heaved a sigh of relief at both the look of pride in the Autobot's hologram and the applause. He saw Smokescreen approach and lay a friendly arm around him.
"Ro, you're ready for anything, man. Sing like that… I know you got a lot to worry about, but I genuinely think you'll be fine."
Roland hoped that was the case.
That was the hope held onto as the days would pass and he would be jetting off to Miami for the 'judges' houses' portion of the competition. Well, that was more of a trick on the producers than Roland and the other competitors actually singing in the residencies of the show's celebrity judges. Not having Smokescreen by his side was also another factor that added to his anxiety, even though he was hesitant to have the Autobot be so close to the production aspects of the show. He was already beside himself when he and Smokescreen found themselves encountering production vans from 'America's Next Big Star' parked around LAX, Roland blanching in fear that he risked being late and even moreso, exposing Smokescreen to producers that would've been both horrified at his existence and potentially even see the possibility of exploiting his presence.
Those were worries that needed to be dispelled when Smokescreen had to reassure him that the Autobot was just a text away. The moment the cameras began to roll, he knew that he could not let the producers see the genuinely palpable anxiety that was buried beneath what he wanted people to see. Before the flight to Miami from Los Angeles could begin, he would have to go through an entire process of meeting the other contestants and then 'finding out' together with them where they were going to go for this next phase of the competition. It was strange to contemplate interacting with his competitors under the auspices of a continuously running camera, Roland idly wondering what the producers' intentions were.
Seeing the other competitors was an erstwhile relief for the singer, even if it was done under a strange veneer of everybody 'playing' their parts.
In this phase of the competition, Roland knew that the show had cordoned people off into their own separate categories. In his case, he was slotted into male soloists aged 16 to 24 years old under the banner of being the 'Boys' category. There were four other categories, of course being the girls, the groups/bands, and soloists over the age of 25. It was a strange stratification, but it was enough categorization for the show to come up with a 'final 24' that had only one more phase of the show to go through before they had a chance to sing in front of a live audience. The pressure to make it, whether on camera or off, was perpetually ever present.
Though the nature of this being a competition wasn't lost on everyone, he genuinely did see the other competitors as allies through this process. He saw the five other boys being corralled by producers behind the scenes in various parts of the airport terminal where their pre-boarding footage would be recorded. He recognized a few familiar faces from the bootcamp phase, though at least three were faces whose names he did not know.
There was George, the baby-faced country singer who was often told by producers to act as cute in an Americana, 'aw shucks' way as possible. Roland wasn't sure what his current place was in the competition, but it wasn't lost on him that George was the only country singer in a sea of boys that focused either on basic pop of both the dated and contemporary variety, with a few others fishing in vague rhythm and blues waters. Still, outside of the cameras, George was a genuine sweetheart also navigating the strange maze of reality television, a bit out of his depth in an area of the United States that was clearly not his home.
Another ally throughout the process was one of the more understated singers in this competition, whose name he remembered as Anders. He was very much solidly pop with a hell of a voice, though Roland always got the impression that Anders was never particularly invested in the dream of being a pop star. Instead, the show was only an additional platform with the promise of some measure of greater exposure for him. He seemed to take the curveballs of production with the most sense of calm, never once being shown to agonize over the strange demands that reality tv asked from its participants. Even when producers asked Anders to play the role of either a villain or someone who comforted another participant, he never hesitated to fulfill their demands to the letter.
Roland didn't have much time to be able to greet them as the producers began to shout marching orders.
"Alright boys! Get into position at the X over there in front of the box that has the reveal of where you'll be going!"
The directive was to act 'surprised' and excited when the cameras were rolling. The location of where they would be going had been truly known for some time already, though audiences weren't going to be entirely aware of that. In the corner of his eye, Roland could see George begin to look a bit uncomfortable before his awkwardly charming smile would appear when the cameras began rolling. Roland simply appeared nervous and lingered on the sidelines, mostly just appearing as a tag-along with the other boys while the more outgoing personalities would be the ones to tear open the box to reveal the location of where they would jet off.
Miami. Just seeing that city's made things feel a little bit more real.
However, there were still a couple of genuine surprises waiting in store, and it wasn't something that was lost on Roland's mind as the contestants and production crew were flying off to Florida. He was loathe to ask or speculate when the cameras were not rolling, but he did wonder who the show would assign as the celebrity judge for his category to act as the mentor for the rest of the season. Who would he be singing in front of for 90 seconds and who ostensibly would have control over his fate? Well, he knew it was the show's producers who ultimately called the shots around here.
It was something he tried not to worry about as he found himself in Florida for the first time in his life.
Was this being what a celebrity was like? Perpetually touching the soil of places unknown to him and feeling this strange rush of meeting new people and seeing new places all the time because he was doing something he loved? The show seemed to insist as such given that there was a shooting schedule before they would even be singing in front of whoever the boys' judges were. He stuck mostly to George and Anders throughout the filming process of 'discovering' and 'having fun' in Miami.
Roland didn't want to make some form of a horrific impression while on camera, which meant he didn't even have plenty of time to sit down and talk with Smokescreen over text, no less be able to actually sightsee Miami. The promise of a sun-kissed fantasy in somewhere like Miami Beach or its resorts was only just that, a promise left unfulfilled. Considering that he had a song to perform, Roland knew his heart wasn't in the mood to indulge in the touristic image of Florida. The climate and vibe felt similar to what he now called home, the palm trees swaying around and being surrounded by beaches were their own set of comforts. Yet he couldn't but feel a sense of being both out of time and out of place while he and the rest of the boys were filmed having 'fun' before they would have to get into business.
Smokescreen - 2:21PM
ro, smokescreen here. Everything alright in… slag
miami right?
ro?
Roland - 12:46AM
Sorry sorry
Too many producers around
Florida's super hot. Haven't sang yet. Don't know who my mentor is. Will update when there's less cameras.
Smokescreen - 12:47AM
ok gotcha
good luck little dude you got this
With everything needing to be filmed and choreographed to the last detail, getting to the actual house where his category would be singing felt like a prolonged rush that overstayed its welcome. Still, it was a relief when his group was assembled to finally see the rather large Florida mansion that would play as the backdrop to this phase of the competition, and it was a suitably impressive one. The sprawl of the mansion was evident from the windy driveway required just to get to it, alongside being a beachfront property with astonishing views of the Atlantic Ocean. The house itself felt more like an impression of a house, appearing like an art deco prop from Hollywood's vision of mansions.
Yet, Roland did not even have the time to take in the full extent of the house when he and the other boys were directed to pay full attention to the reveal of their mentor. Roland watched as a familiar looking figure emerged from the balcony of the house, revealing a woman who walked with an excited gait alongside wearing a rather expensive summer dress for the occasion. Her demeanor and her face said it all.
The mentor for the boys this year was Angela Klass, a fairly popular singer in the middle of a hiatus in making albums, and who herself was a product of the reality singing show to career to pipeline by way of another show that predated America's Next Big Star.
Through his genuine excitement, with Roland needing to cover his mouth and take in the fact that this mentorship seemed to be real, he also remembered Angela being the judge that gave him the most jubilant comments during his live auditions. She was the one who claimed that he made "Over the Rainbow" his own as he reveled in an emotional euphoria of his first ever crowd cheer. The memory was something he tried not to hold too much stock into as Angela began to lay down the process of the judges' houses phase of the competition, especially for the benefit of viewers who would be watching these recordings weeks later.
"Alright guys, this is where the competition gets really serious," Angela spoke with a gravitas that contrasted with her bubbly tone, uttering a statement that had been repeated ad nauseaum by the show at every phase of the competition. "This is the last hurdle before the live shows. There's six of you here, all very talented, unique, and brilliant in your own ways. However, I can only bring three of you to the lives. So, you really have to bring it this week if you want a shot at winning the competition. I can only bring in the very best of the best.
"I've been in your shoes before. I know that pressure of needing to give it your all. Remember to have fun throughout all of this too. A lot of good singers have made it this far. With that out of the way… is everybody ready?"
The cheer from the boys heralded a continuation of the strange rush that was this judges' houses process.
For the next three days, Roland spent much of it being followed by cameras whenever they were rolling and practicing whenever they weren't. When it came to shooting his individual segments, the producers were complimentary to him in a way that lulled Roland to a complacency if he wasn't so vigilant and paranoid about the messages that production was sending to him. Unsurprisingly, the producers kept telling him to emphasize the 'nerves' and the journey he'd been on since his audition. He was on a journey to bloom into a true bonafide pop star balladeer, gaining a confidence he never had before and finding a strength in singing.
He would've been more resistant had the narrative also not ring true what he actually genuinely felt, which was the horrifying part.
Roland was directed to walk about the mansion for the appropriate 'mood shots' in the lead up to his eventual performance with Angela later on. The schedule for when his performance would happen was a bit haphazard, but he would be performing just right after Anders' filming would be wrapped up. It meant he'd have a Floridian afternoon backdrop for a song that was honestly about getting naught with someone. The questions he received in regards to how felt about having made it this far were also ones that he tried to carefully navigate as he did final rehearsals and practices for his moment.
"I'm kinda nervous, but I'm trying," he hated that he sometimes had a tendency to stutter when he was truly nervous, finding that his fingers were beginning to tap his thighs as a way to keep himself in check. As he spoke when recorded during this particular segment, he could see one of the executive producers nod in a rather twisted approval.
"Morrow, like that. Just like during boot camp when we filled your performance to get into the top 24. Keep doing the tapping thing. America's gotta really believe just how nervous you are for the third time. You make it so easy to believe in that story… then when you sing that Whitney song, people are gonna be astounded and believe just that little bit more in you."
This was the game that was supposed to be played?
Roland kept his head buried in the sand when he finalized the last few rehearsals for his performance, not wanting to draw the ire of the production crew or the people writing the narratives of this season when livelihoods were at stake. It felt so selfish to keep toeing the party line, but neither did he want to throw away the taste and promise of a stardom that felt palpably more real the closer he drew to it. He focused on helping and being with George when the cameras were on, with brief segments of them singing with one another being recorded.
On the last day of recording the performances and before deliberations began, Roland and the other boys were corralled into a waiting room within the mansion where they would take their turns singing for Angela. The mid-afternoon sun shone through the windows and Roland heard his name being called out by the producers.
"Roland, you're going to be great," he could hear George whisper in his subtle twang as they shared a tight hug, with Roland hugging him back.
He had no choice but to move at the show's well-oiled pace, producers deftly guiding him while being hidden from the cameras. It was a process to get him to the private veranda where Angela would be awaiting each and every singer in her category to perform. Soon enough, he would be faced with his potential future mentor, Angela. He saw her beam at him with a smile that felt a bit too enthusiastic, a bit too picture perfect given the setting and the circumstances. He smiled back with a shy gait, nodding as he got into position. On the side, Roland could see a musician standing behind an electronic piano, likely responsible for the musical accompaniment of each performance.
"Hiya! It's good to see you again. How are you?" Angela asked.
"I'm good, a little bit nervous though," Roland responded, trying to enunciate as clearly as he could and not letting his real nerves turn his words into an incomprehensible mush.
"That's okay to feel that. Good luck with your performance."
What was the dictum for most singing shows like this? Never do Whitney? Celine? Mariah?
Roland tentatively entered the first verse of the upbeat Whitney song with a slower cadence, doing a bit of a remix to make sure he properly built up to the fun side of the chorus. He tried to remember that he's done this a million times prior to this, and though he was visibly nervous from the first few seconds of the song, he began to calm when he moved through the first verse of the song. He tried to let go of his inhibitions of needing to sound overly perfect or needing to think about pitch correction mid-song, wanting to let the fun rip through just at the right time. As he approached the final lines of the verse, memories of Smokescreen began to replay in his mind, allowing him to pull from a much more innocent context and taking his mind away from the show.
When the chorus hit, that was when Roland truly was off to the races.
He danced and grooved just slightly, letting his hips and body sway to the beat of the piano instrumental. However, his voice was the centerpiece of the song, and it was clear that he had both the strength and the circumstances to be able to pull off the uninhibited belts of the chorus. His was a voice still untouched by the demands of a pop star career. Thus, his belts were sung with a powerful clarity, never faltering under the demands of this being a Whitney track. Indeed, as the song's vocals demanded more, the more Roland's voice met the challenge and the more he burst through the song with the brute force of the techniques he knew. It was clear that powerful belts and a resonant chest voice were his comfort zones in any performance, and it was also the very same zone where the nerves felt more like they were helping than hindering him.
It was in that power was where he could end the performance with a powerful lasting impression, landing the chorus with a falsetto that just about sat at the very extent of his range. He landed the note without much trouble, with Roland taking a deep breath as he gripped his microphone for dear life. Angela greeted him with only a smile, not even betraying a single expression or thought about his performance.
"Thank you so much, Roland."
That was his cue to leave.
He hoped he did enough.
A/N: Hey all! I said I wouldn't really do an author's note until the very end, but I've been working on some other things outside of the story and I also wanna give another author a shout-out as well. Plus, we've hit a point in the story where it wouldn't be a bad idea to do a check-in. So, for the shout-out, the author I'm spotlighting today is someone who you may all know as Saberius Prime. I'm doing a co-write with him!
The story in question is called A Risen Angel: A Phoenix Rises, a crossover between two franchises I absolutely adore (Destiny and Life is Strange). It's been so much fun working with him. Here's a link to the story: s/14145023/1/A-Risen-Angel-A-Phoenix-Rises
Additionally, I also want to promo a story he's been working on as well called No Need For Titles. Link: s/13445886/1/No-Need-for-Titles-Originally-by-A-Simple-Cup
On A Star Is Born itself, please don't be afraid to review, fav, and/or follow. We're heading into parts of the story where I've been looking forward to really digging into the music industry aspects of it, but this doesn't mean that all aspects of the TF canon are going to be abandoned. Dark of the Moon is canonically waiting in the proverbial wings. I'm really excited so show you all what happens from here until the very last word.
Until next time.