Robert Gold clapped politely as Ruby Lucas walked off the stage, smiling to himself that he managed to secure her as one of his picks. He glanced over at David and Emma trying to gauge their reactions. Emma had fought him valiantly over the girl, but Gold had succeeded. He usually did. He now had two of the three artists he desired, no one had fought him over Jefferson March. The man's choice of fusing rap, pop, and techno was something borderline insane, but Gold was infamous for predicting trends and March had all the signs of a fantastic artist or possibly a DJ.
There were three singers waiting to perform and each coach still had one choice. Belle French was up next followed by the oaf Gaston Le'Fou and then Ariel Finnigan had drawn the closing spot.
Cora stepped back down the stage to announce Belle's song. Gold rolled his eyes. The past ten hadn't done her any favors. A has been actress, this gig was the only way she'd even get on TV anymore and Cora took it. She was as poisonous as she was conniving. Gold couldn't stand her. She'd flirted with him after Milah left and he'd taken her on one date before he realized she'd only wanted him to try and start a music career.
It was just his luck when she'd signed on to be the host of this damned show. But the past was the past and Gold watched his future glide out on the stage. Though he'd seen her a mere two hours ago, Belle French looked even more beautiful now than she did for warm ups. Her make up had been polished and her hair was sitting perfectly. As a coach, he knew having a beautiful artist did nothing but help sales, but as a man, well, even he could appreciate a beautiful woman and Belle French was easily the most breathtaking woman he'd ever laid eyes on.
Her nerves also seemed to have tripled since he saw her last, if her shaking hands were any indication.
He saw her smile towards the audience, good, she had enough mind to play to the people that would ultimately buy her work, and then the first notes of her song thrummed through the speaker system. French had chosen a power ballad as the song to wow himself and the other coaches. It was bold move on her part. Power ballads took a distinct voice that most artists didn't have in their repertoires. All the artists, if they made it far enough, would have to perform one as part of the weekly song challenge, but French had taken the risk on her own.
Gold could admire an artist that was willing to take risks, it showed a certain level of bravery that was necessary for surviving in the business, but bravery could degrade into stupidity far too quickly for his tastes.
He looked down at the paper on his lap, ready to take some actual notes on French. Now that he'd made the initial decision to take her he wanted to have some concrete comments for their first meeting.
All logical thought flew out the window as Belle French began to sing. She'd been holding back in her sound check. From the moment her lovely contralto voice caressed the first two notes, he was hooked. The audience started reacting wildly and even Regina sat up straighter across the room. The song moved with French, or rather French moved it. Every note was clear and crisp, ringing through even the furthest rafters.
Gold glanced over at David and Emma, crap, they were definitely going to fight him for Belle French now. David hadn't fought the urge to let his mouth hang open and Emma was sitting back with that smug look on her face that managed to say, only I can handle something this amazing. He couldn't let French end up anywhere near them.
With nine singers performing that evening, the individual artists themselves weren't able to sing the entirety of their numbers, strictly for time's sake. They really only got to sing for about forty five seconds, but French was making it feel like minutes. The power ballad sat perfectly in her vocal range and highlighted the more husky timbre of her singing voice.
The last deafening note resonated through the auditorium, echoing almost painfully in the silence.
Gold didn't bother to hide the smirk that was gracing his face. This was everything an artist should dream of. Most people assume you want applause after finishing a piece, but there's something better, an audience so stunned they can't even clap. A beat or two later brains caught up with hands and the resulting cheering was loud even to him all the way at the front.
On stage, Belle French looked like she'd just run a marathon.
As the applause died down, French stepped over towards the judges table, she'd have to get pointless feedback before he could fight for her.
Gold paused as that particular thought ran through his head. When was the last time he'd actually fought for something he believed in? Not for a long while that was sure. What was is about this woman that made him feel something besides the intense apathy he'd been plagued with since Milah left?
There wasn't time to sit and overanalyze at the moment. He didn't care about what Regina or Mary Margaret had to say, but he'd never not listen while he son was speaking. He'd spend Neal's childhood ignoring his words, he damn well wouldn't waste anymore of them.
"Wow. You were really a surprise." Neal was saying, "To be honest, with you being the last wild card, we weren't really sure what we were going to get from you in such a big arena, but I will say, you really surprised us all. Watch the top of your range, you sound like you're forcing yourself to strain for some of those upper notes, but overall, that was good."
Gold smiled to himself. The fact that his son had such a grasp of not only the music industry but how to make people listen when he spoke was something he'd only dreamed of actually teaching his son. It was a miracle he'd learned on his own, but not a miracle Gold was going to argue with.
He drew his thoughts away from Neal as French turned towards the coaches, walking to the cue on the floor in front of their seats. The lights flared above his head, illuminating not only himself, but Belle as well.
This close to him, she was even more beautiful than she'd been at the height of her performance. Goodness her eyes were blue. They flicked over David and Emma before settling on himself. He fought the urge to squirm a little as her gaze flittered over him. He was one of the best vocal coaches in the business and this tiny newbie was sizing him up? He sat up a little straighter. No matter, he could install the proper amount of fear in her after he'd secured her spot on his team.
David was the first coach to plead his case to French and Gold tried not to snicker as he obviously had to pause and collect his thoughts. "Um…" he stuttered, seriously off to a smashing start, "Wow, Belle. That was gorgeous. I didn't know you had that in you." He paused and flashed his trademark David Nolan smile towards her. "I think I could definitely help to maintain that high level of quality throughout this competition. I definitely want you as one of my singers."
Gold grimaced as the audience clapped. He'd hoped that by some random miracle, David wouldn't have want her. He turned to Emma as the applause died down. He had a feeling the feisty blonde wouldn't go down without a fight.
"Belle," Emma greeted warmly. "That was beautiful. Seriously why'd you hold back in your earlier auditions? If you'd sang like that, you'd never had seen the wild card round." Emma laughed slightly as a blush crept over French on stage. Emma was correct but at this point there wasn't much sense in pointing out that particular fact. "All joking aside, your voice is definitely something special and I think the range of your voice would be fantastically suited to R&B. I think you'd be the perfect final piece of my team."
The audience applauded once more and then, finally, quieted down as all eyes swung to him.
"Ms. French," he began, his brogue sliding smoothly over her surname. "I think the fact that everyone was surprised by your performance is almost insulting. You've always had the tells of a magical voice and tonight finally showcased it. You have to showcase it every single time to be successful, however, and that's where I come in. You'll be the perfect crown jewel to my roster." He half smiled at her, knowing the battle with David and Emma was only just beginning. Since all three of them were interested they'd have two minutes of private deliberation during the commercial break before they were forced to agree on something. If they seriously couldn't agree, Gold thought a coin was tossed or something, but it had never gotten that far in the history of the show.
A crew member signaled the start of the commercial break and Gold immediately turned to his co-coaches. "I want her."
David snorted, "Obviously. I want her too."
"Okay gentlemen. Your little petty banter was not only witty but pointless, Belle French is mine. She needs a strong woman coach." Emma leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed, obviously pleased with herself.
Gold laughed not totally kindly. "You two are mistaken. This is not a debate. I'm informing you that I am claiming Ms. French."
David and Emma both stared at him as if surprised he was taking a stand. Well, in their defense, it wasn't something he did very often.
"No way Gold." Emma fired back. "We have to come to some kind of agreement remember? I am not agreeing to just cower behind you and give up the chance to work with an unknown with this much raw ability."
"Agreed." David said, apparently just needing the one world to convey the depths of his emotions. Such a country artist.
Gold allowed his trademark smirk to grace his face as a thought occurred to him, "Well then, dearies, I guess we'll have to make a deal."
Emma's eyes blinked open in shock. "This girl is so important to you that you want to deal for her?! No way I'm backing down then."
"One minute!" The AD hollered from somewhere backstage. Great. Now things were going to have to escalate and he'd be damned if he lost Belle French to a flipping coin toss.
Gold growled deep in his throat. There was no way they were going to make any sort of decision in a minute.
"Thirty seconds!"
Emma giggled and Gold physically recoiled from the sound. Everything he wanted was practically in his reach and he was about to lose it. He was about to lose it to fucking chance.
"And we're back in three...two…" The AD made the slashing motion that signaled the cameras and Gold was out of time. In all the time he'd been squabbling with David and Emma, he hadn't even bothered to look up at French. Realizing his mistake, he quickly glanced up at her, trying to gauge her reaction to what was going on. Did she care who her coach was? The contestants didn't have a say in who they worked with, most were just happy to be on the show in the first place.
Cora was rambling about something to draw the viewing audience back to their screens and all too soon, the lights flared up on him once more.
"Since the coaches could not come to a decision," Cora was saying, sounding oddly gleeful about what was going to happen, "for the first time in Last Note Standing history, there will be a random number draw to see who works with Belle French."
Great. Fucking great. At least a coin toss had 50/50 odds, with three numbers in the pool, his odds had dwindled even more.
Cora had gestured at a stage hand to bring her the little bag with the coaches names in it when the unthinkable happened.
Belle French stepped forward and took the bag from the stage hand snatching it almost directly out of Cora's grasp. He wanted to laugh as he saw her face. Belle French had fire. Emma's mouth was hanging open and David just looked like he'd swallowed something extremely spicy. The contestant wasn't supposed to interfere with this, they were just supposed to let it happen.
"Since this is going to make the history of the show either way," French began, her voice was strong despite the fear he could see creeping into her eyes and posture. "No one decides my fate but me. I choose Robert Gold as my coach."
Gold's face went slack as the audience erupted into chatters. What had just happened?! She couldn't do that. But then, as she'd pointed out, this was making Standing history. He schooled his features into something resembling smugness. She'd chosen him. Why? Well he'd certainly never know, but he wasn't about to argue with him.
The stagehands had gotten the audience to quiet down enough to allow him to speak. He shifted forward in his chair and looked Belle French up and down letting his gaze remind her of the gravity of this decision.
"Are you sure, dearie?" He asked, somehow feeling like what he was saying was especially monumental. "You can't change your mind later."
"Yes." She replied, the fear in her eyes slowly being replaced with the glint of her resolved attitude. "I'm sure."
"Well then," Gold almost clapped his hands in glee. "The deal is struck."