2

It was 11PM. The baby's crying had died down, either from resignation or lack of energy. Phillip never seemed to notice that it had started up in the first place. He was slumped on the floor, his back leaning against the bottom of the couch and his legs sprawled over the carpet. Two Jack Daniels bottles lay empty and abandoned next to him, and a third one in his hand was a quarter empty. He hadn't figured out what he'd lost yet, but now that he was slowly approaching his beloved smashed state of mind, the visions swam in his head of blue neon lights and crimson dresses, of unholy demonic shrieks and a deep-voiced doppelganger with a glowing trophy, of white-robed saints, cinnamon angels and rainbow rain. He loved it when his mental walls caved in and let his soul loose: once the exclusive purpose of playing music, now only attainable by alcohol. As his mind's restrictions steadily broke down, he decided to do it at long last after two hours of hesitation.

He picked up the remote and changed the channel to MTV.

He knew perfectly well what – or rather, who – he'd see there.

But that was exactly why.

The bright seizure-inducing colors of the intro screen hit his tipsy senses like a freight train. The impossibly deep voice of Ted Williams, the channel's famed announcer, reverberated in his head. "MTV's Artist of the Week," Ted declared. Animated steel doors slammed shut and blinding sky-blue glass letters burst into the frame in a shower of fireworks. Just seeing the name made him dizzy.

"JESSICUHHHH SANCHEZZZZ," boomed Ted. "Ever since her stunning debut album Blue Jay in 2013 and sophomore record Work Hard Stay Humble in 2015, J-Chez has established herself as the pop queen of the decade. Don't miss this Grammy-winning megastar's new platinum album BBLove and the BBLove World Tour that hits California next week."

Phillip smiled wryly to himself. He hadn't seen Jessica face-to-face for four years. That evening, that evening when he lost something, she'd disappeared. By the time he'd recovered from the shock of the win, she was nowhere in sight. The producers had panicked severely trying to find her after the cameras stopped rolling and the audience had for the most part dispersed. Someone else had been missing that night too. Someone unimportant... a guy. DeAndre? Colton. That's it. Colton Dixon. Yes, of course – they'd found her crying in Colton's arms two hours later. Then for the rest of that week, that month, that summer, they shared press and the tour. But nothing was ever the same. Always that awkwardness, that tinge of discomfort when she was with him. I understand – winning Idol was her dream since she was two, and I took it. It must have really upset her. At the end of tour, they only waved goodbye. He watched her drive off and never saw her in person again.

Of course, he saw her everywhere else. Blue Jay was a smash hit that soared like its namesake over Songs, his own debut. Work Hard Stay Humble and More Songs weren't even in the same galaxy. She was the only thing on the radio every time a new single or album was released. TV shows, advertisements for Coca Cola and Levi's Jeans (what a perfect choice, he remembered thinking), the BillBoard Top 40, actual literal billboards, world tours, Hollywood movies... she was everywhere. And after four years she was still going strong. Almost nobody associated her with Idol anymore. She was the most successful alum since Daughtry. But still Phillip had seen the interviews on the talk shows where Jimmy, Conan or Ellen would teasingly ask about her run on the competition...

"Most of you probably don't know this, but J-Chez came second on American Idol when she was just sixteen," crooned Ellen DeGeneres to the cheering crowd. "I still can't believe she didn't win. Who won that season? Does anyone even remember that guy?"

Jessica smiled but looked a bit pale. "It was Phillip Phillips."

"Phillip Phillips...who the hell is that? Is he even still alive?" joked Ellen. The audience erupted in laughter.

Jessica laughed thinly and shrugged. "I don't know." The audience descended into hysterics.

Phillip recalled that he had also chuckled bitterly. Barely, Jessica, he thought. Barely.

A short music video segment of Jessica's new single, Skinny Mini, began. The song was a typical party rock song with a bassy club beat. The video was Lady Gaga-esque with Jess dancing in skinny jeans and a tight leather top next to hordes of lean, shirtless guys under flashing cyan and hot pink spotlights. Phillip couldn't help but note how mature and attractive she looked. She wasn't a child anymore, but a young woman confident with her own sexuality. She was extremely sexy, and he didn't feel strange thinking that. After all, she was twenty-one, and he was drunk off his head.

What he saw next suddenly sobered him up. The Skinny Mini video faded out, and Jessica Sanchez's smiling face came on screen against a simple grey background. He hadn't seen the details of her face – the contours and the happy expression – so clearly in a long time. When she spoke, her delicate voice, free of auto-tune, sent pleasant chills down his spine.

"Hey BluJays, it's J-Chez here," she said. "To all my aspiring songwriter fans, don't miss the chance to be part of my newest album! Write and record your original song and send it to jchez or miked . You don't have to send it to both emails, just making it easier to get through." She giggled. "The song that I like the most will be my next single that will be on my newest album, and I'll debut it live on the BBLove World Tour! The winner also receives a $100,000 royalty and a limited edition copy of BBLove signed by me. Show your creativity, BluJays! Peace out, and see you on tour!" Then the animated steel doors slammed shut again, and they opened to reveal the music video for her poignant hit ballad, Still A Child.

Phillip didn't know if he was having a revelation or a mental breakdown. He began laughing hysterically, convulsing in long, drawn-out shrieks of manic laughter. His son woke up and started wailing. But Phillip couldn't stop laughing, because he'd just gotten the greatest idea. I'll teach her, the bitch.I'll teach her to ignore me. I'll send in the best J-Chez diss ever and embarrass her.Still laughing uncontrollably, he shot up with the intention of grabbing a pen and paper, but before he could even take a step, he collapsed and fainted on the couch.