Read Online Fifteen Minutes: A Novel by Karen Kingsbury - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Kingsbury
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Minutes stage. It wasn’t enough to go through a day simply existing, the way he’d been doing since he arrived in Atlanta. Hamming it up for a camera, not seeing the pain and loneliness in a teenage girl. He felt his determination double. If he made it through in the next few moments, he would absolutely shine for God.
The way he’d failed to do so far today.
chapter 4
I t was time.
In a blur of anxious conversations and shuffling feet, Zack and his group moved into the tent. The instructions were nothing new. All of it was on the show’s website. Still, the fifty singers stayed silent while a man with a megaphone explained. “We will announce a start time.” The man’s accent was distinctly British. “At that point you will sing your best song to the best of your ability.” The man seemed bothered, looking down at them from his place on a small platform at the front of the tent. “You will have three minutes. If your number isn’t announced at the end of the round, you will go home. No questions. Thank you for trying out. If your number is called, wait inside the tent for further instructions.”
Around Zack, people moved their feet and cleared their throats and tried to separate themselves from the crowd. Nervous energy sucked the air from the tent. Zack had seen TV footage of this part of the audition, fifty people singing every sort ofsong from every genre, trying to push their voices above the noise, desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame. But nothing he had seen prepared him for this, how it felt to have just one shot, one chance to impress the judges.
He glanced at the people in black shirts standing around the perimeter of the tent. None of them looked glad to be there. It had been a long day for everyone, and by now chances were Atlanta had given them what they were looking for. A few of them whispered to each other, and another checked his watch. The man in charge was talking to another group. The contestants began to whisper. A few squeezed in vocal exercises.
Here I go. Help me, God . . . He was going to sing “Wind Beneath My Wings,” an old country classic, something familiar that would showcase his tenor voice. According to a forum of past contestants, the more familiar the song the better. It helped the singer stand out.
“I’m gonna be sick.” Zoey leaned toward him. She had been quiet since they entered the tent.
“You’ll be fine.”
The man in charge returned to the platform and glared at them. “Silence!” He nodded to a woman who was clearly his assistant. “Timer ready?”
“Ready.”
“Okay. Set . . .” He turned to the contestants. “Go!”
All around him people began singing, creating a noise that shook the tent and took Zack by surprise. The decibels must’ve been near that of a jet engine or a cheering stadium. If he didn’t focus quickly he would lose himself and his song in the mass confusion. Help me, God . . . I can’t do this without You. Heclosed his eyes and began to sing. After a few seconds something miraculous happened.
He couldn’t hear any voice but his own. Instead of worrying about who was walking past or evaluating him or crossing his name off a list, he forgot about everyone else in the tent. He hit the first chorus singing for a familiar audience of One.
God alone.
By the time he reached the second verse, Zack opened his eyes. Never mind the vampires bopping out to some fifties tune a few feet away or the pop song Zoey was belting or any other sound or song around him. He could hear only his. A spot on the tent wall caught his attention, but instead of red and white canvas, in his mind’s eye he was looking across a serene and distant ocean, the presence of God like a breeze against his face. He was able to get through the second chorus and halfway through the bridge before the man waved his hands. “Time. Everyone silent.”
Like that the contestants stopped. Several were breathless and a few had tears spilling down their
The way he’d failed to do so far today.
chapter 4
I t was time.
In a blur of anxious conversations and shuffling feet, Zack and his group moved into the tent. The instructions were nothing new. All of it was on the show’s website. Still, the fifty singers stayed silent while a man with a megaphone explained. “We will announce a start time.” The man’s accent was distinctly British. “At that point you will sing your best song to the best of your ability.” The man seemed bothered, looking down at them from his place on a small platform at the front of the tent. “You will have three minutes. If your number isn’t announced at the end of the round, you will go home. No questions. Thank you for trying out. If your number is called, wait inside the tent for further instructions.”
Around Zack, people moved their feet and cleared their throats and tried to separate themselves from the crowd. Nervous energy sucked the air from the tent. Zack had seen TV footage of this part of the audition, fifty people singing every sort ofsong from every genre, trying to push their voices above the noise, desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame. But nothing he had seen prepared him for this, how it felt to have just one shot, one chance to impress the judges.
He glanced at the people in black shirts standing around the perimeter of the tent. None of them looked glad to be there. It had been a long day for everyone, and by now chances were Atlanta had given them what they were looking for. A few of them whispered to each other, and another checked his watch. The man in charge was talking to another group. The contestants began to whisper. A few squeezed in vocal exercises.
Here I go. Help me, God . . . He was going to sing “Wind Beneath My Wings,” an old country classic, something familiar that would showcase his tenor voice. According to a forum of past contestants, the more familiar the song the better. It helped the singer stand out.
“I’m gonna be sick.” Zoey leaned toward him. She had been quiet since they entered the tent.
“You’ll be fine.”
The man in charge returned to the platform and glared at them. “Silence!” He nodded to a woman who was clearly his assistant. “Timer ready?”
“Ready.”
“Okay. Set . . .” He turned to the contestants. “Go!”
All around him people began singing, creating a noise that shook the tent and took Zack by surprise. The decibels must’ve been near that of a jet engine or a cheering stadium. If he didn’t focus quickly he would lose himself and his song in the mass confusion. Help me, God . . . I can’t do this without You. Heclosed his eyes and began to sing. After a few seconds something miraculous happened.
He couldn’t hear any voice but his own. Instead of worrying about who was walking past or evaluating him or crossing his name off a list, he forgot about everyone else in the tent. He hit the first chorus singing for a familiar audience of One.
God alone.
By the time he reached the second verse, Zack opened his eyes. Never mind the vampires bopping out to some fifties tune a few feet away or the pop song Zoey was belting or any other sound or song around him. He could hear only his. A spot on the tent wall caught his attention, but instead of red and white canvas, in his mind’s eye he was looking across a serene and distant ocean, the presence of God like a breeze against his face. He was able to get through the second chorus and halfway through the bridge before the man waved his hands. “Time. Everyone silent.”
Like that the contestants stopped. Several were breathless and a few had tears spilling down their
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