Cigarette Stained Lies

Chapter 1: Speechless

When I grow up I want to be a famous singer. I want everyone to know my name. My life will be in the spot light with everyone watching my every move. Children will come up to me asking for my autograph and picture. I will have millions of fans that will adore me. I will have six mansions in different states and many cars. This is what I want to be when I grow up.

            As I read a paper I wrote in the third grade, I now realized how conceited I was when I was younger. I set the paper on my bed and rolled off my stomach and onto my back. I looked up at the purple ceiling in my room, and thought about how I used to dream big when I was younger.

“What happened to me?” I asked myself aloud while blocking my face with my hands.

I didn’t realize my mother was in the room until she asked, “What do you mean?” 

 I looked at her with dull eyes saying, “I mean, like… when I was in the third grade, I dreamed of being a famous singer, but now I know that dream will never come true. I’m just saying it’s wrong for parents and teachers to always tell children how they can be whatever they want, when they know there’s no chance of it coming true.”

My mother had a sympathetic look on her face. “Well, we say that because we want you to expand your imagination. And you can be whatever you want, but you need to work hard for it. Anyone can be a famous actor or singer. Trust me Jess, you have a beautiful voice. I hear you singing in your room, when you’re in the car, and sometimes when you’re in the shower.” Hearing my mother say this made me laugh.

            “Yeah, but how can I become a famous singer? When will I have my chance not to just show you, but to the whole country what I have to offer?” I asked my mother putting a lot of emphasis on “I”.

I knew there was no way I can accomplish my dream. Most people say I doubt myself too much, but they need to understand that not all dreams come true in the real world. All of a sudden, there was a commercial that came on my thirty-two inch flat screen television. I figured I was finished talking with my mother so I turned the volume up. An announcer named Bailey came on the screen. He was telling the viewers how there will be a singing audition at five o’clock tonight at the school I attend, and there will be the most famous producer, Robert Collins, in the singing industry judging the audition who is looking for the “next big thing”.

“Well this is ironic.” I thought in my mind.

“Wait a minute!” I shouted, “What time is it?”

“Fifteen minutes till five. Why do you ask?” My mother questioned.

I had no time to answer her because I was too busy kicking her out of the room, and getting ready for the audition.

            Five minutes later, I was out the door and in my car quickly putting the key in the ignition. Once the car turned on, I immediately sped out the driveway and drove to the high school. The music was blaring loudly as the song “Oh Yeah” by the band Big Time Rush was playing. I pulled up into the school parking lot and looked at my cell phone to check the time. It’s now 4:55, five more minutes left to sign up for the audition. My heart was beating fast because I was nervous, and also anxious. I ran through the door when a young petite woman stopped me from running any further in the building.

“Name?” she asked in a monotone voice.

“Jessica Monet.” I said out of breath.

She then wrote something illegible on a piece of paper then handed me a piece of paper with the number “822” on it. I took the paper and sat down on one of the many cold metal chairs that were filled with teenagers trying to conquer their dreams.

            Twenty minutes later, they called number “821” up to audition. A girl about my age with blonde hair stood up and walked to the auditioning room nervously. I felt butterflies in my stomach, and I tried my best for them to settle down. After ten minutes, my nerves finally settled down. That was when number “821” came out of the auditions with tears quickly streaming down her rosy red cheeks.

'“I guess she didn’t get the job.” I thought as the teenager quickly ran out of the room.

            “Number 822, it’s your turn to audition.” The woman, who gave my number from before came out of the room, said to me as my head snapped up to look at her. She waited at the door as I nervously walked to her. Before I entered the room, she stopped me by saying,

 “Good luck kid, you’re going to need it. And remember one thing, just be yourself.” On that note, I stepped into the room where the biggest music producer sat in front of a large stage. He had an average body of a man his age (I'm guessing to be around 38), and his faced showed anger, stress, and annoyance. Once I looked at the emotions on his face, I suddenly became paralyzed and was shaking nervously after I walked to the center of the stage.

“State your name.” He commanded in a deep voice.

“It’s uh, Jessica Monet.” I stuttered.

“Do you have the passion, the fire, and the charisma I’m looking for?” He asked.

“I know I have it,” I answered with more confidence.

“Well don’t just stand there… Sing!” He yelled.

At that moment, I did my best singing the song I have been practicing in my room for many months, Speechless by Lady Gaga.

Once I finished the song, I saw his jaw dropped. At that moment, I knew I was not going to become famous music artist. After a few minutes of silence and me mentally yelling at myself for what a horrible job I did, he finally spoke.

“Well… I did not expect that.” He said to me.

“I’m so sorry! I know I did a horrible job! I was just so nervous because you produced my favorite artists, and I tried my best not to screw up! And now that I did, my dreams won’t come true! I guess I better be leaving.” I rambled on for what seemed like hours, but it was only one minute.

I was starting to panic after noticing he wasn’t saying anything. I started to walk out of the room until he yelled, “Wait!” before I was able to take one step.

“Yes Mr. Collins?” I questioned.

“How would you like it if I made you into a famous music artist?” He asked me.  My heart suddenly stopped.

“Wait… what?” I stupidly asked.

“You heard me,” he replied.

“Are you serious? I would love to!” I screamed as I finally processed the information.

 “Good, now go call your parents and tell them I’m taking you to Hollywood with me next week so you can start recording your demos.”

“Yes sir! Thank you so much!” I gushed.

Then I ran out of the room and straight to my car. Happily turning it on, and speeding to my house to tell my mother the good news in person. I now know dreams can come true, and I am absolutely speechless. But that was before I knew the pressures of Hollywood.