The Tour. | +18 | BWWM

𝄞 01 | Smile for the Camera

"My name is Paulie B. I'm your host. And this is The Tour. See you after our commercial break," the host gives a toothy smile at the camera with a pose. His sharp suit and smile could not hide his rutty face filled with obvious irritation. "Smile!" Paulie whispers emphatically under his breath to me. My face contorts itself into a shocked smile. The sing-songy tagline comes on over the speaker system. "This is The Tour."

"And we're out," says a tired eye stage manager. Her name tag is at a crooked angle. And the nametag title, Stage Manager Megumi, is about to fall off at any moment from her chest. She presses the name tag back in place. Then pushes her headset mic out of her face, and speeds past me without acknowledging my presence. I take careful steps backward on stage, scanning the area for my best friend, Zoey. A wormy feeling in the pit of my stomach settles in. It's as if any sudden movements might spark something bad happening. They picked me for the show? What the fuck?

Zoey and our eyes lock on each other. She gives me the thumbs up from off stage, but her long black hair shakes no. I take another step and she shakes her head harder. She gives me a cheerful smile, her creamy cheeks a little flush. Well, damn. I don't know what the fuck to do with myself.

A stagehand in black rolls the piano out as the set changes. The lights come up. A dark arena sky of phone light stars becomes genuine people and the stage's spell is broken. The lights come up, signaling that the concession stand is open. Bars, bathrooms, and all the amenities on offer from the Arena have the audience moving. The all-day event is close to its end.

"Three spots left," the stage manager tells the auditioners. An aww breaks out from the group of invited singers. "Fifty minutes until we're back from break, for places," she speaks into her mic headset. She asks, "Can I get some refreshments for the talent?"

"Are we done yet?" A blonde woman steps out from behind the dark silhouette. The team pop sign still lit up for the show under her. She's one enormous ball of pretty face frustration. Her cute cupid bow lips are like on the cover of magazines. Her face was almost unreal to look at. A fair complexion that not even the highest definition of TVs could crack.

It was a quick process of the semi-familiar face in one big, oh shit junk. Is that ex-Disney pop star starlet Camille Fren? She's a pretty big name. Whoa. I've never been good with faces, but Camille Fren I could pick out. Her voice is a more classic style but they wrap a pop beat around her that complements her voice. Camille Fren always feels one song away from taking over the world. She's just missing the lyrics and not quite into an original sound of her own. Camille does one small vocal thing all the time. But her sound isn't more than the simple signature vocal riff. She doesn't have the high notes like Mariah Carey. Even if she did, she can't dance the high notes like a dove. Mariah Carey could slide into the note-bending it like a toy but Camille doesn't have those bars.

Maybe her team doesn't let her. I've listened to more than my fair share of her albums. I read somewhere how music executives want to make sure that listeners can sing along with the song. The result means fewer diva bars and more simple singing with catchy hooks. If the album has some storytelling, I'd still like it, but hers doesn't. It's like she's got two hits on an album and filler. Again, not my thing. I'm more about the storytelling of the album and that's a dying breed of listeners and artists. I've not heard a song by Camille I've liked yet, but my taste is weird and it could happen. That's the feeling about her. The interesting album could always happen, but never does.

"Oh, Camille my dear," Paulie purred. The man could have found a less slimy way to say the woman's name. It had this moist quality that grossed me out. "Molly, moo, meg..." he snaps his fingers at the stage manager. Her name tag says Megumi, it's obvious. I send her good vibes. I'm in the different name club too. Sabali, Sa-Bali isn't rolling off anyone's tongue. "Where are the refreshments?" He waves his hand to go along with his insistence, as if that would make the stage manager move faster.