Something Different

In the greenroom with Nathan the next morning I got a call from my Dad. “Faint on live TV, Cam. There is a clause in the contract and if you, fore some sort of medical condition, can’t fulfill your contract, it is null and void.”

“What’s my medical condition?” I asked.

“That’s the good part, it doesn’t make any difference. We can concoct whatever we want and it won’t matter. Do you really not want to do this? It could set you for life.” He asked then hung up and I was called out with Nate.

I didn’t have time to tell him and we walked out to studio applause. “Well that was quite a night,” Seacrest started and I nodded.

“You set the bar, Camron; and I’m not talking about being a suicide survivor.”

“If America wants an IDOL, they should know who their voting for, don’t you think?” I said back.

“Using a songs worth of time you didn’t sing but took hard questions from the audience, why?” 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I answered with a smile and tilted head.

“Nathan? He just won American Idol and you still think he can’t sing?” And there was that Seacrest smile.

“Tell him you lied,” and I nodded to Nate.

“I lied. He can sing the socks off just about anybody, and that includes.” And he looked at me.

“Him.” And I pointed my thumb in his direction.

“So? I have to ask, are you two???”

I looked at Nate, “Remember what I asked you?” ‘You, fucker’ he mouthed at me.

Seacrest looked at us with a ‘What’ look. “After the first show and the rear end thing I was medicated. This one here put me to bed and I asked, “Will you still love me tomorrow.” And I looked at him.

“Remember what you said?” I asked.

His eyes were brimming; holding up his hand with his thumb a finger about two inches apart, “He is so… small!”

“This isn’t Cable. WE are not going there.” Seacrest reminded as I elbowed the Ass next to me.

“I thought you had fallen asleep.” He said to me.

“I remember what you said. Would it have made a difference if I wasn’t asleep?”

“You asked me if I’d still love you tomorrow, and I told you, ‘And every day after, dumb ass. Happy now?”

“OK. That was more than I was looking for. Word has it you will be singing a few lines from the song you told Simon, sucked.”

I stood. “I hope I don’t throw-up.” And I walked out a little as a guy handed me a mic.

I put on a performance that deserved an award, looked at the camera doing weird shit with my eyes, and missed my mark looking back at the three seated. I reached out to Nathan and fell over.

My head hit the floor just a little too hard-knocking me out and had cracked my noggin. Nathan was hysterical over me when I came to. “He’s bleeding,” He screamed as I winked at him. He didn’t notice.

Wait? What? I’m bleeding? Now I had like ten faces filling my vision. “HE’S Fuckin bleeding,” rang in my ears again and my lights went out.

So??? Wake up to a hysterical Nathan Dickerson. “Why is his head still bleeding?”

Wait. What. “You need to calm down, sir.” I heard.

“I am calm, you, ass. Why is his head still bleeding?”

I opened my eyes and the guy said, “Do him”.

Nate was out. I don’t know what they gave him but the two guys seemed satisfied. I was OK with it too.

I really never wanted to win. Didn’t want to make a spectacle of myself, but here we were. I got three stitches, Nate was still out, “You’re not dead”? He asked opening his eyes.

“We’re both dead dude.” And I dead paned it.

He started to cry. “Dude, I’m fucking with you.”

First came a slap, then his fist.      

From your Author:

I see all my stuff as a ‘one offs’. Here we are with chapter 30. You have invested enough time to read over a hundred thousand words; does that surprise you? I write to pass time and suppose you read to do the same? The next two chapters will lay another child of mine to rest. RJC.