Something Different

FYA:As I have said many times; YouTube is my best friend. Everything I write has music and I hope all of you have enjoyed what I write and the music incorporated into the stories. Let me name just a few. Glen Campbell and Roy Clark.

Tom T Hall, and Gordon Lightfoot. Stray Cats, Milly Vanilli, and Simply Red. I love old shit but I appreciate new stuff as well. Chase Goehring along with Bars and Melody, big time. BEE GEES. Don’t even get me started. ‘Staying Alive’. Those brothers wrote more songs than any other group, broke records, I think.”

I am musical. Marvin Gaye. I turned 61 on Father’s Day. I love music, lyrics, melody, and rhythm. RJC.

Camron’s POV:

It was down to the two of us and the plan was I would only be singing one song and using my other two for a public address. I walked out holding both hands in the air and a six-string around my shoulder. This was the shit.

I saw my Dad and Grands; Nathan was between them. “So does this mean you want to win, Camron?” Howie asked.

“No, it doesn’t. This is just a show so people will watch. I guess I raised your ratings.” And I looked into the camera with the light on. “I am Camron Jones; this is my story.”

I stepped back and then up to the mic. I checked the tune but knew I had a band behind me. “Well I, won’t back down. No, I won’t back down. You can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won’t back down.”

I acted as if I knew what it was like to be the front guy, leaning into the guitar, and then looked at my family. No Cass. There was a guy shadowing me on the strings so I stopped playing just for the effect.

“No, I’ll, stand my ground. Won’t be, turned around.” And I held my wrists in the air. “And I’ll keep this world from dragging me down. Gonna stand my ground.” That got me a standing ovation.

“So, Camron? You’re out to win this, aren’t you? What are you doing now?” Came from Simon.

“I want to take questions from the audience,” I told him.

“OK. This is new.” He returned. He didn’t even know this was going to happen and he is the Executive Producer.

Guys hit the floor with microphones. “Is Nathan your boyfriend?” A girl asked as the light found her. She was actually giggling.

“I love him,” I said sitting on the edge of the stage. “He hasn’t properly accepted yet.”

“Are you gay?” A boy asked.

“I love another boy, my best friend, what can I say? Is that gay?” I returned. I thought this was going well.

“Are you sorry you tried to kill yourself?” Another asked.

I never expected that. “I will say yes; of course, but, then again.” And I paused.

“I don’t recommend it,” I started again. “As I’ve said before, we all have people who love us, friends and family. I am here to say to you; reaching out is easier, than them finding you dead.”

Now, spotlights were shining on those who were in line to ask me another question. “What are you going to do when you win?” A girl asked.

“I don’t want to win. Every person who wants to vote for me, and that includes you, needs to cast it for him,” and I pointed to the number two.

Simon held up his hand, “You are still saying you don’t want to win?” Again with surprise in his voice.

“No, I don’t. And that song for me, if I’m the winner, sucks a big one.” And I laughed. “The backtrack totally stinks.” I finished with a ‘talk to the hand’ motion.

Simon shook his head as the next question was asked, “Why don’t you want to win?” a man questioned.

“So, a few facts. Sure a million dollars would be great, not saying I wouldn’t spend it, but money doesn’t make the heart happy. I wanna be able to go to College without being mobbed or tied to a contract.

I have a huge YouTube following and for the last couple of months over twenty million people have seen my mug every week. I think they’ve seen enough of Camron Jones.” I shook my head at the realization of that fact.

It went to break and the questions flowed. “What does Nathan think about all this?” A guy our age asked.

I gave Nathan the ‘cum-hither-lover-boy finger’, and as he walked up I explained we weren’t a duo, how he just helped me be better than when I was alone.

He sat next to me on the edge of the stage; close. His hair was waves, tight 501s, a button-down shirt, and a suit jacket. He couldn’t have looked better. “What was the question?” He asked all cocky and shit, I put my left hand on his inner thigh.

“He wants to know what you think about all of this?” And I handed him the mic with a smile.

“Honestly. I don’t know what all the fuss is about? I don’t even think he can sing; but he is really cute.” There was thunder in laughter as I elbowed him with a wink and a smile.

“Where do you see yourselves in two years?” Came from another young man.

I nodded to Nate. “Well. We’ll be in our sophomore year of college; rooming together, I assume?” As he looked at me with an elbow to my side and dimples. More fuckin laughter.

“Are you afraid of him trying to kill himself again?” Was asked. I didn’t see where the question came from.

It was a long pause. Nate looked at me, reached for my left hand on his inner thigh, and kissed my wrist. “NO.” He said solemnly. And everyone was on their feet again.

“What about your sister?” Came another question.

“So my parents tell me. What about her?” I asked back not knowing where it came from.

“Does it bother you?” Was asked.

“What are you talking about?” I reached a hand around feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickling.

Simons’ hand came up not letting me answer. “I have a question, Camron. Why did you cum out with her on that first live addition?”

“She froze. I didn’t want her going down like that. She is really good.” It was the best I had.

“I have never seen a contestant step up like that before. We’ve all seen runners stop to help another, mates running to one who was injured, but nothing like that on a competition like this. And that song doesn’t suck” He stood clapping at me.

I acknowledged and turned back to the audience. I recognized him. He was in one of the videos I watched that made me cry.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he asked. It seemed like a simple question at the time.

But what a question? I slipped from the stage and walked ten rows back. Tears formed with every step. I remembered all too, well. He told me about watching my YouTube from the Club after, how he was ready to do it, and didn’t.

I held out my arms and thanked him. “It’s you who needs to be thanked, Camron Jones. You have saved others like me who would have done it. You don’t even know.”

Talk about the speed of production, me watching his video a month ago behind us tonight. The boy and I crying, watching, and me smacking him on the shoulder, ‘you rock’.

I walked back to the stage forgetting about my third song and what it was.

I recognized the beat. And the theater filled with music. “There’s a light, a certain kind of light, that only shines on you.” Barry-Fuckin-Gibb, walked out on stage pointing at me. It was celebrity night; shit. Son of a bitch. Fuck me.

He sang the first verse of my favorite song. “There’s a light, a certain kind of light, that’s never shown on me. I want my life to be, living with you, lived with you.” And as he pointed at me I made my way back up and Nate handed me the mic slipping from the stage only to stand in front of it.

Behind him, the Curtin opened a little more. When I started to sing; Keith Urban walked out. It was only a few months ago when he did a tribute to the brothers and he was doing it again, including me.

I was in shock. I mean; really? I watched.

“There’s a way, everybody saying, to do each and every little thing.”

I walked up looking at both of them. “But what good does it bring, If I Ain’t got you, Ain’t got you?” And I fully took the stage.

They stepped back kind of bowing to me “You don’t know what it’s like, NRD, you don’t know what it’s like, to love somebody. The way I love you.” The whole time I looked at Nathan Dickerson.

The backstage opened and I didn’t sing another note; well. Elton John. Pink. Kelly, and Bon Jovi. I cried. It wasn’t a masculine cry. I walked to each of them; kisses on my cheeks. There’s a lot of shit they don’t tell you for effect.

I’d fucked that up, big time. I stood next to the last Bee-Gee. “To love somebody; the way I love you.”

Talk about an after-party? It was like we were part of everything.

The next fuckin week I won, by a lot, even though I told everybody to vote for the other guy. I called my Dad. “Find me a way out of this?” I requested. He owed me.

“Just do the morning shows and I’ll run this by my firm.”

FYA.

I thought I posted chapters 31&32 the day before yesterday but I must have sent chapter 31 twice. Sorry. RJC.