Fifteen Minutes

The way he had won hers four years ago.

He really could win it all, but even then she knew Zack. He wouldn’t change. Nothing could sway the feelings he had for God, who had given him the gift of song. He would make this competition about glorifying the Lord and helping his family.

And then he’d come back for her.

chapter 3

Downtown Atlanta was bedlam.

Cars with license plates representing half the U.S. jammed the streets around the Georgia Dome. Everywhere Zack looked, streams of people headed for the stadium. There were groups of teens and whole families with handmade signs and scattered through the mix, too many bearded, bespectacled hipsters to count. There was the occasional soccer or basketball team come to support one of its own. And of course the random person dressed in a chicken or cow costume. Three guys had their shirts off and the words “Anything for Fifteen Minutes” painted on their chests. Some had guitars slung over their backs; most carried duffel bags and overfilled backpacks.

The electricity in the summer air was palpable. According to the news, Fifteen Minutes producers had seen nearly forty thousand singers at the earlier auditions. This was the last one. The last chance for season ten. They were expecting a far bigger turnout than in any of the previous cities.

Zack tried not to think about it. He needed a parking place. That was all that mattered for now. Cars were gridlocked all around him. Five minutes passed, then ten. No movement. Zack looked in his rearview mirror. How hard would it be to turn around? Find his way to the freeway and never look back?

He meant what he’d told Reese. He probably wouldn’t make it past a few rounds at best—too many people, too much confusion for a single voice to stand out. Everything he’d read told him that at this level the producers scanned the crowds for a certain look, something different—red hair or a unique body type or ethnicity. Getting through the first round was as random as it was difficult.

The mirror still had his attention. Why bother? He could spend the weekend with Reese, write a few songs and work with the horses. Take his girl for that early-morning ride tomorrow. Maybe go to the mall and look at wedding rings. Come Sunday he could sing for half an hour at church and life would be good.

Except for one thing. He wouldn’t have the answers.

A trio of police officers strode into sight and began directing traffic. Another joined them and another. Someone must’ve opened additional lots, and with the help of the officers, the traffic began to inch forward. By the time Zack found parking and pushed into the river of people heading for the stadium, it was nearly nine-thirty. The back of the line was ten blocks out. Ten long blocks.

Zack hadn’t brought a guitar. Most of the people who made it through did so without an instrument. Less to carry. Less to worry about if he wound up sleeping on the sidewalk. His backpack held a camping pillow and blanket, protein bars and a six-pack of water. Cough drops and garlic pills. So he could keep his immune system strong if he had to wait till early tomorrow morning to audition.

In front of him a group of teenage girls bounced and squealed and waved at cars still searching for a parking spot. “I’m gonna win!” one of the girls shouted. She waved her hands and rallied her friends. “Let’s do a cheer.” And like that the girls burst into a chant. “Bang bang, choo choo train, wind us up and we’ll do our thing!”

A few nearby cars honked their approval. One of the girls, a lanky blonde, spun around and batted her eyes at Zack. “Hey! You’re new!” She waved her girls closer. “We’re from South Carolina. Medford High cheer squad.” Without waiting for his response, she pointed at him. “Who are you?”

“Zack Dylan. Danville, Kentucky.”

The blonde gasped. “Zack Dylan.” She looked at her fellow cheerleaders and then quickly back at him. “That’s like a famous name.” A hurried clap of her hands. “Sing for us, Zack.”

Instantly the other girls chimed in. “Yes, sing for us, Zack. Come on!”

“It’s too crazy out here.” Zack had to yell to be heard. All around them, people were singing and playing guitars, shouting at passing cars.

“It’s perfect, come on!” The blonde pointed to herself amid a series of giggles. “I’m Zoey. I’m the captain, so what I say goes. Right, girls?”

“Right!” Their singsong voices were in perfect pitch. “Sing for us, Zack! Come on!”

“Plus your names are cute together, right?” One of the brunettes put her arm around the blonde. “Zoey and Zack. It has a ring.”

“Yeah, you’re way cuter than her boyfriend.” The shortest in the group covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. The other girls nodded along. “Yes, way cuter. Totally cuter.”

“I don’t know. He looks young but . . .” Zoey put her hands on her hips. “How old are you, Zack?”

“Twenty-three.” Zack enjoyed their enthusiasm. He wasn’t crossing lines, just soaking in the experience. The show he’d watched all these years had come to life and he was smack in the midst of it. “What about you?”

“Eighteen.” She lowered her chin and gave him a look that defined flirty. “Old enough for twenty- three.”

Coming up the line Zack spotted a Fifteen Minutes camera crew. They had explained on the show’s website that they’d be shooting B-roll all day, looking for footage to capture the circuslike atmosphere and excitement of the contestants.

“So you have to sing for us.” Zoey clapped her hands again and bounced back in line. “Please!”

Zack saw an opportunity. The cheerleaders wore the same T-shirts and shorts, all of them bubbly and beautiful. If Zack sang now, the cameras were sure to catch the moment. Which meant maybe they’d tell the producers about him and maybe he’d be through to the next round.

Just like that.

He cleared his voice and started in with an old classic. “My eyes adored you . . . though I never laid a hand on you, my eyes adored you . . .”

Sure enough the camera crew moved in close. Zack hammed up the song, stretching his hand out toward the girls as they formed a tight cluster of what looked like starstruck fans. The Fifteen Minutes crew loved it. Zack could feel them grinning and nodding their approval.

Zoey apparently wasn’t about to miss the opportunity. She stretched her hand toward Zack and responded with another classic. “The first time . . . ever I saw your face . . .”

After a few lines, the cameraman made a cut sign and called Zack and the girls over. “I need names and cities. That was perfect.”

The girls squealed and stopped long enough to give the information and wait while Zack did the same. “Hey.” Zoey bounced a few times. “We should do a cheer.”

“Can you cheer, Zack?” The guy with the clipboard raised his brows. “That would make the show for sure.”

“I can try.” Zack fell into the middle of their group and the girls filled in around him, their arms around his shoulders, patting his head and showering him with attention. “Way to go, Zack! Way to go!”

They formed two lines with Zack front and center and did the cheer the girls had performed earlier. “Bang bang, choo choo train, wind me up and I’ll do my thing . . .” When the cheer ended, the girls pumped their fists in the air and kicked one foot high over their heads, the way cheerleaders do. Then they gathered around Zack and started another chant. “Zack, Zack, he’s our man. If he can’t do it, no one can!” The group of them high-fived Zack and hugged him, hamming it up for the cameras.

It wasn’t until the production crew had moved on that Zack felt sick. What had he just done? He hadn’t come here to get camera time. Being here was about singing for God and helping his family. He’d pictured himself standing alone, taking in the craziness around him. Now he hadn’t been in line half an hour and already he’d fallen