ONE
Tash
Okay. I’ll admit it. I am lame.
You’re not supposed to have a crush on a reality TV singing contestant. That’s reserved for thirteen-year-old girls and people who have no lives—not busy thirty-five-year-old single mothers.
“Tash! It’s back on!”
I hurry to the loungeroom, balancing four bowls of Ben and Jerry’s on a tray. I unceremoniously dump three of them into outstretched hands and sit down next to my bestie, Millicent, and start shovelling that heavenly ice cream into my mouth. Mmm…eye candy and literal candy. (I got the flavour with those little chocolate-covered caramel chunks.)
“You almost missed your favourite contestant,” Millicent teases.
“Come on. I can’t be the only one who loves Lincoln Page.”
Millicent looks down at the floor, where my six-year-old daughter Daisy is sitting cross-legged, eyes glued to the screen. She’s so entranced by what she’s watching, she attempts to spoon some ice cream into her mouth and misses. It lands with a plop beside her.
“Well, I’m guessing your daughter is also a fan,” Millicent laughs.
Normally, I would pick up any spilled food immediately, but right now, I’m leaving it. Lincoln Page is about to perform on Sing to Me.
“I wouldn’t say your son is any better,” I point out as her little boy rubs his food-covered hands in his hair.
“Yeah, but that’s just Ryder. He’s not hypnotised by the curly-haired rock god on the screen.”
“Shh, he’s starting,” I hiss.
Millicent rolls her eyes but stops talking so we can fully appreciate the spectacle that is Sing to Me’s semi-final. There are only six contestants left, and Lincoln is one of them.
The audience cheers as the lights go down. The studio band plays the opening chords of INXS’s Never Tear Us Apart, and a single spotlight illuminates Lincoln in all his beautiful glory.
Tonight, he’s wearing black leather pants and a loose black T-shirt. His ebony curls are perfectly defined, falling to just above his shoulders.
But it’s not even the fact that he’s insanely hot I find the most attractive. It’s that he seems like a genuinely nice guy. Throughout the whole series, he has been super supportive of all the other contestants, and he looks as if he’s really enjoying the journey, constantly smiling and bantering with all the mentors and backstage crew.
When he opens his mouth, the audience almost overwhelms his voice with their appreciative cheers. That slightly raspy tone channelling Michael Hutchence causes my skin to break out in goosebumps.
“He’s good, isn’t he, Mummy?” Daisy asks.
“He’s very good.”
Lincoln grips the microphone with both hands and soulfully sings about two people meeting by chance and not wanting the connection to end. He closes his eyes, making me feel as if he means every single word. On the final note, he reopens them, and the intensity with which he looks down the camera and directly into my soul makes me shiver.
Everyone in the audience jumps to their feet, clapping and whooping.
“I suppose that was okay,” Millicent concedes.
“Okay? We were watching the same thing just then, weren’t we?” I ask incredulously.
“All right. He was impressive.”
“Will you vote for him?”
“Will I be welcome back in this house if I don’t?”
“Not for at least a month.”
She mock sighs. “Okay. I suppose I can spare my incredibly valuable consumer power for you.”
I log onto the show’s website with my phone and cast my vote. “Who else would you pick?”
“Honestly, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t choose anyone. I’m not a hormone-driven teenager.”
“But it’s fun, lusting after a rockstar on TV. Where else can you obsessively watch a hot guy and not get into trouble?”
She smirks. “You, my dear, are a lost cause.”
I hand her my phone, so she can process her vote. “You see the appeal, though, right?”
“Sure. I mean, I don’t love long hair on a guy, but Lincoln Page definitely has the ‘it’ factor.”
“Can I vote, Mummy?” Daisy asks.
“Sorry, baby, you have to be over sixteen. But you can share mine.”
“I hope he wins!”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Lincoln is the last singer of the night, and the voting lines close after a recap of the evening’s performances and an ad break. I really hope he wins this season. My slight infatuation with the guy spans longer than just this season of Sing to Me. Fourteen years ago, when he was twenty-one, Lincoln won a different talent show called Have You Got What It Takes? Back then, he was cast as a Robbie Williams clone, his curly hair cut short and straightened. Every week, he sang a bunch of bland pop songs that he performed perfectly in a technical sense (hence the reason he won), but I got the impression it wasn’t the style he preferred. He released an album that did amazingly in the charts, but his follow-up didn’t have the same success, and he soon faded into obscurity. I moved on, and actually kind of forgot about him until he showed up as a contestant on this season of Sing to Me. Now my crush is back in full force, and I’m glad he’s expanded into music a little more to my taste.
The host appears on the screen, along with all six of the finalists. Lincoln is standing at the end, beaming his trademark smile.
“Sadly, we have to say goodbye to three of these amazing voices tonight,” the host informs us. As if we don’t already understand how a reality singing show works.
She opens an envelope.
“The first person not going through to the final is…Jessie Young.”
A petite country singer with long, red hair looks suitably crushed, but she manages not to cry as she accepts her fate. She’s standing next to Lincoln, and he gives her a consolation hug. I sigh.
Millicent looks at me. “Are you jealous of Jessie?”
“No. Maybe,” I admit.
“You do know Lincoln has a partner and twin girls, don’t you?” she checks.
“Yes. Yes, I do. But I can still dream.”
“As long as you don’t start writing him fan mail asking him to leave his family for you.”
“I wouldn’t do that! But just so we’re clear, I’m allowed to like his Instagram posts, aren’t I?”
She shakes her head. “Would me saying no actually stop you?”
I don’t bother dignifying her comment with a response. But mostly because the host is talking again.
“The second person leaving us tonight is…Tyler Finlay.”
A twenty-something rapper grimaces and nods. Lincoln gives him a complicated high-five that doesn’t look even remotely rehearsed. He’s so cool.
“And the third person to not make it through…”
I hold my breath.
“…is Lincoln Page. I’m so sorry, Lincoln. You have definitely been a fan favourite this season, and I hope we haven’t seen the last of you.”
The crowd roars a combination of support and shock. I stare at the screen. Poor Lincoln.
But his smile doesn’t waver as he takes the microphone to acknowledge those involved with the show. “Thanks, guys. I’ve had the best time this season, and I’m so appreciative of everyone who helped me get this far. Also, I want to say a massive thank you to Rachel and my beautiful little girls, Isabella and Madison, for being so supportive while I pursued my dream. This was all for you.”