HAZEL FINE SINGS ALONG (WATTYS 2022 Winner!)

Chapter 2: Titanium

"So, Hazel, what are you going to sing for us today?"

Fifteen-hours later, Hazel stared directly into the camera lens as she stood in the hallway of the Sheraton Grand in downtown LA. "I'll be singing 'Titanium' by David Guetta."

Keshawn Jackson's mouth broke into an ultra-white smile. "Excellent choice. A personal favorite."

He said this to most of the contestants, but Hazel pretended not to know that. Instead, she adjusted her guitar strap and said, "It's my theme song."

"Had a lot of adversity in your life, Hazel?"

"You bet."

If Hazel was one of the special contestants, the show would immediately cut to a pre-packaged montage about her hardscrabble beginnings and everything she'd sacrificed to get there. But she'd only been approached by a scout after an open mic night in the café where she waited tables. She didn't have a manager or a viral song on TikTok.

No special montage for Hazel.

"But so has everyone here, right?" Hazel added with a winning wink.

Keshawn laughed with delight. He could tell what she was doing, and he loved it. Finally, she could see him thinking. Finally, someone who gets it. "Where are you from Hazel?"

"Austin, Texas."

"And how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-two."

"Well, you don't look a day over eighteen."

"I know, right? I get carded all the time."

"I'll bet you do," Keshawn said, his voice warm and deep. "Tell me, have you had a chance to check out the competition?"

"There was plenty of time to do that in that twelve-hour line!"

"An incredible turnout. We've already seen some fantastic talent."

The audition room doors opened and a guy in his early twenties walked out with a guitar slung over his back. He was holding a blue card and sporting a wide grin. He high fived a couple of surfer dudes while two younger girls in slip dresses giggled.

"Oh, look, here's Benji Suzuki—I knew you'd make it!" Keshawn said, beckoning Benji over. They were a sharp contrast: Keshawn in a three-piece suit, his dark hair close-cropped, his nails manicured. Benji's black hair was straight, feathered, and highlighted. Five ten and well built, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and multicolored board shorts. "I'm sure you've seen Benji on TikTok, Hazel?"

"Of course!" Hazel said. Benji had mastered cutting his songs into viral videos that drove teen girls crazy and inspired imitation. There'd even been a Suzuki Challenge a few months back.

"Are you excited about making it through to Universal Week, Benji?" Keshawn asked, moving the mic toward him.

Benji tossed his head in a practiced gesture. "Fo sure."

Hazel hid a smile. Benji knew what he was doing too, and his brush off was a bit too casual. He wanted this almost as badly as she did.

"Well, that's fantastic. Benji, you want to wish Hazel luck? She's up next."

Benji rolled his eyes toward Hazel's. As they locked in place, he gave her a slow smile.

"Well, well, well. I'll have to keep my eye on you two." Keshawn gave them a knowing nod then pointed toward the audition room. "You ready to go in there, Hazel?"

Hazel threw her shoulders back. "Fo sure!" She winked at Benji, and he mouthed good luck!

"Well, go on then, go!"

Hazel put her hand on the door handle, anticipating what came next.

"Let's watch Hazel's audition," Keshawn said. "And remember to..."

"Sing along if you know the words!" the hallway crowd shouted with him.

The audition room was a standard edition hotel conference room—no windows, thick multicolored carpet on the floor, beige walls. The judges were sitting behind a long melamine folding table, an array of headshots and cola in front of them.

When the judges had taken a lap through the cattle call earlier that day, the air had buzzed with excitement. One woman, Zoey, who Hazel stood in line with for hours, had nearly passed out when she'd seen Georgia Hayes, the (fading) country-music star.

From a distance, Georgia looked the same as she had when she'd become famous at twenty. But up close, Hazel could see that Georgia wasn't aging well. Rumor had it she had a drinking problem, which might be true or might be a vicious lie.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Martin Taylor asked. British and in his mid-fifties, he'd manufactured a hundred hits and a dozen girl bands. He was wearing a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows, and his dark hair was bristle-cut, almost military. The winner of the Sing Along got a record deal with his label. It was important to stay on Martin's good side.

"Hazel Fine."

Martin scanned her body. His eyes felt like fingers, probing her. "And are you fine, Hazel?"

Hazel slapped on a smile that made her face hurt and her soul die a little. "As fine as can be!"

"Ignore him," Georgia said in her southern twang. "Tell us about yourself, darlin'."

"I'm twenty-two years old and from Austin, Texas. A waitress by day, I'm a singer/songwriter by night."

Georgia laughed and the man sitting to her left cracked a brief smile. He wasn't the usual third judge from the previous seasons, and Hazel didn't recognize him. In his early thirties, he was wearing a black T-shirt and had a stack of notes in front of him.

Hazel's eyes tracked back to Martin. He was scowling at her as if she were a puzzle he needed to figure out.

"What made you audition for the Sing Along?" Georgia asked.

"Singing is my life."

Martin crossed his arms. "Is it now?"

"I want it to be."

"Do you think you have what it takes?"

Hazel lifted her chin. "I do."

"Show us, then, love."

She moved her guitar into place, her fingers falling easily onto the frets. She loved this instrument. When she'd seen it in the pawn shop six months ago, it had beckoned to her like a lover. She'd worked a month of double shifts to pay for it, but it was worth it.

As she got ready to start, Hazel thought back to the seedy motel she barely made rent for. How tired she was when she came home from a shift. How often her sleep was interrupted by someone pounding on her door looking for their dealer. She was tired of living like that. She shouldn't feel this old at her age, whatever it was.

Her life was supposed to be more than this. So, even though she hated it when singers did that, she closed her eyes, focused on the strings she was plucking, and the form her mouth had to take to get that first chord right.

And then she sang as if her life depended on it.

Because it did.