Author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Tuesday, March 27th 6:44 AM
I entered the conference room dressed business casual – what I was wearing wasn’t my first choice, but I was too tired to fight clothing choices at 5:30 AM. My nerves were certainly trying to get the better of me, but my biggest problem was not getting enough sleep. I slept like a rock, just didn’t get enough of it. Without some strong coffee, I was going to crash and crash hard.

There were a four women already seated around a long conference table, coffee cups in hand, plates of food from the buffet setup along a wall of windows with a partial view of the pool, and they were quietly talking amongst themselves. I smiled back to those that acknowledge my presence. In the corner of the room were two people gathered around a camera, one of them holding a microphone on a boom. They looked engrossed in what they were doing. I noticed a number of microphones on the table - guess we’re now on stage – that’s a little unsettling… I got in line behind a man getting food.

“Morning…”

“Good morning,” I replied with a smile trying to match his.

“Dana,” he said extending his hand after putting his plate down.

“Brea…,” I shook his hand. He had a perfectly trimmed goatee, close cropped hair – with the beginnings of salt and pepper grey showing. Dana looked fit, like he worked out daily – the muscular definition of his arms and what I could see through a loose fitting shirt and shorts was impressive. He was a decent looking guy, confident – but not cocky – very friendly vibe. Not sure why I thought this contest was going to be all woman competing – I felt foolish and hoped he didn’t read minds or my face showed any surprise about him being here.

“You must be our missing contestant? Little 411 from dinner last night – you didn’t miss anything. Seems like a pretty nice group of singers, at least so far. I’m really hoping it doesn’t get catty.”

“Oh... That’s good to know. I was worried I’d be on the outs…,” I said.

“Hey Michelle,” Dana said as if he were looking through me.

I turned to see a woman had joined us in line for food, “Hi, I’m Michelle, you must me Breanna?”

She had perfect teeth and I found it hard to concentrate on anything else about her except her ultra-white smile. “Nice to meet you…,” I got out before the pause got too long. Michelle was a little taller than I was, dressed as if she were going to an interview – which made me feel a little self-conscious, and her voice was silky smooth. If her control was this good just chatting, I could only imagine what her ability to sing was going to be like. Would be a lie to say I wasn’t intimidated by both Dana and Michelle – and all we’d done was introduced ourselves. Lovely - was I in over my head before this contest even got going?

Together we joined the others at the table and there was a round of quick introductions. Which was repeated when the last five contestants entered the room just before seven. I was going to fail a test of names if I was asked or ran into a few of these people outside this room. Dana, Michelle, and another man – Wyatt, were the easy ones to remember. Augh… I resisted looking back at the camera – I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like being in front of the camera these next couple days… Don’t let there be doubts about why you’re here, I thought... I am valid, I am worthy.

Tuesday, March 27th 7:12 AM
The volume in the room had gotten pretty loud as we all sat around eating and talking. The most common comment made – this contest was a pretty big deal for the transgender community. There was a lot of Pride talk, being proud to represent, which I found pretty cool that others were feeling the same as I was. By the time the staff running the show arrived I was pretty sure I knew the names of ten of the other eleven contestants. What’s that eleventh woman’s name? Jill, Jane... Augh! Damn it!

“Good morning everyone…,” the room fell silent, “I’m Karen Cole, I meet most of you last night – we’ve also been corresponding via email and had the occasional phone call. I want to welcome you again to The Grand Cayman Hotel and Casino and to our first ‘Transgender Day of Visibility Vocal Competition’. I hope everyone had a chance to meet our final contest Breanna Calloway,” she looked toward the end of the table I was sitting at, “She comes to us from San Diego and should fit in nicely.”

I smiled, politely – then Wyatt chimed in, “Everyone… ‘Welcome Breanna’…,” some in the room sang in chorus. That was followed by a few giggles and laughs. I’m pretty sure I was blushing… The cameraman was moving to my right and pointing his shoulder mounted camera at me. Lovely... Now I wanted to melt into the carpet or escape out the window behind me.

Karen wasted no time getting the program moving. First topic – security – which she explained would be tight on site, but on the strip we should not roam around alone. Vegas as a whole was fairly safe she explained, but we needed to stay vigilant. Someone asked about the protestors outside the hotel.

“The Vegas police have made it clear they are not welcome on our property. We have also filmed these people and our in-house security is monitoring them. We have extra security onsite and a response team in reserve. You shouldn’t have anything to worry about, we’ve got better security on site than most prisons and airports combined. Our facial recognition capabilities I’m told are better than what the federal government uses. Please don’t let a few narrow minded people ruin this event for you. I promise we’ve got the situation handled.”

Protestors? I hadn’t thought about that being an issue – guess I should have expected something like this. I had been to Vegas a few times while in college, so I’d seen enough of the strip to know there was certainly safety in numbers. Add to that – there really wasn’t much out here I wanted to see since I'd seen enough of it before. We were going to be so busy with all the activities for the show – no way we’d have down time to go run around the Vegas strip.

The rest of our morning was laid out – we’d break into three groups of four and follow a schedule for each of the pieces of the show. Group 1 would be off to hair / makeup / stylist consultations – where we were to present our clothing, hair, and makeup needs. Group 2 was to meet with the stage manager, audio technicians, and band – to go over everything in regards to our songs and any performance needs. Group 3 was to meet the PBS crew for our initial interviews. Every four hours the groups would shift stations until we were all through them, culminating in a group dinner party starting at 8:00 PM. Basically they were allowing an hour per contestant for each piece of the preparation process for the show.

Thank God, the schedule was printed out for us and after going over it verbally, one of Karen’s assistants was passing it out on a sheet of paper. There was even a map to where our groups were to meet. Amen! The handout also had the names of contestants assigned to each group and I saw that I was in Group 3 with Michelle, Wyatt, and contestant number eleven – Janet. Augh! So, close! I smiled about almost remembering her name. Being in Group 3 was a good thing for me, not just because I had good vibes about those in the group, but because we wouldn’t hit the stage portion of the process until 4:00 PM. Bill and Charles were supposed to arrive by 10 AM, so if there was any down time I would have a chance to coordinate meeting up with Bill.

Karen went over a few more details, including telling us about the first elimination show, which was to start tomorrow evening at 7:00 PM. The shows finale would be on Thursday at the same time and only feature the six contestants who were judged to be the best. I guess it's 'sing your ass off' or you're out. She also added that the pre-sale of tickets to the event showed we were just over halfway sold out for tomorrow night. I had looked up the main theaters capacity - seven hundred and forty-eight, so a touch bigger than the seventy patron shows I'd done recently. I chuckled to myself, then felt a lump in my throat when Karen said the finale was sold out.

I think when Karen hit us with the sold out finale news there were a few audible gasps – including my own failed attempts to swallow while trying to gasp. Whoa... This was a bigger deal than I had anticipated. I looked around the table and the confident looks of the other singers made me feel even more unprepared for what was to come. Was no one here nervous? Augh... No second thoughts - you can do this!

Tuesday, March 27th 8:59 AM
And then it was my turn in front of the firing squad – I mean the PBS interview crew. I had drawn the second slot, Michelle had gotten to lead our group of four off. While she was being interviewed Wyatt, Janet, and I were in a holding room and talking about everything under the sun – except the competition or the interview. That was a relief. I was having trouble suppressing my nerves right now and talking about singing or getting quizzed would have tipped me over.

But now I was following a production assistant, she’d introduced herself, but I had already forgotten her name. She was taking me to the conference room the interview would take place in. Augh… I hated when I did that! Forget someone's name two seconds after being introduced! When we entered the conference room there were two distinct sections – one contained two makeup stations with lights and hair stylist tools and the other - which I was dreading – a lighted stage area akin to a television interview show. Guess this wasn’t going to be Jerry Springer like, no crazed audience - that I could see. I smiled to myself thinking about Jerry Springer, which just happened to be on cue, because I was being presented to someone who looked like they were in charge.

“Breanna, welcome. I’m Gale Spence, producer for the PBS documentary we’ll be filming in conjunction with the Transgender Day of Visibility Vocal Competition. First things first – we’ll need you to silence or turn off your cellphone,” she requested politely.

I pulled my phone from my wristlet clutch and set it to ‘Silent’.

“Thank you… We just don’t want it going off during filming,” after she looked at her clipboard quickly she continued, “So, I’m going to turn you over to Marty and Tasha. They are going to get your makeup and hair prepped – nothing to technical because we want you looking as you do on any normal day, but with the lights we don’t want you looking washed out on camera. Any questions for me before I send off with Marty?”

Questions? Ah… Can I go back to my room and change my clothes? I had a dozen or so others before walking in here. Now I was drawing a total blank. I wish I had had a chance to talk to Michelle about her interview and get an idea of how this was going to go. Crap! Think… “I was wondering what the focus of this documentary was going to be,” I asked sounding like I wasn’t sure that’s what I really wanted to ask and just asking a question to ask one. Augh! What a stupid question - I already knew the answer!

“Good question… The goal is to show people you’re no different from them. You’ve got dreams, quirks, desires, and many of the same struggles they have… That you know you were born in the wrong body is confusing to many people. This is a chance for you to tell your story and maybe demystify some of your journey for them. I promise you, Leza Howell gets where you’re coming from, she's a very good interviewer. Do you recognize the name?”

Leza Howell? Are you kidding me! She was a trans woman, a transgender activist, and a part of the coalition for transgendered persons rights that started the Transgender Day of Visibility. No pressure! Augh! “Yes, I know who Leza Howell is…”

“Excellent… How this is going to work is after makeup and hair, you’ll be brought over to the set,” she pointed to the lighted stage, “And filming will begin as soon as you enter the stage area. Leza will introduce herself, shake hands – you’ll obviously introduce yourself – you’ll both sit, then it’s going to be a freeform conversation between you both. Leza will keep the conversation going, so don’t worry about having to carry the interview. You aren’t here to interview Leza, but she will respond to questions or may add to a topic you comment on. Just ignore the cameras, all three will be recording and in editing we’ll take the best angle for the content being discussed. It would be best if you didn’t look at the cameras, you are having a conversation with Leza, and watching the camera will look odd. Just relax, be yourself, and don’t worry about sharing with…”

“How long is this going to take,” I asked interrupting her, nervous energy getting the worst of me.

“We would like to get about thirty, maybe forty minutes tops of you and Leza talking. Trust me, we’ll be cutting you off before you realize that much time has passed. We’ve tentatively agreed to edit down the interview to five to eight-minute segments per contestant, depending on subject matter and how the interview flows. It could be we edit it to bounce around from contestant to contestant, I haven’t decided yet to tell you the truth. I need to see what we end up with – I can assure you we will present your story in an honest way and in the most flattering manner possible. I don’t want to coach you, that’s why Michelle didn’t return to the holding room, we’re looking for the true you to come out in the interview,” she replied, “Just be you and you’ll do perfectly,” she finished her instructions with a smiling.

I wish I felt more confident after hearing the format. I mean, I talk to people daily, but that’s about their car financing and trying to slip in up selling features like maintenance plans, extended warranties, and whatever. I didn’t talk about me, my fears or aspirations – even with friends – generally… I could make small talk - but that's not what this documentary was about. Someone walked over to where Gale and I were standing, “Hi Breanna, I’m Marty – we ready for some makeup?”

I nodded and followed her to the hair and makeup setup in this makeshift studio. Just go with it I thought… Should be over before I know it – that’s what Gale said, right?

Tuesday, March 27th 9:16 AM
“Breanna Calloway, welcome… Welcome. I’m Leza Howell,” she began, extending her hand – which I took and shook.

“Hi, so nice to meet you. I’m a little star stuck right now, I want to apologize for that in advance if I can’t hold a coherent thought,” I replied nervously.

“No worries Breanna, you’ll do fine, sit please,” she waved a hand to a cushioned chair on the left side of a small table placed between two chairs, “How are you feeling about the singing competition so far,” she led off the interview questioning with an easy one.

“It’s a little over whelming, moving pretty fast... I just hope I can put on a good show and make it past tomorrows first cuts…”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. I heard someone came out to your home town to audition you. Well, San Diego isn’t really a town,” she said with a giggle. I was smiling and feeling a little more relaxed – maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad. “How did that go?”

“I actually didn’t know he was there to audition me. Honestly, I thought he was stalking me…”

“Really? Have you experienced someone stalking you before,” she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Online certainly. I've had a lot of hate spewed at me on my Instagram and Tumblr accounts over the past couple years. I call it the 'Division of Thirds'. A third of the people I interact with are trans or curious, a third are those fetish junky types, and the last third are the hate mongers. I had to delete my Facebook account because of the haters. I generally ignore those hate posts. I do report the really creepy one’s, especially if there are threats involved. I’m pretty careful about what I post online so people can’t just pop in on me someplace I frequent,” I wrapped up that thought because I felt like I was rambling. Did I say anything meaningful? Augh… Don't look at the camera... Don't...

“If you had to describe the person posting the hate, how would you,” she asked.

Her voice was like silk, mesmerizing. I felt like I could talk to her all day, “Conservative maybe, very right-wing…,” I paused to consider where I was going with this answer, “A lot of religion involved in these people’s lives. Which is funny that they throw so much hate at me, not even knowing me, and thinking their God would approve of their behavior. I'm really in the middle of the left and right extremes a Centerist...”

“Do you believe in God, Breanna?”

“Wow, nothing like putting me on the spot,” I smiled uncomfortably, “Yes, I believe in God. I’ve asked him a million times why, why I got the wrong body… He still hasn’t answered me, but I think he gets me out of jams sometimes... Gives me the strength to battle on,” I tried to chuckle, but it felt as uncomfortable as trying to answer the question.

“If he ever does answer you, ask him about me - I've been asking that same question for a long time,” she said with a smile. “What bothers you the most about the haters attacks?"

“I don’t enjoy the ‘I hope you die…’ or ‘You will burn in hell…’ type of posts – those are relentless, I easily get a couple dozen posts like that a day. No one has ever screamed that in my face at any trans event I've ever gone to, but with the anonymity of the internet it makes it certainly easier for the haters. I think what bothers me is I’ve got struggles and they just don’t understand any of this path I’m on.”

“When did you make up your mind to transition?”

“I was eighteen, midway through my high school senior year. I talked to my mom about how I was feeling and after a month of conversations she set up an appointment with a psychologist specializing in gender counseling. That went well, I needed someone in the medical field to talk me down off the ledge I was on. My mom joined my sessions after the first couple and pretty much we all decided I wasn’t crazy… I started growing my hair out - it was already pretty long - and making subtle changes before the end of my senior year. HRT didn’t start until I was nineteen due to insurance issues.”

“Do you think people feeling the way you do are crazy,” she asked concerned.

“Oh no… The best thing I ever did was come out to my mom and her insisting I seek help. Only you know who you are both inside and out – trust that little voice inside your head. The depression, the anxiety, disassociation, all of that crap will eat you alive if you don't get it off your chest and out of your mind and in the open. You can't become the gender you know you are alone - you need the help of those running the system. Certainly can be a battle in itself - the system - but if transitioning is what you believe in you can battle through it. If you don't come out into the light- you might make yourself crazy...," was I preaching? Augh... Please don't use this dribble in your documentary I wanted to scream...

“What did your father have to say about your knowing you were Breanna?”

“My parents divorced when I was nine and the last time I heard anything from him was when I was eleven, maybe twelve…”

“Do you think not having a father figure around contributed to your gender identity, to becoming Breanna?”

Huh? Why would not having a dad around have anything to do with what was going on with my gender identity? “No, pretty sure I knew I was different by the time I was seven or eight. My mom told me in preschool I was showing signs of being ‘gender confused’. That’s the way the teacher described it to her – I was confused. The teacher based her observations solely on me wanting to dress in the dresses they had in the ‘dramatic play area’ and then I would playing with the kitchen toys. I have no idea what my dad thought about that or if he even knew. I’ll have to ask my mom tomorrow… I don’t remember preschool, but I think it was the right move for the teacher to not try to correct my behavior. Just so happens I worked it out on my own and I think that’s the way it was meant to be…”

“Is your mom coming to watch you compete?”

“Yeah, I asked her not too, but she doesn’t listen to me sometimes… Pride Parade, transgender community events, she’s always tagging along. We’re pretty close…”

“She sounds like a strong woman, a good role model…”

“Oh my God, she’s the absolute best friend I have. Strong and independent, without being in your face. Well, unless you’re her daughter. I know I will always get a straight answer from her regardless of what I ask her. I’m very lucky…”

“Did she influence your decision to transition?”

“No, it was my decision. I sprung it on her – she just supported me like any good parent should…”

“Do you think she wanted a daughter,” Leza asked with a questioning look on her face.

Whoa… No! I could feel my face flushing. Would the cameras pick that up? “No, pretty sure she just wanted a happy, healthy, and well-adjusted kid. I think I delivered on that. Never really caused her much angst growing up, no drugs or arrests or teen pregnancies to worry about. Do I think she likes having a daughter now rather than a son – I'm not sure she cares to tell you the truth. We were close before I transitioned… I've never asked her. I would guess she had suspicions that I was struggling...”

"Struggling? Like how," she asked.

"I don't know, not wanting to play sports, no girl friends, that kind of thing..." I hoped that was good enough, though the real answer was certainly more complex. She had to know that...

“I understand you’re a college graduate,” she stated, “How would you describe the acceptance you received from,” she looked at a note card, “The University of San Diego and the student body?”

She was shifting gears and I wondered how this interview was going to get edited into something people were going to find interesting and hold their attention… Maybe the other contestants had colorful stories. So far my life in transition sounded very vanilla. “I certainly had my moments with a few ignorant types, but for the most part the university and everyone just let me be me – no special treatment or considerations were laid out for me. I appreciate that. Not really much else to tell – I did my time, studied my ass off, and graduated with a BS in Marketing a semester early.”

“Did you date while you were in college?”

“Yes…” that came out as tentative. Did I want to keep that to myself? No, I wasn’t ashamed of trying to date.

“How did you approach that…”

“I was up front about who I was and the guys either ran and forever looked / treated me different or were curious enough to see what I was all about. Nothing lasted more than a couple weeks, probably less than that. Wasn’t like I had a packed social calendar – pretty much school, work, and living with my mom made up my life back then. Tough to make that kind of existence look sexy…,” I chuckled slightly, it didn’t register on Leza.

“Any heartbreak?”

“Sure, we all want to be accepted, wanted, loved… I’ve had my fair share of rejection and heartbreak…” I felt my shoulders droop and sat up straight to maintain the look of confidence I had before her question. "After college I tried a few online dating sites - they were more trouble than they were worth."

"Like how?"

"The men responding either didn't read my profile and see the 'Transgender Woman' designation or were fetish junkies. In three months I only went out with two guys and like I said - short lived experiences."

"What drove them away do you think," she asked seeming genuinely interested.

"One didn't catch the 'Trans' profile and the other, after our second date said he couldn't see me anymore because he didn't know how to tell his parents."

"Why would he need to tell his parents?"

"Yeah, my question exactly... I mean, we weren't about to get married any time soon, so what was the big deal. I present as who I am, was he worried I couldn't pass? I have no idea... I kind of liked him," my voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry Breanna...," Leza pause as if considering the next question, "What do you look for in a man? Let's get some positive mojo going here...," she said with some energy.

Ah - I'd be happy if they didn't look at me and think I was a freak when they found out I was trans! I wasn't about to say that, but I certainly thought it, "I'm attracted to guys with a good sense of humor and who aren't full of themselves...," I quickly added, "And they have to be alright with a smartass - I tend to be snarky..."

"Good to know. Physical features that get your attention?"

"A nice smile I guess. Is there such a thing as caring eyes?"

"I'm not sure, but I've gotten lost in some sexy eyes before...," Leza replied. "How about kissing?"

"Oh God... Yes, be a good kisser."

"Like...," she drug the word out to annunciate it.

"Don't be robotic, slow the tongue-age down, don't be afraid to pull me in closer, tighter..."

"Oooo girl, now you're cooking...," she said with a smile. “How long have you been on HRT and have you had any work done? I obviously have...”

“Almost four years now since I started HRT… As a college graduation present my mom gave me a choice of having my nose tweaked and a little FFS or get breast implants. I choose the nose job, tracheal shave, and I'm embarrassed to say - having my ears pinned back a little. I’m happy with the results and it really helped with the dysphoria – not a cure by any means.”

"No interest in implants then," Leza asked.

The question sounded like she wasn't certain she should have asked, "Certainly I'd like to have more, but I don't want future back problems either," that was my attempt to make light of a situation that really did bother me, but I just had to live with right now. "My doctor told me my A-and-a-half cups were pretty much all I was going to develop this late in transition for my age. I now settle for buying the right bras to accentuate what I've got. That helps me look more like I want...," I paused, "It a dysphoria trigger, but not as much as other things..."

“Tell me about the dysphoria you feel, is it often?”

Jesus… I only get thirty minutes here Leza – this could take hours to explain! How do I condense this, “I’m sure at some point you yourself felt adrift, not sure of your identity after you began your transition. A lot of depression, questioning of myself, and anxiety - especially when you first come out to family and friends. I had lots of fear those first couple months of college living as myself. Until SRS there will always be a daily pang of gender dysphoria - at least for me. You’re living your life as who you know you are and every time you speak you're worried about not sounding as you appear. When you shower, go to the bathroom, try to pick out clothes to wear that don’t reveal that last bit of you from a different life, your male appendage…”

Leza interrupted my ramble, “You can say penis, pretty sure they won’t bleep that word on PBS,“ she said smiling.

“Yes... Until you’ve completed SRS your penis is one powerful reminder that you aren’t really who you are projecting with every ounce of being in your soul… It can really screw with your mind - at least it does mine.”

“Yeah, but you know that even after SRS there are times when you’re going to be visited by that dysphoria gorilla…”

“I’ve talked to women about that, the depths that it wants to pull you down aren’t nearly as crushing as before SRS…,” I replied.

“I would agree with that. Is SRS something you are considering?”

“When I can afford it. Got a college loan and a host of other things burning up my paychecks…”

“Your pronouns?”

“She / her…” Wasn’t that obvious with my college dating answers?

“Ever experiment with another woman, any interest?”

Whoa! Left field question. Not sure I’m comfortable with answering that one, “No, no experience. I think it would depend on the woman... Geez, not sure why that thought got me a little flustered. Let’s just leave it at that…" Was it warm in here? I'm sure the camera could see my embarrassment. Oh well...

“Fair enough… Did you really have your ears pinned," she asked while picking up a photo I had supplied of myself pre-transition. She held it up for one of the cameras to get a good look at, "Your ears in this picture are darn cute Breanna," she said looking at it again, smiling at me before setting the picture back on the table.

"Augh... Thanks Leza...," was all I could muster.

"Do you have any words you live by, a mantra?”

“I’ve always liked - Being who you are is freedom, loving yourself being who you are is happiness…”

“Beautiful… I like that…”

There was movement off stage and Gale Spence was waving at us, then speaking to the camera operators. Had thirty minutes really passed? Leza was getting up from her chair and I stood also.

Tuesday, March 27th 9:51 AM
“I enjoyed interviewing you Breanna… You’re quite the woman,” she said smiling.

“Thank you, I’ve always admired your work with the Transgender community. If you are ever in San Diego and want a tour of the town, please give me a call…,” I fished a business card for the dealership out of my wallet and handed it to her.

“I’ll do that… Thank you.”

“Breanna, that was a perfect interview. I really enjoyed that. Nice job Leza,” Gale looked around the room, “Kip, let’s get Breanna to the front desk – you can get to your room from there, right?”

“Yes…,” I said confident I knew my way around once out of the conference room area of the hotel.

“Excellent… One favor, don’t discuss the interview process with the other contestants still needing to get filmed, I would appreciate that.”

“Oh, absolutely…" I agreed, but honestly didn't think I would run into anyone from the other groups before dinner tonight.

“Perfect, you have your schedule – I think you’re group is free until noon. Any last questions?”

Leza had stepped off the stage and was talking to a woman I had not noticed earlier in the makeshift studio. I had wanted any opportunity to talk more with her, but it sounded like I was being ushered out to get the next person, Wyatt, in and interviewed. I wondered how long it was going to take for them to compile this documentary and asked. Gale said it would be at least six months and we’d all be notified via email when it was going to air. We shook hands and her production assistant, Kip – the person I had forgotten her name – escorted me to the front desk. How could I forget a name like Kip?

Tuesday, March 27th 10:02 AM
After Kip dropped me off at the front desk I quickly headed for the elevators to get to my room and get this damn makeup off. Inside the elevator I fished my phone out of my wristlet clutch and made sure the ringer was on. Two people got off on the third floor and it was just me and another guest going to the sixth floor. I looked at my phone and noticed I had text messages from my mom and Bill, no missed calls.

Mom, 9:20 AM: "Good luck today! I'll be there tomorrow around noon. Call you after I land. Love you, stay safe."

Bill, 9:59 AM: "Just landed... Want off this flying tin can. Kid kicked my seat almost the entire way. You better win this thing or else! Oh, Charles says Hi... We'll look for you when we get to the hotel. Hugz!"

That meant Bill and Charles were at least a half hour from getting here. I had time to get this makeup off, get my wardrobe arranged - both outfits I had chosen with Kaley's help, and meet up with Bill and Charles. Maybe they could just come to my room? I texted my room number to Bill with the note, "601 - Let's meet in my room when you are settled. I've got an appointment at noon."

Almost immediately I got a reply. Bill, 10:05 AM: "Still on this GD plane!"

Me: "I'm sorry. It will get better. Drinks on me tonight?"

Bill, 10:05 AM: "You know it!"

Me: "LOL!"

Bill, 10:06 AM: "I'm serious!"

Me: "I know"

Bill being here was going to make things with the band so much easier. He could speak their speak and if necessary show them what I needed to be successful in this competition. I doubt the show producers would let Bill play for me - which would really put me in my comfort zone - I was going to ask, even though I knew what their answer would be. Charles, Bill, Kaley and I spent an hour arguing about what made the perfect song choice over the weekend. I always felt those singing shows singers would bite off too much - trying to duplicate Celine, Mariah, Whitney, or even Beyonce vocally - are you nuts! And if that wasn't their first mistake, it was song choice and arrangement. I needed to avoid those traps.

Between us, it was decided our modified version of Britney Spears' song - Toxic was my best shot at making it to the second round. Of all the songs we had performed together, everyone thought this one had enough artistic spin and that sultry hook from slowing it down to be relevant. Tough to argue the logic in choosing this song, but all I could think was - artistically the songs arrangement could move me on - likely, but I had to back it up with flawless vocals.

My second song - the one that I would have to sing my ass off to beat out the other five finalists - took several hours to hammer out. Everyone had their own opinions and none of them were the same. I wanted to sing 'Careless Whisper' by Wham. We had performed that song with just the piano accompaniment and it really worked. There were women in the audience crying after we perform our version. I tried reminding everyone of that, but the running argument was not to do the same type of accompaniment as Toxic. Augh! I had a few other song choices, but held onto them as the others argued their favorites.

Kaley wanted me to do 'Just like Heaven' by the Cure. If I thought the band could pull it off - it was a catchy song, but was it enough to highlight my vocals? Love the song, just thought it had more musical hook than showing any vocal strength. Bill suggested he could play with the timing, I nixed the idea. Charles offered up Elton John's, 'All the Young Girls Love Alice'. His reasoning - play to the crowd. There were approving nods at the same time Kaley was refilling wine glasses. Loved the song and it did play to some that would certainly be in the crowd...

Kaley suggested something by the Goo Goo Dolls, "You kill with any of their songs Brea..."

I looked at Bill who seemed to be agreeing. What if, I blurted out, "4 Non Blondes..."

Bill interrupted my thought, "What's Up..." There were more enthusiastic head nods around the living room. He continued, "You want to get the audience to feel you singing - because they'll be singing along with you - that's the song. The intro, everyone will know what's coming and be primed to join in..."

"Love that song... Do it like the original, don't change the arrangement. See how it sounds with the band and worst case we just use the original song minus the vocals...," I added.

"Yeah, keep it original, it's going to be tough to replicate vocally. You can hit those notes," he asked.

"William, she can hit those notes...," Charles piped up in my defense. When Charles was annoyed with Bill he would call him William - it was cute.

Bill rolled his eyes, "I wasn't saying she couldn't, but it's not exactly in her lane either, am I right Brea?"

"I can sing the song Bill..."

And it was decided, Toxic and What's Up were what we were pinning our hopes on for me to win this thing. What came next was a lot of practicing on my part. I smiled, nearing the end of the halfway, but that disappeared quickly when I sensed someone was behind me...