Chapter Thirty-Six - Lucky
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
We have less than an hour before we’re expected on stage in front of all the Vid Con attendees for the announcement of the final challenge.
I should probably be doing the optional meet and greet with the fans like the other finalists, or attempting some damage control on socials, but after that long, awkward car ride with Becca and then that super intense moment during the photoshoot, I’m here in the greenroom, trying to figure shit out.
I have no idea where Becca ran off to, but Old Faithful, aka Tony, is leaning against the wall with his camera pointed at me. I have no idea why he’s filming when all I’m doing is staring at my phone, but hey, do what you gotta do man.
I keep thinking that he knows something I don’t, and I half expect one of the Starlight producers to bust in and tell me that Becca and I are disqualified—even though I know we haven’t actually broken any of the contest rules—but so far nothing.
In fact, every time it comes up, the Starlight people get these stupid expressions on their faces—one of those “I’m supposed to be upset about this but secretly I’m thrilled AF about this” expressions.
I’m not an idiot, I know why—drama equals publicity and with Operation I Hate You exposed, the Starlight Challenge is getting a ton of new traction.
I tap my phone, bringing up the home page for one of my accounts.
My follower number has been fluctuating up and down all day.
I watch the numbers rise and fall. It’s something I’ve done ever since the day of my accident, but it feels different now, especially with Becca’s accusation hanging over my head.
I still can’t believe that she thinks I had something to do with our kiss going viral, but I also can’t blame her.
She’s right. The whole reason I’m in this competition is to regain my spot at the top.
My accident video still has the highest number of views, but there’s no new comments or traffic on it.
It looks like people are finally starting to move on.
It’s all I’ve wanted since the competition started, a way to make people forget, to show them that I’m more than just what happened to me. That I’m the old Lucky DeLucca again.
But maybe . . . I don’t want to be that guy anymore.
Proving to the world that Lucky DeLucca is back has been the most important thing to me for months now.
But why?
Those two words have been bouncing back and forth in my brain all day, just like my follower count, up and down, up and down.
I scrub a hand down my face, scanning the social media threads.
Most of the Starlight Challenge mentions are about me and Becca, and while we still have people wholly supporting us, a lot of commenters are pissed and want us removed from the contest. I’ve had people talk shit about me before, but this is a whole other level.
And then there were the fans who booed us earlier.
Becca looked like she was seconds away from either passing out or throwing up in front of everybody.
It’s why I said something to her—I couldn’t stand her looking like that.
It’s unreal how much influence we have as influencers, but you know what? It’s equally unbelievable how much influence the public has over us. I’d never really thought about it before, but now I can’t stop.
But why?
There they are again, those two words that shake me to the core—and I think I know why. Because deep down, I don’t want to know the answer.
Tony clears his throat from behind the camera, and I think it’s the only sound I’ve ever heard him make.
“Time to go?” I ask, checking the time on my phone.
He gives a slight nod right before a Starlight producer comes busting in to take me to the backstage area where the other finalists are waiting in the wings.
Becca stands near them, a part of the group but also not.
She has her arms wrapped around herself and though her face is neutral, I know she’s not okay.
She’s putting on a brave face for the cameras, but I can see how uncomfortable, and sad, and hurt she is underneath it all.
I want to say something to her, but I don’t get the chance before Dozer appears underneath a spotlight and the crowd goes wild.
“Gooood Evening, Vid Con!” Dozer yells into the microphone.
“I’m Winston Dozer, CEO of Starlight Talent Agency and tonight we have a special treat for you.
As you know, we’ve been running a little something called the Starlight Challenge .
. .” he trails off, letting the crowd work themselves up with applause and cheering.
“Oh, you’ve heard of it, huh?” Dozer teases, waving his hand so that the audience will cheer even louder. “Well good because I have some special guests I would like to welcome to the stage. Let me introduce you to the Starlight Challenge finalists!”
I get a weird twinge of déjà vu as I step out onto the stage and under the bright lights. It’s hard to believe that not long ago we were on a different stage, and the competition was just beginning. Now, with only our final challenge to go, it feels like a lifetime has passed.
We’re arranged in teams, of course, so Becca stands beside me facing the crowd.
The desire to touch her is just as strong as it was during the photoshoot, and I nearly reach for her hand.
I don’t know what it is about this girl, but even when it’s messy, all I want is to be near her, to be joking with her, to be stuck in a cramped car with her as the same song plays over and over and over.
Because when I’m with her, I’m not thinking about my accident. I’m not thinking about comments, or subscribers, or views on a video.
But why?
Dozer continues giving an overview of the competition and talking the audience through the last few challenges. “Now, tonight, we’ll be announcing the final challenge for our finalists. But before we do that, it’s time to reveal the current team standings. Can I get a drumroll please?”
The crowd begins to beat out a rhythm, much to Dozer’s delight, and I brace myself. Beside me, Becca’s back goes almost inhumanly straight.
This is it. The moment where we find out if we still have a shot at winning the competition, or if the video of our kiss was the literal kiss of death.
We were in second place after the Tombstone challenge, and given our strong performance in Vegas, we should still be on top.
The popular vote counts for a lot, though. Without it, we can’t win the competition. If the public didn’t vote for us . . . it’s all over.
Dozer sweeps his arm out, indicating the massive screen that’s been lowered behind us. “And the standings are . . .”
The screen lights up.
But it isn’t words that appear.
Becca gasps, and I recognize the footage immediately.
My face dominates the screen. Although the audience can’t hear what I’m saying, I know exactly what I’m whispering to Becca as my hand tenderly cups her face.
When I lean in, pulling her close, her arms go around my neck and the camera zooms in, capturing our kiss in near cinematic detail.
Then the image from the hotel pops up. It’s grainy at best, but clear enough to see me leaving Becca’s hotel room wearing the same clothes I wore the night before in the video.
All the air in my lungs disappears.
The people in the audience go absolutely nuts—some hooting and hollering in favor of our kiss, and others yelling insults and booing.
The footage appears to be on a loop, and the longer it plays, the more frenzied the crowd seems to get, all while Dozer stands to the side, his smile downright gleeful.
He doesn’t look surprised, and he doesn’t move to stop it.
No one does. There’s not a single Starlight producer or stagehand rushing around, no one yelling into a headset or hurrying through the stage door.
They’re all just standing there, watching, not a single ounce of shock on their faces.
Heat rushes through me. This was clearly an orchestrated move.
But why?
The kiss already went viral, but having it play out here as if it were some kind of “accident” is like a bad case of whiplash.
This is for ratings. For dramatic flair. Starlight wants the grand finale of this competition to be a showstopper. Even it means using Becca and I to make it happen.
My stomach rolls over and I have to swallow the bile that’s risen in my throat.
From the way the color is draining from Becca’s face, it’s clear she feels the same.
Do something! My own voice screams at me.
I know I should lay on the Lucky DeLucca swagger, do or say something that will sway the crowd and get them back on our side for the sake of the competition and our channels, but just as I open my mouth, the two words that have been haunting me all day echo in my mind.
But why?
So I say nothing.