Hollywood: Behind The SpotLight Chapter 92

Behind The Spotlight Chapter 92

"This is the address, right?"

Jennifer asked her assistant, and the woman nodded. They were sitting in a van parked at the side of a gravel road, driven by an employee of The Singing Voice production team.

"This is the place. Dallas County, Alabama," one of the production team mbers said while looking at a worn and folded map, creased from all their traveling. The address was correct, and after asking around the nearby area, they confird they were indeed in the right place.

The team stepped out of the van and were t with the sight of wide pastures stretching far into the horizon. Jennifer looked around... Almost everything in sight was open land, except for a single house and a barn.

Two horses approached them, each ridden by a person. A man and a woman, both seemingly in their thirties, looking like they had stepped straight out of a Western movie.

"Howdy."

"Is this the place where Lucas Miller lives?" one of the team mbers asked.

"Yes. In fact, you're talking to him."

Lucas, the man on the horse, dismounted and greeted them with a firm handshake and a warm smile. He seed friendly and approachable, with a clean-shaven jaw and a deep voice. His outfit fit the cowboy aesthetic perfectly, boots, a hat, and a denim jacket. The woman on the other horse wore a similar rodeo-style outfit.

"You signed up for an audition for The Singing Voice, is that right?"

The assistant director, who led the team, asked Lucas so questions while flipping through a stack of docunts.

Lucas had submitted a videotape of himself singing, and the show deed him worthy to audition. He had a good voice with a strong country tone. According to his résumé, he was an average man from a small town, exactly the kind of contestant the show loved to feature. The type of story that resonated with viewers: an underdog trying to make it big.

It was the classic "rags-to-riches" narrative. A poor man chasing his dream of becoming a famous singer, people loved that.

Since Lucas checked most of the boxes for a compelling story, the team traveled all the way to Alabama to interview him and capture the essence of his daily life.

They found a scenic spot for the shoot, with peaceful green pastures stretching into the distance under the afternoon light.

"So, Lucas, when did you start singing?"

"When I was seven. I saw Jackson Mike singing on TV, and I decided I wanted to be like him."

"Hm, that's a nice story."

Jennifer nodded... Honestly, it was a diocre story, but she didn't let it bother her. Her job on the show was to interview the contestants and get them to talk naturally. Thankfully, all expenses were covered by the production such as accommodations, food, and almost everything. So she didn't have to pay a cent from her own pocket.

She had only been working this job for three weeks, and she had to admit, it was exhausting. Traveling from state to state every other day, sotis even coast to coast. It was not an easy gig.

Lucas was the fifth contestant they'd interviewed in Alabama.

The cara was rolling, and Jennifer asked another question.

"So, do you have a sad story you want to share with us?"

"When I found out that my Mom and Dad were actually related... They were third cousins. I can't believe they hid that from for so many years."

"..."

'I have no idea what to say about that. I an, how do you even respond to sothing like this? Should I cry or sothing? What the hell is even happening in Alabama?' Jennifer thought.

"And what about her? Is she your wife?"

Jennifer pointed to the woman on the horse. Lucas blushed and shook his head.

"No, no, she's not my wife. At least, not yet. We're still dating. I'm actually thinking of proposing to her if I get an amazing performance at the audition."

The cara captured his flustered reaction and the shy smile he tried to hide.

"That's sweet. I'm sure you will do great. What's her na?"

"Her na is Sarah Miller."

"Ah, what a nice na—excuse ? Did you just say her na is Sarah Miller? Miller? As in you guys have the sa surna?"

"Yes. She's my cousin."

"..."

Jennifer was speechless and glanced at the assistant director, who gave her a subtle nod and a strained smile, signaling her to keep going.

'I swear, I have no idea what's happening here. Is Alabama really like this? Or is this just so stereotype.'

Sweet ho Alabama. It's not romantic unless it's blood-related. Incest is Wincest type shit of a state.

Despite the bizarre revelations, Jennifer continued the interview. She was getting paid, and she wasn't about to let so cousin-lovers screw up her paycheck. Besides, this wasn't the most insane interview she'd done. She once tried interviewing a woman who was high on fentanyl... Imagine how that turned out. Spoiler alert: not great.

So, Jennifer carried on with her job like a true professional, never letting even the slightest discomfort show on cara.

......

...

...

September 1997.

Axel exhaled deeply as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He was tense. After so many years, one of the private investigators he hired finally found a lead. He had gone through multiple detectives over the years, but none had found his ex-wife and son. It was like Cynthia and John had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Now, he was driving toward a trailer park. A residential area where mobile hos were parked closely together.

He pulled over to a corner and imdiately noticed a young boy being beaten up by older kids. Axel recognized the boy right away, it was John, his five-year-old son. The eyes, the nose, the face... Axel rembered it all perfectly.

He jumped out of the car and yelled in a commanding voice.

"Hey! What are you doing!?"

He ran toward them, and the bullies quickly scattered, shouting insults as they fled.

"Son of a cracker whore!" they laughed as they disappeared around the corner.

Axel didn't bother chasing them. Instead, he hurried to John, who was on the ground with a bloody nose and scraped knees.

"John, are you okay?"

The boy wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He was small for his age, and it was clear he was malnourished. His ribcage was far too visible.

"John, are you okay?"

Axel tried to touch his face, but the boy instinctively stepped back, like he was afraid of him.

"Mister, who are you?"

"Huh?"

Axel felt like he had been punched in the gut.

The boy looked confused. To him, Axel was just so stranger. A rich stranger, at that. His car was too clean, his shirt too crisp, and his cologne slled too good. He clearly didn't belong here.

"John, it's . Your Dad."

"John? My na is Johnny. I don't know you, Mister."

"..."

Axel was speechless. He had learned that Cynthia had changed both her and John's identities, but it still hurt to realize his own son didn't recognize him. Not even a little.