Page 11 of Love Me Tender, Love Me Brew
“Actually, really good. The most nerve-wracking part was the interview process. They don’t tell you they’re actually recording it until after the fact. They’ll only play it if I get to advance, but that’s okay.” Edwin sounds confident, unlike a week ago.
“Number eighty-one, please proceed to the stage area. Number eighty-one.”
Pulling a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, he unfolds it and shows it to his family. “Well, that’s me.”
The four of them enter through the door and pass through a long corridor. Kevin Conrad, along with a cameraman and several other studio workers are standing just off the side of the stage waiting.
“Is that really him?” Vivian grabs ahold of her husband’s arm. “Is that really Kevin Conrad? I’m fan-girling so hard right now. He’s even cuter in person.”
“Mom!” Edwin can’t help laughing at his mother.
“Settle down, Vivian,” Ronald Wesley shakes his head at his wife’s behavior. “You’re old enough to be his mother.”
“Stop it, just let me have some fun, okay?”
The four of them gather in a half circle as Kevin Conrad approaches, a couple of clip-on microphones in his hand. The studio workers assist with attaching them to everyone’s shirts while Kevin goes over a few things.
“We love you, son,” Vivian says and kisses her son on the cheek.
“Are we ready, folks?” Kevin looks up then sets his clipboard down on the table. “Three. Two. One.”
Everyone nods, too nervous to say anything.
“Up next, we have Edwin Wesley, a local to the Tahoe area. Edwin is a college student who also works part-time at theCoffee Loft, a quaint coffee shop that everyone in the town raves about. One of our producers happened to stop by the other day and the rumors are true. Not only does the shop brew some of the best coffee around, but each cup that this guy prepares, is served with a smile and a song. Tell us why you do this, Edwin?”
Edwin rubs his thumbs together then takes a deep breath. “You never know what kind of day someone is having, and something as simple as a smile or a few words from a classic hit can totally change the way they’re feeling.”
“Is there some reason why you’re a fan of Elvis Presley?” The cameraman aims the camera to the front of Edwin’s t-shirt.
“My mom,” Edwin places his arm behind Vivian’s shoulder. “Has always been a huge fan.” He goes on to relay the story of dancing on his parents bed, using his mom’s hairbrush as a microphone.
Proud of her son, Vivian swipes a tear in the corner of her eye.
“What are you going to sing for us today?” Kevin asks.
“In the Ghetto.”
Filled with emotion, Vivian brings her hands to her mouth as she watches her son walk out onto the stage.
Edwin gives his name and age to the judges and the studio goes silent while waiting for the music to begin.
Goosebumps appear on Charlotte’s arms as she listens to Edwin sing the beautiful melody. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the song comes to an end. The three of them jump up and down, proud of Edwin’s performance. Sure, he could’ve picked a song where he was able to showcase some of his classic moves, but the powerful meaning behind the hit is perfect. Edwin’s voice is flawless and hits each note precisely.
The judges take turns speaking with him, sharing how much they enjoyed his performance as well as offering suggestions to make it even better. They huddle together behind the table, then after several excruciatingly long seconds, one of them produces a golden yellow ticket, symbolizing that he’s received four yeses.
Edwin is brought to tears and he rushes over to thank them. “Thank you. This means so much to me. Thank you,” he continues to say, over and over.
It’s a heartfelt moment for the Wesleys and Charlotte, but it’s only the beginning.
Chapter
Ten
“I’m so tired,” Edwin says, flopping down into the chair across from Charlotte. He takes a sip of the lemon and honey tea she prepared for him then lowers his head down on the table. “Can you wake me up in a few days?”
Charlotte chuckles, even though she knows how tiresome this whole experience has been for him. “You’ve made it through two rounds. Only two more to go.”
“Don’t remind me,” he says, sitting up again so he can take a few more swallows of his tea. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can go thru.”
