Hope Idiotic | Part 20
Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.
MICHELLE WAS IN THE DUCHESS IDOL FINALS. It came down to her and a younger, blonder girl who wore lower-cut dresses and sang songs from popular Disney movies. From the start of the competition, they all knew this girl was the only other real competitor. Duchess Cruises was known for attracting an older crowd to its ships, mostly because it was one of the more expensive cruise lines. Michelle and Lou were the youngest passengers on board by at least twenty years. Well, except for the Disney Girl, and that made her all the more special.
Lou encouraged Michelle to sing songs familiar to the judges and audience. This strategy worked well for what she had in her repertoire. It’s what got her to the finals. And though Michelle had a stronger voice with far more range than the Disney Girl, ultimately, the title of Duchess Idol eluded Michelle.
“She only won because she is so young and cutsie, and she reminds everyone of their granddaughter,” Michelle mocked.
“If my granddaughter puts her rack out there like that, there’s gonna be trouble,” Lou said.
“Okay, their slutty granddaughter,” replied Michelle.
“Hey, it’s okay. Her strategy wasn’t much different than ours. She played to the people. She sang Disney princess songs; songs that little kids sing. And old people love little kids. I wish I’d thought of it before she went up that first night.”
“But all she sang were Disney songs. It’s so boring.”
“It’s a karaoke contest, babe. There are no points for originality.”
“Whatever. Maybe I should just push my boobs up to my chin and sing stupid cartoon songs.”
“Okay, Michelle. That’s enough of that. Don’t be a sore loser,” her mother said.
“I’m getting a drink,” Michelle said.
At another bar across the ship from the Crooners Lounge & Bar, the four of them raised their martini glasses high and toasted Michelle for a well-fought competition. “I should have won,” Michelle said. The other three agreed with formality.
“Are any of you interested in being in the Royal Duchess Star Search tomorrow night?” interrupted a member of the ship’s crew. She placed a flyer in front of them. Lou picked it up.
“What is it?” he inquired.
“It’s a talent show. Tomorrow night in the Royal Theater. You can do any talent at all. Sing, dance, magic, comedy; whatever you like. You can have as many people in your act with you as needed. The winner gets five hundred dollars and a trophy.”
“You should enter,” Lynn told Michelle.
“How do you sign up?” asked Lou.
“The list is outside of the Theater. There’s a mandatory meeting for all contestants at eleven tomorrow morning. It’s a sea day, so you should be aboard.” She paused for a laugh that never came. “So, anyone here want to sign up?”
“Michelle,” her mother encouraged again.
“No, thank you. I think it’s best that I retire.”
“I’ll do it,” said Lou. His girlfriend and her parents looked at him, surprised.
“Great!” said the crew member. “Sign up or just come to the meeting at eleven, and we’ll get you registered there. But slots may fill up fast, so it’s better to get your name on the list tonight.” She placed another flyer on the bar and moved on to the next group of people.
“I guess I should go and put my name down,” Lou said.
“What are you going to do?” said Michelle.
“I guess I’ll do some stand-up.”
“Really? That’s great! Oh, you’ll do so well,” she said.
“I’m a little out of practice, but I’m just drunk enough tonight to not care. I’ll panic tomorrow and try to write something.”
“Whatever it is, you’ll be great,” said Michelle.
The four of them raised their martini glasses high and toasted to Lou to have a great show tomorrow.
✶
HE REGRETTED HIS DECISION TO BE A CONTESTANT IMMEDIATELY AFTER HE WOKE UP. But he wasn’t going to back out. He and Michelle had some morning sex, and they headed to breakfast with her parents. The day at sea was set to be a beautiful one. Michelle and her parents were going to suntan their hangovers away. Lou, on the other hand, was going to lock himself in the stateroom, leaving only for the mandatory meeting at 11.
He had two to five minutes of performance time to fill. For a singer or a dancer or a group of people doing a skit, meeting that time requirement would be a breeze. But two to five minutes of stand-up — and good stand-up at that — was far more challenging. Plus, he hadn’t written a new joke in two years. He considered the audience he’d be playing to — old people on a boat — and started writing. He tailored everything to ship humor. The food, the high prices of drinks at the bar that you don’t know you’re paying until you see your bar tab at the end of the trip, the ship’s manic focus on hand sanitization as a way to prevent a norovirus outbreak, which is openly admitting that someone on the ship has poop on their hands.
He memorized as much of his script as he could. He practiced it in front of the bathroom mirror over and over again. He was concerned that it was a little hacky, and not really his own style, but it was the best he could do with the time he had. His old stuff from two years ago would be no good. It was either outdated or too dark for the expected audience.
“I’m really not sure what you’re upset about. Is it because you didn’t win the karaoke contest?”
“No, Lou. It’s because you always steal my spotlight.”
There were twenty-four other contestants. The show order was picked at random. The judges were a who’s who of ship personalities: the captain, the head chef, a showgirl from the dance troupe, the ship’s house comedian and the lead singer of the band that played on the pool deck. Lou and a seventy-something man were the only two doing stand-up. The show was emceed by the ship’s social director Darrin. The other notable performances were a couple doing a waltz, a man juggling, a woman doing an operatic sonata and the Disney Girl performing “Somewhere Out There” — not a song from a Disney movie.
Lou killed it. Even the least funny of all the jokes landed: “The only thing more disappointing than the ice cream not being served twenty-four hours is when Darrin denied my request to watch Titanic in the ship’s screening room.” He was a finalist with — believe it — Disney Girl. The judges said it was close. But there could be only one. Lou had to win. With Disney Girl up there again, it was personal.
Darrin announced the winner, dragging out the suspense. “The winner… of the 2008 Royal Duchess Star Search… and recipient of five hundred dollars and a beautiful trophy is… …………..Lou Bergman!”
Lou shook Disney Girl’s hand. He could see that she was crying. Suck it up, kid. Life only gets worse, he thought. A pair of showgirls brought out the foot-high trophy and one of those Publisher’s Clearing House-sized checks made out for five hundred bucks. The audience cheered. Darrin congratulated him and asked him if he’d like to say anything.
“Maybe say hello to friends or family in the audience?”
“I’m a little concerned this won’t fit in the overhead compartment on the plane back home,” he said holding up the novelty check. The audience roared. Jesus, these people will laugh at anything, he thought.
After a few rounds of drinks paid for by strangers who wanted to congratulate him and remark how they enjoyed his jokes, Lou and Michelle, and Lynn and Barry turned in.
“That was a lot of fun tonight. I miss doing that,” Lou said as he and Michelle undressed in their stateroom.
“Uh-huh,” she replied.
“You know that Disney Girl was crying when she lost. That’s what happens when you mess with my baby: I’ll make a bitch cry.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You okay?”
“What is it you miss doing, Lou?”
“What?”
“You said that you miss doing ‘that.’ What do you miss doing?”
“Oh. Stand-up. It felt good being up there again.”
“Because I thought you meant that you missed stealing the spotlight from me. Because I would have reminded you that you shouldn’t miss it because you do it all the time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t have to make such a big deal out of winning some stupid talent show on a cruise ship filled with the walking dead.”
“How am I making a big deal about it? I thought you were glad I won.”
“I’d rather have you win than anyone else up there, but do you need that big fucking check, too?” She pointed to the large cardboard check leaning against the sliding door to the balcony.
“Um, they gave me that check. What would you like me to do with it?”
“It’s not even a real check.”
“Obviously, but should I have just left it on the stage? That would have been rude.”
“So what? And I suppose you’re going to bring it home with you?”
“No. I guess I’ll just leave it here.”
“You don’t think that’ll be rude?
“I’m really not sure what you’re upset about. Is it because you didn’t win the karaoke contest?”
“No, Lou. It’s because you always steal my spotlight.”
“What spotlight are you talking about? There’s no spotlight to steal. We weren’t competing with each other. Our two shows were a day apart and on different decks for fuck’s sake!”
“It’s not about the shows! It’s about you stealing the spotlight!”
“The spotlight, right. Okay. Then I have no idea what you mean.”
“I assume you know what five hundred dollars means. Because you can just give me your winnings to help pay for your trip.”
Lou stared at her. That five hundred was the most money he’d made doing what he loved in a long, long time. Winning — just performing — was the best he’d felt in just as long. Michelle wasn’t letting him enjoy it. Was she really jealous of his win? And while he could have given her the full five hundred bucks to help pay for the trip, it wouldn’t have made much difference — not with what the whole thing cost anyway. Besides, he’d thought about treating himself to a new blazer and a pair of jeans since he hadn’t bought himself any new clothes in two years. He also thought he’d take Michelle out for a really nice evening, like the one where he would propose to her. This is bullshit, he thought as they engaged in a stare-down. He should have said something, but instead, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat and mumbled, “Fine.” Then he left to wander the ship’s decks drinking a glass of scotch until he had calmed down and figured Michelle had fallen asleep.
In the morning, she apologized. She admitted she was a little drunk and yes, a little jealous. But she was so proud of him and wanted him to keep the money. It was his, she said. Maybe he should buy himself a new blazer, she said. Or they could go out for a nice dinner. She was incredibly loving that day, completely smitten with Lou and beamed every time someone on the ship recognized him. She was so happy he was hers, she said.
And what choice did he have but to believe it?
