She starts with the title track, but just before it begins, she turns to Octavia, thrusting the mic in her direction. “You should sing it first—gorgeous monster, right?” She purses her lips. “Once I’ve heard you in person, I’m sure I’ll have a better idea of how to sing it.”
“Sure.” Octavia takes the mic.
Bea restarts the music, since we blew past her opening. “Alright, prepare yourself.”
But nothing can really prepare someone to hear Octavia’s voice. She hasn’t warmed up. She hasn’t prepared, and it doesn’t even matter. It really is opera quality, but richer, warmer, and brighter than what I’m accustomed to thinking of opera as being. The word shrill couldn’t ever be used to describe her.
It’s also clear that Bea wrote this song just for her. When she reaches the transition, my heart flip-flops inside my body. I should be watching Patty to see whether we’re getting through to her, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Octavia.
The world is full of beauty.
The world is full of peace.
The world is full of light and joy,
that almost never cease.
You made me lots of promises.
You made them all come true.
I can hardly imagine living in,
a world devoid of you.
The song has changed, slightly, some of it through the work they’ve done together, and some for the movie, but the impact hasn’t lessened at all. When, at the end, the focus shifts and moves to the listener, to their culpability in the ugly parts of the world we all share, I finally force myself to look at Patty.
She’s glaring, her expression flat.
I shouldn’t have hoped that someone as emotionally tone-deaf as her could possibly understand why she can’t take these songs specifically from Octavia. But when she snatches the mic from Octavia, and begins to sing the same song. . .
It’s blue eye shadow on a baby. It’s a bloodstain on white marble. It’s an actor wearing athletic gear on the red carpet.
It’s just wrong.
Every single person can hear it.
Except Patty, the person who could repair this mess with one text.
The sad part is that her voice isn’t bad. She might actually break out with something like this. I’m sure that’s all she cares about. It’s a stunning song—a stunning list of songs—and someone greedy and self-centered like Patty might willfully refuse to see how she’s all wrong for it.
But every single person in the band knows it.
In her heart, Patty must feel it, too. If she has a heart.
I realize, though, that it’s not going to matter. And all my hopes of getting a video of her sounding like a wounded bird are gone. Precious Patty has clearly had years of voice lessons—she sounds like everyone else on the radio.
Which is probably what the studio wants.
It also means we’re totally screwed.
That’s why I do something stupid after I get back home to my apartment that night, something I probably shouldn’t do. I post on social media account about the change.
On set today—studio made a big mistake, replacing Octavia Rothschild with my talented co-star, Patrice Jouveau. She has a nice voice, but it’s not right for the music for this movie. I hope the studio will reconsider. Once you all hear Octavia, I’m sure you’ll agree.
I tag the movie’s social media account, and I link it to the YouTube clips of Octavia’s contest performance with Bea.
In my entire career, I’ve never spoken out against a studio decision, even when they made terrible ones. I’m smart enough not to bite the hand that puts dollar bills in my savings account, and I’m savvy enough to handle any disagreements in other, more constructive ways.