One of the guys in the group, a blond dude sporting a hip-hop getup but known for his rock vocals during tryouts, was especially antsy.

Having been overlooked by the big-shot agencies, he was under the wing of a lesser-known outfit.

His spirits had taken a hit since the previous night.

Restless, he began to pace, his patience thinning by the second.

“Where on earth is she? Reckon she’s left us high and dry? If she’s given up on us, she could at least have the decency to tell us!” he exclaimed.

Tom Rivas couldn’t contain his exasperation any longer, slumping to the floor in defeat. He grumbled, “Joining her team was a mistake.

Even if I’d been kicked out during the auditions, it would have been better than this public embarrassment. The net’s buzzing with ridicule about us. Why are we even still here?”

Brucie Armstrong, sitting nearby, flexed his muscular arms beneath his sleeveless shirt.

low spirits were palpable. He

others at the auditions? How

spirits dampened, Woodrow tried to

meant just for us. We can’t lose hope now. Better to try and fail than not try at all. Giving

derisive snort, looking at

a camera,

was evident as he continued to mock, “Thinking of winning, are you? On

a clue about comedy? Keep your ill-informed comments to yourself,” Franklin defended, quickly escalating the

of the heated debate, Brucie’s

What’s the point? We shouldn’t even be here. The blame is on whoever

room was palpable as Tom continued venting

dawn and then vanished. I could’ve spent my time better sleeping. And last

nearby couch, a young man named Jim Woden, distinguishable by his weary eyes and single eyelids, had silently observed the escalating dispute. Finally, he

you secured your positions yesterday. What good

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