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.
spirits were palpable. He remarked, “Unless a miracle occurs, we’re
see the others at the auditions? How do we even stand
group’s spirits dampened, Woodrow tried to interject some
stage meant just for us. We can’t lose hope now. Better to try and
looking at him
two can barely face a camera,
“Thinking of winning, are you? On what grounds? Your shrieking voices? Or those clumsy dance steps that
clue about comedy? Keep your ill-informed comments to yourself,” Franklin defended, quickly escalating the exchange into a full-blown argument between him, Woodrow, and
the midst of the heated debate, Brucie’s voice cut through the
What’s the point? We shouldn’t even be here. The
palpable
at the crack of dawn and then vanished. I could’ve spent my time better sleeping. And last night, I looked up her company, this ‘Landon Media,‘ I’ve never heard of it! Probably just some dubious
perch on a nearby couch, a young man named Jim Woden, distinguishable by his weary eyes and single eyelids, had silently observed
a cold stare, he challenged, “You weren’t griping when you secured your positions yesterday. What good does shouting do now? If
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