Lip Sync

Written by: Charlene Grant

The strobe light pulsed, casting Jane’s face in intermittent flashes of red and blue. She gripped the microphone stand, squinting against the glare as she belted out the final notes of her set. The smattering of applause from the half-filled bar suggested the performance was merely passable. Jane sighed and nodded curtly at the audience before stepping off stage.

“You were pitchy on the high notes,” said the manager, not looking up from his clipboard. “And your breaths are too loud between phrases.”

Jane suppressed a scowl as she headed to the back office to collect her pay. This gig was paying the bills, but it wasn’t getting her any closer to her dream of stardom. At 35, she knew the clock was ticking if she wanted to make it big.

As she peeled the stage makeup off her face, Jane thought of Jasper, the hunky firefighter she’d been crushing on for months. He always came to her shows, flashing that dimpled smile that made her weak in the knees. If only she could impress him with her voice. Prove she had real talent.

On the subway ride home, Jane called her best friend Miriam. “How’d it go tonight?” Miriam asked.

“Meh. Same old story. I’m missing…something. That spark, that magic. My ‘feminine’ voice, or whatever.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever find it.”

“You will,” said Miriam. “Your time’s coming, I just know it.”

Jane smiled. Miriam always had her back.

As she exited the train, Jane passed a poster promoting auditions for the hit show “The Voice.” Could this be her big break? The thought of singing for superstar judges made her equal parts thrilled and nauseated.

The audition was just two months away. That didn’t leave much time to take her performance to the next level. As Jane drifted off to sleep that night, she vowed to do whatever it took to find her voice.

Early morning sunlight filtered through the station house windows as Jasper gulped down a cup of coffee. The morning crew was suiting up for a routine training exercise when the door flung open.

“Emergency call! Building fire at the corner of Main and 12th!” shouted the captain. “Let’s move!”

Jasper scrambled onto the truck, his pulse quickening as it always did before a call. As they raced down Main with sirens blaring, he wondered if Jane would be at the community theater later for her vocal coaching session. Hearing her sing always relaxed him after a long day on the job. There was something about her voice he couldn’t get enough of, even if she didn’t have the confidence yet to take it to the next level. He believed in her, and he knew her star potential was in there somewhere. She just had to find it.

When they arrived at the scene, flames engulfed half of a small apartment building. Jasper charged toward the front entrance, axe in hand. As he breached the doorway, a blast of scorching air hit his face. “Fire department! Call out!” he shouted, squinting through the thick smoke. A faint cry came from his left — someone was trapped. He charged down the hall, following the sounds of coughing.

Suddenly, a groan and crack sounded from above. Before he could react, the ceiling collapsed, beams and sheetrock crashing down on Jasper’s helmet and knocking him off his feet. Debris pinned his leg as a sharp pain shot through his ankle. He was trapped.

Jasper’s radio crackled to life. “Jasper! Report!” shouted the captain. He glanced desperately around the rubble, but his radio had been crushed. He tried to call out, but his throat was choked with smoke. Coughs wracked his chest as the roar of the flames grew louder. The last thing he saw was a wall of orange before everything went black.

Jane hurried down the hospital corridor, her heels clacking on the polished floor. She asked for Jasper’s room at the nurses station, and a sympathetic aide directed her to the burn unit. Peering through the small window in the door, she saw Jasper lying unconscious, his leg and torso swathed in bandages.

Jane’s heart twisted. She knew Jasper loved being a firefighter, but she worried constantly about him getting hurt. Though he’d only been out for two days, the doctors said he’d make a full recovery. She longed to see those dimples again.

Jane spent the next hour sitting vigil at Jasper’s bedside, holding his hand and talking to him softly about nothing in particular — the weather, her vocal lessons, her favorite desserts. His eyes finally fluttered open around dinner time.

“Janie…you’re here,” he whispered.

“Of course I am,” she said, relief washing over her. “I’ll always be here.” She squeezed his hand gently.

Over the next few days, Jane visited whenever she could between her jobs and rehearsals. Jasper’s leg was healing well, and his trademark humor was returning bit by bit. During one visit, talk turned to Jane’s upcoming audition.

“It’s gonna be amazing. You’re gonna blow them away,” said Jasper. His smile lifted her spirits, but she still had doubts.

“I hope so. But I feel like something’s missing, you know? That ‘x factor’ all great singers have.”

“You’ll find it. I believe in you.” Jane blushed, her heart skipping.

After a week, Jasper was discharged to continue recovery at home. Jane volunteered to help him during the day — cooking, cleaning, keeping him company. She enjoyed taking care of him, laughing together as she washed his unruly hair in the kitchen sink or rubbed arnica gel on his scars. Their bond deepened, and Jane felt herself falling hard.

Finally, just three weeks before her audition, Jasper’s cast came off. They decided to celebrate with dinner at Jane’s apartment. She spent all afternoon preparing Jasper’s favorites — seared scallops, roasted brussels sprouts, and chocolate soufflé.

As the soufflés baked, Jane opened a bottle of champagne. Full of giggles, they relocated to the living room sofa, sipping bubbly and listening to Billie Holiday classics. When “Someone to Watch Over Me” came on, Jasper extended his hand. “Care to dance, my lady?”

Jane grinned and let him draw her close. They slow danced in their socks, her head resting on his chest. This felt so right. Jane was almost ready to confess her feelings when -

CRASH! The champagne bottle slipped off the table, shattering on the wood floor. “Shoot!” Jane cried, jumping back from the flying glass. She slipped in a puddle of wine and tumbled backwards, arms flailing. The back of her head smacked the edge of the granite kitchen island with a sickening crack before she crumpled to the floor.

“Jane! Oh my god…” Jasper knelt next to her, cradling her head. A goose egg was already forming, blood trickling down her neck. Jane’s eyes wouldn’t focus.

Jasper grabbed a dish towel to stem the bleeding. “Hold on, I’m calling an ambulance!” Jane could only moan in response, her vision going spotty before everything faded to black.

Jane slowly awoke to a beeping monitor and sterile hospital smells. Her head pounded, her thoughts fuzzy. As things came into focus, she saw Jasper slumped in a chair next to the bed, his eyes closed.

“Jasper…” she whispered. He jolted awake.

“Jane! You’re up. Thank god.” He grasped her hand. “I was so worried. How do you feel?”

She gingerly touched the bandages swathing her head. “My head’s pounding. What happened?”

Jasper explained her fall and concussion. The doctors said she was lucky — no permanent damage, though she had a nasty cut that took 12 stitches.

“Does your throat feel okay? Can you try speaking?” Jasper asked gently.

Jane opened her mouth but only a strangled rasp came out. Her eyes widened in alarm.

“Take it easy. The doc said your vocal cords are very swollen, but it should improve soon. Just have to rest your voice for now.”

Jane’s heart dropped into her stomach. No voice? The audition was 19 days away! She motioned frantically for something to write with, then scrawled on a pad:

But The Voice! Need to practice!

Jasper gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Let’s just focus on you feeling better. We’ll figure the rest out.”

Jane spent the next week on vocal rest. She communicated with Jasper and the nurses via text and scribbled notes. The doctors examined her throat and confirmed the swelling was going down, though her voice remained hoarse and breathy. After a week, she was discharged home with instructions to avoid strenuous vocal effort.

The audition date loomed. Jane grew despondent, convinced her dream was dead. Even if her voice improved slightly, she’d never be ready to compete with the best singers around.

Desperate, she scoured the internet for potential cures. Nothing looked promising until she stumbled upon Madam Root, a supposed mystic with unconventional healing methods. Jane knew it seemed far-fetched, but she was out of options. She messaged Miriam asking if they could visit Madam Root together. Miriam reluctantly agreed — she thought it seemed shady, but she’d do anything for her best friend.

They arrived at a nondescript storefront in a rundown part of town. A weathered sign read “Madam Root’s Tinctures, Tonics and Elixirs.” Miriam raised an eyebrow. “You sure about this?”

Jane shrugged and pushed open the creaky wooden door. Incense and candle smoke assaulted their noses. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling, and jars of murky liquid lined the shelves. At the back of the dim space sat an ancient woman in colorful robes.

“Welcome, my dears,” she rumbled in a thick Slavic accent. “What ails you today?”

In a torn-up rasp, Jane explained her predicament. Madam Root nodded sagely. “A singer without her voice. Most troubling indeed. But I have just the remedy.”

She shuffled to a shelf and retrieved a small vial of opalescent green liquid. “My Vox Vitalis potion never fails to return the voice to full power. Drink one teaspoon nightly until your voice regenerates.”

Jane eyed the potion warily. What was actually in this stuff? But she was desperate. She paid cash, and they hurried from the strange shop.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Miriam said as they parted ways. Jane shrugged uncertainly. Once home, she downed a teaspoon, grimacing at the bitter taste. That night, she dreamed of dazzling the “Voice” judges with soaring high notes.

The next evening, Jane prepared to take the second dose. As she stood in the shower belting out Beyonce’s “Halo,” the water spraying through the shower head gave her an idea. She tilted the metal head toward her crotch and sang into the stream, curious if the vibrations might massage her damaged vocal cords.

She warbled a few notes, then froze. That wasn’t the weak rasp of recent weeks. It was strong, clear, and strangely resonant. The rich tone seemed to emanate from between her legs.

Jane’s jaw dropped. How was this possible? She experimented moving the shower head around, singing all the while. The source of the beautiful voice was unmistakable — her vagina.

Stunned, she shut off the water and toweled off, heart pounding. Maybe she was hallucinating? But no, a few experimental hums confirmed it: the full, sublime voice was projecting from her privates. Jane didn’t understand how, but she knew one thing: this was the break she’d been waiting for.

She had to tell Miriam right away. Her friend answered the FaceTime call with raised eyebrows. “Please tell me you’re not still taking that weird potion.”

“Just listen to this,” Jane said. She positioned her phone near her crotch and launched into the Whitney Houston classic “I Have Nothing.”

Miriam’s eyes bulged, then filled with tears. “Oh my god…it’s beautiful. But how?”

Jane just shook her head in wonderment. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. This is my shot, Miriam. Will you help me?”

After making Miriam promise secrecy, Jane spent every waking minute perfecting her new talent. She choreographed graceful movements to disguise its origins. Miriam helped her fashion elegant long skirts and place microphones just so in the lining.

The fated audition day came. Jane stood nervously backstage, palms slick, as she listened to other contestants perform. Some sounded decent, but no one had wowed the judges so far. Then her name was called. She glided out in a flowing purple gown. The familiar faces of the celebrity judges stared expectantly.

Jane nodded to the pianist. As the music swelled, she began swaying and singing. Her vaginal voice soared through Mariah Carey’s “Vision of Love” with perfect pitch and tone. She built to the challenging high notes, nailing each one. As the song climaxed, she dropped dramatically to her knees, belting with raw power and passion.

The final note rang out. Silence fell, then…the judges erupted. They were on their feet, applauding and shouting.

“That was exceptional!” gushed one judge.

“You’re everything we’ve been waiting for!” cried another. “I’m obsessed!”

Jane grinned, scarcely believing it. Could this really be happening?

The next weeks were a whirlwind. Beyond landing a spot on the show, Jane’s social media following exploded. When footage of her audition went viral, the view count broke records. “Voice” fans clamored to know about this mysterious newcomer with the angelic voice.

Despite the din of sudden fame, Jane tried to keep life normal. She attended every show Jasper performed with his firefighter band, gushing afterward about how talented he was on guitar. But it was getting harder for them to spend real time together with her schedule.

“I feel like I barely see you anymore,” Jasper remarked one night after a show, hurt in his eyes.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” said Jane guiltily. “This has all been pretty crazy. Please be patient with me.”

Jasper just nodded, looking unsatisfied. Jane agonized over drifting apart, but she couldn’t walk away from this opportunity. She just had to help him understand.

Miriam grew resentful about still working dead-end jobs while Jane lived the high life. When Jane invited her as a VIP guest to a televised performance, Miriam’s terse reply stung.

“Sorry, I have to work. Some of us don’t have glamorous singing careers.”

Jane knew success was changing the dynamics. But she trusted their bond would hold. She needed Miriam now more than ever to keep her secret.

Jane’s televised performances electrified audiences, who couldn’t get enough of her show-stopping vocals and mysterious allure. But the grueling schedule wore on her. She was exhausted physically and emotionally from the constant subterfuge. She leaned on Madam Root’s potions to get through, unable to stop as long as they fueled her career.

The finale show arrived. Jane took the stage flushed with adrenaline, thrilled to be in the final three. As she belted the climactic high note, it happened. Her microphone screeched with feedback — then went dead. The music stopped abruptly.

Jane glanced around in horror as confused murmurs rippled through the audience. Then came shouts demanding she sing for real. On the screens overhead, cameramen had zoomed in tight between her legs.

Jane froze like a deer in headlights. This was a nightmare. The judges wore identical expressions of shock and disbelief.

The crowd’s bewilderment morphed into ridicule, then outrage at being duped. They booed and catcalled. “Lip syncer!” someone yelled. Mortified, Jane fled backstage, Jasper chasing after. When he grabbed her arm demanding an explanation, she wrenched away.

“Just leave me alone!” she screamed, mascara running down her cheeks. She had to escape this humiliation.

Jane hid from the world over the next weeks. She refused Jasper’s calls and texts. A few times, Miriam tried to check on her, but Jane ignored her too. She only left bed to rewatch video of her disgrace and sob into tubs of ice cream.

When Jane resurfaced, the press gleefully chronicled her downfall. They drew endless comparisons to the infamous lip syncing scandal of Milli Vanilli. Late night hosts mocked her cruelly in monologues.

This public repudiation was Jane’s rock bottom. Moping at home hadn’t brought her peace — just festering shame and self-loathing. She couldn’t keep hiding from the mess she’d made in pursuing hollow fame and fortune. It was time to make amends — even if it cost her the career she’d fought so hard for.

Jane spent hours drafting a remorseful Instagram post apologizing for deceiving everyone. She explained how her desperation had clouded her judgment when she should have trusted her true gifts. She asked humbly for a chance to prove herself again, this time with integrity.

Next Jane composed an email to the show producers. She made an unusual request: to perform one last time on the season finale episode. They messaged back quickly. While confused and skeptical of her motives, they recognized the potential ratings boost. Fed up with her drama, they required her to foot the production costs.

It would drain Jane’s savings, but she agreed immediately. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity to redeem herself. She spent the remaining weeks rehearsing ceaselessly. There would be no trickery this time.

When the big night arrived, Jane waited nervously backstage in a simple black dress. When the host called her name, the booing began instantly. She steeled herself and walked out, tears pricking her eyes under the glare of the lights.

The music started, but instead of singing, Jane stepped up to the mic.

“Please, just let me say a few words,” she addressed the hostile crowd. The booing sputtered out.

“I know I don’t deserve your trust. I lied to you all, and for that I’m deeply sorry. When I lost my voice, I felt like I lost everything. I was willing to do whatever it took to cling to my dream of fame.”

She took a shaky breath. “But that was at the cost of my own dignity. None of this means anything without honesty. So tonight, I want to share my real voice with you. I hope you’ll listen.”

Jane nodded to the band. She closed her eyes as the music began, mentally readying herself. When her cue hit, she unleashed her ragged, imperfect voice. Though still weakened from injury, she infused the melody with stirring emotion. This was the voice she’d been born with — not pitch-perfect, but unique in its expression of her essence.

As she sang the final line, Jane opened her eyes tentatively. The crowd was silent and still. Suddenly, a few pockets began clapping, then more joined until thunderous applause filled the theater. They were on their feet, cheering her courage. Jane beamed through her tears.

After the show, Jane turned down interview requests to escape from the spotlight, this time for good. She declined a record deal, unwilling to be ensnared by the industry again. She wanted a simpler life where she could share her music on her own terms.

A few months later, Jane took a deep breath and stepped onto a small stage at her local bar. She spotted Jasper smiling supportively from a front table. The chatter quieted as she leaned into the microphone.

“Hi everyone. I’m Jane. It’s great to be here tonight.” The audience clapped warmly.

As Jane’s unamplified voice filled the cozy venue, she saw heads nodding and toes tapping along. She even noticed a few people dabbing their eyes during an especially poignant ballad.

While Jane still had moments of insecurity about her imperfection, she finally embraced it as part of her story. She knew now that a pristine voice alone could never touch people’s hearts like music that laid her soul bare.

After her set ended, Jane slipped into the chair next to Jasper. His eyes shone.

“That was incredible. So much feeling…” He squeezed her hand. “I’m so proud of you.”

Jane’s heart swelled. With his support, she’d made peace with her voice. And though the crowds were smaller now, this dream — no more lip syncing, just honest music — was the one she’d been waiting for all along. She gave Jasper a soft kiss, no longer hiding her heart. She had finally found her authentic voice.