Previously in Ikaika's life: Malia. No one mentioned Malia's name last episode, so it's important to remind us -- lest we forget -- that if Ikaika had to choose between O-Town and orgasm, he'd pick the latter in a heartbeat. Previously with everyone else: Jacob vehemently disagreed with Ikaika's assertion that they always try their hardest in rehearsals. "The performance that really matters is Friday," Ashley shared. "It's bigger and there will be record executives there." up, a reminder that Erik spaced out and missed his harmony during the final practice. Jacob yelled at everyone because, in life, they're more flawed than he. "We're the reason you look bad, that's the reason you're thinking in your head," Ashley told him ineloquently -- but the fact that someone finally said it outweighs this verbal fumble. Jacob mouthed off about the extra pressure making things harder.
It's early in the morning and at the O-zone, Ikaika's tucked tightly into his makeshift bed under the table. He's talking to Malia on the red Bat Phone. "I'm at the point where I'm actually starting to like being here," Ikaika tells her. "That's cool. I'm having fun now." Malia sputters something that we can't hear, to which Ikaika replies, "I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm gonna see my babe." With all the syrup in Ikaika's voice, I could flavor a hundred cases of Coke and have enough left for my morning pancakes. Jacob interrupts to tell Ikaika they have to warm up in twenty minutes. We see Ikaika's underwear band poking out from under his pajama pants. Jockey: The only cotton briefs for the wishy-washy, obsessive tenor in your life.
In the kitchen, Trevor, Ikaika and Jacob croon "All For Love" to stretch and warm up their vocal cords. "The morning of the House of Blues concert was cool because there was excitement in the air," Ashley says, his eyes glowing in the confessional. "I felt it, and I felt it from the rest of the guys practicing in the living room." Cut to that room, where all five sing a cappella. They're not as bad as I expected, but then again, they're also standing still. Motion appears to be the irritant that throws them off kilter in concert. Damn you, kinetics! Damn youuuuu! Jacob cuts in to tell us why we should care about the upcoming show -- there will be record executives in the audience. "This is a huge business move," he notes. "We're trying to get signed with a distributor, so we have to be as good as possible." Meanwhile, the guys continue to sing in the living room. A monkey swings by, moving from branch to branch of the lush and rather excessive foliage that decorates the house. Lou briefly contemplates trading Trevor for the ape, but decides against it because the beast lacks Trevor's well-defined arm and shoulder muscles.
We're treated to a free concert from the Man Van Band. Trevor actually sounds quite good. As the guys walk into the House of Blues, we see they're accompanied by Trev's pal Amy and Jacob's friend Razaana, the mostly ignored sister of Thania, both of whom we met before the New Year's Eve disaster. Smart Thania stayed home, I guess, perhaps to avoid Jacob's pawing and staring and general stalker-like tendencies. Razaana's cuter than Thania anyway, and her name doesn't sound like a style of underwear, so that's two reasons I'm rooting for her to score -- with one of the other four, naturally. Ashley's walking arm-in-arm with Shelli, so that answers those burning queries about their status as a couple. Above a door, there's a sign that says, "Artist's Entrance," but logically we don't actually see the O-Town guys walk in that way. Bunim-Murray's crack team of editors cuts away to a weird, yellow-hued screen that shows several angles of the guys sitting at their microphones. It looks like a frustrated producer urinated all over the footage. Each guy gets a quick lesson on finding the spotlight that'll be trained on him during the concert. Ikaika finds his light, then reaches up to the collar of his shirt. "Why is it that we do lights, then you gotta get naked?" Raymond jokes. I assume he's referring to some insider gag, but it flops -- apparently, lovable Raymond crafts better dances than quips. Wait, no he doesn't.
Performance time nears. "The fact that makeup and hair came…I was like, 'This feels like a real performance,'" Trevor says in confessional. Okay, I know it's only the Orlando House of Blues and not the Chicago version, but it still looks pretty damn real to me. Maybe Trev defines "real" as a show where people actually paid to get in, rather than got paid. We see primping. Ikaika's acting like he doesn't enjoy getting lip gloss applied laboriously to his lips. As Erik gets his hair tweaked by stylists, his pained face looks like someone took a dump in the pomade. Maybe that's guilt, not discomfort. Trevor stares at himself in a mirror. "I look like a girl!" he exclaims. Trevor's expression is so funny -- half horrified, half aroused, as though he just figured out what the thing in his pants really does. Ashley is talking to Shelli, telling her he'll definitely be nervous but that he'll turn it into positive energy once onstage. "You totally changed after this morning," Shelli says shrilly. "You kinda took charge." Ash says he's feeling great and is ready to work. Staring in the mirror, he says to himself, "You can do it." Good thing Ashley knew better than to try the "You're good enough, smart enough" affirmation, because that's aiming a bit high.
In the lounge, Raymond instructs them not to break face and celebrate until both songs are done. Erik giggles, possibly because he caught a glimpse of the jaunty flipped brim on his black boater's hat. Thankfully, he won't be dressing himself much longer. "Are there people out there now?" Ikaika asks hopefully. Raymond shakes his head, and we see a shot of the line outside, doctored with a mirrored effect so it looks like a larger crowd. Erik starts talking about the speed at which everything transpired, from the sound check to the costuming to the big entrance. "Six minutes," someone shouts. A stylist gives Ikaika's hair a vigorous scrunch. Ranger Marc frets about "clearing the stage" because he's bored of being the superfluous staffer. TyJuan and Raymond dispense last-chance bits of advice. "Watch for cross-choreography," he says, warning the guys that if they bump into each other during the moments they're supposed to just pass each other closely, it will look bad. Before my eyes, TyJuan descends into "duh" territory. Raymond cautions the guys against getting goofy with their towels, which will be near the stools onstage if they need to wipe away sweat. "I don't want to see [the towels] anywhere," he shouts. TyJuan stammers a second remark about watching each other's positions. "Once you're up, stay up!" Raymond yells. Ashley has a déjà vu about that one time with Shelli in the back row of the multiplex. Almost an afterthought, Raymond says, "What would Mark Goff say?" Pause. The guys exchange confused looks. Raymond groans. "Mini-Lou," he reminds them, kindling a spark of recognition in Ashley. "Breathe!" Ash says, and Raymond nods. Why isn't Mini-Lou there? I doubt his raging social life kept him from the House of Booze that night. Perhaps he's working overtime with the talent void named Cori -- heaven knows she needs the coaching, but on the flip side, heaven also knows Jabba Jr. will need the whiskey.
Because it went so well when Van-Man met the Man Van Band, brilliant Lou brings another record exec to the boys before they go onstage. Evidently, Lou's problems with density exist on both mental and physical levels. B/M thoughtfully blurs the face of said record exec, who, if identified, would be laughed out of the industry and straight into the McDonald's management track. "To get in front of a record distributor and show him my talent, have him look at me and the group and say, 'You guys are not ready yet'…I would be devastated," Erik says with all the feeling of a dental patient overdosing on numbing Novocain. Lou says goodbyes and can't resist the chance to squeeze his kiddies one last time. The guys mill around aimlessly. In front of a mirror, Ikaika rehearses his speech: "I'd like to take a moment to say we're happy to be here today for this, uh…" He stops short of saying "crapapalooza" and just stares at himself blankly. Erik hits the confessional. "I'm skeptical that we'll not do as well as people think, yeah," Erik tells us. Okay, who told Erik he could keep using three-syllable words? That sentence was four different sentiments squeezed into one nonsensical string. I think he means he's concerned about shaming Trans Con. Trevor chips in that if they're terrible, no one will take them seriously any more -- not that they ever had anyone's respect to lose.
The starting time is crawling closer, a sensation that's akin to watching a mosquito flirt with your bare arm. The guys stand together backstage. "We know when we do well -- when we have fun," Ashley says. "So everyone have fun, that's an order!" Jacob lamely echoes "that's an order" just a beat too late, looking miffed that someone not only stole his thunder but swallowed it for good measure. Erik talks about positive energy. Ray calls, "Break a leg, guys!" as they race downstairs and wait in the wings. "You definitely get that feeling in the pit of your stomach," Ashley says. "It's a cross between butterflies and being, like, anxious." Yes, in the same way that a "human" is a cross between a human and another human. Trevor giggles as he recalls the intro: "Let's hear it for these new guys!" Ha. Even the announcer didn't bother to learn the band's name. The audience screams and cheers, and the guys trot out to meet their doom.
Commercial. Glorious freedom.
The show is shot on film, so it looks flashier. I feel like I'm watching a "Behind the Music" special, and any second now they'll cut to ominous pictures showing Ashley's fixation with blush and women's lingerie, and Ikaika's perilous penchant for smoking pineapple fronds. The guys walk out in their silly clothes and look a misfit gang borne of a T-Bird's wild drunk fling with Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott. As they sing, Trevor works the crowd by yelling at people to put their hands in the air and wave 'em like they just don't care. Trouble is, they really don't care, so no one listens. In the "friends and family" box, tucked away up in the rafters, Shelli smiles proudly at the dancing blotch she assumes is Ashley. Trevor starts the song and sounds pretty bad, as does Ashley, who seems too out of breath to sing strongly. Cue Erik, who actually sounds pretty good -- way better even than Jacob, who misses a harmony badly and proceeds to botch some choreography as well. But of course, it wasn't that he was wrong -- it was that the other four erred in synch with one another. Trev gets down and dirty in front of the screaming front-row hussies, wiggling his knees and coming dangerously close to the Charleston. And now, my favorite moment -- Jacob's prolonged, botched high note, which he holds as the music stops and the crowd goes wild. He sounds awful -- very strained and off-key, and my friend, that's not what Justin Timberlake would do. The other guys join the musical mess and dance up close to the crowd. From a back view, it's obvious Jacob's pants are drooping dangerously. Either they're two sizes too large, or he'll soon be endorsing "Oops, I Crapped My Pants" to make extra cash when the album flops. More crowd shots. Shouting. Singing. Screaming. Sweating. Salivating. Stupidity.
"Wazzzaap, House of Blues?" shouts Trevor. B/M switches back to Cheap TV Filming Mode. Everyone cheers. Trevor announces that it's time to "slow it up" a bit, dumbfounding physicists everywhere. "This one is for all you ladies out there," Trevor intones. The three men in attendance get up and leave.
Back to Expensive Filming Mode. The "Baby, I Would" intro starts up and the guys break out the patented right-left-shoulder-shrug, look left, and rock the microphone stands. This is apparently all it takes to get into a fan's pants, as the ladies scream even harder. Jacob leads and sounds average -- stunningly average considering how talented he thinks he is. Erik chimes in at just the right time for his harmony, upstages Jacob and then yields to Ashley. "Would I give up all I have to see you smile," Ash sings. "Would I walk through hell and not think twice?" Cut to Shelli, who makes an oh-that's-my-baby gesture and wipes her weeping eyes. All five jump in for the chorus, which sounds terrible. If Diane Warren hasn't already quit penning songs and holed up in a cave somewhere, then she's definitely starting to pack her bags. Erik wipes his face and breaks into a solo. Damn! He sounds nice, but of course I use the word in a strictly comparative sense. Against Raymond's wishes, and the wishes of every audience member, Erik tosses his sweat-laced towel into the crowd. Ikaika gets the two lines for himself, and he sounds nifty, too. For all Jacob's posturing, he suddenly looks like the weak link. Maybe if he'd started his solo career a little earlier, like age three, he'd have performed a bit better today. I hope he can live with that regret. Up in the stands, Razaana cries. Ikaika hits all his high notes and earns raucous appreciation from the audience. Jacob hunkers down and sings his heart out, looking like an indigestion victim. Finally -- and I mean that -- the song ends on Ashley's solo, which is fine but still too breathy and soft. Shelli cries anyway. O-Town gathers and waves, thanking the crowd as its female fans reach out and try to fondle some ankle bone.
Shelli greets Trevor with a hug and a kiss. Razaana gushes to Jacob, "Everyone's going to be so proud of you!" Ikaika, in a confessional, offers some really encouraging words. "I don't think we suck any more, but we have a long way to go," he points out. Lovely. Jacob has a story to tell about the women who love him -- apparently, he touched a female fan's hand during the show and she screamed, "Oh my God, I love you!" Jacob laughs at her folly. "It's like, 'Who am I? You don't even know my name,'" he grins. At least there's a grain of humility in there somewhere. Jacob then makes a crack about his pants sagging during the show, but it's probably a blessing that no one explains quite why. Erik lounges in a huge armchair, and Razaana perches on his right knee. She's ribbing him about the towel toss, and we switch to a confessional moment. "I messed around with the towel even after Ray told me not to," he grins cheekily. Erik then insists that he will have a trademark, no matter what anyone says -- he wants a signature move, and throwing the towel will be it. Interesting that he picks one synonymous with quitting. Maybe he should lend his move to Ikaika for a while. To Jacob, Raymond bitches that he doesn't care whether it was a neat feeling or whether the audience reacted well -- chucking the cloth took the focus away from the band as a whole, and in Ray's eyes that was a faux pas. Jacob nods grimly, secure in the knowledge that he's a better person than Erik.
Razaana takes it upon herself to boost Trevor's ego. "The girls, Trevor -- you don't understand," she tells him. "They went nuts!" Trevor shakes his head, blushes ferociously and looks down. "She said 'nuts,'" he thinks. His pal Amy sits on his lap and hugs him, insisting he drove the women wild. Trev plugs his ears and sings "la la la" over and over so he won't hear. Lame as it sounds, it actually endeared him to me a little. Jacob would've just sucked up the praise like a Hoover.
Lou walks into the lounge. "You don't know how proud I am," he said. "People thought I'd been keeping you guys under wraps for a year." A facile liar, that Lou. He hugs everyone. Erik revels in the moment of praise, saying he's thrilled they made Lou look good and earned him respect from his peers. "A lot of people think what he did was crazy," Erik notes. A lot of people still do. Six cranes lower Lou into a confessional chair. "They're troopers. I've been through this a lot and I know about the pressure," his third chin says. "I just can't believe they did it." Blink. Lou tries to muster up water, but some cake crumbs are clogging his tear ducts. The editors save him by cutting over to Ashley. Reminding us that they're a band that's only been together two weeks, Ashley says the hastily put-together program went admirably. "I think it was…" he stops, searching for a word. "Great," he finishes lamely, having first discarded "swell," "outstan-dung" and "crotch-tastic."
Man Van. O-zone. Oh yeah, by the way, "A record company contacted Lou and let him know they were very interested in signing us," Erik tells us in voice-over as the van parks. So we spent all this time sweating this little detail, hinging it all on this last performance, and they just throw away the information in a two-second shot. I'm almost offended for the Man Van -- it's the best character in this show, yet its scenes are essentially trash cans for tidbits B/M can't use to build a controversy. Man Vans have feelings too, you know.
Sitting alone on Bryan Chan's vacated bed, Ikaika strums his guitar. He spews something about "heart of gold pours through my aching soul," and there it is: the picture of emotional turmoil. If he were off studying to be a doctor, the long-distance relationship would be a cinch, Ikaika says, because he'd at least be doing something for which he'd worked his whole life. "I haven't worked my whole life for this," Ikaika says. "It just happened because I can sing, or whatever." He stammers that doing this is great, but he hates not knowing when the end will come. His lawyer calls. "Did you read the contract?" the man asks, exasperated. I would ask where Malia's supportive hand is in all this, but of course we all know she's using both hands to tug on Ikaika's leash.
Jacob breaks the mood. "We have like a week break, so I'm planning on taking Erik back to San Diego with me," he says. "Then we'll rendezvous in L.A. to promote the band." Ashley states that his dream world has suddenly become his reality, and he's excited to tackle whatever situations arise. We see cutesy, happy-go-lucky scenes of Ashley packing, Trevor goofing, and Amy and Razaana laughing. With Jay. Hello? What is Jay doing hanging out in Ash and Erik's bedroom -- begging Ashley to take another shower? Ikaika, meanwhile, can't wait to get back to Hawaii. "It's over and I'm coming home," he tells Malia on the telephone.
A promo plays for Hollow Man, which is ironic to me since he's Lou's polar opposite.
We return with shots of what the producers claim is The Underwood Compound. Jacob's family is massive -- there are kids and adults of all ages, and no one bothers to identify any of them. The family prays around the kitchen table, and the ragtag bunch reminds me of Monty Python's musical number "Every Sperm Is Sacred." It would appear Mr. and Mrs. Underwood scored a point or thirty for Catholicism. That, or Jacob's been a lab-rat since long before Lou signed him. Erik loves each and every Underwood. "His house is awesome, his family's awesome. I've had nothing but fun since we've been here," Erik says in voice-over as he grabs food, eats, drinks, and acts merry. In the living room, Jacob and another guy stand and sing "Lean On Me," and a seated Erik tries to add a harmony. It's jam-packed with family members. Someone waves a Jacob 3:13 sign and tries to start a wave. The rest of Jacob's clan looks horribly bored with his vocal display, but they have to sit there because that's why the Underwoods made them. Outside, there's a mammoth pool, and Clan Underwood floats merrily like a sperm-and-egg platter into the womb. Thania and Razaana arrive and get their own subtitle from Bunim-Murray, which is more than anyone else's family gets. Erik is standing pointlessly off to the side, and gets caught trying to dodge outside the camera's view. Jacob stares at Thania in wonder. He cannonballs into the pool, swims to the other side and embraces her, dripping chlorinated goo all over her suede jacket and Prada boots. He cups her face with his wet hands as she smiles and politely squirms. Anyone wonder why she didn't go catch his show?
In Redding, Calif., Ashley visits his old acting school. "Look who's here! It's our star," coos the woman in charge, who the producers don't bother naming. Woman says it's fantastic to have Ashley home again, and ushers him into a room with an "anxiously waiting" group. Ashley enters and comes face to face with a sparsely populated room full of mediocrity. "What do you think of the new place?" he asks awkwardly. "Have I met all of you?" This is not a room of talented actors. They can't even feign remote interest. I think one girl is actually knuckle-deep inside her nostril. We see a cake that reads "Congratulations Ashley," and kids are milling around suddenly. This looks like a day care, not an acting school. Woman says she's naming the new theater Angelica, after Ashley's surname. "This is the biggest dream, it makes it all worthwhile," Woman says. "It's all about making someone's dream come true who has worked very hard." Bingo! You helped your star acting pupil make his way in life…as a singer. Way to go. Woman hangs a framed mug of Ashley to a similar shot of Richard Gere, who I bet had nothing to do with this school but whose photo Woman keeps to pretend she can take people to the big time. Ashley waves goodbye and climbs into his sports car with Shelli.
In Fullerton, Trevor is bowling with his best friend Brooke, a high-school classmate. "He's my soul mate, everyone thinks we'll get married," she says to the camera. "But we're best friends. Right now, things are a little awkward." Trevor admits he likes Brooke and wants to take things to the level, but that she doesn't want to at the moment. They hug and kiss quickly on the lips, more of a goodbye than anything affectionate. Trev clings tightly, but Brooke disentangles herself and drives away with a honk of the horn. Trevor wanders back inside sadly and says it's taken him these few days to realize Brooke doesn't want a relationship, and he needs it not to affect their friendship. "It's time to realize it ain't gonna happen," Trev says sadly as he sorts through mementos, including a prom photo. He stares gloomily at his bed. "It's just you and me now, pillow," he grieves.
At Shelli's house, Ashley is giving thanks at dinner. His biggest relief? That he got to come to Redding "and spend some time with the family." Not his own family, mind you -- Shelli's family. Ronald, hater of boy-bands and the music industry, hasn't time to see his stepson. He's too busy shooting photos of Ashley off the top of the TV set. "There's gay in that there boy," he shouts. Back with Shelli's family, her father offers Ashley first dibs at the food. "The big rib's for you," he says, winking, as though it's Shelli's dowry and this is some weird mating ritual. I wonder what it symbolizes if Ash slathers the rib with barbecue sauce. Ashley stammers that he's thrilled because he hasn't had home cooking since he left Orlando. "You haven't had any home cooking" in Orlando, Shelli grins. "What is he talking about?" Ashley chuckles and gnaws on a very dry-looking piece of rib meat. In voice-over, he says he's noticed that he and Shelli have grown apart and it's tough not to share little rituals, like meals, on a daily basis. They walk into Shelli's father's barn, which is full of small ponies. "These aren't strong enough to ride, are they?" Ashley asks. "No, but I have a bucking bronco in your size," the father says, grinning and nudging Shelli. Okay, he didn't, but he meant to. Instead, the producers interview her parents and play the marriage card. "I think they will [marry] if they can learn to trust each other through all this that they're going to be going through," Shelli's mom says, adding that she thinks they genuinely love each other. "Kids are growing up," Shelli's dad says. "I hate it," her mom replies. "Me too," he mutters, bummed that his cooking didn't buy him a son-in-law.
At the Penick house near L.A., Trevor's family watches a tape of one of the performances. Giggling, his relatives ask him to dance, but he's too embarrassed to do it. "He drives me crazy," whines Mrs. Penick. "He floats in and out of town, he's here ten days and I saw him two." I can only assume he visited college buddies in Fullerton. Trev argues the specifics with his bitter mother as his sister boogies to "All For Love." Mr. Penick laughs loudly and smiles. Cut to a shot of his crotch, showing us where the magic of Trevor began. The camera lingers there longer than on his face, as if looking for another kind of family resemblance. I shriek. Suddenly, it's the end of Trevor's stay -- a baby nephew is waving goodbye to Uncle Trevor as Mrs. Penick blows her nose and weepily waves at her departing son. "As long as he's happy with what he's doing, and he is in my opinion, then I hope this is successful," Trev's dad says. Are you listening, Ronald Angel? These are the sounds of Parental Support.
In the airport, Ashley and Shelli wheel a luggage cart toward the escalator. He tells us there's huge photo shoots and promotional appearances to do in the L.A. area. The cart has approximately ten pieces of luggage piled atop it. The kitchen sink is actually poking out of one suitcase. Ranger Marc descends the escalator wearing a "ta-da!" expression. "Perfect timing!" Ashley exclaims as Marc hugs and kisses Shelli, then embraces Ashley. "Holy smokes!" Ashley says, still completely amazed at the shocking coincidence of Marc and Lou arriving at a pre-planned time and place. Wow, indeed. "I have never been here, and it's so exciting," Shelli enthuses. Apparently she's still on this ride.
Marc shares that everyone else in the band is in L.A. already -- except for Ikaika. "Ikaika should be on his way here tomorrow," Lou interjects. Marc just smiles. "He's scheduled to be here tomorrow, that's all," he assures Ashley, who's starting to wig out a bit from all this cagey dialogue. Marc's cell phone rings, and he tells the person -- someone called Kim -- that they've not seen Ikaika just yet. "Put me on a plane to Hawaii. I'll drag him out," Marc says cheerfully. "You know he's with the girlfriend." Ashley looks more and more lost, and it's more and more obvious that Marc and Lou staged this plot exposition so we could get some drama onscreen. "He's M.I.A., he's just M.I.A.," Marc grins at Ashley. "We don't know if he's definitely coming or not." Because you can't spell "Malia" without M.I.A.
In Hawaii, we see an exterior shot of Ikaika's white clapboard apartment. The phone rings. "Please leave a message. Thanks," we hear. Beep. Silence. Fade to black.
week, one of the band members drops a bombshell in L.A. Hint: It's Ikaika.