The iCandidate: Looking for Heroes - 6th Installment
To begin with Installment 1, please click here.
The iCandidate is a unique interactive thriller about a political reality show to choose a potential President of the United States in which the reader has a key say in how the plot unfolds.
In The iCandidate, eight finalists from all walks of life face the kind of challenges they might have to deal with in the Oval Office:
• Will they use the nuclear button?
• What will they do about ISIS?
• How will they cope in a crisis?
At the end of each round the reader gets to cast an iVote to help determine who stays and who goes home. It is democracy in its purest form, free from party loyalties, donor obligations and antiquated electoral practices.
In the novel, serialized weekly on NoteStream, the eventual people’s champion goes on to challenge the political establishment in an iCampaign for the presidency climaxing in an explosive finale in Washington on November 8.
But The iCandidate has even greater aspirations to trigger a revolution in the way America selects the most powerful man or woman on the planet.
Change America one iVote at a time by choosing your iCandidate.
Join the NoteStream Book Club iCandidate: Looking For Heroes – Election 2016 and cast your in-app iVote to save your favorite iCandidates!
Watch out for the release of a second unique contemporary novel - DIVAS by Bill Wagner - this Spring.
"Such a cool idea...go grace!" 5 stars by Savannah
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Chapter 7 - iVote
Kristoff stood by himself in the spotlight, darkness blanked out the contestants. “Okay, America, you’ve met our finalists, and now we invite you to be a part of something sensational.
“We are going to make history one iVote at a time. Viewers at home can cast their votes online at www.TheiCandidate.com or via smartphone with NoteStream. He pointed to the screen behind him and the names of the links flashed up in huge letters.
"More on that later, but here in the studio, you have an important job to do tonight. You can change someone’s life and ultimately change your own as we work together to make our political system a true democracy.”
These were the moments Kristoff lived for. He felt like he was slap bang in the center of the universe. Like a TV god. The rush was intoxicating.
“Tonight, each and every one of you will be equipped with an iVote device to participate in The iCandidate’s landmark poll. The initial votes will be cast right here in the studio, which provide instant results. When we come back after the break, we will have our first challenge,” he paused for effect…” and then the iVoting begins!”
Long Way From Home
Emily Boomstra sat in the audience with her fingers in her ears discreetly trying to drown out the din.
Next to her was a Pakistani student, Nimrah, who was on an exchange program at UCLA. Emily was helping her acclimate to the United States. It couldn’t be more different from her native Lahore, but Nimrah didn’t look phased in the least.
Emily’s company in the Netherlands specialized in East-West cultural exchange visits and had been sent free tickets to a studio taping of The iCandidate.
A reality show to find a president, for goodness sake! Emily hadn’t wanted to go but her boss insisted it was an example of democracy in action that would be very instructive for Nimrah.
“Who came up with this idea? Only in America.
It’s bad enough that they might put Donald Trump in the White House.” Emily was speaking to Nimrah but the young girl couldn’t hear her in the chaos of the studio and was staring transfixed at the stage. She turned and gave Emily the biggest smile.
Emily loved working with young people; it fed her soul, even if they didn’t know what was good for them. She was leaving the next day for the East Coast to see more of her students at Harvard and NYU. Perhaps she could take them to see something real, like Capitol Hill or the White House?
Emily thought back to that day just a few weeks ago when she was told she had to come back to America. She’d vowed never to return after studying in New York as a teenager.
The color had drained from her face in an instant, like she’d seen a ghost.
“Emily, are you okay?
Do you need to sit down?” Her boss in Amsterdam, Josh Peters, had never seen her like this before. He thought she’d be pleased.
“What? No, I’m fine. Excuse me, where did you say you wanted me to go again?”
Emily’s boss had worked at the East-West Education Co-Operative in Amsterdam for more years than he cared to remember, but his favorite day of all was the day Emily had joined the firm ten years earlier.
He was happily married with two kids and was far too in love with his wife to ever make a fool of himself, but he always had a special place in his heart for Emily Boomstra.
It wasn’t hard.
She was gorgeous, and the way she looked at him now, her sparkling blue eyes dulled by a sheen of tears, and her pale skin white under the harsh office light, it was all he could do not to walk around the desk in his office and hug her.
She may be the most accomplished, independent woman he’d ever met, but he still felt overwhelmingly protective towards her.
“The United States,” he repeated. “I want you to check personally on the students we just placed over there.”
“That’s Graham’s territory,” she stammered.
“Look, I know you usually cover Europe and Asia but if you remember, Graham is taking a sabbatical next month and frankly Emily, I don’t trust anyone else to do the job in his place.”
He paused. “It’s supposed to be a good thing.”
Emily stared at him, saying nothing, trying to gather herself. She wiped back a tear.
He carried on. “Look, relations can be extremely delicate between countries like Somalia, Afghanistan and Pakistan and the United States. There’s a lot of suspicion either way. We need for their students to feel wanted and accepted. You see that don’t you?”
Christopher Penler / Shutterstock.com
But all Emily could think about was what happened all those years ago. She’d lost her baby and the man she loved the same day. It wasn’t something you could easily forget. The pain would always be with her, and she had never spoken about it to anyone, not even her parents.
She had vowed back then when she got on the plane two days after her dead son had been taken from her that she would never go back.
And she hadn’t.
She remembered the wrath of her father when she got home to Holland on that rainy Monday.
He never understood why she would want to drop out of school and so suddenly. She couldn’t tell him or her mother. It would have killed them just as it was slowly killing her. She made up something that she couldn’t even remember anymore.
She stopped drinking; she finished her degree in Holland and worked with children, trying to fill the hole in her heart. She had dated, of course, but never seriously. She couldn’t let anyone in after what he had done to her. It was easier to hide in her loneliness.
Her boss was looking expectantly at her.
“Are you telling me that there’s no-one else you can ask in this entire company?”
“I need the best,” he said simply.
And so now here she was, sitting in the front row of the audience on an American reality show, wishing with every ounce of her body that she could get on a plane and back to Holland. At least she was leaving for Boston in the morning. Halfway home should make her feel a little better, but it was a whole lot nearer to New York.
Change Is Coming
She felt the familiar ache in her heart and that same flat dullness spread behind her eyes.
She swallowed and tried to push the memories back down.
Kristoff was back from the break, his face flushed. He took a moment to look around. His eyes rested on a blonde woman looking down at her phone and a young, bright-faced, dark haired girl. Mother and daughter, he wondered?
The blonde glanced up and for a second their eyes locked. She looked so sad, so wistful...he shook his head and focused on the prompt.
“Get ready America, change is coming. We’ll be back after these messages.”
Chapter 8 – Shaking Things Up
Back from commercials, the contestants looked up at an oversized electronic screen with the words BILL-BOARD plastered across the top in flashing lights.
Underneath were listed some of the more bizarre earmarks that had been added to legislation over the years by congressional lawmakers. Kristoff was explaining how the so-called ‘pork barrel’ cash was tacked onto other bills by politicians, who promised their support for the legislation as long as extra money was allocated, in the small print, for specific projects in their districts.
Most of the time, the other senators and representatives voting through the measures didn’t even realize they contained these extras that amount to hundreds of millions of dollars.
The earmarks listed on the board included a $150 million indoor rain forest in Iowa, a $5 million grizzly bear tracking project in Montana, and $13.5 million for a World Toilet Summit in Ireland.
“Is this the way to conduct business in Washington?” Kristoff asked the audience. “Tonight, our iCandidates are going to be given the details of a series of bills passed over the last ten years and decide whether Congress was misled.”
Rich’s eyes had already glassed over. He didn’t have a clue what Kristoff was talking about. When he felt the first jolt, he thought it was members of the audience stomping their feet in appreciation, like they used to do at his games.
Then the stage moved sideways, knocking all of them off their stools, and an earsplitting siren suddenly filled the air.
The contestants looked around, wondering what to do. There were screams coming from the bleachers as the crowd fell over one another to reach the exits.
There was a loud crack as the corner of the stage gantry toppled over, fortunately in an area where no one stood.
Do Not Panic
One side of the floor slipped, making it almost impossible for any of the finalists to keep their footing.
All of them had their hands clapped over their ears trying to keep out the deafening noise. The crew looked just as shocked, and all but the cameramen were panicking and screaming, “Earthquake! Earthquake!”
Todd felt his phone vibrate. He looked down at the text: “Be a hero!”
The alarm stopped and a loud voice boomed over the sirens. “This is security. Please do not panic. Make your way in an orderly fashion to the exits at the back of the studio and my officers will direct you to safety. I repeat, please do not panic. Everything is under control.”
Rich helped Jen and Grace to their feet and led them down to where the public pushed to get out.
Jen cursed, picking up one of her shoes. She looked distraught. “My heels came off. Does anyone have any superglue?”
The others followed behind. “It’s okay girls. This is California. We’re used to earthquakes out here.” Rich tried his best to sound unconcerned. “It’s probably nothing, just a little hiccup.”
As he spoke, another section of the stage where they'd all just been sitting collapsed and several of the larger Klieg lights crashed to the floor. The ground started shaking more violently. Dulce held on to Gillian and started to pray. Rich’s stomach churned. There was no sign of the judges.
Kristoff appeared in front of them, his eyes wild and his white shirt ripped and covered in dirt.
“Over here,” he shouted above the din. “All of you come over here.” He led them away from the seats where the audience scrambled for the doors and towards a dark area backstage. “It’s safe back here. There’s a bunker where we can ride this thing out. It’s just this way, hurry!”
“My daughter! My daughter was in the audience,” Gillian Lawfull cried out. “I can’t leave without my daughter.” She was already running over to where the families had been sitting, but there was no one there.
“Clara! Clara! Where are you?” Gillian screamed hysterically.
“I can’t go without her. I can’t,” she sobbed as Kristoff ran over and tried to steer her back to the others.
“I have her safe,” he told her.” All the family members are safe. I guarantee it.”
“I don’t care. I’m not leaving this room until I know where she is.” Red-faced, Gillian refused to budge. Her mouth set in a firm line, she stared him down.
Kristoff sighed. “Okay, wait up a minute.” He held his walkie-talkie to his mouth, trying his best to be understood in the melee. “Hannah, do you read me? Do you read me? Please bring Clara Lawfull back into Studio B. Use the fire door and be quick. Her mother insists on it. Over.”
“Will do,” came the crackly voice.
Moments later, the frightened face of the 9 year-old tousle-haired girl appeared to the right of the broken stage and ran into the grateful arms of her relieved mother. “You okay, then?” Kristoff asked, impatient to move on.
“Yes,” Gillian replied, her smile back. “Thank you, Andy.”
“Not at all. I’d do the same.”
“Look over there, that woman's hurt,” Grace broke away from the group.
“Come back! I’ll get someone to take care of her. There’s nothing you guys can do. It’s my responsibility to ensure your safety.” Kristoff was still trying to herd them to the exit.
“Maybe now isn’t the time for heroics, sweetheart,” Cameron held back.
Ignoring him, Gillian followed Grace, who turned to shout over her shoulder. “Don’t be so condescending, Cameron. Really, are you always such an ass?”
Cameron put his hands up in mock surrender as the clouds of dust began to clear and the shape of an injured woman emerged. She was propped up against a wall and moaning. Grace was there in a heartbeat.
“Oh, to hell with it,” Cameron ran over to where another sobbing woman lay on the ground clutching her ankle. He swooped her up into a fireman’s carry and ran back to where the others were waiting. “Everybody else looks okay. Let’s go.”
Kristoff shepherded the iCandidates through a door, and the siren immediately receded, but they were running back into a cloud of thick smoke.
“I can’t see a thing!” Todd pushed ahead, calling out orders for the others to help. Firemen emerged from the darkness and more people lay on the ground, groaning. Kristoff had disappeared again.
Jen picked her way through the debris in bare feet, and knelt down by a victim who moaned incoherently, “Someone, help over here.”
Tom was instantly at her side. “We need something to stem the bleeding.” Tom took off his jacket, pulled off his t-shirt and handed it to Jennifer, who tore it into strips. Glancing at Tom, she did a double take. “Put your jacket on, Tom.”
Taking The Lead
“Oh, yes, that would be best,” he replied, hurriedly putting his jacket on and zipping it up over his pink bra and ample, naked stomach.
Gillian stopped a fireman and asked what she could to help. He told her they needed to evacuate the area, as it was still unsafe. Grace raced to her side and they worked together checking people for injuries and comforting them.
Todd ran, stooping from patient to patient, lifting them to clear ground. He checked to see what aid they needed before running back for another. He spoke loudly and purposefully, asserting himself as the leader.
Don’t Leave Me
Dulce wiped her brow, it was hot and dusty; she was incredibly thirsty.
No time to stop, she thought, while tending to another victim. A young blonde woman had fallen in the mayhem and cut her leg. Dulce needed some gauze to stem the bleeding. “I'll be right back. What's your name? Caroline? Don’t worry, Caroline, I’m just going for supplies, I’ll be two minutes.”
She turned the corner and an elderly Hispanic lady reached out and grabbed her by the jacket. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out in Spanish. “I can’t walk and my chest is hurting. I think I’m having a heart attack.” There was nobody else around so Dulce had no choice. She stopped to try and comfort the sobbing woman.
Kristoff was back, angrily extolling all of the iCandidates to follow him and to leave the emergency services to do their job.
“We need to get out of this area,” he shouted. “The whole area is being evacuated in case the buildings collapse. Everyone must GET OUT NOW!”
A fire chief stood with Kristoff, beckoning them all to follow him when Grace stopped. “I can’t see Rich or Tom. They were here a few minutes ago but they’ve gone.” She pushed past a cameraman and started running back in the direction they had just come from, but Todd grabbed her arm. “You can’t go back in there. It’s too dangerous. I’ll go look.”
“No need, we’re fine,” Tom said, emerging out of the shadows.
“Rich and I just got a little lost trying to help some people out, didn’t we, my friend?”
“We did,” Rich looked pale and shaken, quite unlike his usual confident self. “Took a wrong turn.”
“Don’t worry,” Kristoff said. “As long as we're together. I want you to all follow the chief to the bunker. Then we'll regroup and decide what to do next. I’ve got my staff working with the authorities to find out the full extent of the damage, and the number of casualties. Hold on. Where’s Dulce?”
“Is she the Latino lady?”
An injured women looked up from receiving treatment from a paramedic. Kristoff nodded and she added: “She kind of abandoned me. She went off to get some bandages and she never came back.”
They all walked back into the smoke to find Dulce sitting on a folding chair drinking a bottle of water and talking to an old lady in Spanish.
“Let’s go. We’ve already wasted too much time,” Kristoff was impatient to get back and didn’t wait to hear Dulce’s explanation.
They were led through two long corridors at the back of the lot.
The shaking stopped and this area looked remarkably untouched by the events of the past thirty minutes. The fire chief led them down a set of stairs before opening a big double door and telling them to run through to the stage area.
As soon as he pulled open the door, the silence of the dark corridor was replaced by a crescendo of lights and noise. It took several seconds for most of the finalists to register that the noise was applause, and the flashing lights came from The iCandidate stage, which was an exact replica of the one they had all just escaped.
Chapter 9 – Earthquake Damage
Todd was first to recover, sprinting down the aisle, waving and grinning at the crowd.
The others walked in a dazed shambles to the front of the stage, where Kristoff and the three judges were waiting to welcome them.
“Ladies and gentlemen, here they are, Your iCandidate finalists.” Kristoff milked the moment. “We told you, when this show started, that anything could happen. Now do you see what we mean?” He stuck his microphone in Gillian’s face.
“You mean that was all fake?” She couldn’t believe it. “None of those people were really hurt?”
“Actors and stunt people, my dear. A little more dramatic than the BILL-BOARD idea, don’t you think?”
“I was intrigued by the indoor rainforest, actually,” Grace looked disappointed.
“Sorry about that, Grace. But we like to keep you on your toes.” Turning to the audience, Kristoff was in his element again. “Let’s hear it for the cast, and for the wonderful job done by the extras in our audience. Thanks to everybody for going along with our little secret. I almost believed it myself.”
“You know, you terrified my daughter, and scared the life out of all of us.” Gillian quivered from rage or delayed shock, she wasn’t sure. “All that expense to prove what exactly?”
“To see what you’re made of,” interjected Jacqueline.
“Becoming The iCandidate isn’t all about how clever you are, or how well you can spout facts on healthcare and the economy. It’s about what’s in here,” she pointed to her heart.
Rich looked devastated. “You mean, you saw everything? Everybody saw everything?”
“We did, indeed.” Kristoff was loving it. “While you were dealing with the disaster, the audience in here – and all our viewers at home – watched the whole thing courtesy of our hidden cameras. Compelling viewing, I must say. Give them another round of applause, please. I think they deserve it.”
Kristoff pointed out a woman in the audience to Cameron.
“Recognize her do you?” The woman he thought was seriously hurt and carried from the other studio was now standing and waving with a guilty smile.
“But I saw your ankle, it was badly bruised, you couldn’t stand on it.” Cameron was puzzled.
“You’ll have to talk to the makeup department about that, they are very good at fake bruises,” she said.
“Wow. I feel violated.” He winked at the young woman, who giggled.
“Stand up if you received treatment for your fake injuries today from one of our first aid crew” Fifty people slowly stood and waved at their rescuers.
“Dulce, I think Caroline wants a word,” Kristoff said.
“Thanks for forgetting me, Dulce,” said the pouting blonde. “But you don’t have to worry. Look, no blood!” she laughed.
How Did They Do?
“This is so surreal,” Todd pointed out a couple in the fourth row.
“Those two over there were unconscious. I carried them out of the smoke!”
“Thank you for that,” called out the woman. “You have strong arms!”
An elderly lady jumped up. “He carried me too.”
“And it was my pleasure.” Todd was gracious. “I hope all of this didn’t cause you to much stress?”
“I’m just fine. You’re a true gentleman,” the lady beamed.
“How do you think they did?” Kristoff asked Walter. “Would you have handled it differently?”
“They were adequate without proving the kind of leadership qualities I would like to see.
Other than Todd, I’m not sure if we saw enough urgency out there, if you want my honest opinion.
“How about you, Rob? How’d they do in the eye of the storm?”
“They were fantastic, really hard core. Todd’s a rock star, lifting bodies like feather pillows. Well done, man! Jen, Grace, Gillian, even Cameron, you were all totally on it. But I’m not so sure about Rich…or Dulce. You both seemed pretty shaken back there.”
Only Two Left
Kristoff looked squarely into the camera.
“By the time we reach our grand finale this summer, there will be only two iCandidates on the brink of a historic political campaign for the White House.
“They said we’d never get this far, but The iCandidate is already well on the road to D.C. Who’s to say that one of these impressive individuals standing before you won’t become the next President of the United States of America?”
Chapter 10 – The Cutting Room
Back in the editing room, Kristoff sat with Mason and Desmond going through the earthquake footage.
They were trying to decide what to run in the Results Show.
“I think we should definitely lead with this piece.” He clicked a link on the giant computer monitor. At first all you could see was a cloud of smoke, then it slowly cleared to reveal Rich sitting alone on the floor, angrily wiping away his tears. Tom appeared in the frame and tried at first to help the quarterback to his feet, but stopped when it became clear Rich had been crying.
Tom sat down next to him and Rich, his voice raw with emotion, explained how his younger brother had died in the 1994 Northridge earthquake.
How he'd never really come to terms with it. The earthquake challenge had forced him to face the grief he'd buried away.
“What was his name?” Tom asked.
“Joe. We were really close…I still think about him every single day.”
Kristoff paced the floor. “Great TV! The viewers are going to love it: Rich, this big, super-successful jock that women love and men want to hang out with, showing his vulnerability. What do you reckon Mase?”
The Right Message
Mason was in charge of media and publicizing the show, but since it had become a ratings phenomenon, his role became more concerned with controlling the message. “It’ll probably win Rich a bunch of iVotes. At the moment people think he lost his nerve during the quake.”
“But if we show it all, that will give him an unfair advantage and I’m hands down against that,” Desmond butted in.
“This is a TV show Des, not an election debate. It’s entertaining seeing a tough guy cry.” Kristoff looked at Mase, waiting for his agreement. Des was a tech guy and brilliant at what he did, but he needed to let Kristoff do what he was good at.
“I’m okay with it.” Mason had his feet up on the editing desk. “You know best. But what I’m not okay with is you slobbering all over Jen every time you talk to her on air. You don’t want the public to think you’ve got a thing for her.”
Kristoff couldn’t believe his ears.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been the perfect professional.”
“You’re practically raping her with your eyes in front of the entire world.”
“You’re such a jerk, Mase. You’ve been lusting after her ever since she showed up at the New York audition.” Kristoff walked away from the console to stand across from Mason.
Desmond had heard enough. “Will you two just give it a rest? It gets so boring listening to you guys bicker all the time. Nobody should be lusting after any of the contestants. The media will have a field day if they think there’s a conflict of interest. You know she’s married, don’t you?”
That stopped the arguing.
“What do you mean, she’s married?” Mason looked crushed. “She says she’s single. It’s on all her forms.”
“Well she’s not. Simple as that.”
“We should kick her off.” Kristoff was furious. “She can’t lie like that and get away with it. We’re supposed to be choosing the next potential president and we can’t even vet a candidate to see if they’re married.”
Desmond shrugged. “We’ll just have to hope she doesn’t win.”
The other two went quiet.
“Besides, we have a more pressing matter. I don’t think we should use the film of Rich crying.”
“Why?” Kristoff and Mason turned on him now.
Desmond looked up to see the scene playing again on the monitor.
“I think it’s a private moment for Rich. If he’s okay with it then fine. Otherwise we should spike it.”
“But this is a reality show and Rich knows full well what he signed up for.” Kristoff was not happy. “The public eats up this stuff.”
“Andy, this isn’t like all your other reality shows.” Desmond was standing up in the cramped control room. “It’s supposed to stand for something better than that, no offense.”
“Man, you're crazy, it’s the reason we do these shows, for these candid moments! What do you think Mase?”
“As much as I hate agreeing with him, I can’t really see what the problem is, Des.
The guy was genuinely upset and he had good reason to be. Why shouldn’t we show it?”
Right from the outset, the others had agreed Desmond would be the conscience of the show and this was the first time they’d really come to blows over it.
“I don’t believe we should edit to show any of the candidates in a better or worse light. We should just show what happens in front of the cameras. This was obviously a private conversation and Rich had no idea it was being taped.”
“He’s on a reality show!” Kristoff slammed his hand on the desk.
“But it’s a reality show in the truest sense of the word.” Desmond was not backing down. “It has to be fair and it has to be 100% ethical.”
Mason shrugged at Kristoff. “We did say that we’d all have to agree on stuff.”
“So let’s check with Rich,” said Desmond. “And if he doesn’t want to be seen blubbering on national television, we respect his wishes.”
Chapter 11 – iVote
Kristoff was back center stage, all business.
“So, are we READY studio audience? It’s Super Tuesday. Time to show those Dems and Republicans out there how to iVote 2016 style. Are you watching Donald and Marco? Are you watching Hillary and Bernie? You’d better be watching because this is the future.”
The audience roared.
“Let me explain the iVoting system. On your armrest, you will notice a leather flap. Please flip it over. You will see your iVote device embedded in the arm. Press that big release button; you can hold it in your hand, that’s right. It’s like one of those entertainment remotes on an airliner.
Now the screen is asking you to register with your thumbprint.
Place your thumb in the highlighted box in the center of your screen and hold until you hear a beep. That’s all you need to do and you’re in! A new screen will appear. You should see the names of the eight contestants. Click on the names of the three iCandidates who you would like to stay in this competition. A VOTE button will appear to confirm. Hit that and you are done. Ready everyone in the audience?
Kristoff looked straight into the nearest camera lens. "Everyone at home on NoteStream, listen up."
Cast My iVote!
Right below, you’ll see an button labeled “Cast My iVote!”
Click that, and you’ll see a rundown of the eight iCandidates right here on the app. I want you to go ahead and click on your top 3 favorites. A check will show next to your selections.
“Then hit VOTE. It’s that simple.”
(Readers Note: iVoting on this Challenge is now complete! The next iVote is happening now in Installment 9!)
Kristoff walked back to where the eight iCandidates were waiting.
They looked a little uncertain what to do next. He stopped behind them one by one, an old trick he’d used to great effect on his talent shows.
“Who are you going to save, America? Who is your choice as the next President of the United States?”
Kristoff squeezed Todd’s shoulder, hugged Gillian, pausing just a second or two beside each iCandidate before moving on to the next. Watching from the wings, Mason winced as the TV host planted a kiss on Jennifer’s cheek. But he had to give it to Kristoff; the guy knew how to work an audience.
“Get your partner and your kids to download NoteStream.
Your grandparents, friends, aunts and uncles - anyone you know. If you want your iCandidate to move into the next round it’s super important to iVote.”
Kristoff hesitated theatrically to listen to a voice in his earphone. “The results are already in from the studio audience and, believe me, it’s not what you’d expect. More of that on the Results Show, but it’s the viewers votes that really counts.
You have until next Monday, March 7.
There’s no time to waste - iVOTE NOW!