Song & Dance

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Evie Michaelson glanced over at her mother sitting in the plastic chair beside her. Clutching her bright teal purse in her lap, Sue Anne Michaelson gripped its handles, her knuckles turning white. Sending her daughter off to LA for the second time in less than a year was proving to be no easy task for mama bear.

“Yes, Mama, I’m sure. I’ve done this sort of thing before, remember? And last time I checked, I did head off to college on my own and lived there for three entire years all by myself before I ever even ventured across the country, so please quit worrying about me—I promise, I’ll be fine. I need to do this alone.” Evie had repeated those same words multiple times over the last few days, but if her mom needed to hear them a few more times before she’d finally start to believe them, then Evie would keep on with her spiel. Her mother may not have understood Evie’s compulsion to do this by herself, but that was beside the point. Evie knew how important it was that, while she was staying in LA, she displayed the image of an independent, up-and-coming artist among her peers and other industry professionals. The last thing she wanted was for people to see her as a young girl, fresh from the sticks, who had to have her mother in tow as a chaperone. After all, she was twenty-one years old for crying out loud! She could handle herself.

“Yes, I know, sweetheart. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, but I can’t help worrying. I’m your mother and it’s my job,” she lamented. Silence reigned for only a moment before she asked pensively, “You’ll remember what I told you, right?”

Evie rolled her eyes. There was no helping it. “Yes, Mama. I’ll mind my manners, and I’ll make sure my costumes aren’t too skimpy, and I’ll act like a lady at all times day and night.” Evie repeated her mother’s mantra—the one she’d been drilling into her nonstop over and over—ever since getting the offer to compete on Song & Dance barely a week ago. In a moment of vivid retrospection, she recalled the events that led her there, waiting for her flight in the Dothan airport.

Last Tuesday, as she’d struggled on her back porch to open the kitchen door, a paper grocery sack began to slip from her aching fingers. She’d made an unintelligible growl-like noise while clinging to the doorknob and yanking hard, as if her very existence depended upon it. She’d gotten so angry with herself. Why on earth did she make it a personal challenge to bring the groceries into the house in just one trip every single time?

Feeling like an idiot, she’d stood on the back porch, arms overflowing as a gallon of milk cut off the circulation in two of her fingers and her other hand held more bags than she could carry, and a wayward one slipped from her hold, starting to tear as she pinned the bag between her and the door to keep it from hitting the ground. A sweat broke out on her forehead as she shifted in her stifling wool pea coat before desperately kicking at the door to get her mother’s attention, all the while playing a dangerous game of Russian roulette with that milk and three other slippery, paper grocery sacks.

“Evie, that agent lady called while you were out.” her mother had said immediately in greeting when she finally opened the door to Evie’s manic kicks. Luckily, Evie managed not to hit the ground herself when the door swung open and her mom swooped down to pick up the escaping bag. Her mother’s signature drawl floated across the kitchen as she whooshed past her, dropping the armful of groceries onto the tile countertop in blissful release. With her heart racing from the grocery sack dash, finding out that Moira was trying to get in touch with her did nothing to slow down its frantic beat. If her agent, Moira Newell, actually took the time to call her family’s ancient house phone, then she must have had something pretty darn important to tell her.

“Did she leave a message? I’m surprised she didn’t call my cell phone,” Evie mused, brow furrowed as she helped her mother sort the contents of the grocery bags. Her talent agent only and always called her cell phone. Moira regularly referred to Evie’s mother as being a little too “Old South” for her taste and avoided conversations with her at all costs. She saw no need to consult Mrs. Michaelson when Evie was an adult. Moira, however, did not understand the ways of the South. Evie’s mother still saw Evie as her little girl, and the way Moira cut her out of things did not sit well with her. But, Evie understood Moira’s way of thinking, even if her mother most certainly did not. Moira was of the fast-paced, Los Angeles agent tribe—no-nonsense whatsoever, concise, never wasted words, was sometimes a bit rude, and was always all business, all the time. And Evie’s genteel mother, on the other hand, could and would talk the ears off of a billy goat in a lilting, rhythmic tone that meandered through conversations at her own precious and leisurely pace. Even when she cut someone down to size, she sugar-coated it so well, her victim wouldn’t have realized what happened until only the fragrant cloud of Mrs. Michaelson’s Elizabeth Arden perfume lingered in her wake.

“She said she tried, but she kept getting your voicemail. That’s why she called the house. You probably didn’t have any service.” Mrs. Michaelson’s muffled voice floated from somewhere within the packed refrigerator as she finagled more space for the yogurt, milk and green grapes Evie had brought home from the Piggly Wiggly.

“Mom, no one ever has cell service in that crusty old pile of bricks this town calls a supermarket,” she complained under her breath, referring to the one and only grocery store in Thompson, Alabama. Born and raised in teensy tiny Thompson, naturally, its population of less than seven hundred citizens felt like one big, extended family to Evie. That, however, didn’t mean she would ever be okay with Thompson’s lack of modern amenities, like Walmart and cute coffee shops with free Wi-Fi.

“There’s no need to get all sassy about the grocery store.” Her mother looked over the refrigerator door, staring down Evie with a look that right quickly put Evie in her place. A few of her blonde curls hung askew and with one hand on her hip, appeared a little on the crazy side, which was in complete opposition to her typical, perfectly polished appearance. “Let’s just be thankful we don’t have to drive all the way to Dothan to pick up milk and bread,” she’d self-righteously emphasized.

“Yes, ma’am.” Evie had sighed and turned back to sorting through the groceries. She hadn’t meant to ruffle any feathers, but she’d clearly struck a nerve with her mother—something she hadn’t intended to do.

The epitome of a true, Southern woman, Sue Anne Michaelson might have used a little too much hairspray and totally went overboard on the Lilly Pulitzer, but her heart was always wanting to bless someone else’s and she loved Evie like crazy, so even if she did have a penchant for gossip and secretly smoked cigarettes in the back pasture, it wasn’t all that hard to overlook those habits and the scent of White Rain permanently ingrained in her silver blonde hair. She had a way of making you believe she knew the answer to everything, sweetly mind you, and her telling Evie to be thankful instead of complaining was a prime example of her life’s goal to remind her daughter, and anyone else for that matter, that there was a bright side to every situation, and they had best mind not to forget it, else she might stick her seasonally appropriate footwear up their ass.

Her mother’s unwavering, mostly good-natured character had never been more evident than it was now, thanks to Evie’s recently acquired “celebrity” status. A few months ago, their lives had turned upside down when Evie placed second on the hit reality singing competition, America Sings. Her mother had switched gears from the PTA ringleader and Awana volunteer accustomed to sleepy, small town life in Thompson to a cross-country jetsetter constantly spending days at a time in Los Angeles, attending meet and greets, and helping Evie manage a mind-boggling rise to fame. Evie could tell her mother loved the new direction in which their lives had turned, but occasionally she would get a little too bossy and/or overbearing when it came to Evie trying to make her own decisions regarding her new found success, much to Evie’s chagrin.

As far as Evie’s “celebrity” status was concerned, Evie personally tended to roll her eyes and use a lot of quotations when referring to it. It wasn’t like she was a member of the Hollywood elite or anything. Sure, America Sings was one of the hottest shows on television, but she hadn’t actually won the thing, so when she stopped by a store or went out for dinner, it didn’t make the evening news, and she was more than okay with that. For the most part, her social life hadn’t been all that disrupted. However, whenever she was in LA, where tourists were on the lookout for recognizable faces, fans approached her for autographs and pictures and stuff. To be honest, it still freaked her out that people actually wanted her autograph. It never ceased to be surreal.

Since competing on America Sings, she’d also been given plenty of opportunities to perform at, or at least attend, a lot of cool events and benefits. That was the part of the whole thing that she loved the most—getting to sing and share with other people her love for music, especially since it wasn’t something she ever thought she would be able to have a career doing. However, the last thing in the world she wanted was to be pegged as a reality star, and she found it both scary and fascinating that four other reality shows had shown interest in casting her in just the past couple of months since America Sings’ fall season had wrapped.

So far, none of the offers had piqued her interest enough to pursue them. In all honesty, she wanted to hold out for a solid recording contract with one of the bigger labels, but in the meantime, she was perfectly happy performing as many live shows as she could—even if her strict contract with America Sings did make the live show opportunities few and far between.

But when summer rolled around in a few months, a 57 city tour with the rest of the show’s top ten finalists would keep her busy and give her some great exposure. Every time she thought about touring, she wanted to pinch herself. She had a hard time fathoming that she was getting the chance to be on so many different stages across the country. With 102 days before the tour kicked off at Madison Square Garden at the end of June, the time ticked by awfully slow.

“Anyway, Ms. Moira wants you to call her back as quick as you can. She said something about an offer you wouldn’t want to pass up,” Mom had continued as she opened up one of the ornately carved oak cabinet doors and placed a box of instant oatmeal on the shelf, their little standoff about the Piggle Wiggly already forgotten.

Evie had pulled the remaining groceries out of the bags with lightning speed as her mother continued to put everything in its proper place. Funny how her mom had delivered potentially life changing news like it was nothing. If anyone else had walked into their kitchen that afternoon, they’d have assumed it was an average Tuesday and Evie and her mother had been talking about an upcoming community yard sale or church fundraiser rather than the possible fate of Evie’s career.

“Okay, thanks, Mom. I’m going upstairs to call her back right now.” Finished with the groceries, Evie tossed the information over her shoulder as she hustled from the country blue kitchen, flying up the back staircase to her room as fast as her red Converse sneakers would take her. Sure, she actually made enough money between royalties, paid appearances and live performances to afford a decent place of her own, but so many areas of her life were in the midst of change, and her family’s rambling, clapboard farmhouse on Wandering Springs Road was the one constant in the whirlwind that was her life. Weird that the one place she’d been desperate to escape as a restless preteen was dearer to her now than anywhere else on the planet. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want her own place. She just wasn’t sure when she would make the mover, or on which side of America she wanted her home to be located yet.

She reached her childhood bedroom at the end of the rose wallpapered hallway, and kicked off her shoes before pacing anxiously in front of her iron bed with its cheerful patchwork quilt, the fluffy cream rug soft beneath her freshly bared feet. She took a minute to gather her thoughts, get herself together. After taking a few calming breaths, Evie pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans and dialed Moira Newell’s number. Putting an end to the anxious pacing, she took a seat on the bench beneath one of her windows. Perching pensively on the aqua cushion, she chewed at her lip as she waited for Moira to answer.

“Moira Newell,” the clipped voice greeted just after the fourth ring.

“Hey Ms. Moira, its Evie Michaelson returning your call,” she’d said into the phone, stumbling over the words and inwardly cringing. She sounded like a scared, little 12-year-old girl.

“Hi, Evie. Thanks for calling me back so quickly.” No nonsense Moira always got right to the matter at hand, “I received an offer for you earlier today, and I would advise you not to turn this one down.”

“Great, let’s hear it,” she said eagerly into the phone, even though Moira’s insistent, warning tone made her wary.

“The producers for Song & Dance are tapping you as a contestant for their upcoming sixth season. Rehearsals start next week, and the show’s premiere is the week after that,” Moira said with enthusiasm as the words flew from her mouth. She’d never heard Moira this animated before about anything.

Despite Moira’s excitement, Evie sighed like a deflated balloon. Was this really her agent’s idea of a great offer for her? Another reality show? Did she even know her client? After she’d turned down four other shows, she thought Moira would have caught the hint at that point, but Evie decided to give her the benefit of a doubt since she’d presented the offer with such gusto.

“I’m not all that familiar with the show,” Evie started out cautiously, trying her hardest to sound neutral and not the way that she truly felt—utterly disappointed.

This is what she did know about the show—each season, a fresh bunch of moderately famous singers were paired off with one of the show’s professional dancers, and they prepared two performances for each week of the competition—a song and a dance. Then, the pairs were voted off or judged or something like that, based off of their performances each week.

There were lots of dance shows and singing shows on television, but only Song & Dance placed both the pro dancer and the singer/musician together in competitions. It placed a lot of pressure on both professionals to work extra hard and coach their prospective partner. The show was one of the most popular reality competitions on television, and Evie was embarrassed to admit straight out to Moira that she’d never actually watched an entire episode.

“I can fill you in on all of the details and contract negotiations later, but as your agent, Evie, I have to tell you that this is a fabulous opportunity for your career. You’ll get tons of exposure, and with your Southern charm and fresh, youthful look, I can’t imagine you not making it all the way through the competition to the finals.” Boy, was Moira selling it hard.

“But I can’t dance,” Evie had replied flatly. To Evie, her lack of dancing skills seemed like reason enough that she shouldn’t even be considering this “wonderful” opportunity. However, the possibility of being exposed to a whole new audience did have her mildly intrigued.

“That’s the whole point—you learn how to dance from a professional, and you get the chance to showcase your skills in the meantime. And by the way, you not being able to dance isn’t true—I’ve seen you perform—you definitely have rhythm. But anyway, that’s neither here nor there.”

Moira continued her suave pitch, “Just so you’re aware, I’m really pushing for the producers to pair you with either Grant Merritt or Adam Salko. They’re both well known, they’ve both won before, and they’re really good at building relationships with their partners. I think pairing your America Sings momentum with one of their fan bases would almost guarantee a win. But with either pro, I’m positive you’ll become America’s next sweetheart.”

While the opportunity sounded much more promising than when Moira initially presented it to her, there was no way Evie was going to make an immediate commitment to do the show at that exact moment over the phone. Moira acted as if there was nothing to think about before making such a monumental decision, but that couldn’t have been further from the case. Of course, she had a good dose of wariness about doing another reality competition, especially when it required her to work so closely with someone else to determine the outcome. Plus, that whole “reality star” stigma worried her, as well. And frankly, her stomach turned at the thought of dancing live on network television while judges and millions of viewers picked apart her every step.

“Can I mull it over tonight and get back to you with an answer first thing in the morning?” Evie ventured, bracing herself for a bristly reply.

A long pause ensued before a loud exhale of frustration resonated over the line.

“Alright, Evie, but I need to know your decision as early as possible tomorrow. The producers really want you, but they need to know ASAP, or they’ll move onto someone else. We’re lucky another contestant backed out and this spot is open—please think long and hard about doing this. Song & Dance could catapult your career much further than you could even begin to imagine—I’ve seen it happen before. And don’t worry about any engagements you have lined up—you’re publicist and I can either work them into your rehearsal schedule or move them to a later date,” Moira added before saying a curt goodbye and hanging up abruptly.

After the conversation ended, Evie tossed her phone on the little side table by the bench and curled up among the brightly patterned pillows scattered on the window seat. Staring out at the grassy pastures fringed with pine and oak trees just beyond the backyard, she’d settled in, making a mental list of pros and cons about joining the cast of Song & Dance, and proceeded to rehash them over and over in her head. Every time she pictured herself dancing in front of the cameras and a live audience, nervous shivers raced down her spine. She wasn’t at all certain the show was something she wanted to do, but not doing it seemed to be an even less appealing option.

She’d have to uproot again—with a little calculating, Evie figured she would be in LA up until time for the America Sings tour to begin if she made it all the way to the Song & Dance finals. That meant she’d be lucky to have a week or two at the most in Alabama throughout the next seven months. If she made it to the finals. If she didn’t make it to the finals, she would face rejection on national television for attempting to dance and making a fool of herself in the process. She threw a pillow over her face and squeezed her eyes closed as the possibilities overwhelmed her.

But currently, as Evie and her father both shifted in the small airport’s uncomfortable seats, her mother packed Evie’s carry-on bag with an equally overwhelming abundance of snacks. Finished with stocking the bright blue suitcase with a minimum six month’s supply of trail mix, Oreos, and cheese crackers, she checked over Evie’s packing list for the third time that morning, making sure she hadn’t missed or forgotten anything.

“Do you have all of your emergency contacts listed in your phone?” Evie’s dad asked as her mom continued to fuss with her luggage, mumbling under her breath about Evie’s unacceptable clothes folding methods.

“Yes, sir, listed just the way you told me,” Evie supplied.

“And you have them written down on paper somewhere, too, right?”

“Yep, in my wallet behind my license.”

“Do you have all your chargers? Phone, computer, that little thingy you listen to music on?”

“Yes, Dad, I have them all. You went through this same checklist with me last night,” she reminded him, patting his arm reassuringly.

Before her dad had a chance to respond, the airport’s loudspeaker boomed the announcement that her flight was boarding passengers.

“Alright, I guess it’s time for you to get going then. If you change your mind, Evie, and you decide that you do, in fact, need your mama at any time—day or night---call me and I’ll be there as fast as lightning on a June bug,” her mother said, choking up as she pulled Evie into her tight, familiar embrace. Evie breathed in her mother’s comforting scent—fabric softener, Elizabeth Arden perfume, and a faint hint of lavender soap-- as her cheek pressed against her bright, Lilly Pulitzer sweater.

“She’s right, sweetie. One call and we’ll be there in the blink of an eye,” her dad added as her mom passed Evie into his waiting arms. Evie’s chest tightened and her throat constricted as he wrapped her in one of his big bear hugs. He usually wasn’t one to say very much, but his hugs said everything. As tears threatened to turn her into a sobbing mess in the middle of the airport, she stepped away from their arms and straightened her shirt and scarf, attempting to gather her wits, too.

“Got it. I’ll call y’all as soon as I land, I promise. Keep me in your prayers, and don’t forget for even one second how much I love you both.” Evie’s voice quivered as she tried to rein in the tumultuous flood of emotions threatening to break through her calm exterior.

Picking up her bag, she headed towards her flight gate with her boarding pass in her shaking hand, compliments of that third cup of coffee she’d downed right before they’d left the house. As excited as she’d been all week, looking forward to this journey and all, now that the moment had arrived, it wasn’t what she’d expected. She was going to miss her parents terribly, and it also upset her that Davis wasn’t at the airport to say goodbye. He’d had to be at some lecture that accounted for a big portion of his grade, so he wasn’t able to skip off the Auburn campus today. At least their date had been fun the other night, and after she’d finished packing, they’d talked on the phone for a couple of hours while she lay in bed, just like they used to do all the time, which was a relief, since when she’d told him about the opportunity, it hadn’t gone as well as she had hoped.

“So what do you think?” She’d asked Davis last Tuesday once she’d told him everything Moira had shared with her earlier. Sitting on a cushy outdoor sofa together, Evie huddled close to her boyfriend in front of the fire burning in her back porch’s stacked stone fireplace. The March winds blew forceful and frigid, especially since the sun had sank well below the horizon. Only vivid streaks of pinks and purples remained, still lighting up the sky. They weren’t going to be able to stay out much longer—the tip of her nose already resembled an ice cube.

She took a sip from the toasty mug of hot chocolate she held in her hands and snuggled up beside Davis. As a college football player, he was tall and muscular and with his blonde hair and year-round tan skin—thanks to practices and regular fishing trips with his daddy and two brothers—he was also quite the looker. He’d gotten a haircut the week before and it was just a little too short for her taste. Evie liked it better when he let it grow out and it started getting floppy around the edges. When his hair curled at his collar, she found him downright irresistible. She tucked her legs up and slid her feet, clad only in fuzzy socks, beneath his solid thigh while waiting for him to answer her.

She cared what he thought about her doing the show. After all, they’d been together for over eight years—they’d practically grown up together and started “officially” dating as soon as they hit the ninth grade. Her relationship with Davis Anderson had always been comfortable. Natural. But ever since her stint on America Sings, things hadn’t necessarily been peaches and cream between the two of them. Time and distance apart had taken a toll on their normally easy and amazing relationship, but that didn’t change the fact that she loved Davis and he meant the world to her no matter what. After all, she had very few memories of her life in which he hadn’t played a pivotal part. What they had was priceless.

“Geez, Evie. I don’t know,” Davis said, rubbing the back of his neck. She sensed the frustration in his voice; saw it in the tense set of his shoulders. Evie sat her mug on the table and put her hand on his neck, massaging gently.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking, Davis. I want to know how you feel because I know this directly affects you in some ways, too,” she reminded him. He turned to her, but she couldn’t quite read his expression in the hazy firelight.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Evie. This is your decision—not mine . . . I’ll admit, it was hard on us when you were gone for four months the first time. Don’t get me wrong—what you did, how far you went—it blows me away and I’m still so incredibly proud of all that you’ve accomplished. But think about how it’s already hard enough on our relationship with me being two hours away at Auburn. Have you already forgotten how we’re supposed to be there together? Our life was there before you decided to leave and do that show the first time around.”

She inwardly cringed at his words that were lined subtly with bitterness and accusation, especially since it was her fault things didn’t pan out the way they’d originally intended. Davis never outright said it, but she knew deep down he blamed her for throwing a wrench in their pre-America Sings plans.

Their years at Lumpkin County Comprehensive High School fell into the typical story—he’d been the handsome, all-star football player, and she the perky cheerleader always happy just to be on his arm. Then, they’d headed to Auburn together almost four years ago with him on a full ride, football scholarship, and her, the doting girlfriend, following along as his biggest fan. In his mind, everything was perfect and she messed it all up when, at the start of their senior year at AU, she’d auditioned and subsequently competed on “that show” as he usually referred to America Sings.

As much as she loved him, sometimes she really worried that he totally didn’t “get” her. Of course, she was his biggest fan, but she had other interests, too. That had never been a problem for them until America Sings had come along. According to Davis, she’d changed. Sure, she looked no different than before with the same long, honey-blonde hair, tanned skin and sea green eyes, thankfully framed with thick, dark lashes she’d inherited from her Daddy’s trace of Cherokee Indian blood. But inside? Well, she was no longer the naive, bubbly coed who thought her handsome, Ken doll boyfriend was her entire world. And she was fine with that. She adored Davis, but she’d experienced an exciting city, a new culture scene, and discovered how different people lived their lives. The simple, Southern bubble surrounding her had popped, and now she wanted to see more of what the great big world had to offer. And was that such a bad thing?

A couple of weeks earlier, Davis had raised his eyebrows and proclaimed that maybe she was getting just a little too edgy in her Chuck Taylors, high-waist jeans and her “I love Jesus, but I cuss a little” tee. He rolled his eyes whenever she talked about getting a tattoo. Honestly, Davis would’ve probably sighed in relief if she just went ahead and raided her mother’s Lilly collection, and started teasing her hair and wearing it in a perky, Barbie-style ponytail like most of the sorority girls on campus did.

Davis didn’t understand that she was finally comfortable being herself instead of the rural Southern expectation of young women to which she’d mindlessly adhered since her birth. For years, she never could put her finger on why she’d felt so strangely stifled when everyone around her seemed so perfectly content with the way things were.

Of course, she still loved to dress up and shop—and she was all about manicures, pedicures, and keeping her eyebrows waxed. Monograms, pearls and big bows were as much a part of her wardrobe as the next Southern girl, but she hadn’t and wouldn’t be interested in pledging her mama’s sorority, hiding her crazy, or having the singular goal of getting married and having babies as soon as Davis graduated with a BA in Business Administration.

One of their biggest points of dissension came from Davis’ firm belief that her talent for singing and playing the piano was cool and everything, but her music wasn’t meant to be anything more than just a fun hobby. He’d annoyingly told her on more than one occasion that a musician’s schedule just wouldn’t work for a marriage, and while she understood his point to an extent, she refused to even start thinking about marriage yet—she wasn’t ready to buy a three bedroom ranch on the outskirts of Thompson and spend the rest of her days making casseroles and hunting sippy cups in a minivan. And if she married Davis that was exactly how she saw her life unfolding, which was precisely why she wasn’t remotely worried about how her singing career could eventually affect a hypothetical husband and children. In her opinion, it was the perfect time in their lives to be pursuing their dreams as individuals.

Despite her boyfriend’s subtle objections, she was hardcore focused on pursuing her music career and capitalizing on her growing fame while she had the chance. Was there anything wrong with that? Not in her opinion. It seemed to her that Song & Dance would provide the perfect opportunity to gain momentum and grow her fan base, and she really hoped Davis would be able to get on board with that.

“Davis, you know I’m sorry if I let you down when I decided to leave Auburn, but I had to follow my heart and pursue my dream—and now I’m starting to make a good living doing something that I absolutely love! This show is probably going to take my career a lot further than I could ever take it on my own. What if I never get another opportunity like this one? Can’t you just be supportive? Please?” She pleaded, watching the firelight dance in his hazel eyes as she waited for him to answer.

“I’m sorry, Evie. I didn’t mean to come off as unsupportive. It’s just that I don’t like knowing you’re going to do this no matter how I feel about it, and I hardly ever get to see you as it is. But hey, when you think about it, what’s another three months apart in the grand scheme of things?” Davis asked, shrugging as he putting a muscular arm around her, pulling her back close to his side. The matter dropped, she sighed in relief. Now certainly wasn’t the time to bring up the tour that would immediately follow when Song & Dance wrapped. No need to spark another argument. It wasn’t how she had wanted things to go that night—him basically relenting that he’d be cool with her deciding to do the show, even though that wasn’t how he really felt. However, continuing to talk about it would’ve probably just made matters worse, and they didn’t need all that tension ruining what little time they were actually getting to see each other.

Evie laid her head gently against his shoulder and watched as the flames flickered in the outdoor fireplace. The way a fire burned had always captivated her-- especially if it was a good, roaring one. The wood needed to be super dry, and a close watch had to be kept on it while constantly poking the logs and feeding the flames. Otherwise, the fire would just peter out into a cold pile of ash before you realized what happened. It could be roaring white hot one minute, but the second you weren’t attentive, it would simmer down to a pile of charred ashes.

As they cozied up by the fire, she imagined the way they looked sitting there under the stars resembled something plucked right out of one of the good parts of a romance movie. She grazed his cheek softly with her lips, desperate to re-ignite their spark again—to feel that rush of excitement that used to wash over her whenever Davis kissed her, or heck, even sometimes when he just looked at her. She couldn’t recall when she’d last felt that way around him.

The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their solid relationship dwindling away to nothing but a cold pile of gray ashes. If they wanted to rekindle their spark, they were going to have to work really hard for it, especially given their unique circumstances. Maybe, they’d just hit a little bump in the road. She’d heard people say that when you’ve been together for a while, you go through seasons of good and bad, and maybe this was a not-so-good season for them. Everything couldn’t be sunshine and roses all the time, could it?

No matter where their relationship stood, in regards to her newest opportunity, those feelings had to go on the back burner during her decision making regarding her career. Changing her plans just to appease Davis wasn’t an option. The last thing their relationship needed was simmering resentment or regret.

“I’ll miss you, Davis, but you know we can visit back and forth,” she quietly reminded him, trying to push past her less-than-chipper attitude. He’d nodded, but said nothing.

They had sat there for a while longer in a heavy silence, listening to the familiar sounds of the night. Crickets chirped, the fire sizzled and the wind whistled through the pine trees creating a subtle, nighttime symphony as she struggled to find the right words to say. Why couldn’t she let it go? Why couldn’t she stop worrying about what she couldn’t change, and simply live in the beautiful moment?

“So who do you think you’ll get as a partner?” he asked after several minutes passed in silence. The sound of his voice startled her from her reverie and she jumped in surprise.

“My agent is pushing for Grant or Adam,” she told him, shivering as the temperature continued to steadily drop.

“So, let me get this right, my girlfriend is about to get up close and personal with one of the two guys that all the girls go crazy over for the next three months?”

“I guess you know the show better than I do,” Evie replied ruefully, elbowing him. She chose to ignore the fact that his comment seemed rooted in jealousy rather than jest. She prayed he wasn’t already starting with that junk before she’d even officially made a commitment to do the show. In all honesty, the close, physical contact with a virtual stranger actually made her the most nervous. What if she looked awkward and uncomfortable the entire time she danced with someone?

“I don’t live under a rock, last time I checked,” he said, winking playfully. Thank God, his moody spell was over.

They stayed in front of the fire until it burned down and they couldn’t take the cold any longer, and Evie took him by the hand and led him into the warm, cozy house. Only a single lamp was left on downstairs since her parents had already headed to their bedroom.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Evie asked, her voice taking on an intimate, cozy tone in the silent house.

“Sure, you pick,” he replied, snaking his arms around her waist as she skimmed through the movies on the shelf in the den. Finding nothing that interested her, she grabbed the remote and flipped through the movie channels until she settled on Sixteen Candles, which she’d seen at least five times.

“Really?” Davis asked, gesturing to the screen as they plopped onto the leather sofa together.

“You told me to pick,” Evie shrugged and winked at him. His eyes gleamed.

“You know what happens when I think the movie is boring,” he teased.

“Don’t forget that my parents are upstairs,” she whispered in return as he nuzzled her neck. She closed her eyes then, and tried to get lost in the moment, tried to forget about everything else going on in their lives. Decisions would wait for a little while.

Sometime later that night, she’d dozed off, only waking when Davis had stirred behind her in the darkened room.

“I’m going home now, sweetie,” Davis murmured, his voice low as he got up, turning off the television with the remote as the credits rolled. She sat up and stretched, blissful and rested.

“Thanks for letting me take a nap on you,” she yawned, smiling in satisfaction. She stood up and wrapped her arms around his waist before walking him to the door.

“Anytime. I think we needed to . . . reconnect like that,” he said with a wink before giving her a lengthy goodbye kiss. “Love you,” he added.

“I love you, too, Davis,” she told him as he lifted his lips from hers. She squeezed his hand before he walked out the door and into the pitch black country night.

Evie locked the front door and padded upstairs to her room, the familiar sound of Davis cranking up his Jeep and heading down the long, graveled drive filling the stillness of midnight. That Sunday, he’d head back to Auburn, since his spring break was coming to a close. Her heart tugged—she missed him already. She sure was glad that he’d been home when she received the show offer, and that they’d had the chance to talk about it in person, rather than having to attempt the conversation over texts and a long distance call. They’d also needed the physical closeness they’d shared that night, too. It had been far too long.

She changed into her warmest pajamas and scooted into bed, but sleep evaded her, thanks to having such a huge decision to make combined with an impromptu, late night nap, so she pulled out her laptop and watched episodes from past seasons of Song & Dance while propped up in her bed. In the wee hours of Wednesday morning, as her eyes grew bleary and her neck stiff, she pulled the bright patchwork quilt her grandmother had made over her chilly feet and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she woke late the next morning, she showered and drank a quick cup of coffee before pulling her phone off of its charger. The Song & Dance episodes she’d stayed up watching before catching a solid few hours of sleep were all the convincing she had to have. Evie pulled up her recent calls list and found the number she needed.

“Moira? I’m all in,” Evie gushed as soon as Moira answered on the second ring.

“Good, Evie! Great, in fact. I’ll get on the phone with the producers right now and push for Grant or Adam. There’s no guarantee that you’ll end up with either of them, but I’m going to do all that I can to give you an edge.”

“Thanks, Moira. It doesn’t matter to me who I end up partnered with, but it’s nice to have you in my corner. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Just doing my job, but as always, it’s a pleasure working with you, and I can’t wait to see you in LA again,” Moira added, going over some details before letting her go.

Now, a few days later, as Evie handed her pass to the boarding attendant, she looked back at her parents one more time to where they stood hand in hand, watching their only child leave them for the second time in less than six months. She’d never felt more proud to be their daughter as she did in that moment. They’d proven to be unconditionally supportive of her, keeping her grounded and always reminding her of what was really important if she ever started to forget. What would she do without them and their amazing guidance? They would never let fame, careers, or dance shows go to her head, or to theirs.

Evie blew them kisses, and with one final wave, headed toward her newest adventure not knowing what to expect. As a bright-eyed girl with her suitcase in hand, she boarded the plane to the starry west coast, trying to not throw up from a case of serious, jittery nerves.

Once on the plane, she settled into the comfy leather seat, glad she purchased a first class ticket for the four hour flight. Closing her eyes, she stuck her headphones over her ears, and clicked on the playlist she’d compiled for the flight. Flying didn’t really bother her all that much, but knowing how much she had to accomplish when the flight landed weighed heavily on her mind.

She’d made arrangements to pick up her leased car at the airport before she headed to the apartment provided by the show. Most of the contestants lived in or near LA, but there were a few from Nashville and New York, and then there was her, Evie Michaelson, still hailing from the grand old state of Alabama. After getting the car and apartment settled, she’d still have a bunch of calls to make, groceries and supplies to purchase, and she wanted to unpack before she met her partner and rehearsals started in earnest the following day. Things were about to get real.

As she waited for the rest of the passengers to finish boarding, she tried her hardest to relax and forget about all she needed to do when the plane landed. Maybe she’d take a nap--she hadn’t slept that well the previous night-- too much on her mind, she figured.

Finally about to doze off, an energetic tap on her shoulder startled her. Evie opened her drowsy eyes to a pair of big, excited blue ones peering down at her.

“Can I get your autograph?” a young girl, the owner of the big blue eyes, chirped as she stood in the aisle, leaning against Evie’s seat. Evie blinked a few times, her brain still in drowsy mode.

“Yeah, sure,” Evie said, smiling at the girl who couldn’t have been a day over ten. The girl handed her a hot pink pen and a piece of flowery notebook paper, and Evie scrawled out a little note and signed it with a flourish.

“Thank you so much! I can’t believe I’m on the same flight as you! Me and all my friends voted for you, you know!” She squealed before bouncing back to her seat two rows in front of Evie. She waved and smiled at the girl’s parents as the little girl chattered away. It was moments like these that made Evie’s heart swell with gratitude for the hand she’d been dealt. It was impossible to think that her life could ever go back to being the same once Fate had smiled down at her and taken over.

Shortly after the girl left her side, the plane took off, and she spent the entire flight drifting in and out of sleep. From what she’d gathered, the rehearsal schedule for the show would be no joke. The thought of all that energy being exerted must have worn her out, because the next thing she knew, she woke up and the plane was beginning its descent over Los Angeles.