Page 134 of Fire and Icing

Emberleigh asks her gran, “Do you want us to bring anything back for you?”

“Oh, no dear. I’ve got canasta with June and the girls. We’re eating at June’s.”

“Okay, we’ll see you later.”

I hold the door for Emberleigh and we head to my truck as if it’s any other night.

She directs me to a burger and ice cream drive-thru out on the outskirts of town. You can’t eat inside, but tables arescattered on the lawn around it. We get our food and grab a table away from the other customers.

“I have something important to tell you,” I say before we’ve even taken our first bites.

“Oh?” Emberleigh picks her burger up, unwraps it and takes a big bite.

She peers at me over her burger. With her mouth still partially full, she says, “Sorry, I was a little hungry.”

I smile at her. My burger sits in front of me, still wrapped in thin paper.

I dive in. This isn’t going to get easier. I just have to say everything and then we can hash through it. “The other night, when we were at the gig at Fork & Fiddle?”

“Yeah?” Another big bite.

“Well, this guy, Gavin, came up to me after the gig.”

“Gavin? I don’t know a Gavin here in Waterford.” Emberleigh wipes a drop of sauce off her chin with the back of her hand.

“He’s not from here. He’s actually from Nashville.”

“Nashville?” She looks at me, her eyes squinted.

I can see the wheels start to turn.

Emberleigh sets her burger down on the splayed paper in front of her.

“He’s with a record label,” I say.

“A record label.” Emberleigh’s arms lower to her side. Burger abandoned. Her face a neutral expression of either shock or self-protection … or maybe I’m projecting.

“He wants me to come record a demo,” I continue.

“A demo.”

“Yes. Three songs. Nothing firm. We’ll have a contract for the demo. But it won’t necessarily lead anywhere. It’s like a trial.”

“A trial to see if you do well so they could possibly sign you.”

“That’s one possibility. A long shot. But, yeah.”

Emberleigh looks down into her lap. Then she glances up and stares off over my shoulder into the distance.

When her eyes meet mine again, she says, “Is this what you want?”

“This, meaning an opportunity in the music business?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I never thought it could actually happen. I think I might have been too afraid of the potential rejection to even entertain the idea. But now it plopped into my lap, so I’m thinking about it—a lot.”

Her face softens. “Of course you are. You love singing. Your voice is special. You almost got me to love country music. I almost fell …” her voice trails off. Then she’s all smiles. “I’m happy for you, Dustin. This is big. And it’s … I mean, it’s huge! And I’m very happy for you. Growing up here in Tennessee everyone and their brother thinks they're going to Nashville. And here you are, going.”

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