Page 159 of Fire and Icing

I laugh. “Yeah. You’re not wrong.”

“How long you been gone?”

I shake my head, aware I’m going to look extremely foolish. “Three days.”

“Aww. Man. I thought you were going to say two months. Well, she must be something.”

“She is. She’s not just something. She’s everything.”

“There’s a line for ya.”

“Yeah. I’m stockpiling lines these days.”

“Good thing. Write them all down. You never know when the well of inspiration might run dry.”

I nod. The guy with the clipboard comes back around. “On in ten. Let’s get you in the wings.”

I grab my guitar and say goodbye to the musician on the couch. Then I follow the stagehand through the darkened hallways onto the backstage area. I can see the audience, seated at tables up front. Behind the tables people fill rows of seats. The stage lights are bright, so I can’t see all the way into the room. The musician on stage is wrapping up his last song.

The emcee steps into the spotlight, mic in hand. “Let’s hear it for Colton Ryman! Thank you, Colton. And next we have a treat for you. Straight from Waterford, Dustin Reed!”

I jog onto stage holding my guitar.

“Thank you, thank you. I want to thank Front Porch Records for this opportunity. Are you all ready for a little country music tonight?”

The crowd claps and cheers. A few people whistle.

“Alright then. I’ve got a few covers for you to start with, and if you behave yourselves, I might even sing an original or two.”

I’m going to sing my originals, the label requested it in the contract. But I like to play a crowd with things that keep them engaged.

“Sing the one you sang last night,” a man shouts from the back of the room.

“Family Anthem?” I say.

“Yes!” the voice answers me.

I place my hand over my brows to shield the stage lights so I can see the face of the man making the request and what I see makes me smile and actually whoop out loud.

“Sorry, folks. I just got a little surprise. My girlfriend, Emberleigh, is here in the audience.”

Everyone starts glancing around. She waves shyly, but then her eyes are on mine. She forms her hands into a heart and smiles at me.

I strum the guitar. Then I say, “Emberleigh isn't a huge fan of country. But she’s adapting. That’s what we do in relationships, isn’t it? It’s all about compromise and sacrifice.”

I strum the guitar again. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to kick us off with a Motown classic.Ain’t No Mountain High Enoughby the late, great Marvin Gaye.”

The crowd cheers and I start to sing. Then the room goes quiet. I can’t see Emberleigh. The lights are so bright I can only see the people at the tables up front—industry people. But she’s here and that’s all that matters, and this song is as much for her as any I wrote. I sing from my heart about being there for her. There’s no mountain that could separate us. I’ll come running if she calls me.

I finish the song and the room erupts into applause. Then I sing the next four country cover songs I had planned.

“How about an original?” I ask the crowd.

“Family Anthem!” the guy in the back shouts.

“I literally wrote that song yesterday,” I say into the mic. “And here you are requesting it.”

I strum the first chord and then I sing the song I wrote yesterday when the ache to make things right between Emberleigh and me was so palpable I could taste it. I composed it with only a glimmer of hope that Emberleigh might allow me to pursue this vision of our future. If we do get a dog, he’s going to have to be named Toad. That’s all I know.

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