Ashleigh Thomas met us outside, and I recognized her from her picture on the Vidas web site before she introduced herself. She had wild, curly dark hair and a warm smile. She walked right up and extended a hand. “Lia, I’m Ashleigh. Happy to finally meet you. I’m a huge fan!”

I’d never get tired of people telling me they were fans of mine. It was all so absurd. Just the idea that people I’d never met knew who I was, much less thought of themselves as my fans, was still bizarre to me.

Ashleigh met what she referred to as my “entourage,” and we went inside. The space was filled with people, but seemed larger than it appeared from the outside. Travis hugged me and Shelby, and she was thrilled to see that two of his friends had made the trip with him, including Jonah, the dancer with whom she’d hit it off in Charlotte.

A keyboardist I recognized from Whatley’s Garage was in the studio warming up, and an older guy who looked something like a biker tuned a guitar on a stool off to the side.

Ian led me down the hallway to a smaller studio, not much bigger than a closet, and had me go inside while he worked the board. He wanted me to familiarize myself with the microphone and the acoustics before we returned to the big room.

Mrs. Pollard joined us, and we went over the set together before I sang scales and performed some other warmup exercises.

As we rounded the corner and squeezed back into where Ian Ion would monitor the board, I caught a glimpse of a surprise visitor - Caleb Whatley.

He was leaning against the far wall, wearing a sexy smirk on his face, and he cocked his head and nodded at me as I slipped into the studio.

I opened with Fearless, accompanied by the guitar and piano. I could hear the nerves in my voice at first, but once I settled down a bit and got into the flow, I thought I sounded much better. Hearing myself through headphones as I sung wasn’t something I was used to, but the adjustment wasn’t difficult.

When I finished, Ian cleared the room so I could do the same song, acapella.

I was pitchy right off the bat, and I asked to stop for a moment. My mind flooded with thoughts of the five people who’d accompanied me to Nashville, and what a colossal waste of their time I was making this entire trip. Which only made my stomach hurt, I was so nervous.

“Turn around. Face the back wall. Even then, close your eyes. Then start again when you’re ready,” Ian Ion instructed me from the booth, through my headset.

I nodded in reply and turned around. I recalled Mrs. Pollard’s constant admonitions to breathe, and I inhaled twice, as deeply as I could. I shook out my fingers, rolled my head around my shoulders, and gave a thumb up to Ian and whoever ese was behind the glass with him, unseen.

This time, I nailed it. I didn’t reach, perhaps, the crescendo I had in Charlotte, but I was enthused about what I’d done.

I waited for Ian, or anybody, to say something over my headphones, but there was only a long, uncomfortable silence.

I started to turn around when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to find Caleb Whatley standing there.

“You need somebody to sing to. Remain facing the wall, Caleb is going to sit on a stool there. Sing the song to him. Technically, it was flawless, but I need more emotion. More feeling. Connect with Caleb and start again when you’re ready.” I thought I’d given every ounce of myself to the song, but Ian wanted more, and Caleb waited, expectantly, for me to resume my performance.

I went through my breathing again and looked at the floor to compose myself. When I looked up, it was into Caleb Whatley’s light brown eyes. He stood before me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, tight t-shirt accentuating his pecs. God, he was gorgeous.

He took a step forward, and I honestly thought he was going to kiss me. He gave me his crooked smile and took one of my hands in his. He mouthed what looked, to me, like, “You got this, Lia.”

I exhaled through puffed out cheeks and nodded. He took a step back and leaned against the wall, looking every bit like a guy in a GQ ad.

This time, I was in the song. I owned it. I belted it with balled fists, stepping toward Caleb, pointing at him, casting caution and nerves aside.

As the last note hung in the air, Ian’s voice came over my headset. “Well, that was fucking fierce. Take five. I need to recover.”

I grinned at Caleb and he stepped forward and embraced me. The hug was strong and genuine, and we laughed through it. We both knew something special had just happened.

“That’s your first single. Right there,” Caleb said. “Cover or not, the original can’t touch that.”

The piano and guitar players returned, and we went through two more solo efforts before Travis came in to do a duet with me. Caleb also sang a song with me before Ian called an end to the day. I was emotionally spent.

We planned to meet the same group the following afternoon back in the studio to do a few more songs before I’d meet with Ashleigh and we’d discuss what I hoped to achieve and what Vidas Management could do for me.

Shelby and I shared a hotel room that night, and after a dinner in which everybody reassured me that I’d done a terrific job, my best friend and I retired to our room.

“Have you two set a date yet?” Shelby asked as soon as we were away from her parents.

“What?”

“You are totally going to be Lia Whatley, you know that, right?” Shelby said as she flopped down on her bed.

I was busy going through my suitcase, hanging things up to avoid wrinkles. “What in the world are you talking about, Shelby? Did you sneak some wine at dinner?”

“Come on, girl, it’s so obvious. The way he looks at you? Are you kidding me? I noticed it back in Charlotte. And you can’t tell me he isn’t hot.”

“Sure, he’s sexy if you’re into that type,” I replied.

“Yeah, handsome, talented, built… you’re right, who’d possibly be into a guy like that?”

I sat down in a comfy chair in the corner of the room, next to Shelby’s bed. “When he came into the studio with me, and he came up close, I thought he was going to kiss me!” I covered my blushing face with both hands.

“That would have been totally appropriate. ‘Hey, all you music industry people who flew in to hear me sing? I need to take a break to make out with the ridiculously hot lead singer of this unsigned band you should sign.’ It would have been a win-win for everybody,” Shelby joked.

“He keeps asking me about coming to North Carolina to perform at the state fair with his band,” I reminded her.

“Duh! He wants you, Lia! He’ll get you on his home turf, miles away from Deputy Sheriff Daddy, and you’re going to come back to NT with a little singing Whatley baby inside you.”

“You’re so weird,” I laughed, “Besides, even if I get to go sing with him, I’m sure my dad will send Robert to keep an eye on me.”

“Sounds like a love triangle to me.” Shelby had long known about my crush on Isaac and Jesse’s dad. She was my only confidante regarding that little nugget.

“Except for the fact that A, there’s no ‘love,’ B, Caleb gets girls way prettier than me, and C, Mr. Cavanaugh probably looks at me like I’m in elementary school, and always will.”

Shelby pushed up a huge imaginary set of breasts. “Yep, you’re built just like a third grader. I bet he’s never noticed how you’ve grown. And, as for Caleb, I don’t care what you say, that boy is in love. It’s so obvious.”

“What’s the deal with Jonah?” I asked, hoping to change the subject from my non-existent love life to hers.

“I’m afraid Ben and Abby are going to make certain my relationship with Jonah remains restricted to sexting and Skyping, either of which, if they knew about, would probably get me, and him, killed. I’m surprised they agreed to let me out of their sight long enough to share a room with you.” Shelby’s parents watched her like a hawk. I expected a bed check from the two of them, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to find her dad, Ben, posted outside our door as a sentry to protect our virtue from any boys we tried to sneak in.

We received a visit from Shelby’s mom Abby, just before 10:00 pm, ostensibly to “tuck us in.” Evidently, at Shelby’s house, getting tucked in means checking under the beds, in the closets, and in the shower for intruders, although I don’t recall any such checks during the countless sleepovers I had at her house growing up.