“Come on, Stevie,” Darla pleaded, her dark lined eyes begging her. “It’s my bachelorette party and you’re my maid of honour. You have to be there.”

“Darla,” Stevie sighed as she finished wrapping up Mrs. Busch’s meds and handed them over the counter to the older woman. “It’s karaoke and you know I hate karaoke.”

“You should go dear,” Mrs. Busch said, reaching over the pharmacy counter to pat Stevie’s hand. “It’s been so long since anyone heard you sing and we all miss it.”

Stevie gave the woman a tight smile before looking back to Darla.

“Please Stevie, you’re my best friend. If you’re not there then I’ll be stuck with my cousins and the Glam Tramps.”

Stevie smiled genuinely at her friend. The Glam Tramps were a group of girls that they had gone to school with who thought that the price of your outfit determined how hot you were. Each of them had married well and spent their husbands’ money on designer clothes and shoes and handbags. To two simple girls like Darla and Stevie who preferred the comfort of a worn denim skirt and a pair of broken-in cowboy boots, it was an incredibly dull way to spend your life. The only reason they were invited to Darla’s bachelorette party was because her husband-to-be worked with their husbands, although Tom was nothing like them.

“Fine,” Stevie said with a resigned sigh, “but I’m not singing.”

“Whatever,” Darla said and then squealed. “Yay! I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

Stevie rolled her eyes and wondered if she’d just made a big mistake. Spending the night in a karaoke bar with a bunch of well-dressed but vacuous women was not her idea of a fun night. She’d much rather be snuggled in her comfy PJs in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn. At least there would be alcohol.

“Okay, so I’ll be around at seven so we can get dressed together. The limo is picking us up at nine.”

“Fine,” Stevie waved to her friend as she walked out of the pharmacy and then turned her attention back to Mrs. Busch. “Will there be anything else?”

The rest of the day went by too fast for Stevie’s liking. The pharmacy was busy, but that wasn’t anything unusual. She’d been working there for a little over a year now, ever since she had slinked home on a Greyhound bus in the middle of the night, her tail between her legs. This was her life now and, maybe it wasn’t the bright lights of a stage, but it was enough for now.

Nate’s first album had come out and had spent a considerable amount of time in the top ten. The first time she’d heard his voice on the radio, she’d almost plowed her car into a power pole. She cried as she listened to the words that she had written sung by a man she had been in love with for far too long. She knew that he would be using her songs. She hadn’t spoken to him, but he had spoken to her father and they had worked out an agreement through lawyers and third parties. Her first royalty cheque had blown her away and she’d gone out and bought her own house with it. Nate’s record was a hit, and she was reaping some of the benefits.

But she hadn’t picked up her guitar since that night at The Red Boot. She hadn’t sung a song or written any lyrics. The music had died in her that night and she didn’t think it would ever live in her again. People had badgered her to do a set or two at The Standard, a bar that she and Nate had played plenty of times, but she refused time and again until they eventually stopped asking.

She stood in front of her closet and looked at the racks of clothes. Denim was the predominant fabric. Jeans, shorts, short skirts, long skirts, short dresses, and vests. If they made it in denim, Stevie probably owned it. Along with the denim was black - black t-shirts, black button up shirts, black halter necks and crop tops, some with logos, some without and one hot LBD that she had never worn. She reached in and pulled out the black dress. It was tight, short and was cut really low in the front. She’d bought it in the hopes of knocking Nate’s socks off one night, but had never got around to wearing it. She turned to Darla and her eyebrows shot up.

“Yes,” she said, “Wear that.”

“Do you think?” Stevie asked, chewing her bottom lip.

“Absolutely,” Darla said pushing passed her and into Stevie’s closet. She tossed a pair of boots out and a denim jacket. “With these,” she said.

They got dressed and Darla, a hairdresser, blew out Stevie’s blonde hair to bombshell proportions and then proceeded to do her makeup. By the time she was finished, Stevie didn’t recognize herself.

“This is supposed to be your night,” Stevie said.

“Exactly,” Darla said, “and I want to make you over, besides, I can do me any time.”

Stevie looked at her friend with affection. Darla was unapologetically out there. She wore a bright red vintage wrap dress that hugged her voluptuous curves and barely kept her girls contained. Her dark hair was all ‘Dita Von Tease’ and with her plump red lips and dramatic eyes she looked like a burlesque pin up girl.

“We look fucking hot,” Darla proclaimed looking at the both of them standing side by side in the mirror.

Stevie laughed, the first real laugh she’d had in a long time and she felt something fall away. A heaviness that she’d been dragging around with her for the last twelve months was gone. She was going to enjoy tonight. She was going to pack away the hurt and anger that had been her constant companion since he-who-shan’t-be-named had shafted her, and she was going to live like the twenty three year old she was.

The Standard was packed to the rafters. Darla had convinced them to bring in a karaoke machine for her bachelorette party and it was proving to be a hit. It wasn’t just Darla’s group who was making use of it.

Stevie sat at their table with a collection of empty glasses in front of her. Darla had insisted they try each of the fruity cocktails on the menu, and she had matched Darla drink for drink. They were far too sweet for her taste and she had finally convinced Darla to let her have a vodka and lime. She sighed as the crisp taste cleaned her palate of the sugary film that had coated her mouth and sat back in her seat to watch the next brave soul take to the stage.

Surprisingly Darla took the stage and looked straight at Stevie, pointing to her.

“Okay Stevie, it’s your turn,” she said into the mic and the crowd catcalled.

Stevie shook her head and mouthed ‘no’ but Darla wasn’t listening. “Come on, it’s my party and I want you to sing. For me.”

Darla had been there for her over the last twelve months, holding her when she cried, thinking up nasty names for he-who-shan’t-be-named and spending nights getting drunk with her to blow off steam. She could do this for her, for the friend who had stood by her.

With a sigh she got to her feet and had to take a moment to steady herself, as the sheer amount of alcohol she had consumed suddenly hit her head. She took a breath and walked up to the stage, trying to tune out the cheers from the crowd. The smile on Darla’s face was worth it and she pulled Stevie into a hug when she finally climbed the stairs to the stage.

“I don’t have a song—”

“I picked one for you,” Darla said, handing her the microphone and stepping back into the shadows.

Stevie took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment to find her calm. She hadn’t sung in so long and she knew her voice was probably not up to anything strenuous. She hadn’t even warmed up for God’s sake. She waited with trepidation for the music to start. The first quiet notes of the lone piano sent shivers over her skin and then she opened her mouth and sang.

The music flowed through her and she didn’t need to read the words of the screen. She knew this song, had been singing it since she was a little girl. Bette Midler’s “The Rose” was her mom’s favorite song and she would play it over and over again. As the song built to its crescendo, Stevie lost herself to it, letting it take over her as it had so many times before. She felt alive for the first time in a year and as the song came to a close, Stevie knew that she couldn’t walk away from this part of her life. She had been existing, going through the motions, but not really living. Without music in her life, she was an empty shell.

The song ended and the bar was silent for a heartbeat before it erupted in applause. Stevie opened her eyes and peered out into the darkness, blinded by the stage lights, and she grinned.

“Encore!” someone yelled and then the chant was taken up. She laughed and tried to turn away, but the crowd were insistent. Someone started the music and Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” began and well, how could she walk away from that song? And then there was the Stevie Nicks’ classic “Edge of Seventeen”. Stevie was her namesake after all, thanks to her mother’s love of eighties rock, so of course she had to sing that one too. She sang Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats” and then finished with Little Big Town’s “Girl Crush,” finally leaving the stage to collapse into her seat, depleted but elated.

“Oh my God,” Darla said, breathlessly as she sat down beside her, “you have got to sing at my wedding.”

“Okay,” Stevie said simply and Darla screamed and hugged her fiercely. Darla’s wedding was only a week away, but Stevie had the perfect song, one she had written, one that he-who-shan’t-be-named hadn’t even heard, so he couldn’t steal it.

“Stevie,” Shane, the owner of The Standard said to her as he brought over a lime and vodka for her.

“Hey Shane,” she said, accepting the drink with a smile.

“Does this mean you’re singing again?”

She shared a look with Darla and shrugged. “I guess so,” she said and sipped her drink.

“We should talk,” he said before walking away.

Darla squealed again and grabbed her arm. “I am so glad you agreed to come tonight. You were amazing.”

Stevie smiled. “I was, wasn’t I?” she said, feeling the old confidence fill her. So what if Rocksteady hadn’t wanted her? It didn’t mean she was a no-talent hack. Singing was her life-breath and she would find a way to do it without them and without him.

The next week was a flurry of activity as Stevie helped Darla prepare for the wedding and then spent hours going over the song, learning it, perfecting it. She had met with Shane and he had offered her a once a month gig on a Saturday night and she had accepted it. Letting the music back in had a profound effect on her and for the first time in a really long time, she felt like the Stevie Jacks who believed she could conquer the world.

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear and Stevie knew that it was a good omen. Darla and Tom were so much in love and she was so happy for them. They were both good friends and she wished them nothing but the best as they embarked on this next chapter of their lives. They had been high school sweethearts and the true definition of real love. Stevie hoped that one day she would experience what was so obvious on their faces as they pledged their love for one another in front of the crowd.

She’d stood up with them as the maid of honor and then she took her place in front of everybody and slipped on her guitar and her harmonica. With tears in her eyes, she picked the simple but beautiful melody out on the guitar while she wove the sounds of the harmonica through the notes. Everything else fell away as she sang the song she had written for them, the song that told of true love and happily ever afters and when she was finished, she wasn’t the only one with wet cheeks. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house and the applause flowed over her like a caress. This is what she was created for. This was her purpose on earth.

The reception was a simple affair with good food and music and lots of dancing. Stevie wasn’t left on the fringes as just about every single man in the place asked her to dance. Her feet ached but in a good way, and when she finally sat down at the bar for a drink, she felt like it had been a good day.

“Buy you a drink?”

She slid her eyes to the side to see a tall, dark-haired man smiling at her.

“Carson Giles,” she said, giving him a sexy smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in town.”

“Just came back for Tom and Darla’s wedding,” he said. “I’m only here for the weekend.”

“Vodka and lime,” she said to the bartender when he approached.

“Beer,” Carson said before turning to her again. “So what have you been up to?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not much,” she said.

“Do you still see Nate?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, taking a large gulp of her drink.

“Ah,” he said, sipping his beer. “It didn’t end well.”

“I’d rather not talk about… him” she said. “Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“Working hard,” he said, “making waves.”

She chuckled. “You work for a senator, right?”

He nodded. “Yep,” he said without expanding.

“Eye on the Whitehouse, Carson?” she asked, but he just smiled at her and she chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay so no talking about work and no talking about he-who-shan’t-be-named.”

“That doesn’t leave much to talk about,” he said, his voice darkening to something heavy and seductive.

She swiveled on her stool, leaning one arm on the bar and cocking her head. She ran her eyes over his hard, suited body and noticed the way his wide shoulders filled out his jacket.

“Who said we have to talk,” she said, her voice husky. “Wanna dance?”

He slid from his stool without answering and took her hand, drawing her out onto the dance floor and pulling her into his arms. She fit against him like they were made for each other. He placed one hand on the hollow of her back just above her ass and the other one cupped the nape of her neck, buried beneath her thick hair. She twined her hands together around his neck as they moved around the dance floor slowly to the music.

Stevie hadn’t been with anyone since coming home on the Greyhound and it had been a couple of months before that that she’d broken up with Beau. Pressing up against the hot, hard body of Carson sent a thrill through her and awakened all those pesky female needs that she had been keeping at bay for far too many months. When he leaned down and dragged his stubble across the soft skin of her neck, her eyes rolled back and she may have moaned softly. He nipped at the sensitive spot behind her ear before sucking it gently.

“You wanna get out of here?” he whispered into her ear.

“God, yes,” she said. “Just let me say good bye to Darla.”

He placed a tender kiss on her lips before letting her go and she walked on shaky legs over to the glowing bride.

“I’m going to head off,” she said, hugging Darla tightly.

“With Carson?” Darla asked, a cheeky smile on her face.

“Maybe,” Stevie said.

“Be careful,” Darla said, suddenly serious. “He’s got a bit of a reputation.”

Stevie shrugged and grinned wickedly. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need,” she said and then hugged Darla one more time.

She waved as she walked away and Carson met her at the doors, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her out into the night. They reached his truck and he turned her so she was leaning against it and he was pressed into her.

“Are you sure about this Stevie?” he asked.

“Definitely,” she said before stretching the extra couple of inches to nip his bottom lip.

He groaned and captured her lips in a hot kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth and wiping every other thought from her brain.

“Last chance to say no,” he said, his voice dangerous as he lifted his head.

“Take me home, Carson,” she said.

Nate sat on the leather sofa in the control room of the studio and pulled out his phone. The last twelve months had been a ride - releasing his first album, touring as the opening act for a couple of really big bands, the fans, the groupies, the women and the money. Shit. It was so far from his old life that some mornings he still had to pinch himself to make sure it was real. Rocksteady had been true to their word and they had given him a hit record; now he had to follow up on it to consolidate his new found stardom. He wasn’t quite a bonafide rock star yet, but he was on the cusp.

He’d signed a four record deal with Rocksteady and they wanted him back in the studio as soon as he could to make sure he got the second album out before people forgot his name. The first record had been relatively easy, once they’d signed a deal with Stevie to use her songs. The second album was turning out to be a bit harder. He’d written his own songs before, but they had always come to him organically. Now that he was required to write, he was finding the going harder. Still, they had a couple in the works that showed promise.

The studio had been tweaking his sound and his image. He and Stevie had pretty much stuck to a country sound, but Rocksteady wanted him to be more rock and roll. Not that he minded. He had eclectic music tastes and he could get behind a decent driving drumbeat and throbbing bass. It also gave him the opportunity to show off his chops as a guitarist. He’d always been good, picking it up easily when he was a kid, but playing as much as he had been lately had honed his skill and he knew he was playing better than ever. There was nothing quite like shredding a riff while the fans went crazy.

He swiped through his Twitter account, replying to fans and tweeting about his time in the studio then he switched over to Facebook. He scrolled through his notifications until he saw one that caught his eye. An old buddy from back home had tagged him on a video with a ‘check this out’ message. He clicked on the YouTube clip and waited for it to load.

He didn’t immediately recognize the woman on the stage, but she was smokin’ hot. The first notes of ‘The Rose’ began to play and then she sang.

“Fuck,” Nate breathed, her voice ghosting over him and leaving his skin in goosebumps.

“Who the hell is that singing?” Derek, the sound engineer said, turning to him. “Here, put it up on the monitor.”

Nate walked over to the big desk and sat in the chair, plugging his phone into the cord and waiting for the screen to show the video. It was Stevie and she made his mouth dry with that short black dress and those hot-as-fuck cowboy boots. She looked like a wet dream up on that stage. The song started again and her voice filled the studio. The recording quality was crap, but man, her voice. Husky and smokey like whiskey. She sang and Nate felt it in his gut. He watched, enraptured as the song finished and the crowd called for another one. She sang “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and then “Edge of Seventeen” and then two other country songs and then the scene changed and she was dressed in a pretty pink gown and stood with her guitar and her harmonica. She explained to the crowd that she’d written the song for Darla and Tom and he felt ashamed that he’d blown their wedding off for a gig. She strummed her guitar and breathed into her harmonica and then she sang, her voice clear and true and it reached down into his soul and grabbed hold of him. Rocksteady were damned idiots for passing on her… and so was he.

By the time the video finished, they had garnered a crowd. There was a moment of silence as they digested what they had just seen.

“Who was that?” Derek asked again.

“That was Stevie Jacks,” Nate said. “We used to sing together.”

“Damn,” Derek said shaking his head. “You walked away from that?”

“Rocksteady didn’t want her, they only wanted me. She wrote most of the songs on my first album.”

“Fuck me,” Derek said. “Do you know if she’s working?”

Nate shrugged. “She won’t talk to me. It, ah, didn’t end well for us.”

“Right,” Derek said, grinning. “You’re an idiot Nash.”

“I know,” he said, running his hand through his longer, blonde streaked, five hundred dollar haircut.

“Hey before we get started,” Derek said and Nate stopped, turning to him. There was a curious sound to Derek’s voice that he hadn’t heard before. “That chick on the recording?”

“Yeah?” Nate said slowly.

“I might have some backup work for her, do you think she’d be interested?”

Nate blew out a breath and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms across his chest. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe, just—”

“Just what?”

Nate shook his head and chuckled. “Just don’t mention my name,” he said. “She is guaranteed to turn you down if she knows I had anything to do with it.”

“Huh,” he said. “That bad?”

“Oh yeah,” Nate said. “That bad.”

Derek was silent for a minute and then, “Do you have her number?”

Nate shook his head with a smile and dug out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found her name. He sent a text to Derek with Stevie’s contact info and then slid his phone into his back pocket.

He stood and walked over to the studio door. “I need a couple of minutes,” he said before heading out.

There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by that he didn’t think about Stevie. She was with him every time he picked up his guitar. Shit, she had been the one to teach him to really play. He felt like a shit for what he did, but he had to take his chance while he had it. If she hadn’t ignored all his calls and texts and emails, maybe she would be singing with him now. It wasn’t his fault that her tantrum had ended any chance of them singing together again. At least she’d seen reason with the royalties, even if she had only agreed to it if they could deal through lawyers. He’d held out hope that he might actually get a sit down with her so he could tell how sorry he was, but that video was the first time he’d seen her since that night.

He brought up the video again and looked at the hits it was getting. There was something special about Stevie on stage when she sang, something that spoke to you, that bypassed all the outer shit and hit right in the soft spots. He had missed hearing her sing, he missed her.

Stevie tried to balance the large cup of soda and the bag of fries she held while she rooted through her bag looking for her ringing phone. She finally grasped her greasy fingers around it and swiped the screen, lifting it to her ear.

“Hello?” But the line was dead. She’d missed the call. “Shit,” she said as she dumped the now cold fries in the nearest trash can and sucked up the last of the soda before tossing it in the trash can too.

She looked down at the phone to see that the same number had called her four times during the day. She wasn’t allowed to have her phone on while she was at work in the pharmacy, so of course she missed them all. With a sigh she sat on the bench seat outside the mall and hit redial. A deep masculine voice answered.

“Derek Sanders.”

“Um, hi, um I’m Stevie Jacks and I had some missed calls—”

“Stevie,” he said, her name like a song from his mouth in his deep rich tones. “I saw your YouTube video,” he went on, and her face flushed.

“Oh,” she said, clearing her voice, “um, someone else put it up—”

“It was fabulous and I was wondering if you were interested in doing some studio work.”

“Studio work?” She felt like an idiot repeating what he said, but it wasn’t computing.

“Yeah, you know, back up singing.”

“Oh, uh, um I don’t know—”

“The pay’s good, fifty bucks an hour, and you get to meet some pretty cool people.”

“Oh okay, um where?”

“Nashville.”

The world seemed to stop for a moment as she took in that word. Nashville. Nashville. She rolled the name around in her head until it no longer sounded like a real word.

“Are you still there Stevie? Did we get disconnected?”

“No, ah yeah, I’m still here,” she said breathlessly.

“Look, I’ve got one job lined up and they are excited to work with you. It’ll be a few days of work and if it goes well than I know I’ll be able to get more for you. Whaddaya say?”

Stevie took a couple of deep breaths and opened her mouth to say she would think about it and get back to him when what she actually said was, “Yes.”

“Excellent,” he said.

He took note of her email address and told her he would send her the details and then he disconnected. Stevie sat there for, well, she didn’t know how long until Carson came out looking for her.

“Hey, I thought we were meeting at the store,” he said.

She looked up at him, still stunned. “Um, yeah,” she said. “I, ah, I just had a phone call.”

“Are you all right?” he said, sitting down beside her.

“Yeah, I think so,” she said.

“What was the phone call about?”

“A job.”

“A job?” he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, a singing job. Back up singing, in a studio, in Nashville.”

“Nashville?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“So you’re moving to Nashville?”

“What? No—”

“But the job…”

“It’s only a couple of days work to start with.”

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word.

“Oh my god, do you know what this means?”

“You’re going to Nashville,” he said with a smile.

“I’m going to Nashville!” she squealed and threw herself into his arms.

He hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. “You can stay with me,” he said, his voice husky.

She drew back and looked at him. “You wouldn’t mind?”

He smiled affectionately at her and shook his head. “Not at all. I like the idea of you waking up next to me in my bed.”

She felt her cheeks heat in a blush as she smiled up at him.

“Nashville,” she whispered.

“That’s the big times babe,” he said, nuzzling her neck. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “We need to celebrate.”