Starstruck

"What are you going to do with this recording?" he asked.

"Start trying to sell it around, I guess," she answered. "I have some addresses in Nashville to send it to. And some leads here in Richmond too. I'll probably try those first, as I'm already here." Dinah knew it wasn't going to be easy. She knew after a couple of weeks she'd have to find some work. She sure as hell knew she wasn't going back to Pulaski and LeRoy.

"OK if I see if I can get them someplace?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?" she answered.

A week later, Mike called her at her motel and said he might have a proposition for her; could she meet him at the West End Starbucks on Broad Street? It was near her motel; she knew he knew it was near her motel.

Here we go again, she thought. But she was depressed. Nothing had panned out in Richmond yet. She'd found Billy Ray's address in Nashville and sent the recording off there—as well as to other music producers in Nashville, with no response as yet. She knew she wanted this to move too fast, that she couldn't really expect to have this soon what she expected and dreamed of—someone to notice her, someone to give her hope. But she couldn't help herself; she couldn't stop herself from being impatient. Her life had been on hold too long.

So, OK, if this Mike has a better lead than she had developed so far, yes, she'd spread her legs for him. But he'd better have more than just empty promises. She'd been too far down that road already. It was time for her to be the one using and taking advantage of someone else.

Mike had been particular about the time he wanted to meet at Starbucks. Dinah wondered cattily if that was the only time his wife or girlfriend would let him loose.

He was looking real good when she showed up, nattily dressed, all groomed, like he wanted them to video the results of his proposition—if he got lucky.

"You're late," he said. He looked almost panicked about that. "I was afraid you wouldn't come."

"I almost didn't," Dinah said. "I've been around this proposition in Starbucks deal once too often."

"Shush," he said.

"Shush what? Why?" Dinah answered, a little piqued.

"Just shush and listen. Sit down and listen. Listen to the music."

Dinah sat. And Dinah began to listen. And Dinah realized she was listening to Dinah—coming from the radio. One of her own songs, sung by her. And then, after that ended, she heard another of her songs, again sung by her. Coming over the speakers on the radio.

She was trembling, her palm on top of Mike's on the table top. She felt him tremble too, enjoying the experience as much as she was—and not just the experience of hearing herself on the radio.

"You got my songs on the radio here in Richmond?" she asked, shocked.

"Yeah. I've got a few connections. They ate them right up. And not just here in Richmond. This is a syndicated show. This is going out all over the south."

Dinah's cell phone was buzzing. A text message. Billy Ray Furness. "Where did u go? We were going to talk contract. Call me," it said. Dinah flipped the phone off. She'd see what he had to offer later, but he wasn't high on her list at the moment.

Mike had done this for her. No strings attached. He'd just gone ahead and done it. Hadn't demanded or asked anything from her.

"That was a Nashville record producer," she said. "Already talking recording contract."

"That's good. But go slow. There will be others."

"You'll help me?"

"If you want. Any way you want."

They paused, frozen in place, Dinah's hand on Mike's again. They were both looking at the hands, as if they probably should let loose, but neither wanted to.

"Should we celebrate? Go someplace and celebrate?" Dinah murmured.

"If you like," Mike said.

"My motel room OK?" Dinah asked. She was already thinking ahead. She knew he'd be good and attentive and that they've come together, knowing that each wanted that. And again.

"Maybe we should go slow on that," Mike said.

"You don't want . . .?"

"Sure I do. Of course I do. But you should be sure and shouldn't, you know, have it be because of any of this. You have more hours at the studio. Do you have any more songs in you?"

"You bet, I do." And then she smiled. "And I see some happier songs boiling up inside me too."

Back on the porch of the farmhouse outside of Pulaski, LeRoy was sitting and rocking, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere in back of reviewing the brake relining job he had to do in the morning, that it should be about time for Dinah to be coming come from that fool pageant in Richmond. She'd better have some good cash in hand, was all he thought.

He stirred, hearing the sound of the radio cutting through his other thoughts. Some woman was singing a sad song on the radio. The voice sounded sort of familiar and the song was real pretty. But he couldn't quite place who was doing the singing.

At his side, flattened out on the worn wood of the porch, Chester, recognizing the voice instantly, put his paws over his ears and emitted a low moan.