He wanted his girl.
No. He wanted the woman he thought was his girl to want to be his girl.
"But funny thing." Mikey said. "Last time, you couldn't quit writing. This time you just quit."
Will reached for Vera's strap.
Mikey was right. Will had quit. He was showing up for meetings, doing what needed doing as Billy, but the music-
The music was gone.
Vanished. Poof.
Dead.
He'd written four good songs in Bliss, plus three more he and Mikey had done together, and he had the bones for at least fourteen more. But those fourteen?
He'd handed them to one of his favorite songwriters in Nashville before he left town yesterday. Told him to make them into something decent, because Will couldn't do it.
He didn't want to.
"Never thought I'd say this," Mikey said, "but the girl made you happy. Being Billy ain't everything. The band and crew-they're good at what they do. They'd find other work if you wanted to hang it up."
"Dahlia putting happy heart sprinkles in your Cheerios too?"
Mikey grinned. "Nah, it's all the ice cream." He tucked his hands in his pockets. "Seriously, Will, don't let being Billy be your whole life if there's something else you want."
Not the advice Will ever would've expected out of Mikey. Being in love had addled the boy's brain.
"Oh, hey, Billy." A slender dude in his mid-thirties hitched his brown dress pants, then stuck his hand out. "Lou Lovely. WEDD radio. Great to see you again. Didn't get to talk much at karaoke after Nat's wedding, but I've been playing your songs since ‘Weekend Cowboy' landed. Love your music."
Will dug deep for his Billy mask and shook the deejay's hand. "Thanks, man."
Mikey shifted away. "Now, Billy-boy, don't go giving me the good scores because we're friends," he said louder.
"Don't think you have anything to worry about, Mikey."
Annoying as Mikey could be, Will would miss him when he finally found the right new drummer. Mikey knew when Will was Will, and when Will needed to be Billy. A new drummer wouldn't even know Will existed.
Seemed to be fewer and fewer people in the world who did. Will wasn't even sure he wanted to exist anymore.
Why not just be Billy? When he was Billy, people talked to him. When he was Billy, people loved him.
When he was Billy, people didn't send his phone calls straight to voicemail or tell their assistants that they were unavailable to talk to him.
Not like Lindsey had.
But when he was Billy, he had to write songs. And those songs had dried up.
"You staying with Lindsey again this weekend?" Lou Lovely said.
Will's head jerked up.
The deejay chuckled. "Would've liked to have been a fly on the wall when you brought a dog into her house. Bet that was a sight."
"Who-" Will started.
"Oh, hey, there, Billy." Pepper Blue slid between them, all gussied up in dress pants, heels, a silky-looking blouse and chunky green jewelry. "Lou, Marilyn needs a word. Mikey, get out. No socializing with the judges or you're disqualified and I won't let you onstage, and we don't want to disappoint Dahlia, now do we?" Pepper latched on to Will's arm and steered him away from the two other men. "CJ's been interviewing for a new cook at Suckers, and this crazy thing happened. He found a former army cook who supposedly knows how to fry okra. Who knew? Anyway, we had him whip up a batch for tonight for the judges to try. Have you seen the food table yet?"
"Not hungry, but thanks," Will bit off.
She squeezed his arm tighter. "It means the world to Bliss that you're here. I'm new to all this, but everyone keeps saying there hasn't been a crowd so big for the Battle of the Boyfriends since they almost got Adam Sandler to come judge the year after The Wedding Singer was in theaters." Her phone dinged. She whipped it out, and Will's gut went tight at the name on the readout.
Lindsey.
Pepper angled the phone away from his view. "But you're way better than Adam Sandler," she said.
Will nodded at the phone. "She here?"
Pepper got one of those pained looks that Mari Belle usually paired with a sigh. "Do you want her to be?"
His pulse kicked it into high tempo, making his temples ache. "What I've learned, doesn't much matter what I want there." He turned to the table. "Fried okra, you said?"
"And sweet tea," Pepper said. "Mikey stole some earlier and said it was almost as good as his momma's."
"Huh."
Pepper took two slow steps backward and tapped the name tag on her lapel. "I need to go get the contestants in order. If you need anything at all, holler at any of us wearing one of these. And thank you again for being here. It's really, really nice of you."
She didn't say why, but Will knew. There was half a chance he'd run into Lindsey tonight. And in that half a chance, there was all of a chance she'd pretend she didn't know him.
Like she had a month ago.
If he could've been regular ol' Will Truitt, he would've turned around, walked out that door into the frigid February weather, and kept on walking until he lost himself.
But he had a dog, he had his family, and he had a crew counting on him. So Billy Brenton was staying in the building.
And he'd be every bit of the superstar they expected to see tonight.
Because that was who he had to be.
LINDSEY ARRIVED at the large theater in the Bliss Civic Center for the Battle of the Boyfriends shortly before curtain time. There were sixteen boyfriends, fiancée-wannabes, or boyfriends-to-be performing in this year's talent show.
Usually the performers were in their late teens or early twenties, all men who wanted to publicly declare for their women.
Only in Bliss.
Profits from entry fees and ticket sales went to local charities, and inevitably someone Dad's age would enter, or someone would completely embarrass himself, or someone would totally surprise the girl he had his sights on by going up there alone, not in a relationship, and dedicate his performance to the woman he wanted to date.
Small-town drama at its best, and it was romantic and sweet and perfect, even during the train-wreck moments.
Lindsey didn't want the distraction of the crowd, so she texted Pepper and asked for a key to one of the box seats. Unfortunately, the box gave Lindsey a clear view of the judges' table. But fortunately, she could hide among the curtains and watch.
The theater was rapidly filling. The battle was due to start in five minutes. Lou Lovely, a local deejay that Lindsey had dated a lifetime ago, was already at the judging table. So was a favorite local TV anchor lady. Mr. and Mrs. Hart, Bliss's gourmet chocolatiers, were the official judges from The Aisle this year. One seat was still empty at the table.
Will's-no, Billy's seat.
Lindsey couldn't afford to think of him as Will. Nor did she have the right.
The door opened, and Kimmie slid into the box with Lindsey. "I so do not want to be here."
"Fortune cookie?"
"I ate an entire coconut cream pie last night."
Lindsey turned to stare at her friend. "An entire pie? Before or after the slices at Suckers?"
"After. With a full-strength Kimmie colada chaser."
"Oh, Kimmie. Were the dreams bad?"
"Let's just say I didn't know owls had testicles, and they should never sing."
Lindsey didn't want to ask. She didn't want to know. Still-"Owls?"
Kimmie grimaced. "Some things, you can't un-dream or un-remember."
"Or un-hear," Lindsey agreed. "How's your mother?"
"Did you know there's a level past Queen General? It's Her Majesty, the Supreme Grumpy Eminence, and she passed that about six hours ago. I'd ask you to tell her I tried to talk you into using your woo-woo powers tonight, but she'd know we were lying, and I'm not sure Bliss is ready to deal with that level of her displeasure."
"Perhaps the sheer force of her personality will finally chase off her silent partner at the bakery."
Kimmie gave a wide-eyed head-shake no. "He came by this morning," she whispered. "I thought she was going to castrate him with a frosting spreader."
"Instead of using her psychic powers?" Lindsey deadpanned.
Because this was normal. And normal was good.
"Well, with her telekinesis. The spreaders were all the way across the kitchen." Kimmie visibly shivered. "And you know what's weird? I think he liked making her mad. I think every time she gets mad, he gets more determined to not give her what she wants. Any of what she wants."
"You truly should consider moving."
"But where will I find another you?"
Unexpected tears stung Lindsey's eyes. She squeezed Kimmie in a hug. "We could move together."
Go. Somewhere. Anywhere. A beach, maybe.
Will liked the beach. He'd said he used to find one when he needed to write songs.
"Possibly to Alaska," Lindsey said.
"Siberia, I was thinking."
A rumble went up in the crowd, and Lindsey's raw heart went on an off-key, off-tempo drum solo.