iSing

The past week had been manic. All Melanie could seem to do, morning or night, was cry. She'd come undone more times than she could count. At the very least, she had Carly, Sam, and Freddie. She spent an obscenely long time in the shower this morning. This was a shower of Carly proportions. She refused to towel off until the water went unbearably cold. She needed it. She needed it for a number of reasons. The shower was, strangely enough, where she'd done all of her thinking, ever since she was small. This was as private a time as she would find all day and she knew she needed to make the very most of every single second.

Melanie's fingers wandered, like she was searching for the answers somewhere between her navel and her hips. She needed what she needed, but she had no idea where to find what she was looking for.

She thought of everything that mattered to her. She thought about Freddie and that absolutely magical night she spent pressed against him in bed. She longed for that warmth – that completeness—again. She knew exactly what went on between Carly and Sam in the shower, too. It wasn't hard to figure out. You said you wanted to save water, yet, somehow, Melanie always ended up taking an ice cold shower. It wasn't hard to figure out what was taking up all the warm water.

Melanie was immediately struck by a wave of passion. It radiated through her, but it was different this time. It radiated outward in all directions from Freddie Benson's favorite place – the dead center of her chest. Without thinking, she bolted out of the shower, leaving it running. She didn't care that she was dripping and naked. She was an artist and she couldn't be bothered with the little details when inspiration struck. She rushed to the desk in her room, where her little black book already lay open, her pen lazily falling across the pages. She'd been writing last night, but it just hadn't come any further than a few phrases. She had a melody worked out – that part was simple. She just had to find the right words. She finally had. She threw herself into the chair, taking special care not to drip into the book, obscuring the ink. She certainly had no intention of interrupting the creative process for something as trivial as her own nudity. She was inspired. This was going to be the magnum opus of her fledgling career. She had toyed with this idea for awhile, even though it was outside her musical comfort zone. When she thought of her sister and her lady-love, she got Country. Sam was – of course – rock and roll, but Carly Shay – musically – was much lighter, wispy, and gentler. Melanie knew she needed to blend the two of them together as best she could.

Twenty minutes later, she had a completed set of lyrics. She threw on a pair of sweats and her tennis shoes and rushed down to the business center in the hotel lobby and pounded out the lyrics, printing them in triplicate for herself and the band. She was able to recreate the melody in her head easily enough once they got into the rehearsal studio. She knew performing an original composition in front of a television audience of millions in two days' time was bordering on the insane, but hey, she was a Puckett, so who would expect anything less?

SEATTLE, TWO DAYS LATER…

"Sam… you're really making a bit too much out of this…"

"You know, you're right, Cupcake… My sister's on the verge of becoming a big star and I'm just blowing this way out of proportion..."

Carly was a little hurt. She loved Sam with every single, solitary fiber of her being, but she was also prone to fits of something bordering on mania since Mel'd been gone. Sam instantly realized her mistake and did all she could to take it back. She was instantly sweet and gentle, apologetic. She only got this way with Carly. No one else was entitled to see Sam Puckett naked, exposed, and vulnerable like this.

"Carls, I… I know what you mean, and I… forgive me…"

"For what, Baby?"

Carly's eyes told Sam that it was already forgotten. Carly Shay would spend the rest of her natural life loving this woman, and for her to take it as a personal affront every time that Sam did or said something…colorful… she'd be old long before her time. There were things that were simply meant to be water under the proverbial bridge. Carly had every intention in the world of growing old with this blonde, blue eyed vixen, and she knew that in order to do that – to do what her heart and soul demanded of her – she needed to roll with the punches, indulge Sam Puckett's eccentricities.

"Mama, I know what this means to you… for Mel… I just mean that no matter what, she'll be home tomorrow night.

Sam knew Carly was right. She was just overanxious. She would never admit it openly, but she would do absolutely anything for her sister. Melanie was like Carly that way. They were both worthy of Sam's eternal devotion and gratitude. No matter what either of them would ever need – Ask and you shall receive.

"Carls…?"

Sam sounded weak.

"Yes, my darling?"

"You know that I… with Mel… that we…" Sam babbled incoherently. Carly knew instantly. She could do nothing but laugh.

"Yes, Honey… I know."

Sam shot Carly her very best pouty face.

"Alright… Alright! I'll make your popcorn… Just make sure you let Freddie in when he gets here. We can't have him miss his lady's big night!"

Sam didn't even protest. Deep down inside, she knew that Freddie – nubby as he was – was good for Mel. He was all she'd ever want or need. When she was a child, she thought as a child and spake as a child, but now she'd put away childish things. If Freddie Benson was what Melanie really wanted, that was okay with Sam. She'd never really had an issue with Freddie anyway – it was always about keeping up appearances.

She called to Carly, who was already in the kitchen.

"Hey, Baby….?"

Carly flushed.

"Yes, my dearest?"

"I love you. Just wanted you to know that."

LIVE FROM HOLLYWOOD…

"Good Evening America and welcome to the live finale of America Sings! It's been an amazing run, and finally… Twenty contestants have been whittled down to two. One of these two will walk out of here tonight with a three-record deal and instant celebrity. The other… goes home.

Melanie's heart was pounding. This wasn't about the music anymore – not for her. She knew the new material cold. The band had the music. She trusted them implicitly. The problem for her was simple. What if – Dear God – What if she won? That would be amazing for her, but, to do that, it would have to come at the expense of the man who had defended her against the bigot from Texas – the man who had become her dear, dear friend.

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER…

His set had just finished. He'd chosen to perform a metal-inspired rendition of Hotel California that truly brought the house down. She had no idea how on Earth she was going to compete with that. She'd find out soon enough. She took the stage. Most of her outfit tonight had been borrowed. Carly had been good enough to give her a few things to take with her on the road – things she had taken – initially – to remind her of the home she'd left. She had decided to put them to an entirely new use tonight. Tonight they were visible reminders of who she was and where she'd come from. They were visible reminders of exactly why she'd done all this – come out herself – and put herself on display. She was no longer a shy, timid little caterpillar. Now she'd become an amazing, vibrant butterfly. It was her time to shine.

Most of her wardrobe tonight had been borrowed. Her t-shirt was one of Carly's. She'd found a pair of bracelets on a shopping trip this week that would perfectly compliment Sam's – now Carly's – ring. She had even borrowed the cowboy hat from the Crazy Hat party. That was the night where Carly had first professed her love, however privately, for her sister. It was so intimate as to mean nothing to the masses, but that didn't matter. For the second week in a row, she would sing to an audience of two, plus one.

"…And Now… all the way from Seattle, Washington… Melanie Puckett with a first here on America Sings… an original composition…"

She looked to the band. It was time to get this party started.

The music came first, light and airy. It sounded as good as it ever did inside her head. She turned on the Southern charm she had picked up at school, the same accent she'd used to rebuke that hateful cowboy. This time it had another purpose.

"This time, only for good…" she thought.

Mel stepped up to the microphone.

"Before I get started, I just wanted to say what an incredible, magical ride this has been. This is for my sisters. Carly… Sam… I love you."

She adjusted Carly's blue cowboy hat on her head and stepped in to the spotlight. The cameras clearly picked up the words 'Bacon Cupcakes' across her chest.

Her heart swelled with pride. It finally broke forth from her lungs.

"…Every single day, there's a million distractions…"

"…People come and go, never know who we're passin'…"

"…Sun's up, Sun's down…again and again…"

"…You can feel it in the air, you can tell somethin's missin'…"

"…Might be a whisper, but if you listen…"

"…Our hearts are cryin', loud and clear…So why not start right here?..."

"…Just put your arms around someone…"

"…Never know who's waiting for a little love…"

"…It's not a waste of time… We got enough…"

"…So put your arms around someone…"

"…Feel the love and don't be scared…"

"…to open up…"

Melanie knew the rules went out the window tonight. The voting had already been done, based on their previous performance. Once she finished singing, she'd know. The world would know.

It was time for a commercial break.

BACK FROM COMMERCIAL…

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back. The votes are in, they've all been counted, and in one of the closest votes in the history of America Sings – we have our winner. Less than ten thousand votes separated these contenders. The question is which one has what it takes to be a star? Will it be Kurt Love of Minneapolis or Melanie Puckett of Seattle? America watched. America heard. America voted… and the winner – by the slimmest margin in America Sings history – and the recipient of a three-album record deal is…. MELANIE PUCKETT!"

Melanie felt her heart sink into her boots. This was unreal. This was clearly not happening. She'd pinch herself and wake up, back in Seattle, in Freddie Benson's arms. She literally did just that. She pinched herself and nothing happened. She was officially a pop star.

It hurt because the man she'd just beaten wasn't just another singer. He'd become her dear, dear friend. She'd seen pictures of his wife and his three precious little babies, ages six and a pair of four year old twins. She was overcome. She cried. She cried for herself, for Carly, Sam, and Freddie for believing in her. She cried for her new friend, who deserved this so much. She cried because of what this meant most of all. She sang again, but only to herself.

"…Come to my window…"

"…crawl inside…"

"…wait by the light of the moon…"

"…Come to my window…"

"…I'll be home soon…"