4

"Some of these song entries are absolutely atrocious," laughed Jessica, shaking her head in disbelief.

She and Mike were lounging in her Chula Vista studio, sitting at their respective computers and scrolling through their mailboxes. They were skimming over countless emails: a third of them spam advertisements, another third rabid fan mail, and the final third the entries of eager and delusional songwriters dreaming that the clunky tunes they'd worked on their entire life but sounded like they'd thrown them together in a few hours at 3AM would become Jessica Sanchez's new hit single.

Jessica giggled again at the next one she opened – after almost going deaf as the blast of distortion and noise from the potato-quality recording tore through her headphones. The song was about dying in someone's arms, the lyrics were juvenile and non-rhyming, the singer sounded like Rebecca Black without the virtue of auto-tune, and the production reminded her of Jon LaJoie's The Best Song. She kept giggling through a minute of ridiculousness until she pressed Stop and deleted the email, crushing Delilah Pliffenblopper's hopes and dreams.

"One-way trip to the trash. I'm done for now," she declared as she took off her headphones.

"Really? Some of the ones I'm getting are pretty good." Mike's voice sounded playful from the other side of the room. He turned away from his computer, kicked off the wall and scooted on his rolling chair next to Jessica.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Or maybe I just have high standards," she whispered in his ear. Then she couldn't help but giggle again and loosen her grip slightly. She was usually affectionate with Mike, but it wasn't like her to be so darkly seductive. But inside she was frustrated at all the terrible songs coming in, and it translated into other sorts of frustration. She was in that kind of mood.

Mike sensed it too. His hands found her waist and he turned her around, pulling her in. His grip was tender yet firm. "Really," he teased. Jessica closed her eyes as he moved in close and she felt his lips on hers. He kissed her deeply and broodingly, inviting her to follow his gentle movements. She returned it hungrily, adding fire to fuel, and tightened her embrace again. Lips opened to each other in rhythm and tongues interlocked smoothly. Just as Jessica felt it turn increasingly urgent, Mike pulled away softly. She gazed into his deep brown eyes.

"Come on, Jess, we gotta find the song," he said with a little smile.

Jessica smiled back. Just for that moment the stress evaporated, and she felt happy. Mike always understood how she felt. He was so sweet. Just one year ago, she'd have never imagined he would be her boyfriend. All he was to her was the simple best friend she could laugh with and reveal her real self to after she escaped from the strobe lights and camera flashes. But now that she was in his arms, it all made sense. She loved him. Yes, she was happy. "Okay," she said, and they turned back to her mailbox, his hand still on her waist.

They listened to the next song together. It was better than Delilah Pliffenblopper's, but the style and genre were obviously incompatible with J-Chez. She and Mike looked at each other, nodded simultaneously and deleted the email.

Jessica heaved a dejected sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if this song competition thing was a bad idea."

"Aw, don't worry about it. It was a great idea. You're a sweetheart for giving your fans this chance. I would never," laughed Mike. "Just 'cause I don't trust the songwriting integrity of crazy scene girls. But you've got the world after you, baby." He pinched her cheek. "All the Grammy-winning songsters are somewhere buried in our mailboxes. We just gotta find them. And besides, didn't we already find a bunch of great songs?" He opened the drawer and took out the list they'd made of songs they liked.

Jessica sighed again. "Those songs are great. But... I don't know. They just don't feel right. They're not really what I'm looking for."

"So what are you looking for?"

"I don't know. Something to move me." Jessica fell silent.

Mike watched her contemplative face. She could get so serious sometimes. She'd always been so serious for her age, and she hid it so well from the media. He decided to try to make her laugh. "You could've just asked me to write the song," he joked. Jessica didn't answer, and he fell silent too.

After a while she spoke. "Mike, you write so many beautiful songs for me. And I love them so much. But right now, I need you to do something for me."

"What is it, baby?"

A mischievous grin popped back onto Jessica's face. "Go buy me a burrito and a coke. I'm hungry."

Mike had left for Taco Bell. Jessica looked back to her screen. The title of the next email was "This will be the song you choose." She rolled her eyes – how many email titles similar to that had she thrown in the trash? Still, she opened it and began reading.

"Hey Jessica,

I know you've probably been getting a lot of crummy songs for this contest thing. Don't worry. This is the song you'll choose. I'm sure of it.

Though I have to say that even if you released a crummy song, your fans would still love it because you're J-Chez and everyone loves you no matter what you do. My fans are a lot pickier. Release a bad song or get wasted on stage and they flip out. But I should stop complaining.

Anyway, the song is called I Lost You. Hope you like it.

With love,"

Jessica read the name signed at the end of the email, and the whole world stopped.

It was like that day five years ago all over again.

When Mike returned to the studio with Jessica's lunch, he saw right away that her eyes had changed. There was an inexplicable joy in them that he'd never seen, and he wasn't sure, but he thought they were slightly red-rimmed. He knew instantly that she'd found her song.

"So? Who's the lucky winner?" He grinned and plopped down next to her.

To his surprise, he noticed that she wasn't smiling. Her mouth was hanging slightly open in disbelief, and she was shaking her head.

"It's not fair," she murmured. "I don't get it."

"What's not fair? What's wrong, baby?" Mike asked, concerned.

"That my favorite song of every song I've ever heard was written by my least favorite person."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Least favorite person? What are you talking about?"

Jessica smiled a little half-smile and chuckled a bit. "You won't believe it. Just read the email."

Mike's eyes immediately shot to the end of the email. Jessica watched them widen in utter astonishment. She was right – he couldn't believe it either.

"Phillip Phillips? From American Idol?" he gasped.

Jessica nodded.

"That's incredible. I thought he disappeared."

"So did I. This is the first time I've heard of him in years."

Jessica started, and swallowed. She felt a cold pang of guilt as she realized she'd lied to Mike for the very first time. It wasn't her first time hearing of Phillip in years. In fact, just a few weeks ago the news had reached her of Phillip's drunken fiasco on a San Diego stage. She had ignored it since it didn't concern her.

Now she couldn't understand why she'd lied. Perhaps she was still overwhelmed by the shock of the very friendly letter – or the complete brilliance of the song.

Mike saw the tension on her face; she was avoiding his gaze. He figured he knew what was going through her mind. "You had a crush on him back then, didn't you?"

Jessica's head jerked back to him in surprise, and she was relieved to see that he was smiling, and not jealous. "Yeah," she admitted as a rich blush spread over her cheeks. Then she giggled and shrugged. "It was just a kiddy crush."

She felt another pang of guilt that didn't make sense to her, because what she'd said was true.

"You sure?" He grinned teasingly.

"Yeah." There it was again. She shook it off.

"Alright, I believe you," said Mike, giving Jessica a hug. "Let's listen to the song."

The piano opening was moody and mysterious, and sucked him in immediately. Then the intense, driving verses began coursing through his veins, giving him a second heartbeat. When the huge chorus hit, Mike's jaw dropped. It was the best thing he had ever heard, better than anything he'd ever written. The bridge gave him chills. There was even a complex, heart-wrenchingly emotive solo, and the way Phillip played it made it sound like the guitar was depressed. By the time the song was over, Mike's mouth was hanging open in awe just like Jessica's.

"Amazing," he breathed. "Incredible. I don't believe it... it's fantastic. Absolutely perfect." He snapped his fingers. "This is exactly it – this is the next J-Chez single. And what really gets me is that... it's still so Phillip. It's so him."

"I agree a hundred percent." Jessica had tears in her eyes again. "It's unmistakably him, but it fits me, too. It moves me." She fell quiet again for another moment.

Her eye wandered, and that was when she noticed that there was something she missed in the email, at the very bottom, after Phillip's signature. A post-script. Her attention flew back to the screen. "Mike, there's something else here," she said. "Listen to this." She began reading it aloud.

"PS: I'd appreciate a signed copy of BBLove, but I don't need the royalty. Instead, I'd like to meet you sometime this week. I'll go to your tour, but I want to see you before that. Think you could do that for your old friend Phillip?"

Jessica turned back to Mike. He could tell that she looked eager, but hesitant.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Jessica smiled warmly, relieved. "Sure."