Facing the Music (Rosewood 1)

“Can we trade?” Blake jested. A couple of people in the room chuckled at his joke.

“No way,” Ivy retorted. “I can’t sit around all day eating pie. My personal trainer would kill me.”

“Saturday morning,” Principal Everett interjected, “we’re having the parade where we present the new Miss Rosewood to the town. It’s not really a fund-raiser, per se, but we’d like both of you riding in the parade.”

Blake nodded along as his boss talked. This was all basic stuff. Smile for the cameras, show-pony chores. No problem.

“Saturday night is the dance.”

“Dance?” Ivy asked.

“Yes!” Gloria’s eyes lit up. “We are so excited about this. We’re hosting a retro Second Chance Prom. The theme is ‘Flashback to 1986!’” She grabbed a flyer off the table and showed it to them both.

Blake had seen it before, but hadn’t paid a bit of attention to it. He thought it was a school dance. His students seemed so obsessed lately with eighties style.

But apparently Gloria was just as enamored with the decade as the kids were.

“Ticket sales for this have been wonderful. Everyone is so excited to dress up for the dance. Not everyone got to go to their prom, so this is a rare opportunity for a lot of folks.”

Ivy didn’t seem to share Gloria’s enthusiasm. She was frowning at the flyer. “So, am I singing at the dance?”

“Oh no!” Gloria said. “If they want to hear you sing, they need to buy tickets to the concert next weekend. We want you and Blake to reprise your roles as prom king and queen.”

“Wait a minute,” Blake said, his hands going up defensively. “We’re being good sports, but don’t you think that’s pushing just a little too far?”

“I was worried about this one,” Gloria admitted. “But it isn’t as intense as it sounds. There’s one spotlight dance. Just one. The rest of the time, you don’t even have to be together. It’s more of a figurehead role. A prom needs a king and queen and it made sense for it to be the two of you.”

“Just one dance?” Ivy repeated for confirmation.

“Yes, just one.”

“But it’s a slow dance,” Blake interjected. “You’re going to have to touch me for three to four straight minutes without cringing.”

Ivy crossed her arms over her chest, pushing the firm flesh of her breasts up until they were deliciously displayed by the V-neck of her top. “I do believe I can manage that as long as your hands stay where they belong.”

“More’s the pity,” he said, thinking of a couple of places he’d love his hands to stray.

“Then there’s the concert,” Gloria interjected. “During the week leading up to that there aren’t official activities, so you have a little downtime after the big weekend. Blake will be teaching, of course, and we were hoping Ivy could do some press events to stir up publicity for the concert and the cause.”

“I’m hoping you can put me in touch with your publicist,” Pepper added. “I’d like to work with her to get you on a couple of high-visibility morning shows and celebrity entertainment news programs. Perhaps we can schedule it so Blake can appear in a couple of those as well.”

“Yes,” Gloria continued. “This is really an important part of the fund-raiser, because although not everyone can come to the concert, everyone can call or go online and donate directly to the Rosewood Gymnasium Fund. It really broadens our target audience.”

“And then the concert?” Ivy said. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it!” Gloria smiled wide, as though she thought her excess enthusiasm might spill over into the two of them. It didn’t.

“Okay.” Blake sighed and started counting on his fingers.

“Ribbon cutting, pie eating, pageant judging, parade waving, prom dancing, interview chatting, and concert singing. Does that about cover it?”

“That covers it.” Mayor Gallagher stepped forward and slapped Blake on the back. “Easier than winning the state championship. Before you know it, we’ll have a new, state-of-the-art facility for your kids to practice and play so they can win that trophy. Easy as pie.”

Blake nodded and eyed his ex-girlfriend across the room. She was trying to look upbeat and excited about this whole thing, but he knew her well enough to know it was a struggle. She wasn’t happy about any of it. Winning the state championship would be easier than getting through the next two weeks with her.

Easy as pie? Yeah, sure. Maybe one of those blue-ribbon-winning pies that the ladies in town agonize over and practice baking for weeks.

It wasn’t even lunchtime and Blake needed a drink.