The beat picks up and I step forward, also not needing the lyrics. Because I’m a goddamn professional. It’s been a while since I sang in front of a crowd, but it’s not like I could forget how to do this. Shelby next to me is a bonus. Working together day in and day out is one thing but performing with her is another.

I’m not saying I want to get back into singing and dancing. I’m just saying this is the most fun I’ve had in a decade and it’s because of her.

Shelby and I move in synchronized steps, jumping with legs spread and crisscross our hands, raising the roof like it’s 2010 as we spin. The room goes wild and I laugh, losing my ability to sing the last bit. Shelby takes over, lowering her voice in a super douchey way, perfectly imitating Lyle’s over-the-top vibrato, and collapsing in giggles when the song ends. I pull her close and kiss the top of her head before taking her hand and raising it above our heads and taking a deep bow. Shelby blows a kiss at Lyle and Marcella and neither moves a muscle. Through the dim light of the bar, I see a hundred different phones recording us along with the cameras from the show.

Good. Let Lyle work that shit out. If he didn’t want footage to leak, he shouldn’t have flown out to Michigan and meddled. It’s in the back of my mind that we may have completely fucked our chance with the pilot, but for the moment, I can’t seem to care.

We jump off the stage and make our way back to the bar. Beth is holding out a few drinks. “On the house,” she tells us.

“Shelby, that was incredible!” The crowd parts and Marcella is walking up, followed by the glow of the cameras. She leans in to hug Shelby. “And Cameron! You sound even better than I remember. It’s a wonder you never made it big!” She presses herself into me, her perfume a choking cloud of expensive.

I take a small step back, unnerved by the way she hugs with all of her body. I was joking earlier about the sexual harassment, but I get the feeling that Marcella would be plenty happy to show me what real sexual harassment looks like, despite her husband glaring over her shoulder.

“Marcella,” Shelby says. “This is my best friend, Lorelai, and my other best friend, Maren, is around here somewhere…”

“Of course. I know Lorelai Jones. I used to be such a fan of yours! Talk about scandalous!” she stage-whispers.

Lorelai grins, all glossed lips. “Well, my momma always said it takes one to know one.”