"Well, that's uncalled for," Frank said with a brilliant kind of a laugh. "Yeah, that's gonna take at least a beer. And probably you singing a song too, so. Chin up, buttercup. Pick something out, if I have to so do you."

His smile was earnest, charmed. He'd sing even if she didn't agree to his terms. But now it was a question of if she would.

"I bet you'd do a killer Madonna."