Fool That I Am Page 6

  Daniel smiled ruefully. “I would rather you say ‘observed’ instead of stalked and I hope you would be intrigued, especially when I tell you why I was observing you.”

  Reaching into an inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a small, black business card and handed it to her. Curiously, Billie read the card looking for clues. The card itself was printed on thick, glossy black card stock. Silver embossed lettering spelled out the words “The Silver Knight” in blocky script. Underneath it, in smaller lettering was the subtitle “Social Club and Lounge” in Louisville, Kentucky. In the bottom left corner was his name with “Proprietor” written underneath.

  By now, Billie’s eyebrows had climbed so high on her forehead that they disappeared under her bangs. Her eyes shot up to his in shock. “You own The Silver Knight club?” she asked incredulously.

  He nodded in agreement and answered, “Yes, I am the owner and operator of the club. I take it you’ve heard of us?”

  Billie could feel the heat climb up in her cheeks. Of course, she had heard of the infamous new club in Louisville. In the two years since it had been open, it had attracted national attention and even a few lawsuits that were either settled out of court or dismissed altogether. The Silver Knight was infamous for its strict rules and practices, but since it was technically a “private” club, they could get away with screening the invitees based on very strict criteria. The concept of the club was a throwback to a time when men wore suits, women were femme fatales, and the music was classy. Entrance to the club was reserved for and highly coveted by men and women of wealth and influence who were looking for a place to socialize and network while dining on the finest cuisine, drinking the most expensive liquor, and brokering deals worth millions of dollars.

  The club was not without its scandal, however. Not too long ago, there was a highly-publicized lawsuit by a former “hostess” who claimed she was fired for refusing to sleep with a member. Billie vaguely remembered hearing about it on the news, but she couldn’t recall the details. She did know that the club employed “hosts” and “hostesses” who were essentially beautiful men and women whose sole purpose was to make the members time more enjoyable. They danced, talked, entertained, and even refreshed the drinks of the wealthy patrons as they socialized and relaxed. Billie knew she wasn’t the type of woman they employed for that job, so she couldn’t understand what Daniel Petrosky could possibly want with her.

  “Yes, I’ve definitely heard of the club, but then again, just about everyone in the country has heard of it. I believe I saw in the papers last week that Justin Timberlake was seen entering there while he was in town for a concert. That’s not something that can go unnoticed when we’re only forty miles south of you,” Billie answered honestly.

  He tipped his head in a brief acknowledgement before replying, “We don’t usually make it a habit of speaking about our patrons and guests, but I will make an exception in your case and tell you he was every bit the gentleman, and very gracious. I am glad you have some idea of my business, since I’m hoping that will make my proposition easier to explain to you.”

  Billie immediately went on red alert. The gossip surrounding The Silver Knight spanned the spectrum from secret sex club all the way over to stuffy, uptight, and entitled snobbery. Either way, she didn’t think that she would fit into either one of those categories at all. She definitely didn’t make enough money to be asked to join the club, and she wasn’t related to anyone of high social standing. In the few seconds she took to run through the options, she couldn’t think of a single reason for him to pay any attention to her at all.

  Mirroring her thoughts, she said doubtfully, “I can hardly think of anything you could propose to me, Mr. Petrosky. We have precious little in common and I can’t even begin to imagine why you are sitting here in a small club in E-town listening to karaoke.” It was a not-so-subtle reminder that he didn’t belong here, and also a fishing expedition to feed her curiosity.

  His eyes twinkled as he raised the glass to his lips for a brief drink of the potent liquor that she assumed was either brandy or scotch. “Please,” he started off by saying, “Call me Daniel. That way I won’t be telling my personal business to a stranger,” he explained pointedly.

  Billie had the good grace to flush, but she tipped her chin up and refused to apologize. “Then you must call me Billie…Daniel.”

  The corner of his beautifully sculpted lips tipped up in acknowledgment and he continued, “Well, Billie, the owner of this club, Jaime Olivera, is looking to open another location like this one in Louisville and is looking for investors. That’s where I come in. He invited me here to Cannon Fodder to view his business plan and to see for myself how wildly popular it is with the locals. I was not expecting to also find the very thing I was looking for, as well.”

  “And that would be?” she asked, mystified.

  With another wolfish smile, Daniel replied, “You.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Billie was stymied. She didn’t for one minute fool herself into thinking that this stylish and wealthy businessman had fallen in love with her at first sight. This was real life and things like that didn’t really happen. She had learned the hard way during her first marriage that happily ever after was just a fantasy and that there was no such thing as true love. She held no illusions on that score.

  “Care to elaborate on that a little, please?” she asked him incredulously.

  He smiled warmly at her causing his dimples to peek out and his expressive eyes to crinkle at the edges. “Of course I will, Billie. I was done with my business meeting hours ago and was just walking out to leave when I heard the most amazing rendition of ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’ by Etta James. I had to see who was singing such an iconic song with such passion here in a karaoke bar. When I saw you on that stage, I knew you would be perfect for my needs, but just to make sure, I put in one more request to our friend, Chester. Happily, I was not disappointed.”

  Billie was still confused, albeit flattered, by his confession. “I’m glad you enjoyed my singing, but I’m still not sure what this has to do with you and The Silver Knight.”

  Leaning closer into her personal space so he could speak more intimately, he explained further. “It wasn’t just your singing that intrigued me, Billie. It was the whole performance. I don’t think you realize how electric you are when you’re up on that stage. You connect viscerally with your audience and draw them into experiencing the song with you. That’s a rare talent and it’s also exactly what I’m looking for. You have the total package, Billie. You have the voice, the stage presence, and the looks that will go perfectly with our new private lounge at the club.”

  Billie looked down at herself doubtfully. She was not the thin and waifish women who starved themselves until they could shop in the junior’s department. While she wasn’t overweight, she definitely had plenty of curves. Getting back to the topic at hand, she asked suspiciously, “When you say ‘private lounge,’ what exactly happens in such a place?”

  His head tipped back as rich, shiver-inducing laughter caused goose bumps to dance along her skin. “Nothing as nefarious as you’re thinking, I promise you. No matter what was said in the press and by bitter former employees, The Silver Knight has never solicited or condoned sexual activity on our premises. That is so déclassé that I would never allow it,” he assured her. At her obvious look of relief, he continued, “The private lounge will be a smaller, more intimate retreat for people to dine and watch a show. I have several different acts lined up, but the one I was missing was for an old-fashioned jazz club or lounge singer. I think you would fit the bill perfectly.”

  Billie’s jaw dropped and she stared at him like he had horns growing out of his head. “Me? You’ve got to be joking! I’ve never performed for any audience other than karaoke here every now and then. You got the wrong girl, Daniel.”

  Holding his hand up to forestall further argument, he rushed to explain. “Please let me elaborate, Billie. Every now and then, I come acr
oss an exceptional ‘diamond in the rough’ and I just have this feeling that person is destined for more. You are one of those people, Billie. Don’t turn me down without hearing me out, please.”

  Despite her better judgment, Billie was beginning to be intrigued. She had always had a secret fantasy like this, but never dreamed it could be a reality. It had taken months for her friends to just convince her to get up and sing karaoke. She couldn’t imagine being a live singer with no prompter feeding her the words. Could she carry a performance like that? A part of her came alive at the thought, but the pragmatist inside her shook her head in the negative.

  “I think I understand what you’re going for, but I still think you’ve got the wrong girl. Besides, I’ve got a full-time job and kids, so I don’t see how I could possibly make it work. I appreciate the compliment, Daniel, and it was wonderful to meet you, but I think you need to keep looking,” Billie said regretfully, pushing back the chair to stand.

  Daniel rose from his chair, as well, and buttoned his suit coat in a move so practiced that it looked automatic. Taking the card from the table, he placed it in her hand. “Don’t make any snap judgments, please, Billie. I would love for you to visit, see the lounge, and discuss more about this at length. If you’re free tomorrow, I would be honored to have you visit me for a late lunch at the club and I could give you a tour and tell you about my vision. Would two pm work for you?”

  Billie could tell he wasn’t a man that heard “no” often and was determined to have his own way. She had absolutely nothing to do tomorrow except clean the house and watch old movies, so it would be nice to have a reason to get out of the house. The meeting would be an exercise in futility, but at least she would get a peek into the famous club.

  Meeting his intense stare, she finally said, “Alright, I’ll meet you there at two, but I don’t have anything fancy enough to wear there, so I will be wearing jeans. I still don’t think you will change my mind, but if you want to try, I’m willing to listen.”

  His slow, sexy smile bathed her in a happy glow. “Excellent. And, please, wear whatever makes you comfortable, Billie. Our members don’t usually start showing up until later in the evening, so don’t worry on that score. I look forward to seeing you there.”

  He took her hand in his and raised her knuckles to his lips for a chaste, chivalrous kiss before turning to stride purposefully from the room. She looked down at the card in her hand and slowly brought it to her nose. She could detect his expensive cologne and she breathed deeply, pulling the scent down into her lungs. As if their conversation had taken place in a vacuum, the noise from the club suddenly intruded on her consciousness along with sensory overload, but all she could think about was the look in Daniel’s eyes as he had kissed her hand.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next day, Billie took more care with her appearance than she usually did. While the results didn’t quite match the makeover from her friends the night before, she still thought she looked pretty good. She had spent the morning searching the internet for ideas on modern style and had managed to come up with a nice outfit that was both trendy and stylish. She paired her bootcut jeans with a lovely black blouse with a shark-bite hem that Jessica had given her for Christmas last year, and she accessorized with a shimmery light scarf that had black, silver, and pink accents artfully draped around her neck. After adding some silver dangling earrings and her black heels to dress it up a bit more, she moved on to her hair and makeup. Her hair was usually her best feature, so she upped the volume, left the waves, and flipped her hair upside down to spray it to give it texture. Normally, she didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but today, she used Jessica’s advice on enhancing her eyes with the cat-eye technique with gray and pink hues on her eyelids, soft blush on her cheeks, and a pink gloss on her lips.

  When Billie surveyed herself in the mirror, she was surprised at the effect it had on her self-esteem. She looked damn good and it reflected in how she held herself and how she walked. Per Connie’s instructions, she took a “selfie” of herself in the long mirror and sent it to her friend for approval. Within moments, an enthusiastic response of “Muy caliente!” came back to her phone, so she knew she passed muster.

  Before she left, she walked through the house and automatically picked up dirty laundry to toss in the hampers, retrieved empty cups and snack bowls from the kids’ rooms, and sent Derrick a text message to make sure he and Lola were doing alright. Several minutes later, he responded that they were doing fine, they had just finished lunch, and were headed over to see Grammy in a little while. Billie barely suppressed a shiver as she thought of her ex-mother-in-law. While she was pretty good with the kids, she had always treated Billie with barely concealed contempt and passive-aggressive comments that had chipped away at her confidence and self-esteem every bit as much as her son had. Billie now realized that his mother’s coddling and spoiling of Chad had largely contributed to his laziness, sense of entitlement, and overblown self-importance and Billie was very diligent at making sure those traits didn’t pass on to Lola and Derrick.

  Since Billie wasn’t that familiar with Louisville except how to get to the malls, she looked up directions to the club. And, since she was already on the internet, she did a more thorough search of the club and its owner, Daniel Petrosky. According to an in-depth interview done by The Courier-Journal, Daniel Petrosky was a 35-year-old entrepreneur who was a self-made multi-millionaire that had started his career in commercial real estate and then moved on to open a lucrative consulting firm. His knack for being able to read trends and predict social needs allowed him to direct businesses and companies toward decision-making processes that would ultimately net them millions of dollars in profits. Since Daniel was incredibly smart, he would often work for a smaller upfront fee, but insist on a certain percentage of profits or stock options. Within seven years, he cracked the top 10 list of richest men in Kentucky and was expected to make the Forbes List in the next few years.

  The reason for that would be The Silver Knight club. Opened over two years ago, the private social club was created for wealthy patrons of both sexes. Daniel had used his sixth-sense for social trends to launch this exclusive club that brought back the feeling of classic elegance that was popular during the age of Big Band and jazz clubs. Exact details were scarce, thanks to the strict confidentiality clause in the member contracts, but credible gossip sources indicated that the initial membership fee ran $50,000 plus an annual fee of $5,000. There were also charges for incidentals such as food, drinks, tickets for galas and fundraisers, and any other special event hosted by the club. It had become so popular with the upper crust that Daniel had been able to entice a well-known chef from NYC to move to Louisville to take over the restaurant. Celebrities flocked to the club during their stay in the city for events or concerts and their Kentucky Derby party had been the hottest ticket in town with pictures of celebrities showing up in national magazines. The dress code was strict for members and guests alike: suits or tuxes for men and either dresses or pantsuits for the women. It was very posh, very exclusive, and very coveted by anyone who was anyone.

  Billie was even more confused by Daniel’s insistence on having her as a lounge singer after reading more information on the club. She came from down-to-earth, hard-working people that put little to no emphasis on wealth or financial success. Her parents were not poor by any means, but they lived comfortably and frugally managed to put away money in their savings accounts while paying this month’s bills with last month’s money. She had been raised to put more stock in happiness than in material goods, so Billie was not impressed by the flashy wasteful spending of the mega-rich or even the almost rich people she had seen growing up.

  Regardless of how she felt about working there, however, she still felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach when she pulled up to the almost-deserted club at 1:45 pm. She could see a shiny, black Lexus sedan in the parking lot and surmised it must be Daniel’s, even though she pictured him driving something more luxurious
like a Jaguar or Porsche. Normally, she never gave her own car a second thought, but today, she felt like it stuck out like a sore thumb sitting in the same lot where BMW’s, Mercedes, Rolls, and other luxury cars usually were parked while guarded by off-duty police officers.

  The building was sleek and modern, all tinted glass and silver fittings, yet there was also a retro feel to the place. There was no outward sign or neon lettering announcing the club name except for elegant script on the front door. Billie anxiously checked her appearance one last time in the reflection on the glass door before it was opened from the inside by a big bruiser of a man who was obviously amused.

  “You must be Ms. Hardesty,” the mountain of muscle said to her with an outstretched ham-fist. He was built like an MMA fighter with a broad chest and huge arms that tapered down to a narrow waist before flaring back out to form thick, corded thighs. His light brown hair was buzzed close to his scalp and tribal tattoos snaked down both arms: one in the form of a tiger and the other in the form of a dragon. He was wearing all black from his tight tee shirt and black jeans down to his black construction boots. His face was ruggedly handsome, even though his nose had obviously been broken a few times, but his features softened dramatically when he smiled and changed him from scary to heartbreaker in the blink of an eye.

  Billie cautiously placed her own hand in his and was surprised at how gently he gripped her hand for a shake. “Yes, my name is Billie Jean Hardesty. Please, call me Billie,” she replied, answering his grin with her own.

  “It is definitely a pleasure to meet you, Billie. My name is Henry Nelson, but everyone calls me Hank. I’m head of security here at the club. I’m afraid there’s been some mistake, though, ma’am. I’mma have to speak to Danny Boy about you,” he warned her severely, crossing his bulging arms over his pecs.