Fool That I Am Read online

  Billie sucked in a surprised breath and fought down panicky tremors. “I knew it. I told Daniel that I didn’t belong here, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’ll just go back-“

  “Wait, now!” Hank interrupted her, laughing, “You got me all wrong, babe. It’s just that Danny told me you were beautiful, but he didn’t say you were fucking sex on heels. Pardon my French.”

  She blinked in shock before her own startled laughter escaped to float across the echoing foyer. “Thanks, I think,” she replied, chuckling. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And as for your language, don’t worry. I hear worse every day from the nurses I work with, so you can’t shock me.”

  As he ushered her inside with a chivalrous hand at the small of her back, he told her, “I have a hard time believing no one else ever told you how hot you are, Billie. If you sing half as good as you look, you’ll drive these rich old jerks into heart attacks.”

  She could feel heat creeping up her cheeks at his crass words, but she was inordinately pleased by his compliments. “You’ve got a silver tongue on you, Hank. If you’re head of security, who keeps the women safe from you?”

  His chuckle was deep and dripping with testosterone. “Have no fear for the ladies, babe. They lead me around by the balls all the time. I’m a sucker for women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. I love ‘em all. I’m an equal opportunity lover.”

  “I just bet,” she murmured as she followed him down a marbled hallway toward heavy cherry wood double doors with her heels clicking smartly on the Travertine tiles.

  Surreptitiously, she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans as they got closer to what she assumed to be Daniel’s office. Hank slammed his huge fist against the door three times before swinging the door open without waiting for a response.

  “After you, mademoiselle,” he proclaimed with a cocky wink, ushering her through gallantly.

  She couldn’t help the flirty smile she sent his way as she replied, “Thank you, Hank. It was a pleasure.”

  “Oh, it could be, babe,” she heard him mutter under his breath as he shut the door behind her and disappeared.

  The office was a mirror of the building with sleek modern furniture of black leather, silver and glass tables, and a large, black wood desk that was shaped almost like a boomerang. Fitting in with the marriage of modern and retro, there were framed vinyl records on the walls of Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee, Etta James, and more. An old-fashioned martini bar sat to the left of the room and standing there sipping one was Daniel Petrosky.

  Billie couldn’t help but catch her breath at the sight of him. Even wearing “casual” clothes, the man oozed power, money, and sex. His jeans were designer dark wash and hugged his behind perfectly, much to her delight. His sweater, a dark navy blue, looked soft to the touch and was separated from his torso by a button-down white collared shirt that was left open at the neck and rolled up at the cuffs. A chunky silver watch, his only jewelry, draped one wrist and his eyes were drinking in the sight of Billie while his mouth drank in the martini. He looked younger than he did last night, but no less intimidating and masculine.

  “I see you met my security chief, Hank. You better watch yourself around him, Billie. He’s quite the ladies’ man,” he said by way of greeting, a rueful half smile tugging at his lips.

  “From what I’ve read, the same could be said about you, Daniel,” she replied without thinking. She was almost shocked at her boldness, but she liked it, too.

  Holding his glass up in a toast, he replied, “Touché, mademoiselle.” Finishing off his drink, he set the glass on the surface, and pushed away from the bar. “Thank you for humoring me by coming up here to meet with me. I will be happy to reimburse you for your expenses and mileage, of course.”

  Billie tried not to let his offer annoy her, but it got under her skin regardless. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you. I will, however, let you buy my lunch. I’m pretty sure I can’t afford your restaurant,” she replied, softening her sharp response with a smile.

  His dimples deepened with his smile as he strolled across the room to extend his elbow. “Then by all means, let us proceed with the tour so that we can move on to lunch, shall we?”

  Billie nodded shyly and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to escort her from his office and back into the hallway. As they strolled arm-in-arm, he pointed out artwork by famous Kentucky artisans, such as a gorgeous swan-shaped urn sculpted from Indiana limestone that had been polished to a high shine. He told her about the state-of-the-art security system he had installed and how only members had access to certain rooms in the club by fingerprint scan. The restaurant, however, was open to the public, but reservations were very difficult to obtain and the waiting list was months long.

  When they entered the dining room, she couldn’t stifle the awed exclamation that slipped from her lips. Even in the daytime, the restaurant was dripping with elegance. Everything looked perfectly placed. The crystal chandeliers were sparkling, the linens were crisp and white, and the utensils were made of heavy silver and gleamed with high-polished shine. Each table had a centerpiece of real miniature gourds and pumpkins with seasonal flowers and a stout, unlit candle in the middle. Billie tried to maintain her scorn for all things opulent, but she was powerless to resist the charming sophistication of the restaurant.

  Daniel’s twinkling eyes revealed that he knew she was impressed despite herself. “Let’s sit and talk while we wait for our meal. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of choosing our menu. Please be frank with me if it is not to your taste and we will order something different, alright?”

  Billie nodded eagerly, secretly glad that she didn’t have to decipher the menu. The fanciest restaurant she’d ever been to was an Italian restaurant, and even there she was able to figure out what everything was, but she wasn’t so confident here.

  Like a true gentleman, Daniel pulled her chair out for her and assisted in scooting her closer to the table before sliding fluidly into his own chair. Before he could even warm his seat, a silent waitress appeared dressed in sharply-creased black slacks, button-up white blouse, and a black half-apron tied around the waist. On her tray was a carafe of ice water and she poured them each a small glass of water before turning to Billie.

  Solicitously, the waitress introduced herself. “Good afternoon, and welcome to The Gold Lady restaurant. My name is Holly, and it will be my pleasure to serve you. What may I get you to drink, ma’am?”

  Billie was torn on what to order, not sure if they even carried the same kind of drinks as regular restaurants. Did rich people even drink soda? Turning an embarrassed look to Daniel, she lowered her voice to ask, “Would it be terribly low-class of me to order sweet ice tea?”

  His rich laughter pealed across the empty restaurant. His response created laugh lines around his eyes. “Billie, this is Kentucky. Iced tea transcends all social and economic boundaries, I assure you.” Then, to the server, he ordered, “Holly, bring the lady a sweet tea and I’ll take mine unsweet. Thank you.”

  With a murmured, “Yes, Mr. Petrosky,” she was off to the kitchen, leaving Billie and Daniel gazing at each other with loaded silence.

  He was the first to break the ice. “From your earlier statement, it seems as if you have done your homework before coming here today. I feel like I am at a definite disadvantage. Tell me a little bit about yourself, Billie,” he said, leaning in closer to the table.

  Billie was nervous and it showed in the anxious movements of her fingers as she adjusted her scarf, pushed her hair behind her ear, and twisted the mother’s ring around her right ring finger. She made a snap decision to be honest with him and speak her mind. It wasn’t as if she would ever see him again after today, anyway, so she decided to not censor her words or soften her opinions. She had nothing to be ashamed of and he was no better than she.

  “I find that hard to believe, Daniel. I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday. With all your high-tech gadgetry
, financial resources, and a chief of security like Hank, you can’t tell me that you didn’t run an extensive background check on me before I got here today. I’m sure you know all about me, from my credit score all the way to the balance in my checking account. I’m sure you could probably even tell me my bra size. So what could I possibly tell you that you don’t already know?” she asked him candidly.

  His eyebrows climbed his forehead and she could see the light of challenge in his eyes. “Billie Jean Hardesty, formerly Kincaid, age 30. Divorced from one Chad Hardesty, age 32, three years ago last June. Mother of two children: Derrick George Hardesty, age 11 and Lola Jean Hardesty, age 4. Former office manager for the defunct Elizabethtown Realty and Auction, currently working as a receptionist for Bluegrass Pediatrics in Radcliff. Your credit score is a respectable 620, but in danger of falling due to large hospital bills incurred during your son’s recent hospitalization for asthma.” He paused for a moment to take in her hard expression. “And your bra size is a 36D.”

  Billie sucked in an indignant breath, shocked at the extent of his knowledge, yet knowing it was just the surface of what he had learned about her. “Well, you got it mostly right. I’m actually a 38D. What’s left to know?”

  He smiled kindly, and replied, “Billie, those are all just statistics and numbers. I want to know more about you, the woman. What is your favorite movie, what books do you read, and what do you do for fun? If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it? I want to find out what makes you tick, and what you believe in. Those are the things that make you interesting, not the hard facts that anyone could look up with a little effort.”

  Before she could formulate a reply, Holly was back with their drinks and an appetizer. Placing the small platter in the middle of the table, she announced, “Warm brie en croute with honey walnut sauce.” In the center of the plate was a small, round pastry-covered cheese drizzled generously with golden honey and toasted walnuts. Around the edge of the plate, sliced apples and crackers were arranged artistically. The smell reached Billie’s nose and her mouth flooded in anticipation. Anything that smelled that good had to taste good, too.

  Daniel once again took the lead and broke the crust of the flakey pastry to release the melted cheese. As he generously topped a cracker, he urged her, “Help yourself, but I want to hear more about you in between bites.”

  She grudgingly acquiesced and gingerly scooped up some of the brie with an apple slice. Snapping it between her teeth, she chewed thoughtfully for a second before the flavors exploded over her tongue. Holding her hand politely in front of her mouth, she exclaimed, “Oh, my God, that is the best thing I have ever tasted!”

  He nodded his head knowingly as he chewed another bite of the sweet and tangy cheese. As they continued to eat, she let down her guard and began to tell him more about herself as he expertly drew her out with leading questions. She told him about her parents and the uneventful, happy life they had provided for her growing up where the love and acceptance was abundant, but hard work and responsibility was expected and rewarded. She told him about how her dad, a rabid fan of vinyl and jazz, had taught her to love music and singing from a young age.

  He interrupted her long enough to ask, “Is that how you got your name? From Billie Holiday?”

  She laughed lightly and shook her head in the negative. “Sometimes I tell people that, but the horrible truth is that my mother was, and still is, a huge Michael Jackson fan. I was born right as that song was climbing the charts, so Mom insisted and Dad gave in, as usual.”

  They shared a good chuckle over that bit of honesty and barely noticed when Holly arrived to clear away the appetizer. She went on to discuss her favorite music at length and found out that they had a lot in common including their love of Dean Martin, Johnny Cash, and Led Zeppelin, but he denied being a fan of Fleetwood Mac while she disagreed with his assertion that the Beetles were the best band.

  Such was their camaraderie that she barely noticed when Holly came back with their meal. “Grilled swordfish nicoise with mixed autumnal vegetables and wild mushroom stuffing.” Holly deftly removed the silver dome, placed the silver tray on the table, and freshened their drinks before once more melting into the background.

  Daniel watched her closely as she bravely dug in and tried the gourmet meal in front of her. The flavors were unusual, but quite tasty, and she soon found herself enjoying the fresh ingredients and healthy flavors. As they ate, their conversation continued easily and they laughed and shared stories from their youth.

  Billie soon learned that Daniel came from a single-parent home due to his father passing away when he was only 13 years old. While he admitted that losing his father had been difficult at such a young age, he divulged that he had an older brother that had taken over the responsibility of watching out for him while his mother and younger sister had given him the emotional support he needed. He freely credited his family for his success and determination to succeed and had made sure his mother was well taken care of and that his sister had gone to the best college. His brother, also quite wealthy in his own right, was a Congressman in Indiana, but kept in touch frequently.

  By the time they had finished their dessert of pumpkin orange cheesecake with bourbon-maple whipped cream, they had built an easy rapport with each other. Billie was surprised by how much she enjoyed his company. She had assumed his wealth would make him aloof, self-important, and elitist, but he proved her wrong. Billie thanked him profusely for the lovely meal and made sure to praise Holly for her professionalism and excellent service while also sending her compliments to the chef.

  They resumed their tour of the facility with a stop in the men’s lounge that was outfitted in dark brown leather chairs, rich-colored Oriental rugs, tall bookcases stocked with first editions, and a fully stocked bar. Next up was the women’s salon that reminded Billie of the sets used on Downton Abbey with embroidered brocade fabric chairs, settees, and sofas with heavy velvet curtains and sparkling silver sconces and Tiffany lamps scattered around the room to create intimate groupings. Another full bar and wine rack, as well as tea service, waited their drinking pleasure. Next up were the racquetball courts, fully equipped gym, and full basketball court for the younger members to play a pick-up game. There were sumptuous locker rooms complete with saunas, whirlpools, and showers, as well as a hot tub big enough to fit a boardroom full of people inside it.

  Billie couldn’t help but stare covetously into the doors of the private spa where Daniel explained that they offered members hot volcanic stone massages, facials, and body wraps, as well as manicures and pedicures.

  “I’ve never had a pedicure before,” Billie confessed reluctantly, after Daniel asked her if she enjoyed them.

  His look of surprise was quickly masked as he asked curiously, “Really? Why not? Are you squeamish about people touching your feet?”

  She could feel the heat rise to her face, but she refused to apologize for her past. “Nothing so silly as that. It’s just that I had Derrick when I was 19 years old. There was always something else I needed to spend my money on, you know? If it wasn’t diapers or daycare, then it was school lunches or doctor’s bills. Asthma medications aren’t covered very well by my insurance, so they can be quite pricey.”

  “Ah, I begin to see,” he replied noncommittally, wisely not offering to buy one for her.

  Finally, they reached the padded double doors that led into the newer portion of the building which housed The Platinum King, the new club that Daniel added on recently. Once again, Billie found herself awed by the sheer elegance and beauty of the large, open room that featured cozy private tables arranged across a tiered expanse with the focal point being the stage. All across the back of the stage there was room for a full band to accompany the glossy black baby grand piano situated stage left. To the right was a large percussion set with multiple types of drums and cymbals, but the main focus for Billie was right in the center. Standing tall and proud, beaconing to her like a siren, was the tall stand with
the old-fashioned silver microphone.

  “Oh, my…” she breathed, lost in her imagination as she envisioned Peggy Lee, Etta James, or Nina Simone standing there in front of the crowd crooning songs about heartbreak, romance, and men that had done them wrong.

  Billie knew something about those kind of songs. It was why she loved to sing them so much. She had lived through all the heartache and pain of a man doing her wrong, but those days were at an end. She was much wiser now.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Daniel, this looks just like the clubs in all the Rat Pack movies I’ve seen growing up,” she gushed excitedly, running her hand across a starched white tablecloth.

  They were walking through the empty room while Daniel pointed out items of interest on their way to the stage. “I’m glad to hear you say that, because that’s the style I was aiming for,” he confessed. “I’ve long thought that entertainment, especially music, has lost its refinement and class. No matter how much I love a band or a singer, I just don’t enjoying the thought of a concert in a huge stadium with thousands of people screaming and slopping beer all over me. And, the act is so far away on the stage that you end up watching most of it on the Jumbotron. That’s not a true experience, in my book.”

  Billie nodded her head in agreement. “I totally agree with you. I scrimped and saved for a year to see Stevie Nicks in concert. While I loved hearing her sing live, it was frustrating because I was too far away to really see her. This idea is genius, Daniel. Is it true that Justin Timberlake sang for a private audience while he was here?”

  He tipped his head back with laughter. “Let’s just say that I’ve been fortunate to entice several big-name talents to share their music with us on this stage. Even one who wears a Suit and Tie.” She grinned and winked, letting him know she caught the hint.