Fool That I Am Read online

  Handing her the check, he said wearily, “Here’s a check for $1,000. You’re not getting another dime until the paternity test is completed. If it turns out that it is my baby, I’ll take care of both of you. Until then, I don’t want to talk to you or see you again. Do I make myself clear?”

  Snatching the check out of his hand, she sneered, “Crystal,” as she stuffed it in her purse and stomped out of the house and slammed the door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  True to her word, Diana called in a veritable army of people to work on Billie. The first to arrive was the nail technician that explained that she normally worked in the adjoining spa, so she escorted Billie to one of the plush, heated leather chairs with the foot bath and set her feet to soaking. Jennifer the nail tech was one of those naturally cheerful people that talked nonstop as she worked over Billie’s nails. Even as she was placing French tips with acrylic overlay on her fingers, Jennifer prattled on ceaselessly without seeming to take a breath. She gossiped about all the rich ladies, without revealing names, which came into the spa and laughed about the ridiculous demands that some of them made such as one lady who insisted that they give a mani/pedi to her Chihuahua at the same time as she received hers. Billie was actually quite thankful for Jennifer’s mindless conversation as it distracted her from her fear and worry.

  After Jennifer had completed her nails and had moved on to her feet, another woman showed up with an armful of colorful dresses draped over her arms, a flexible measuring tape around her neck like a snake, and silver-framed square glasses perched on the end of her nose and held in place by a thin circle chain. Her hair was a wiry, dirt brown mixed with steel gray and pulled back from her weathered face in a haphazard bun.

  “Hello, dear, my name is Inga Braxton,” she introduced herself with a noticeable German accent. “I have been given less than two hours to outfit you in an evening gown.” Looking her over with a practiced eye, she pronounced, “Size 8, yes?”

  Billie nodded dumbly and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ha! I knew it. Diana, that stupid cow, said you were at least a 10. She should keep her nose where it belongs,” Inga muttered distractedly as she tossed her armload into an unused chair and whipped the measuring tape out from around her neck.

  Billie traded alarmed looks with Jennifer as Inga continued to vilify Diana under her breath between sharp commands such as, “Arms straight out to the side!” and “Now, you must stand!” as she measured Billie’s bust, waist, and hips. “The Cow says white dress, but she knows nothing about your skin color. I will be glad to tell her she is wrong, as usual. I will be back in one hour for fitting, yes?” she said, before exiting out the door in a flurry without waiting for a reply.

  Jennifer giggled at the alarmed look on Billie’s face. Picking her foot up out the water and drying it, she went to work trimming the nails and cuticles. “Don’t worry about Inga,” she admonished Billie with a flip of her curly blonde hair, “She grumbles about Diana all the time.”

  Nervously tapping her new nails against the armrest, Billie asked, “Is it because Diana is transgendered or because she’s black?”

  “Oh, neither one! Diana is a just a raving bitch and loves to try to boss around the spa employees and the wardrobe people. We don’t report to Diana and we have our own managers, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to tell all of us what to do. She and Inga have had some epic showdowns, for sure!” she gossiped happily.

  Twenty minutes later, as her freshly painted toes were drying under a glowing ultraviolet light, Daniel appeared carrying a narrow plastic binder and leading a young man who followed behind like an eager puppy. Appearing to be in his early twenties, the young man was sharply dressed in black suit pants, a button-down lavender shirt open at the throat, and black dress shoes polished to a high shine. In his hands, he carried a netbook, a cell phone, and a bottle of Evian water. His smile was eager-to-please as he waited for Daniel to take the lead.

  “How was your first ever pedicure?” Daniel asked her warmly.

  “Surprisingly, I really loved it. I didn’t think I would like someone touching my feet, but Jennifer made the whole experience fun and enjoyable. I’m still not too sure about these things, though,” she confessed, tapping the fake nails against the chair rail.

  His dimples deepened with his laugh. “Just gilding the lily, that’s all,” he assured her. Stepping to the side, he indicated his human shadow. “Billie, let me introduce you to my personal assistant, Connor. I have some urgent business to attend to before the show, so he will be at your beck and call for the next several hours.”

  Impulsively sticking his hand out, Connor gushed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am!”

  Billie tried to hide an amused smile as she shook his hand back and replied, “Likewise, Connor. Please call me Billie.”

  Clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder, Daniel explained, “I’m giving Connor the song list that Marcus gave me months ago and he is going to review it with you while you get your hair and makeup done. He’s very organized and has some ideas on how to alleviate your fear about forgetting the lyrics. If you need anything at all, just let him know and he’ll take care of it, alright?”

  Billie nodded agreeably and waved Daniel off to go about his business. Excited to begin, Connor claimed a seat next to her and handed her the bottle of water while he began to show her the contents of the binder. “I took the liberty of compiling the songs alphabetically by title and by artist, as well as by genre. Marcus has quite an extensive list of songs that he and his band can play from the 40’s all the way up to current music. Daniel had stated that you might be more comfortable with jazz or blues music, so why don’t we start there?”

  Billie took a deep drink of the cold water and nodded her head eagerly. “Let’s start by looking at the artists first. There are several songs that I know backwards and forwards, so I would feel better about starting with some of those.”

  He nodded eagerly and opened his netbook to take notes of which songs she chose. “We’ll make two lists: one for definitely and one for maybe. That way if Marcus can’t do one of them on the definitely list, we can replace it with one from the other list. It pays to anticipate every contingency!” he announced, in his best teacher voice.

  For the next fifteen minutes, they poured over the songbook and Billie was shocked by how fast each of the two lists filled up. In no time, she had well over 25 songs on the “definitely” list and almost as many on the “maybe” list. Just this exercise with Connor did more to alleviate her anxiety than anything else, but she would still feel better after rehearsing with Marcus and his band for a few hours.

  At this point, Diana strode into the spa and announced that the band had arrived and they were setting up. Connor proclaimed that he had sent the list to a wireless printer and would run and take it to Marcus for them to look over while the makeup artist worked on Billie. He edged around Diana skittishly as he took off for the door, and left Billie alone with the woman Inga called “The Cow.”

  Diana escorted Billie back to the dressing room where she would get her makeup done. Admiring Billie’s nails, she remarked, “Already looking much improved. Has Inga been to see you yet?”

  “Oh, yes. She was quite the character,” Billie responded diplomatically.

  Diana laughed lightly. “How many different names did she call me? I bet she was fit to be tied after our little discussion earlier.”

  A shocked chuckle escaped Billie’s lips. “You know about that? I have to say she was pretty torn up about you. She reminded me a little of a wet cat,” she confided.

  “That’s Inga for you. I found out early on that I get better and faster results out of her when I make her angry. And nothing makes her madder than when I try to tell her how to do her job. Girl, you should see that hot-blooded hausfrau go into a full-on hissy fit. It’s something to behold. Some people work better under stress, some work better at night or in the morning, but Inga works better when she’s pissed of
f at me. I don’t mind taking one for the team if it gets the results I want,” Diana confessed as they paused outside the dressing room door.

  Billie regarded the tall black woman with new respect. “That is both evil and genius. I think I’m going to like you.”

  “You pull off this show like Daniel thinks you can, honey, and you’ll be my new best friend,” she promised with an arched brow before spinning and walking away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Billie peeked out from behind the curtain and tried not to throw up all over her couture gown. It was almost 8 pm and the club was full to capacity with the rich and elite of Kentucky, Indiana, and abroad. Men and women of all ages were dressed to the nines in glittering dresses and formal suits as they talked, laughed, and drank while waiting for the evening’s entertainment.

  A warm, strong hand landed on her bare shoulder, startling her out of her voyeuristic curiosity. Already knowing it was Daniel, Billie turned to greet him and sucked in a breath of admiration at his masculine beauty. His formal suit was luxurious and fitted to his trim and muscular frame like a glove. Billie was sure it was made by some famous designer like Armani or HUGO, because he looked good enough to walk down any runway. His hair was tame and styled and his intoxicating cologne teased her senses. He looked good enough to eat.

  “Are you about ready?” he asked her kindly, taking her hand in his and lifting it for a chivalrous kiss.

  Pressing her hands to her belly, she answered, “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. At least I look the part.”

  Running his eyes up and down her frame appreciatively, he agreed. “You look absolutely stunning, Billie. Of course, you were beautiful to begin with, but now you look like a million bucks. And when you were in rehearsals, you sounded like it, too. You have nothing to be afraid of, my dear. Go out there and be yourself and they will fall at your feet.”

  She could feel the warm glow of his approval radiate throughout her body and it bolstered her confidence. “I can’t thank you enough for doing all this for me tonight, Daniel. Your staff was wonderful and they worked so hard to make sure I looked and felt like a star.”

  And she did feel differently than she normally did. You can’t wear a slinky black lace evening gown with a V-neck in the front and back, train to the floor, and hugging every curve without feeling like more of a lady. The hair and makeup people had done an excellent job, too. She wasn’t used to wearing this much makeup, so it felt heavy and a little unnatural on her face, but it also served to make her feel like she was wearing a mask behind which she could hide. Her hair was left down after being blown out, volumized, and glossed to a high shine thanks to the genius hands of Emilio, a sassy young man that tamed her hair like it was a wild lion’s mane. Inga, still cursing and slandering Diana, added the finishing touches such as fire red ruby earrings and pendant, a diamond bracelet, and a diamond ring so big it weighed down her hand. It made her nervous to be wearing all this borrowed jewelry, but Diana had assured her that it would be fine and even put her stamp of approval on Billie’s appearance.

  “Marcus had wonderful things to say about your singing and declared you were the easiest performer to work with in his long career. I have a sixth sense about these things, Billie. You were meant to be on this stage,” Daniel assured her.

  Billie took a deep, bracing breath and let it out slowly. “I hope you’re right this time, too. I don’t want to let you down. I just can’t help but think that I’m still just single mom Billy Jean Hardesty under all this frosting, and I’m just not as positive as you are that she’s going to be good enough.”

  “Right here, right now, you are not Billie Jean Hardesty. You are a sexy, confident star who’s going out on that stage and singing like she’s been doing it for years. When you walk out there, you will cease to be Single Mom Billie and instead you will be someone else. Pick a stage name, Billie. That way, when you walk on that stage, you can become someone else,” he advised her solemnly.

  Her face brightened at that idea. “I think that sounds like a good plan. Let’s see…” she tapped her chin thoughtfully for moment. “I love that song Valerie by Amy Winehouse and the last name should be simple to remember. How about Valerie Jones?”

  His dimples winked at her in approval. “That sounds lovely. Just remember, when you are socializing with anyone other than the staff, they will be calling you Valerie. This will also help protect your real identity from anyone wanting to contact you outside the club.”

  With a final few words of encouragement, he left to address the crowd and announce her act. Billie took a few moments to do deep breathing and calm her mind as she reviewed the set list. She could do this; she had to do this. She desperately needed the money and she also realized that Daniel was right: if she didn’t get on that stage, she would always wonder what she had missed. She didn’t want that regret hanging over her head for the rest of her life.

  Interrupting her train of thought, Daniel’s voice came across the microphone. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to The Platinum King Club!” he pronounced. After waiting for the applause to die down, he continued, “I know many of you were looking forward to hearing Johnny Bello croon on stage, but don’t be disappointed. We have a new act for your enjoyment tonight. Joining Marcus and the Move Kings, please welcome… Valerie Jones!”

  At this cue, the band began to play, and as planned, Billie began to sing into a microphone before she even walked out on stage. “Oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling.” Marcus and the band picked up the cue before she continued, “I get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no, no.” Another musical cue jumped in and she rejoined, “And I just want to tell you right now that I, I believe, I really do believe that…”

  Here the curtains swung back as the band jumped in to begin playing Something’s Got a Hold On Me by Etta James. Billie, already into the mood of the song, didn’t think twice before sashaying onto the stage to pick up the song. It was a faster, upbeat song and it helped to relax her and give her confidence, especially when Marcus winked at her from the piano.

  By the end of the song, she no longer felt like Billie Jean Hardesty. She was Valerie Jones, sexy songstress. Even her interaction with the audience was light, flirty, and fun as she introduced new songs, stepped back to allow the band to play a few instrumental sets, and even told a few anecdotal stories from her youth growing up hearing this music with her dad playing records. She sang songs by Peggy Lee, Lena Horne, Elvis, Sinatra, and more. The more she sang, the more the crowd applauded, cheered, and jumped up to do some impromptu dancing. They were having fun, she was having a blast, and the two hours went by before she knew it.

  After her final song of That’s It, I Quit, I’m Moving On, she took her final bow and exited the stage where she found Daniel waiting for her with an armful of flowers. She was laughing giddily, still high on the adrenaline of the show.

  “Bravo, Billie!” he cheered as he passed the bouquet of roses into her hands. “You were a bona fide hit. The whole room is buzzing about your performance and already asking when your next show will be.”

  Billie’s laughter dimmed to a smile as she leaned her head down to sniff the heady fragrance of the red roses. “I had such a good time, but I just don’t see how I can make it work. Tonight was a fluke, and nothing more. Real performances require long hours of rehearsal and I only have two weekends a month free. How could that work?”

  Placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side, he escorted her back to the dressing room. “That’s plenty of time to prepare a show, my dear. You had less than two hours to pull this performance together and it knocked their socks off. Think how much better it would be with an entire day of rehearsal. You could do this, Billie. Don’t let your fear stand in your way. You could do one performance, two at the most, each month and make more money than you do at your regular job. This won’t infringe on your time with your children and it could help you get ahead.”

  Billie walked through
the dressing room door as he held it open and considered his offer carefully. She had to admit that she had loved being on that stage. And the fact that she was going home with extra money in her pocket only made it that much better. But it sounded a little too good to be true. Opportunities like this didn’t happen for normal people like her, did it?

  “I don’t know, Daniel. I’ve never done anything like this before. What are the rules? How does it work? I feel like a mouse walking into a cat show,” she tried to explain to him as she collapsed on the couch and slid her shoes off.

  He studied her shrewdly for a moment before finally coming to a decision. Reaching into the inside pocked of his suit, he drew out a thick white envelope. “I can help you with that, Billie.”

  Looking suspiciously at the envelope, she asked warily, “What is that?”

  “This is a performer’s contract that I have drawn up for each of our acts. I took a leap of faith and had this one drawn up for you this afternoon, hoping against hope that you would reconsider your decision. This will answer all your logistical questions, as well as outline the expectations and pay scale. This is not a final contract and I wouldn’t allow you to sign it as it is right now. I want you to take it home, read it over, and then have a lawyer look at it for you. If you don’t have one, I will pay for any lawyer of your choice. It is imperative that you believe that I would never do anything to hurt you, Billie. I only want good things for you, and in this case, it would be good for me and my club, too,” he explained, tapping her gently on the arm with the envelope.

  She was touched that he was being so careful of her feelings, but she wasn’t stupid enough to discount his advice. With a flare of hope and burgeoning excitement, she slowly reached out and took the envelope from his fingers. “I have my own lawyer, but thank you for the offer. So let me see if I understand: I can make changes and put my own stipulations in the contract? I don’t have to accept your terms carte blanche?”