Authors: Paulette Oakes
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.
“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.
By now, they had arrived at the foot of the stage where a
smaller portion of dance flooring was visible. Wrinkling her brow in confusion,
she looked up to Daniel. “This isn’t a very large dance floor. What was the
purpose of this?”
“I’m glad you noticed that, Billie. Watch this,” he told her
as he gave a signal to someone she couldn’t see.
With the sound like a ginormous garage door opening, the
stage began to retreat behind the curtains revealing more of the dance floor.
When the motor finally stopped several minutes later, there was a dance floor
as big as a basketball court. Billie stepped out into the expanse and gave it a
tryout by doing a quick twirl. Facing Daniel once more, she couldn’t hide the
girlish glee that caused her face to light up.
“Oh, bravo, Daniel! No wonder you are so successful! I have
to say that I am thoroughly impressed and enchanted with your club. It is
classy without being snobby, elegant without being garish, and vintage without
being outdated. Well done,” she complimented him sincerely.
Affecting a deep bow, he replied, “You are too kind, madam.
Now, if you will follow me, I will finish our tour by taking you behind the
scenes to view the dressing rooms. You may even find evidence of previous
occupants,” he teased her, once again holding his elbow toward her.
Almost skipping in her excitement, Billie didn’t hesitate to
join him and slipped her hand snugly through the crook of his arm. As they
strolled along, she absently wondered what cologne he was wearing, because it
smelled like a divine mix of autumn wind, pine, and a hint of brandy. It was
the kind of scent that made her want to bury her nose in the dip behind his ear
and breathe deep until she couldn’t help but kiss the skin that bore it. Almost
as if he could read her mind, the muscle in his arm that rested under her hand
jumped and flexed causing an automatic reaction of her hand squeezing his arm.
Billie could feel a different kind of heat welling up inside her and hoped that
he wouldn’t notice. It would do no good for her to set her sights on another
man that she couldn’t have.
Finally, they reached the heavy red velvet curtain to the
right of the recessed stage and Daniel courteously held it aside for her to
step behind it and into the hallway beyond. They walked arm-in-arm as he
explained how the mechanism for the stage worked and how he had come up with
the concept, but had hired a fresh, young engineer straight out of college to
help bring it into reality.
“I believe in helping young entrepreneurs and college
graduates get started in their careers,” he explained to her as they came to a
stop in front of a dressing room. “It’s one thing to have ambition and the
determination to succeed, but you need a hand up the ladder sometimes. There
were several people who did that for me and now I can return the favor. Most of
the staff I hire are recent graduates of their field or are in the process of
chasing their dreams. For example, our waitress Holly is currently studying in
business school with a specialty in event planning. She has remarkable talent
with creative design and conception and has been cutting her teeth by assisting
our Creative Director while earning money for school by waiting tables.”
Billie was impressed with his philosophy and execution.
“That’s very generous of you, Daniel. Everyone needs a break now and then.”
Opening the door to the dressing room, he ushered her
inside. “I agree, Billie. There’s nothing wrong with accepting a little help
now and then. Even the hardest workers need someone to give them a hand now and
then,” he said, giving her a sidelong look loaded with meaning.
Billie pretended not to notice, which was easy since she was
too busy goggling at the huge dressing room that put all her imaginings to
shame. The room was painted a soft, feathery white with flecks of gold
sparkling here and there as they caught the light shining from around the six
foot lighted mirror. The adjoining countertop was polished marble with gold
veins and was covered in all the tools a makeup artist would need: tackle boxes
full of makeup, sprays, perfumes, brushes, hair curlers and straighteners,
bobby pins, tape, and even an airbrush kit. Sitting in front of the counter was
a director’s chair just waiting for someone to sit in it in preparation for a
show. Toward the back wall was an intimate grouping of Victorian furniture with
a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. And all around the room, posted in
different places on the walls, were gold-framed photos of celebrities with
Daniel along with a small memento of their performance.
Floating on a cloud, Billie moved from frame to frame while
commenting about the impressive collection of talent that had been in this
room. There was the picture of Justin along with a porkpie hat hanging on a
hook next to it, there was the photo of Melody Gardot and a pair of tinted
glasses, and there was Corinne Bailey Rae’s photograph accompanied by her
guitar pick. There were at least a half a dozen more artists displayed around
the room and she spent several minutes studying each and every one of them
until Daniel finally caught her attention and pulled her back down to earth.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked her needlessly.
“Oh, Daniel! It’s just…amazing! I really don’t know what
else to say. It’s so much more than I thought it would be and I am just so
impressed!” she gushed, gently running her fingers through the fringe of a
shawl worn by Cyndi Lauper.
Before he could formulate a reply, the door to the dressing
room crashed open and a tall, shapely black woman wearing a tight-fitting mini
dress came barreling through the door. She was as tall as Daniel when she
reached his side and her hair was long, curly, and highlighted with blonde
streaks. Her nails were long, without being ridiculous, and painted crimson
that perfectly matched her lipstick. The rest of her makeup was flawless and
dramatic. She was beautiful in a Broadway musical kind of way and her voice was
husky and lyrical as she began to urgently discuss something with Daniel.
“I don’t know what to do, Daniel! We’ve only got four hours
until show time and no one to fill the spot. Johnny says he’s come down sick
with the flu, but I just bet that no-good hustler is either nursing a killer
hangover or he’s hiding out from his bookie or both. I called Lana, too, but
her group already has a booking tonight. Should we cancel the live show and
just have ballroom dancing tonight?” she asked him anxiously.
Billie met Daniel’s eyes across the room and saw the
calculating gleam in his eyes. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that
she imagined a mouse felt when it realized it was caught in the glue trap. A
slow, sinful smile spread across his handsome face as he replied, “I don’t
think that will be necessary, Diana. I just so happen to know a very talented
singer who may be able to help us out tonight. What do you say, Billie?”