Fool That I Am (6 page)

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.”

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 across
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.

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.

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.