Fool That I Am (9 page)

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?”

His warm, chocolate eyes crinkled at the corners as he
leaned closer to her. “That is correct. You and your lawyer look it over,
change what you don’t like, add what you do want, and send it back to me. We
won’t finalize any agreement until you are one hundred percent happy with the
terms. What do you say, Billie Jean Hardesty?”

Her heart gave a painful thump of anticipation and she
replied, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks for calling your brother for me, Irene,” Billie told
her Monday afternoon as they were closing up the office.

Irene, wiping down the last of the surfaces in room 3 with a
bleach mixture, replied, “No problem, sweetie. He still feels bad that he
couldn’t do more for you in your divorce, but his hands were tied.” Her
brother, William Jansen, had been her lawyer during her divorce from Chad. He
had been kind enough to not only give her a discounted rate, but had also
allowed her to pay him in installments. Thanks to her tax return money, she had
been able to pay him off early and prove that he hadn’t made an unwise decision
in representing her.

“That’s not Will’s fault,” she reminded Irene. “Chad’s uncle
paid him under the table in cash and there was no proof of income, so the
amount of child support he had to pay was capped at a certain amount. Plus, I’m
pretty sure that the judge and Chad’s dad are golf buddies or something,” she
added, shrugging it off as old news.

Connie walked in during this last part and chimed in, “You
want me to come with you,
linda
? I got nothing planned for tonight, so I
can lend you my moral support.”

Billie smiled gratefully at her best friend. That was one of
the things she loved the most about Connie: she was fiercely loyal and always
willing to go the extra mile for her friends. “No, but thank you for the offer,
Con. Will and I can probably hash it out pretty quickly. I already faxed the
contract to him earlier, so he’s had a chance to look it over. All I need to do
is listen to his advice and tell him what is acceptable to me and what I want
to add or delete.”

Connie regarded her skeptically. “You better be careful with
that Daniel, girlfriend. He’s a slick one, for sure. I don’t know if I trust
him with you. Any man with that much
lana
in his pockets will always be
looking out for himself first. Just be careful, okay?” she cautioned Billie as
she headed toward the time clock.

Billie waved in acknowledgement as her friend left the
building. Irene finished washing her hands and gathered up her things and
followed Billie to the parking lot. “You know I’m not one to tell you what to
do or get into your business without being asked, but I have to second Connie
on this, for once. Don’t let the glamour and big paycheck distract you from who
you really are, Billie. Daniel is rich and handsome, but he isn’t the kind of
man who will clean out your gutters or go with you to a parent/teacher
conference. He lives and moves in a different world than we do, honey. I just
don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know, Irene. You guys are so great to look out for me,
but I’m not going into this with my eyes closed. I’ve already been there, done
that, and got the divorce to show for it. This is just a second job for me,
that’s all. I may be able to get ahead for once in my life and maybe even buy a
newer car. Plus, Derrick’s going to need braces soon, so I really need to do
this. I’ll be careful, I promise,” she told the older woman.

Changing topics, Irene asked, “By the way, have you ever
heard from Sam?”

Billie tried to ignore the twinge in her chest at his name
and answered, “Not since that night over a week ago. He’s never gone this long
without calling, coming by to visit, or at least texting. I guess he really
meant it when he said goodbye.”

Irene’s kind eyes radiated sympathy. “Maybe it’s for the
best, hon. At least now you have new and exciting things going on in your life and
you can meet some new people. Try not to let it get you down.” Tossing her
purse in her car, she called out, “Tell my little brother he better be good to
you or I’ll kick his ass from here to Georgia!”

Billie laughed lightheartedly and jumped in her car to drive
to Will’s office in Elizabethtown. Her smile dimmed as her thoughts lingered on
Sam. It had only been one week and she already missed him. Derrick had
mentioned that Sam had visited with them at their dad’s house, so she knew he
was still seeing the kids, at least. It appeared it was just Billie he was
saying goodbye to and that made her eyes well up with tears. She couldn’t
imagine never seeing him again, hearing him laugh, having his comforting
presence at her dinner table. He’d been a part of her life for so long and his
absence would leave a gaping hole.

Billie shook off her funk as she pulled into the parking lot
of Will’s practice in downtown Elizabethtown. Located in a refurbished
Victorian house, he shared the building with two other lawyers and they all
shared one secretary. Billie smiled warmly at the middle-aged woman typing away
on a keyboard when she walked into what used to be a sitting room.

“Good afternoon, Billie! It’s wonderful to see you again. I
have to say that you are even lovelier now than you were three years ago. It
appears that divorce suits you,” Charlotte greeted her with a knowing grin.

Billie offered an answering smile and replied, “I will
second that, Charlotte. I’m glad to be seeing you on a much happier event than
my previous one, that’s for sure!”

Charlotte agreed and paged Will to let him know that Billie
had arrived for her late afternoon appointment. It was only a few minutes later
that William Jansen came out to greet her with a wide smile on his face.
 At 56 years old, Will cut a dashing and commanding figure. Though he
wasn’t exceptionally tall at 5’10”, his confidence and aura of authority gave
the illusion of greater height. He was of medium build without any obvious
signs of extra weight, thanks to Irene’s efforts to ensure he exercised and ate
right. His hair was mostly dark brown with some salt and pepper feathered in
and his face was tanned and creased at the eyes from smiling. He was attired in
a dress pants and button-up shirt, but he had shed his tie somewhere along the
way and rolled up his sleeves.

His voice was easily the most distinctive of his traits as
he boomed, “Billie! It’s been too long, my dear! Come in, come in!”
Chivalrously, he ushered her into his office and indicated a leather wingback chair
in front of his large cherry wood desk.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me so quickly, Will. I know
how busy you are and I’m very grateful that you squeezed me in,” Billie told
him as they both settled in for their consultation.

He smiled conspiratorially and leaned toward her across his
desk. “As much as I enjoy your company, Billie, I have to confess that when
Irene mentioned the name ‘Daniel Petrosky’ and ‘The Silver Knight Club,’ I was
immediately intrigued. You are certainly running with a different crowd now
than you were three years ago, young lady.”

“Oh, I’m not running with anyone in that crowd, Will. I’m
just the hired help and that’s all. It was a pure fluke that I happened upon
this opportunity at all, but I am grateful for the ability to do something I
love and make money, too,” Billie rushed to assure him.

He studied her shrewdly before pulling the faxed copy of the
contract out of a file folder. “I’ve seen plenty of employment contracts in my
day, but I’ve never seen one like this. Granted, I’ve never dealt with a man
like Daniel Petrosky before, but if he gives this same contract to all his
performers, he is generous indeed.”

Billie wrinkled her brow in confusion. “What do you mean? I
read through most of it, but I didn’t see anything untoward in there.”

“Oh, there’s nothing shady in here at all. Questionable,
maybe, but not shady. He is being far more generous than I would imagine anyone
else in his shoes would be. It makes me wonder what his end game will be,” he
added mysteriously.

“I don’t understand. What’s so unusual about this contract?”
Billie queried.

Tapping the paper with a pencil, Will said, “For starters,
the amount of money he is willing to pay you for your performances is
staggering for an amateur. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, singers
and musicians in 2010 averaged about $30 an hour. Mr. Petrosky is willing to
pay you $500 per hour, plus incidentals.”

Billie’s stomach dropped to her feet. “I had no idea. He
said that was the price he paid his crooner, Johnny Bello. And what incidentals
are you referring to?”

Will turned to his left and began to type furiously into his
laptop as he talked. “There are several incidentals where he is willing to pay
more money. For starters, he is offering the services of his on-site spa free
of charge, a monthly clothing allowance of $2,000, free meals at The Golden
Lady, and even paying a $300 a month ‘gas and mileage’ fee,” he ticked off as
he read something on his laptop. “Ah, it seems that Johnny Bello is a veteran
singer that has performed all over the country from L.A. to Las Vegas, Chicago,
and New York. He has done some theater and minor character acting in the
movies. This kind of salary is understandable for his background, but for a
new, untried singer? That’s less likely, I’m afraid.”

Billie was stymied. “Why on earth would he offer to pay me
so much money? I can definitely carry a tune, but I’m not that great.”

Will studied her incredulously. “Billie, honey, you really
have no idea, do you? I’ve heard you sing and I’ve seen you on stage when Irene
invited me to your celebration when your divorce was finalized. Lots of people
can sing well, but very few of them have the extra, nebulous charisma that
allows them to connect with an audience. You have that in spades. Not to mention
you’re a beautiful young woman that any man would count himself as luck to be
with. Hell, if I were about 15 years younger, I would pursue you myself.”

Billie could feel the blush climbing up her cheeks at his
frank admission. “Thank you, Will. Any woman would be lucky to have you, too.”

“Tell that to my three ex-wives, will you?” he teased
gently, laughing with her at the joke.

Billie nervously chewed on a fake nail and asked, “What else
is in that contract that I should be concerned about?”

Flipping through the pages and studying the highlighted
areas, Will explained, “Included in the contract is a standard non-compete
clause that I would expect to find in most employment contracts, but this one
is not what I was expecting. It states that you will only work and perform for
Mr. Petrosky for the period of two years. This is puzzling to me because it
specifies him personally and not the club as a business. This means that even
if the club were to shut their doors forever next month, you would still be under
contract with him personally for the remainder of the agreement.”

“That’s odd, but I guess it makes sense to want to protect
your investment. What else?” she asked, getting more edgy by the minute.

Will made a few notes in the margins and replied, “He stipulates
that there will be at least one performance a month, but that you could be
required to attend certain events at the club as an ‘honored guest’ even if you
aren’t performing. Any of those that you attend, you will be paid $100 an hour
for your time to socialize and rub elbows with the wealthy patrons.”

Billie thought back to the research she did on the internet
about the club. There was no way she would be one of their “hostesses” that
catered to rich men and fawned all over them in return for tips. No way was she
a piece of meat to be pawed at or propositioned. “That might work, but I will
definitely want to put some restrictions in place on that.”

Will nodded in agreement and made some more notes. They
spent another half hour going over the rest of the contract and Billie voiced
her major concerns and what changes she wanted to make. Will made his own
suggestions, all of which Billie agreed were wise, and they finally finished
with the corrections. By the end of their meeting, Billie agreed to the base
hourly salary, but declined the free meals and gas stipend, as well as,
restricting spa use to maintain her manicure and pedicure. She agreed to the
clothing allowance, because she figured that she needed to be dressed as well
as, if not better than, her intended audience. She also agreed to the
non-compete clause, but shortened it to one year with the stipulation that she
was allowed to quit singing for the club at any time with a one month notice.

The part about appearing at events was a little trickier. It
was a delicate line to tread between feeling like a member of the staff and a
paid escort. After much discussion, she and Will agreed to the appearance fee
as long as she was there to mingle as “Valerie Jones,” but she would not be
subjected to sexual advances or expected to cross any moral boundaries. As far
as the live shows were concerned, Billie insisted on wardrobe, song, and
content approval and strictly forbade any nudity or touching by audience
members. Will also added a statement that if at any time Billie felt
uncomfortable or unwilling to proceed with the show, it would cease immediately
without punitive damages or retaliatory actions. She also added a clause about
sufficient advance notice of request to perform or appear of no less than three
days so that she was never caught off guard and was able to arrange child care.

By the end of the hour, Billie felt better and more
comfortable about the changes they made to the agreement. “Is there anything
else we need to do at this point?” she asked her lawyer.

“Not for you, dear. I will fax our changes to his lawyer in
Louisville and he will review them with Mr. Petrosky. At that point, he will
either make a counter-offer or agree to our terms. Either way, I’ll give you a call
when I hear back from them. And don’t worry about the bill for today’s service.
It would be my pleasure to forward that to Mr. Petrosky since he so kindly
offered to pay,” he reminded her with twinkling eyes.

Billie laughed at Will’s obvious enjoyment at sending a bill
to the rich and powerful business man. She shook his hand warmly, thanked him
again for his help, and left with assurances that he would contact her soon.
Such was her preoccupation that she didn’t even notice another client leaving
the office of one of the partners until they almost collided in the hallway.