This Life: A Novel (7 page)

 
Chapter Six

March 20

New York
,
New York

At
8
P
.
M
.
Blake
arrived with Matt at the Vault, a former bank and gentleman’s
club located on the
Lower East Side
that had been remade into a festive trilevel supper club
with dance floors. She’d agonized about what to wear, uncertain whether to view
this as a business dinner or as a first date. Finally she’d settled on a
knee-length, one-shoulder glittery black Calvin Klein dress, along with her
Gucci ballet flats.

Matt was wearing a
black suit and, under protest, a crimson necktie.

“This is why I like
working third shift,” Matt grumbled, tugging at the tie. “I can usually dress
for comfort instead of style, and the client doesn’t care because they’re
asleep.”

“You’ll survive,” Blake
promised him. She spoke to the hostess just inside the door. “Excuse me, but
has a gentleman by the name of Brett Skeet already reserved a table?”

“No, ma’am. Shall I
find a table for you and your escort, and note that Brett Skeet will be joining
you?”

“Yes, please. My name
is Blake Bertrand.” Blake shrugged out of her coat and draped it over her arm
while the hostess snapped her fingers for a waiter and told him to prep a table
for three.

“I thought you looked
familiar,” the hostess added, when the waiter hurried away in search of a
table. “It’s a pleasure to have you at the Vault, Ms. Bertrand. If you need
anything at all, please don’t hesitate to come to me.”

“Thank you.” Blake
smiled her appreciation at the hostess, but the smile faded when she noticed
Matt tugging at his tie yet again. “Stop that, Matt. It’s all crooked now.”

She was straightening
Matt’s tie when Brett’s voice, which reminded her of Duke Ellington’s smoothest
jazz pieces, sounded behind her: “Only one woman in the world can look as good
sweating and worn out as she does in a little black dress, and that’s Blake
Bertrand.”

Blake felt her face
grow hot again.
I wouldn’t have thought any man could still make me blush,
but this man sure has proved me wrong.
“Hi, Brett. We just requested a
table.”

Brett was examining
Matt. “Who is this?”

“Matt Guidry. One of
Ms. Bertrand’s bodyguards.” Matt put out a hand and shook Brett’s.

“One of, you say,” Brett
commented, but rather than Matt he looked at Blake.

She caught herself
about to touch the scar on her forehead hidden by her long bangs. Putting her
hand back down, Blake took a deep breath and explained, in a hushed voice
almost lost in the dance music playing farther inside the Vault, “My ex-husband
beat me up a week before our divorce was finalized.”

Brett let that sink in
before asking, “At the party where I met you?”

She nodded. Words
wouldn’t come. A chill crept down her spine.

“I should have stayed.”
Brett’s words held a hint of a growl, and his shoulders were tense, as if Lang
Bertrand stood before him, available to be punched. “I’m tempted to catch the
next flight back to
Miami
and beat his sorry ass right into the ground.”

He sounds like Uncle
Thorne
. Blake almost felt like smiling.

“Hey, relax, man.
Nobody’s going to do that to Ms. Bertrand again. That’s what me and my
coworkers are here for.” Matt clapped Brett on the back, and Blake watched
Brett gradually calm down again.

Their waiter returned
then and introduced himself. “Good evening, I’m Tim, I’ll be your waiter
tonight. I’ve got a great table ready for you, just follow me.”

Tim led the way
upstairs to the second level, where live rock music was being performed by new
superstar Amanda Brown and her band. Blake recognized Brown from the third
season of the television show
The Voice
. Margot had raved about the
former backup singer for Adele until Blake watched the show herself for the
second half of the season, simply to hear the talent her best friend couldn’t
stop talking about.
Just wait until Margot hears that I got lucky enough to
see her favorite new rock singer giving a concert at a nightclub!

They had a front-row
seat, and got to hear Brown’s chart-topping single “Distances” as they looked
at the menu. Brett and Matt both decided on prime rib, french fries, and
coleslaw, and Blake opted for a Vietnamese beef salad.

While they waited for
their food, Matt turned to Brett and asked, “So you met Ms. Bertrand back in
Miami
? What brings you to
New York
?”

Brett laughed. “You’ve
got yourself a thorough bodyguard, Blake.”

She smiled, but Brett’s
comment troubled her a little.
He’s talking to me like Matt isn’t here. Like
he’s “the help,” someone who should do their job and be ignored.
“I was
going to ask the same question, Brett. You said you were off to a great start
in
Miami
real estate. How did
you end up here?”

“Oh, I grew up in
Harlem
.” Brett leaned back in
his chair, perfectly at ease. “I did get off to a great start—so great I earned
a vacation already. So I’ve come home to visit family and friends for a couple
of weeks.”

Blake looked Brett
over. He was dressed all in Prada.
You’ve got to do well to afford that.
 
She smiled again. “Well, congratulations.”

“Thanks! I’ve been wondering—everybody
is wondering—what plans are you making for the Wishman Spears?” He leaned in
for a confidential talk, and Blake shared an outline of her ideas.

Meanwhile Matt tapped
away on his smartphone, seemingly okay with being left out of the conversation.
Blake glanced at him often, not really happy with how Brett behaved toward the
bodyguard. Matt looked up once and gave her a thumbs-up, so she trusted that he
was comfortable.

Their food arrived, and
apparently all three of them were ravenous, because they barely spoke a word as
they ate. Amanda Brown was rocking the house, her fans and Vault regulars
enthusiastically breaking it down on the dance floors. “This is the best night
I’ve had in a long time,” Blake said, thinking out loud.

“Let’s make it even
better.” Brett stood up, finished eating except for a few fries. “Come on, let’s
dance.”

Matt looked up from his
plate, watching them. Blake asked him, “Will it make your job too hard if I
dance with Brett?”

“Nah. I’ve worked
dances, concerts, sports championships, you name it. Go have fun.” Matt gave
her a thumbs-up again.

She let Brett lead her
to the center of the dance floor. He was quick and elegant on his feet, had a
great sense of rhythm, and sensuous moves like no man Blake had ever known.
Trying to keep up with him soon tuckered her out, especially after the rough
afternoon of self-defense training she’d done with Suki. Her muscles ached in
protest, but her hormones screamed for her to impress Brett or die trying.

Blake lost all sense of
time. She slipped away from Brett when she noticed how late it was getting, and
didn’t want Amanda to leave without getting to her. Amanda Brown took the
microphone and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure to sing
for you tonight at the Vault! Please put your hands together for my amazing
band. On lead guitar—”

“I’ve got to try to
meet her,” Blake managed to say, breathing hard. She rushed back to their
table, where Matt sat tapping on his smartphone again. “Matt, come on, let’s
find the back door the band will exit through. My best friend is a huge fan of
Amanda Brown. I’m going to get her autograph for her.”

Matt shook his head. “Sometimes
you forget who you are, don’t you, Ms. Bertrand? You don’t have to lurk outside
any back door.” He beckoned their waiter, passing by on his way to another
table, and said, “Hey, Tim, Ms. Bertrand here would like to ask Amanda Brown
for an autograph. Can you ask for a meeting?”

“Sure! I’ve got to go
downstairs to the kitchen anyway. I’ll ask the boss.” Their waiter scurried
away to the staircase.

Blake slumped into her
seat at their table, catching her breath while they waited. Amanda Brown and
her band had left the stage, and the roadies were packing up amplifiers and
microphones and the drum set and all. Somewhere out of sight, a DJ took over
musical entertainment duties and put some contemporary disco on for the crowd
to dance to.

A mustached gentleman
in slacks and blazer followed Tim back to their table. “Ms. Bertrand, hi, I’m
Amanda Brown’s manager. She said she’d be glad to sign an autograph for you.
Just come with me.”

“I’ve got to go with
her,” Matt informed Brett. Blake heard a firmness in the bodyguard’s voice that
she hadn’t before. “Hold our table for us. We won’t be long.”

Matt fell into step
behind Blake, who fell into step behind Amanda Brown’s manager. They left Brett
sitting with a stunned expression on his face, and Blake couldn’t help giggling
a little.

Amanda Brown was
waiting at the door to the dressing room, her face lit by a glowing smile. “Girl,
congratulations on your freedom!” She surprised Blake with a hug.

“Thank you so much!”
Blake grinned. “And congratulations on your success! From backup singer to
superstar in three years is quite an accomplishment.”

“Not as much as
surviving everything you’ve been through, and I bet the world doesn’t know half
of that. Who should I write this to?” Someone behind Amanda handed her a pad of
Vault stationery and a fountain pen.

“My best friend’s name
is Margot Mills, spelled M-A-R-G-O-T.” Blake watched, with a feeling like she
was floating, while Amanda wrote a note in a flowing hand.

To Blake’s surprise,
Amanda flipped the top sheet of the pad back and wrote on the next page, as
well.
Wow, this is turning out to be a long autograph. Margot is going to be
so thrilled! She’ll look like a kid at Christmas!

Amanda tugged the top
two sheets loose from the pad and handed them to Blake, and surprised her again
with another hug. “I wish I could sneak back out there and have a drink and
talk, but we’ve got to get on the road to our next tour stop. Say hi to your
friend from me next time you see her, though!”

“I will, and thank you
again!” Blake waved, and Amanda waved back before retreating into the dressing
room again to change clothes. With Matt behind her, Blake weaved her way
through dancers back to the table they shared with Brett.

Brett was talking on
what looked like an Android smartphone until Blake and Matt sat down at the
table. Then, “Listen, Blake is back, I’ve gotta go,” Brett said, and clicked
the End Call button. He grinned at Blake and asked, “So how is Ms. Brown?”

“She’s such a sweet
woman!” Blake knew she was gushing, but she couldn’t help herself. “Margot is
right to love her, she’s got a personality as beautiful as her voice.” About to
fold the note Amanda Brown had written to Margot, Blake found herself reading
it.

“To Margot Mills: One
of my inspirations is a quote from Goethe, which says, ‘Whatever you can do, or
dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.’ I wish
you the boldness to dream big and the power and magic to make your dreams come
true. All my best, Amanda Brown.”

“All that fits easily
on one page,” Blake murmured. “What in the world did she write on the second
page?” She looked, and found an Amanda Brown autograph of her own.

“I’m glad we met, Blake
Bertrand. I remember when you were one of the world’s top models. I thought if
your father’s music had a body, it would look just like you. Keep changing the
world one neighborhood at a time, and keep being beautiful. You’re an
inspiration to all your sisters! Best always, Amanda Brown.”

Blake found herself
trying not to cry. Carefully, she folded the two sheets of paper and slipped
them into an inner pocket of her purse for safety.

“You okay?” Brett was
leaning in close to see Blake’s eyes, his own gone soft with concern for her.

“Oh. Yes. She just
wrote such a sweet note to me, that’s all.” Blake smiled, her cheeks feeling
warm again under Brett’s intense gaze. “Do you want dessert?”

“I do, but not anything
they serve here.” Brett grinned at her, and now his eyes were filled with
mischief.

“Bad boy.” They
laughed, while Matt briefly looked from one to the other before returning his
attention to his smartphone.

She waved their waiter
back to their table the next time she spotted him, and started to pay for
dinner. Brett pushed a credit card of his own into Tim’s hands. “No, ma’am. I
said this would be my treat, remember?”

After their meal was
paid for, Blake finally thought to check the time. “It’s almost one in the
morning!”

“Sorry about that. At
least it’s the weekend.” Brett stood up and held Blake’s coat for her. “Let’s
take you home. Why don’t we walk?”