Della
If there was any possible way I could get out of this without quitting I would. I had been singing all my life, in my house. But then that had been to escape my mother and my reality. Not in front of people. I loved to sing and the mirror and hairbrush had been my companions most of my life while I sang to my pretend audience. That had been fantasy.
I had never been sure my singing was even decent. My mother had loved to hear me sing but she had never been a good judge of anything.
I had opened my mouth to explain this to the lady who had introduced herself as “Macy Kemp, The Kerrington Club event coordinator” but she hadn’t let me say much. Instead, she informed the kitchen I was being used elsewhere and began dragging me behind her.
I had expected Woods to stop this insanity when he’d seen us but he hadn’t. He had appeared as confused as I felt but he hadn’t stopped this.
I looked down at the short, clingy, silver dress I was now wearing. The back was out and the neckline dipped low in the front. I felt bare. In more ways than one.
“They won’t be looking at you much. They are too busy in their little elitist herds. You just sing so they’ll have music and can dance if they want to,” Macy informed me as she shoved me up the steps toward the skeptical band members. I couldn’t say that I blamed them.
“You’re our replacement?” one asked with a hiss of annoyance in his voice.
“At least they’ll be looking at her body and won’t hear how bad we sound,” another grumbled and pulled his guitar strap over his head.
“What can you sing, sugar?” an older guy with a balding head asked.
I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t ask for this. I met each of their angry and annoyed glares with one of my own. I’d heard them earlier. They weren’t that good. Who did they think they were treating me like I was here to screw up their lives on purpose? If their lead singer had paid attention to his allergies this wouldn’t have happened.
I walked past each of them before turning to look at the one who had condescendingly asked me what I could sing. “I can sing anything you throw at me,” I replied then walked out on stage like the diva I was not.
The familiar tune of Adele’s “Someone Like You,” began to play and I was equally relieved I knew the words and sick at my stomach because the popularity of the song was drawing attention from the guests. I had been hoping to be ignored.
I joined the piano with the first melancholy lyrics.
Instead of looking out at the ballroom, I locked eyes with the piano player of the group. The approval in his eyes flashed with excitement and relief as I sang each line.
Just as I had in my room growing up, I blocked out everything else around me and I got lost in the lyrics and the music. This had been my way of coping with the craziness of my life. I used it now to deal with the reality of my life.
We moved on to “Ain’t No Other Man”, the Christina Aguilera version. It got the room to wake up some with the fun tune. So far I had managed not to make eye contact with Woods although I knew exactly where he was standing. I could feel his eyes on me.
“Can you harmonize?” the lead guitar asked me.
I nodded and he looked back at the other members and nodded.
Lady Antebellum’s “Just A Kiss” started up.
We had successfully made it to the bridge when I glanced out over the room to see Woods dancing with a tall elegant blonde. I knew I needed to look away. Seeing him and having an image of him with her on my brain would drive me crazy. But I couldn’t. She smiled up at him and talked as he looked over her shoulder at nothing really. He seemed cold. Nothing like the guy I’d been with.
This time he must have felt my eyes on him because he turned his head my way and our gazes met. Each word sounded like I was singing to him. I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. But it felt that way. As the song came to an end I tore my eyes off him and swore to myself I wouldn’t look his way again.
An hour later I’d conquered everything they’d thrown at me. Even the Bruno Mars songs. The pianist slapped me on the back and beamed at me as I walked off the stage.
“You killed it, sugar,” the balding bass player called out.
“Anytime you want to join us you’re welcome. Sure can’t sing duets with JJ,” the lead guitarist said. I assumed JJ must be the lead singer.
I threw one last smile over my shoulder. I wasn’t sticking around. I needed to be alone. Watching Woods hold his fiancée had been difficult. She’d been beautiful and perfect. She’d looked safe in his arms. I understood how that felt. Something about being with Woods made you feel safe. I envied her.
Spring Break was in full swing in Rosemary and Bethy hadn’t been exaggerating. This place was filled up with people. I worked five days a week and most days I worked two shifts. The money was good and I enjoyed working with everyone. Seeing Woods was easier now.
We managed to treat each other with polite indifference. It hurt sometimes when I thought he was watching me and I’d turn to look at him to find he hadn’t been looking my way after all. I wasn’t sure why I tortured myself with it. He shouldn’t be looking at me. He was engaged. My body, however, wanted him to look at me because it wasn’t aware just how off limits Woods was.
Today I was finally off work and so was Bethy. We had a day on the beach planned. I was excited about spending the day in the sun. It was warmer now than when I’d arrived a couple of weeks ago. Bethy wanted me to come to her condo to go to the beach because she was on the club’s private beach. Fewer people. I’d invited Violet to join us after her lunch shift and Bethy had mentioned inviting another cart girl named Carmen who got off later today too.
I glanced down at my last text as I pulled up to the condos where Bethy lived.
“Down at the beach. I have you a spot saved!”
I reached back and grabbed my beach bag then stepped out of the car. Looking up at the building in front of me I was in awe. This place was super elite. It was on club property and I knew after working here a couple of weeks that this place had to cost a fortune. Bethy’s cart girl paycheck didn’t even begin to cover the cost of this. Which meant either she got a deal because she worked there or Jace helped with the rent. Maybe a little of both.
I walked over to the boardwalk and then down to the warm sand. There were more people than I expected out here. I slipped my sunglasses on and then looked for Bethy. I saw her when she stood up and began waving her arms in the air.
Smiling, I headed down to the two bright, colorful beach towels she had laid out. Then I noticed Jace on the other side of Bethy as she sat back down. I looked around her and noticed another towel but it was empty although it had obviously been used.