String of Pearls
I’m bored, thought Connie. And I’m thirsty. I need to do something to entertain myself.
She glanced over at the bartenders preparing for the evening’s business and nodded to herself. “Ramona? I’m thirsty. Let’s go get something to drink.”
“At the bar?”
“Unless they’ve put in a Burger Buster since last night, yes. Come on! I want to talk to that new guy.”
Ramona rolled her eyes at her friend. “I guess you want me to run interference for you?”
“Naw, let’s just check him out.”
Ramona tapped Lois on the shoulder. “Hey, you thirsty? Connie and I are going to get something to drink before rehearsal.”
Lois smiled and shook her head. “No thanks, I’m good. Besides, I have to finish these charts.”
“Your loss. It should be fun. Connie wants to go tease the animals over there.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Why do you go along with her flirting? One of these days some guy’s gonna take her seriously and she’ll have to fight him off.”
Connie leaned in to defend herself. “Honey, I’ve been fighting them off since I was thirteen. I think I know how to take care of myself by now.”
Connie saw the glint in Lois’ eye but didn’t try to stop her. “Well, they should be slowing down a little, now that you’re getting to be so much older. Or are you the one who’s slowing down?”
Connie didn’t expect a comeback that good. She did a double-take and lifted her index finger towards Lois’ face, but Ramona intercepted her and turned her around. “Come on, let’s go wet our whistles. You two can compare birth certificates later.”
Over Ramona’s shoulder, Connie added, “Yeah, and I’ll pull out my four beauty contest crowns too!”
“Did they make them out of rocks or dinosaur bones way back then?”
Ramona grabbed Connie’s shoulders and turned her away from Lois again. “Come on, I’m thirsty! You can kill her later!”
Lois called out, “Don’t keep her up too late, Ramona, the old lady needs her nap.”
“You’re in deep trouble now, kid!” Connie called out. “Remember the reptile wars?”
“I remember that you quit after the live two-headed frog.”
Ramona shoved Connie across the room. “Please don’t start that again! I thought we’d never get rid of the dead snake smell in the bus.”
Connie’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You know, I never get tired of dueling with Lois. She’s not at all like Jennifer was. If I even tried to joke with Jen she’d either get all bent out of shape or start crying.”
Ramona grinned thinly as they crossed the club floor to the bar. “I know. I finally retired my referee’s whistle a few months ago. I’m glad you two can joke about anything.”
“Almost anything. I know my limits and I don’t want to eat her fist.” Connie slapped the bar as the new bartender entered from the back room carrying a rack of clean shot glasses. “Hey, cutie, how about some drinks for the ladies?”
He began putting the glasses away under the bar. “Name’s not ‘cutie.’ What can I get for you ladies? Or are you here just to bother me?”
Ramona tapped Connie on the shoulder. “Ooh, watch out for this one, girlfriend. I don’t think he’s intimidated by your womanly charms.”
The big man leaned on his hands and glared at each of them in turn. “Should I be intimidated?”
Both women took in his broad shoulders, his firm neck, his tapered waist, his well-filled shirtsleeves, and his easy balance. Connie recovered her voice first. “Uh, no, Stud, you got nothin’ to worry about from us.”
His eyes narrowed. “Name’s not ‘Stud’ either.”
Ramona lifted a hand. “Hold on. Let’s start over, okay? We’re with the Mountaintops, you know, the band? I’m Ramona Wilcox, business manager and keyboardist, and this is Connie Vandross, the best woman guitarist on the east coast and self-proclaimed gift to men everywhere.”
The big man’s face relaxed slightly. “Vandross, eh? Any relation to Luther?”
“No such luck,” answered Connie. “Hey, since you don’t answer to ‘Cutie’ or ‘Stud,’ what should we call you?”
“Folks around here call me Charlie King, so maybe you should try using that handle. I just started here a couple days ago.”
“How do you like it so far?”
“You’re Connie, right?” She grinned and nodded. He shrugged. “It’s about like I expected. Except your band is probably the best I've ever heard in a club this size.”
Connie leaned closer and lowered her voice seductively. “You have much experience with musicians in clubs, Charlie?”
“I don’t play an instrument or sing, if that’s what you’re asking me.”
“What do you play, Charlie?” purred Connie.
“I’m really good with an FM radio or a CD player. Oh, and I set up and ran the sound system for a student jazz band my freshman year of college. It was one of my favorite things to do that year, and the musicians all liked the way I handled the board.”
Ramona’s attention focused on him. “You went to college?”
“Football scholarship. Dropped out after my sophomore season to see the world.” He snorted. “Ended up seeing more of the inside of the ship’s hold than the world.”
Connie leaned on the bar invitingly. “You haven’t told me about your – experiences, Charlie.”
Ramona shoved her friend good-naturedly. “Will you leave the young man alone, Connie? He’s new! Give him a chance to get his feet under him before you hit him full force like that!”
“Okay, okay! Hey, Charlie, I never got my drink.”
“You never told me what it was you wanted.”
“Oh, right.” Connie grinned at him again. “Ginger ale and ice, in a tall glass.”
Charlie lifted a puzzled eyebrow. “Just ginger ale? Nothing else?”
“Nope,” Connie replied. “Can’t afford to get drunk. I might fall off the top of the mountain.”
He gave her back a sideways grin and poured a tall glass of ginger ale and ice, complete with a slice of lime on the edge. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Charlie. Oh, if Christie comes over – you know Christie, right?”
“Five-three, about a hundred and fifteen pounds, shoulder-length curly blond hair, nice singing voice, sharp tongue, vacant eyes, drinks like a fish? That Christie?”
Ramona blinked, then grinned. “That’s her in a nutshell. Anyway, we’re trying to make sure she doesn’t aggravate her sensitive throat with alcohol, so – “
“Ms. Taylor already told me not to give her any booze,” Clark interrupted. “Except she said it was a sensitive gall bladder.”
Connie snorted a laugh into her ginger ale and glanced around apologetically. “Sorry. Bubbles went up my nose.”
He leaned closer. “Don’t worry, ladies. Unless Johnny Taylor himself gets it for her, Christie isn’t getting lit up on my watch.”
Ramona smiled. “Can’t ask for much more than that. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. How about you? You want something too?”
“Hmm. How about a strawberry smoothie?”
“With or without bananas?”
“Without, thanks.”
“Anything special added in?”
“No, just the strawberries.”
Clark smiled. “One strawberry smoothie coming right up.”
He turned away to make the treat. Connie waited until he started grinding the ice and fruit together, then leaned close to Ramona and whispered, “I hope he hangs around for a while. This one’s nice.”
“Yeah. Almost too nice to be true.”
“Probably gay,” sighed Connie.
“Yeah, probably,” Ramona whispered back.
“Too bad,” cooed Connie. Then she sighed dramatically.
“What are you planning now, oh evil one?”
“Me? Nothing! I was just thinking about all those men stuck on a ship for months without a woman in sight.” She sighed again. “It’s just a huge missed opportunity.”
“You poor thing.”
“Actually,” Connie replied suavely, “I was thinking about poor deprived Lucy.”
Ramona snorted a suppressed laugh as Charlie returned. He frowned for a moment, then his face cleared as Connie gave him her best innocent smile. “Here you go, Ramona, one strawberry smoothie, complete with one oversized straw. Anything else, ladies?”
“Not at the moment,” answered Ramona. “Thanks for the drinks.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and just so you know, Ms. Taylor already let me know about the rules.”
Puzzled, Connie blinked at him. “What rules are those?”
“That the help, namely me, ain’t allowed to fraternize with the band except for work stuff.”
“Oh, right. Those rules.” Like he’d need them, thought Connie, unless the club had N*Sync or The Backstreet Boys booked after they left.
Ramona nodded. “Those rules bother you, Charlie?”
He leaned his hands on the bar and exhaled sharply. All the good humor left his face for a moment. “I’m a healthy young man who’s been at sea between here and various points in Africa and Asia for almost seven months on a tramp freighter where the only thing female was the second mate’s pet monkey and I got zero shore leave. How do you think I feel about ‘em?”
The intensity of his reply startled both women. Ramona got control of her mouth first and said, “I guess you don’t much like them.”
“Give the lady a kewpie doll.” He hauled himself erect and glowered at them. “Now, if you’re through teasing the animals, I need to get back to work.”
He turned away as if dismissing them. As the women walked across the club floor to the stage, Ramona leaned towards Connie and whispered, “I’m pretty sure he’s not gay.”
Connie stared at her ginger ale and tried not to burst out laughing. “Ya think?”
*****
Lois looked up from the sheet music in her hand and saw the wide-eyed faces of her bandmates and the suppressed laughter behind both Ramona’s and Connie’s lips. “Now what’s the matter with you two?”
Connie ducked her head and scooted backstage. Ramona paused long enough to take a pull from her smoothie, then she muttered, “The new bartender isn’t gay.”
Before Lois could respond to the apparent non sequitur, Ramona quickly strode past her and joined Connie backstage in near-hysterical but muted laughter. The only words Lois could make out were “monkey” and “seven months,” and none of it made a bit of sense to her.
Confused, she looked across the room to the new bartender, who – according to Ramona – wasn’t gay. Big deal, she thought. He’s a sailor. He probably has girlfriends all over the world, one in every port, just like the songs say.
He looks pretty good from here, though, she thought idly. Lucky girlfriends.
Enough of that. They had a potential backer to impress during tonight’s show, and one of them still had to convince Christie to sit out on the two songs they wanted to use to showcase the band’s vocal sound. Maybe they could appeal to Christie’s vanity and tell her that such a gesture would show that she was secure about her position and would make her look like she was a kind and helpful person. Who knew? She might even buy it. Or maybe she’d just let Toni suggest it. Maybe she could convince Christie to be a team player for one night.
Their original songs, which they couldn’t perform at the Metro Club due to the contract they’d signed, were mostly ready for the live performance test. All they had to do was figure out a way to shoehorn them into the shows at the Styles Club in Gotham without making the manager too angry. Lois thought that at least two of them needed some work, and she had to decide on the best approach for both Connie and Lucy so that her suggestions wouldn’t result in an argument. Songwriters sure are touchy, she mused.
And she still had to figure out how to mail her latest Wanda Detroit expose piece without risking her cover. After the board meeting earlier in the day, Johnny had increased security inside and outside the club, supposedly to keep the employees and the clientele safer. But Lois also suspected that he was afraid that whoever Wanda Detroit was, she had a pipeline into his operation, and he was trying to disrupt her communications.
So far Linda hadn’t said anything about knowing Lois, but that could change. And Lois didn’t know if Linda was using a false name or if she’d actually married some guy named Wannamaker. It didn’t sound like the kind of name an undercover operative would use. She didn’t even know if Linda actually was undercover or if she’d just needed a job.
No matter. She’d figure it out. She always did. And she didn’t have time to sit around and leer at the new bartender.
Even if he did look really good from the back, even from across the room, especially when he raised his arms and stretched out his shirt across the tightest shoulders Lois had ever seen outside a gym, and if those tight shoulders made a perfect ‘V’ shape down to his –
Enough! she snarled to herself. You have work to do!
*****
Clark managed to keep the smile off his face as he watched Connie and Ramona skip past their apparently baffled bass player. ‘Teasing the animals,’ indeed. It was a funny moment in a tense assignment. And the featured singer for the band wasn’t making it any easier for the club staff. As hard as it was for the band to deal with Christie and her antics, it was doubly hard for the club’s employees to deal with Johnny trying to be supportive of her when it was clear that she was a liability to the legitimate business of the club.
In the three days he’d been on this assignment, Christie had missed a rehearsal and the second set of a performance, and she’d staggered on stage at the last moment twice. She couldn’t continue to function like that for long, but Clark knew that she’d never listen to a newly-hired bartender, not when she was the owner’s girlfriend.
Except that Johnny wasn’t the owner. His father, who was currently a long-term guest of the state of New Troy, still held the deed to the club. And he’d already seen a number of arguments start between Johnny and Toni. They’d always kept them low-key or taken them into a private office, but there was still plenty of obvious friction between them.
Maybe he could use that to his advantage, he mused. Maybe he had a sympathetic ear for Toni to pour her troubles into, not to mention any information on the rackets he was certain they were still running. It might make Linda mad – no, scratch that, it would definitely make Linda mad.
But that wasn’t important. What was important was getting the goods on the Metro gang, not making Linda feel good about herself or about her non-existent relationship with Clark. His focus was on getting the story.
Of course, while he was at it, he might slip a few glances at the band’s bass player. There was something about her, something sharply intelligent and intense and focused that drew him like a bee to pollen. He wanted to know more about her – where she’d gone to school, whether musical talent ran in her family as it seemed to, what kinds of foods she liked, what she read, what she listened to, and what did she do with her free time or did she work on her music as often as it seemed.
Like the papers she held in her hand.
Curious, he focused his special vision on those papers. The top page was hand-written sheet music, but the other four pages beneath it weren’t. The writing on them was some kind of shorthand he hadn’t seen before. And the fact that she’d managed to scribble that much down without him noticing was significant. There was far more to Lois Lane than met the eye.
And now he had a valid reason for getting to know her better.
*****
Lucy picked up her guitar and checked her tuning as Christie leaned sloppily on the Fender Rhodes suitcase keyboard. The rest of the group was ready for rehearsal, but Christie had obviously managed to sneak vodka into her water bottle again. The woman was savoring it as if it were vintage champagne. Never mind that you could stick a rag in the neck of a vodka bottle, light it with a match, and use it as a fire grenade. Christie loved her vodka and didn’t care what a Molotov cocktail was unless one of the bartenders could mix it for her.
Lucy hated the booze and the drugs, hated what they were doing to Christie, hated how Christie’s intoxication was causing problems for the band. And Lucy hated it when anyone got in the way of the band’s success. Ever since her father had died in that supposed ‘lab accident’ and her mother had remarried, she’d hated booze and drugs. Lois kept telling her that it wasn’t Mom’s fault, that Ellen Lane – now Beauchamp – hadn’t intended to replace them with her addictions, but it had happened anyway.
And Randy Beauchamp hadn’t helped the situation. He’d zeroed in on Ellen as soon as the insurance had paid off on Sam’s death. It should have been enough money for Ellen to live comfortably for years and more than enough for both girls to get solid college educations, but Randy the Dandy had siphoned off most of it into part-ownership of a casino in Atlantic City even before he’d pressured Ellen into marrying him. And the profit he’d garnered had gone into his private accounts, not towards his new family’s welfare.
He’d tried to buy Lucy’s affections, but she had never allowed herself to give the man a chance. She had felt guilty about it until she’d learned that Randy had tried to molest sixteen-year-old Lois, which had turned out to be a huge mistake. Lois had not only broken the man’s nose and sprained his knee using her Tai-Kwan-Do skills, she’d let his ‘partners’ in the casino know what had happened. The men with bent noses and bulges under their coats had come to see Randy and had ‘convinced’ him of the error of his ways. They didn’t want any accusations leveled against him that might cost him his gaming license – or their semi-legitimate front man – and from then on both Lois and Lucy had received allowances with no strings attached, along with their own apartment in Metropolis. Both girls earned their high school diplomas, complete with academic honors. Lois had attended two years of college and Lucy one, but they’d decided to try to make a living with their music.
For the most part it had worked. They’d built a strong reputation for themselves on the East coast college circuit, and then they’d scheduled a tour using some contacts their stepfather had reluctantly provided. When the third member of their act had gotten homesick and run home to his mommy in the middle of a show in Colorado, their tour had collapsed, but that same day they’d met Ramona and Connie and Shamika, who were desperate for a bass player. Lois had agreed to join them as long as Lucy could come too, and the three Mountaintops had had little choice but to agree, if very reluctantly.
But the five of them had come together as one. After a shaky start, their sound had blossomed and matured, and there was very little they couldn’t do on stage together. Nearly two years on the road had molded them into a musical team which was also the family Lucy had desperately craved for so long but feared that she’d never know again.
Now Christie was threatening that musical and personal harmony. Her selfishness and greed and addiction were poisoning the group. The audience couldn’t see it yet, couldn’t feel it, but Lucy could. Christie was a threat to Lucy’s family, just as Ellen Lane had been.
And for the same reasons: booze and drugs. Lucy didn’t care that Christie was too insecure to go onstage without her liquid crutch and her magic powder. Lucy didn’t care that Christie was afraid that the only reason she was singing in the club was because Johnny had set it up, that she wasn’t really good enough to be a star on her own. And Lucy didn’t care that Christie was terrified that her musical talent was nothing more than a mirage.
So what Lucy did next was totally understandable.
Christie tried to straighten up from the piano as Ramona sat down at the keyboard, but she had already gone past ‘feeling good’ and was rapidly approaching the ‘puddle behind the microphone’ stage. Lucy saw it, knew what was happening, and lost her temper.
She slammed her guitar down onto the stand, then stomped over to Christie and slapped the plastic bottle out of her hands. “Idiot!” she screamed. “You’re killing yourself with this crap!”
“Hey!” yelled Christie. “Thass my water bottle.”
Lucy poked her finger into Christie’s shoulder. “That’s full of vodka and you know it! We all know it! You’re not fooling anyone, especially not Johnny Taylor!”
Christie’s glazed eyes slowly sharpened. “Oh, yeah? You wanna replace me, don’t you? You might want Johnny, but you can’t handle Johnny! You’re not woman enough!”
“You moron! I don’t give a flying flip about Johnny! I care about this band and these women and you’re wrecking it for all of us!”
“Oh yeah?” Christie tried to shove Lucy away but only succeeded in falling to her knees. “Hey!” yelled Christie. “She push me down! She tryin’ to beat me up!”
Lucy’s control deserted her. She drew back her foot for a kick to Christie’s face, but Shamika grabbed her from behind and easily lifted her away from the confrontation. Lucy pulled at the bigger woman’s corded arms but couldn’t break free. “Lemme go!” she shouted. “Let me go right now! I’m gonna knock some sense into her!”
Lois leaned in and barked, “Get hold of yourself, Luce! You can’t fight her!”
“You wanna bet? She’s got no chance against me!”
“That’s what I mean, Luce! You can’t fight her the way she is now! You could kill her!”
“I’ll kick her face in! I’ll rip her head off! Let me go!”
Shamika set Lucy down but didn’t release her arms. “Settle down, jazz girl! You ain’t helpin’ nobody with this.”
Lucy finally shook free and glared at Christie from across the stage. “If she comes on drunk tonight, she’s gonna screw up the show! I’m tired of letting her drag us down! She better be straight tonight!”
Christie stumbled to her feet and leaned on Ramona. “Or what, you little snip? What’re you gonna do about it?”
Lucy glared at Christie for a few seconds, then spun away and stomped offstage, but then she stopped and peeked through the backstage curtains to watch what might happen next.
Lois turned to Christie, who had somehow recovered her “water” bottle and was about to take another drink when Lois took the bottle away and secured the cap. “I’m going to put something with lots of caffeine in here, Christie,” she said. “And you’re not going to drink any more booze today. You have six hours to get sober or I’m going to Toni Taylor and we’ll see just who’s more important to the club, you or us.”
Christie pushed her hair back with one unsteady hand. “You – you can’t take my water! That’s my – my special vitamin water! I need it! I really need it!”
Lois lifted Christie’s chin with her hand and spoke with glacial certainty. “Ms. Baldwin, you have one chance to make good with us. You have to sing clean and sober tonight, and you have to follow all the arrangements. If you don’t, I’m going to have Shamika hold you down while Lucy pounds on you.” Lois pinched Christie’s chin as her hand flipped away. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Christie took a deep breath, then looked around at the other four women. Ramona seemed anxious, Connie was obviously mad, Shamika folded her arms and appeared bored, but Lois seemed to loom over her, determined and intense and more than a little bit scary. From behind the curtain, Lucy watched the reality of her situation wend its way through Christie’s boozed-soaked brain. “Yeah,” Christie finally answered. “I understand.”
Lois nodded. “Good. I’m going to get Lucy calmed down so we can get through this rehearsal. Sham, will you go with Christie and make sure she doesn’t get lost before rehearsal starts?”
Shamika’s ebony face moved ever so slightly. “No problem,” she rumbled. “I’ll stay with her. Me and her gonna be close as two peas in a pod.”
Lucy pulled the curtain shut and concealed her relief and glee. It was going to be all right after all.
