The flight attendant brought us our drinks and scurried away with a hesitant smile. It was obvious that she was trying to avoid hearing any more about our vacation, which Sienna would have surely divulged, if given the opportunity.

Sienna enjoyed shocking uptight people with her crass mouth, watching them squirm was a sport for her.

Sienna raised her glass to me in a toast. “To the best damn honeymoon, I’ve ever been on.” I laughed and shook my head as we clinked glasses and both tipped our heads back to drink.

“Seriously Syd, are you okay? I know the week meant more to you than just a fling.”

I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts. “Maybe I just got caught up in the fantasy of it all. A beautiful island, a gorgeous man, it was easy to think it was all real.” I downed the rest of my drink. “I mean, I don’t even know his last name.” Sienna took my hand and held it in hers. “It’s probably for the best Syd. You need to figure out what you want to do before getting too involved with another guy anyway.” I knew she was right, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The uptight flight attendant came by to ask if we wanted another drink and her eyes went straight to our joined hands. Sienna, being Sienna, raised our joined hands to her mouth and kissed the back of my hand while looking at the flight attendant. “What, you never saw a couple in love? I told you we were on our way back from our honeymoon?” As was common when Sienna got the urge, the woman walked away speechless.

Chapter 12

A week after our return home from Hawaii I was no more settled than I was the morning I walked away from Jack in the airport. I just couldn’t get him out of my head.

I replayed the week over and over in my mind and couldn’t help but think that Jack was feeling the same thing for me as I was for him. What if he was my one true love and I let him slip away because of some ridiculous notion that I couldn’t find the love of my life just because it started out as a rebound fling? I alternated hourly about how I felt. There were mornings that I held the phone in my hand, seriously considering calling the hotel in Hawaii and begging them to get in touch with Jack and give him my number. But then there were afternoons where I came to the realization that I had spent the week with a playboy who probably had weeks like we shared on a regular basis.

My honeymoon was over and I went back to work, but I knew that I wasn’t singing with the gusto that I should have been. I was going through the motions and giving mediocre performances that would more than likely have me destined for etern-all damnation as a lounge singer. I needed to refocus myself into my singing and find a way to use it as an outlet for my heartbreak.

As usual, I arrived at the hotel two hours before the club opened to set up and practice. I was in the middle of my second practice song when the hotel general manager stopped in and asked me to come to his office for a quick meeting. My gut wrenched and I was sure that I was going to be fired for my lackluster performances.

Lyle Coughlin, the hotel manager, was a thirty something year old yuppie wanna be, who might have been cute, if he wasn’t so damn full of himself. He wore expensive suits and shiny shoes and treated most of the employees like they were his ser-vants. I had heard from one of the barmaids that I was friends with that he only had the job because he was related to the Heston family through marriage. I knocked at his door and he yelled for me to enter. “Come in Sydney, have a seat.” He motioned to one of the leather chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

He came around the desk and lifted one leg to sit on the edge of the corner of the desk close to me, folding his hands into his lap. I was sure that before I arrived at his office, Lyle thoroughly debated about the exact position that he should sit while we spoke, in order for him to look the most au-thoritative he could during our talk. It was just the kind of pompous ass he was. “So Sydney, how do you like it here at the Heston?”

Why couldn’t the ass**le just fire me and get it over with instead of dragging it out? I plastered on my best fake smile and spoke. “Oh, I love it here. The clientele is very posh and I enjoy performing in the Overture Club.” I didn’t really think the clientele was posh; in fact, I hated the freaking word posh. But I knew it would be what the arrogant ass**le wanted to hear, so I had to try to salvage my job.

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear it. Well, you must be doing something right. Mr. Heston has informed me that he will be coming to your show tonight. He mentioned that he has heard many good things about you and wanted to see for himself.” Lyle stood, leaning against the desk with his ankles crossed and arms folded across his chest, posturing himself as a parent would when they were giving a child a reward for good behavior. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the ass**le patted me on the head.

“So, Sydney, I don’t have to tell you how important tonight’s show is. Mr. Heston is a busy man and this hotel is a reflection on him, so everything needs to be perfect tonight.” Ummm, not too much pressure.

Lyle walked back around the desk and motioned his arm that he was finished. I was a minion who was being dismissed. “I’ll be at your performance tonight also. Break a leg Sydney.”

Great, I thought, now I have to change up my performance for the old rich guy. What does one sing to a wealthy old man? I suddenly had pictures of myself dressing up in the infamous white Marilyn Monroe dress and softly singing Happy Birthday Mr. President to a seventy five year old crotchety hotel mogul sitting with a twenty year old ditzy buxom blonde clinging to his arm.

As if she was reading my mind, my phone buzzed with a text from Sienna. Hey rock chick, plans for tonight? Let’s go to that Piano Bar on 55th when you get off for a few? I’m having Syd withdrawals. U up for it?

Her texts always brightened my day.

When I was with Michael, he would get annoyed at how often we would text back in forth, but it never stopped us. Sounds good.

BTW what do I perform for an old rich hotel mogul that is coming to see my show tonight?

Two seconds later. Oral sex, man’s favorite performance at any age.

I walked right into that one. While that’s tempting, I was thinking more along the lines of a singing performance than a humming one.

He’s old huh? Since you’ve been gone…Aretha baby. Your voice kicks that song’s ass! XOXO Meet you at midnight?

Perfect, thanks! TTYL Xo Syd I went about my routine and did a few practice songs when the band arrived. They were impressed with my rendition of Since You’ve Been Gone, so I was glad that Sienna has suggested it. I wasn’t really nervous about singing in front of Mr. Heston, I had sang in front of large crowds and I didn’t often get stage fright. But the reality was that I was broke, and his opinion mattered because I needed my job. I was an idiot about my fin-ances when I left Michael. I left him everything, even our joint savings account.

At the time, it was a pride thing; I didn’t want to admit that I needed anything from him or us, so I left with just my clothes. Now I was starting to think that taking half the savings and some of the furniture would have been the smarter thing to do. But it was too late now, and I was determined to make it on my own one way or another.

***

The crowd started to roll in slowly during my first set. I wasn’t sure what Mr. Heston looked like, but I didn’t see anyone that could be him. I knew Lyle would be making a big fuss over him and the staff was all on high alert to attend to his every need.

Two songs into my second set, I spotted Lyle sitting at a table set in the front, a little bit off to the side. He must have had come in on my break, because I hadn’t notice him earlier. He was sitting with a man older than him, but not quiet the definition of a crotchety old hotel mogul that was in my head. The man was probably in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and masculine strong features. He was distinguished and handsome and his face was vaguely familiar, although I couldn’t place where I knew him from. I thought perhaps that the two men were still waiting for Mr. Heston and the other gentleman was also an employee of Heston Hotels.

A few songs later I was near the end of my set and there was still no sign of Mr. Heston. I belted out the Aretha song that I had added for the old man and said goodnight to the crowd. On the weekends, the band had to stay to play for another hour, but after my singing ended, they took the volume down and stuck to background music.

Lyle called from his table, as I was leaving the stage. The man truly had no manners, how difficult would it have been to walk a few steps over to me and ask me over to his table. Pushing my thoughts of the pompous ass aside, I put on my best fake smile and walked to his table. The gentleman that he was seated with stood as I approached, forcing Lyle to follow suit, which I secretly enjoyed. Lyle would never have thought to stand when a woman approached on his own.

“Sydney, this is Mr. Heston.” I looked to the gentleman and tried to hide my surprise. Damn, the old guy was even better up close. He had light green eyes that stood out against his tan skin, which I hadn’t noticed earlier because of the light glare on stage.

“Hello, nice to meet you Mr. Heston.” We shook hands and Lyle invited me to sit with them.

“What can I get you to drink Sydney?” Mr. Heston ignored Lyle’s empty glass in front of him when the waitress approached.

“Just a water, please. My throat needs to cool down after I perform and adding alcohol has the opposite effect.” I felt the need to give an explanation so I wouldn’t insult the man who stood between me and paying my rent next month.

He nodded and gave his order for scotch to the waitress. Lyle began talking about the upcoming annual Heston shareholder meeting and how honored I should be that Mr. Heston had taken time out of his busy schedule to come see me sing. I nodded and smiled and did my best to look interested as he spoke. But I found the way that Mr. Heston was looking at me to be distracting. It wasn’t lewd or improper; rather I got the feeling he was looking for something in me, watching me, observing.

At some point, Mr. Heston got bored of Lyle talking too and I was grateful when he interrupted him mid sentence. “I really enjoyed your show Sydney, how would you like to perform at our annual shareholder meeting next week? We were supposed to have some famous boy band, but I hate that crap and I find you to be captivating when you sing. I know it’s short notice, but if you are free next weekend, I’ll messenger over a contract tomorrow and let my assistant know about the change.”

“Wow, that sounds great. I have a few things lined up for next weekend, but I’m sure I can rearrange them.” Damn it, I’d have to rearrange that bubble bath I was planning on taking next weekend. No one wants an artist that isn’t in demand.

He smiled at me and threw back his drink. He stood, giving me a glimpse of the rest of him, and I couldn’t help but notice the whole package was pretty damn good. Tall, fit and broad shouldered. He wore low hanging navy blue trousers and a French blue tailored dress shirt that looked as if he had recently opened the collar and removed the tie. If only I was a few years older.

“It was very nice to meet you Sydney.

He leaned in close as he shook my hand and lowered his voice. “And I’m a big Aretha fan, so let’s keep that one for next week, shall we?” He winked and released my hand. I watched as he left, and the view was as good going as it was coming.

***

Sienna was sitting at the piano playing and singing when I walked in to the bar we agreed to meet at. A crowd sat around her at the piano, some of them probably thought that she worked there. I had no idea what she had done with the pianist, but it was typical Sienna. “Do I need to look for the pianist tied and gagged somewhere?” I raised one eyebrow in question.

Her painted red lips and glossy white teeth smiled up at me in sharp contrast to her pale skin. “Get your skinny ass over here and join me babe.” Sienna scooted her butt over to make room for me at the piano bench. It didn’t take long before we had the entire bar singing “I Will Survive” along with us. My mom had always said that Sienna and I were contagious. We were always able to get lost in the moment and have fun when we were together, and somehow, others always joined in.