Off the Rails (11 page)

“I think the unexpected things are the best. Don’t you?”

Thinking of that stinking valentine from hell, and the snotty bitches who’d sent it, Madison curled her lip and shook her head. “No. I really like to know what I’m dealing with ahead of time. No surprises for me.”

The other girl lifted a dark eyebrow. “Really? You’re a straight-up type of girl?”

“That’s right. That’s me.”

“Not too straight, I hope.”

“No,” she blurted out. Thinking of everything she’d gone through, between getting that dumb-ass invitation and landing the big three-night gig, she added, “Not at all.”

The other girl tipped her head, peering out from under long lashes, and said, “I’m really, really glad about that,” then waved to Jackie. “I’d like one of those,” she said, pointing to Madison’s half-empty green apple martini.

Jackie cast the newcomer a look.

Disapproving?

Annoyed?

Madison couldn’t quite make it out. Whatever it was, it was still on her face when she set the drink down. “Twelve fifty.”

“Start me a tab.”

Jackie made a face, but agreed with, “Sure thing.”

“Don’t mind her, she’s just like that. Doesn’t like to see other people having a good time.”

“Why is she a bartender then?”

“Good question.” The girl took a sip. “My name’s Holly.”

“Madison.”

She grinned as she took a long, slow drink. After licking away the tiny grains of salt stuck to her lip, she murmured, “I saw your set. Good stuff.”

“Mr. Moonilgio asked me to come back, but he told me to wear something tight.”

Holly gave her a slow up and down. “You’re perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Madison shrugged, said thanks, but a weird sensation made her fidget and reach for her drink. They sat like that for a while, Madison wiggling and gulping her drink, not at all sure what to do next, and Holly, drinking, smiling and seeming totally sure of everything.

After a while of that, Holly set her glass down. “My cousin used to book the acts for this place, but he and Mr. Moonilgio got in a fight over something totally stupid. I stayed out of it—I work in the office and didn’t want to lose my job.” She pulled back a bit and straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Moonilgio and are I buddies. He listens to me.”

“You girls need another?”

Jackie was back, without the weird, indecipherable expression.

Holly didn’t waste any time answering for them both. “Please. Add ‘em both to my tab.”

The bartender swept away the empty glasses.

Madison didn’t need another drink, but Holly was talking again, saying something about talking to Mr. Moonilgio about letting Madison wear whatever she wanted and keeping her around for a long, long time.

It was a bit odd, having some girl she’d just met order a drink for her, but not odd enough to keep Madison from taking a sip of it once it arrived. “You don’t have to pay for my drink. I may look like a starving actress-slash-singer, but—”

“This one’s on me. No discussion.”

Madison took another sip. “Okay…”

“So. We were talking about your future.”

“We were?”

“That’s right.” Holly scooted so close that her thigh was smashed against Madison’s. “You have a demo?”

That memo, the one in the back of Madison’s mind that she’d ignored a while ago, suddenly seemed to matter. She started digging through her mental filling cabinet, trying to find it, but Holly was stroking the tops of her thighs with long, languid motions, making it really hard to think straight.

Then, the girl leaned in to put her other hand on Madison’s other thigh, saying, “If you do have a demo, you should get it to me.” More rubbing, then, “Mr. Moonilgio isn’t my only friend in the business.” Pressure on the inside of both her thighs, followed by, “I have another friend. He picks the stuff for the locals show, 98.6. You know, that show they have on Tuesday nights? The one that features local talent?”

“Damn it, Holly, I told you if I caught you up here again, you’d be fi—”

“Oh, Mr. M—I was just,” Holly leaped to her feet, all traces of sexy relaxation gone as she offered Mr. Moonilgio an apologetic smile, “Madison was just stressed about her set, worried. I—I was trying—”

“I know what you were trying to do.” He pointed to the stairs. “Get the hell out of here, and leave the talent alone.”

Holly had no apologetic smile for Madison, just a quick, “See ya,” as she snatched her drink and raced off.

Chapter Ten

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

“You know, I really am sorry about…last night…about…”

Grrr…

A girl should be able to get ready for her set without people—especially sexy people who are liars—popping into the tiny closet being passed off as a dressing room. Madison stopped in mid sweep, and put her blush brush on the cardboard box she’d set up as a makeshift dressing table. “You’re a girl. You shouldn’t play like that. That crap about Mr. Moonilgio listening to you?”

Holly offered Madison a weak half smile and shrugged. “Sometimes stuff like that works.”

“But you lied. That’s asinine guy behavior.” Warming up to her disgusted attitude, and glad to have a target for the frustrations of her life, Madison added, “I thought lesbians were gentle and kind. Loving. True promoters of womankind. Honest, do-gooding feminists. I thought lesbians hated guys. I thought they went for girls because they didn’t want to have anything to do with guys and the stupid rude crap guys dish out.”

“No. We like girls because we like girls.”

Stupid, simple, logical answer.

Madison went back to her makeup.

“Mr. Moonilgio is looking for you.”

“Did you say something to him about me?”

Holly widened her eyes and flattened her palm across her chest. “I’m not like that.”

“Well, is he smiling and looking like he has something good to say? Or stalking around, looking like he’s getting ready to tell me to get lost?”

“How the hell should I know? He’s a man. I never know what men are thinking.”

“Thanks a lot. I think I liked it better when you were a liar.”

“I can go back to…lying.” She swayed toward Madison. “I’ll lie with you if you like.”

“Oh, please. Let’s not go through all that again.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“You did try. Not that I don’t appreciate the offer.” Madison finished her blush and reached for the spritzer of water. “Thanks for the heads-up,” she said, spraying her face a couple times.

“Have a good set.”

After Holly closed the door, Madison scooped up all her stuff—makeup, six different tubes of hair products, clips, pins and random makeup pencils—and carefully packed it into her bag.

“Hey.” The door swung back open, and Mr. Moonilgio stuck his head in. “Do you know some jazz singer named Sandra Williams?”

Madison swallowed hard and cringed. Twice in one week was two times too many to think about
her
.

He took in her face and chortled. “You two aren’t friends?”

“No.”
Translate as ‘Hell no’
. “But I know who you’re talking about.”

“She’s sitting at the corner table. She saw your name, asked about you. Maybe she wants to do a duet.”

Madison could practically hear the guy rubbing his hands in delight. “You sure you two aren’t friends?” he asked, the hope shining like dollar signs in his eyes.

Madison managed to choke out, “No, we’re not friends.”
Translate again as ‘Hell no’. Add in ‘I am not going to do a song with her’.

“Not the right attitude, sweetheart. I could get someone to take your place in fifteen minutes.”

Madison stood up and tugged her tight black minidress into place. “I’ve got everything under control. I promise.”

“You better.” And with that he tucked out, leaving a cloud of disappointment and doubt behind.

* * * *

After her set, which did in fact go great, Madison tried to get out of talking to Sandra, but the ever-popular singer was waving her arms and pointing to the empty chair at her table in such a way that Madison simply could not ignore her. So she sucked in a deep breath, shifted her face into what she hoped passed for a pleasant expression, and strolled over and said hi.

“Oh-my-God! Madison! Sit down! Can I get you a drink?”

Why is she smiling?

Doesn’t she know I hate her?

“Really, can I get you a drink? Hot tea? Water with lemon?”

“No.” she replied, sitting carefully on the edge of the chair so she could make a quick exit. “But thanks.”

“I had no idea!” Sandra gestured to the stage. “I remember hearing that you sang, but shit, girl, you can sing.”

A compliment? From the golden girl? Madison shrugged to look like she didn’t care about the praise, but inwardly glowed. She’d remembered Sandra as an egotistical bitch who somehow managed to hang on to a reputation as being
really nice
and a
hard worker.
“Thanks.”

“Are you totally booked? Here? Do you work other places, too?” Sandra picked up her glass of red wine, waving it around as she spoke. “I’ve been out of town for so long, in New Orleans with my husband, I’m sorry if I’m being stupid.” She paused, took a sip, then went on to ask, “Who does your representation?”

Madison looked away from Sandra’s flawless face. This was so not what she’d been expecting. This outpouring of compliments and curiosity, what did it mean?

“So?” Sandra asked, leaning forward.

“I just started here.”

“Are you booked? For the next couple months?”

Madison stared stupidly across the table at the other girl.

“You’re wondering why I want to know. Here’s the deal. Did you get an invitation to our reunion? After they sent those out, the committee called me and asked if I wanted to do a couple songs.” She took a sip of her wine, then flashed an I-am-such-a-genius smile. “I thought it might be fun. But I’m thinking what might be even more fun is if you did a couple songs, too. Before me. Not really a warm-up, but…you know… Something…
cute
. What do you think?”

“Cute? What do you mean by
cute
?”

“You could wear a wig like my hair and a dress like my dress and sing a medley of my songs. It would be awesome! You could be my mini-me!”

Chapter Eleven

Catfight

“Fuck no.”

The distance across the table and between the chairs vanished as she and Sandra swooped in.

“I’m not sure I heard you right,” she hissed, all perfect makeup and expensive hairspray.

“You heard me right.
Fuck no
.”

Instead of pulling herself together like Madison should have, she listened to the tiny devil crouched on her left shoulder. It was small, but damn compelling. At that second in her life, anyway. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to sing as your fucking mini me. I wouldn’t sing on the same stage as you if—”

Sandra loomed closer, snarling and amazed. “If what?”

The tiny shoulder devil was too busy giggling to help Madison with a snappy comeback. “If—if anything.”

Sandra snorted, and spilled fat drops of wine onto the table as she waved her glass around. “That is the lamest insult I’ve ever heard.”

The ugly haze of resentment swelled in Madison’s brain, blocking out any good sense that would have told her to shut up because nothing good could come from what she’d gotten herself into. Total embarrassment was only a breath away, and unfortunately, Madison breathed it in and said, “I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of them, so you ought to know.”

Sandra stood up. “When did you turn into such a bitch?”

Madison shot to her feet. “Fuck you.”

Sandra swung first.

Her open hand glided across Madison’s cheek with enough force to send her back a couple steps. After she whacked the back of her calf on a chair, Madison righted herself, lunged forward and reached for a fistful of Sandra’s perfectly styled hair. Within seconds, the two of them were pushing and pulling, swearing and stumbling.

Mimicking the motion of some hockey player she’d gone out with in high school, Madison grabbed the back of Sandra’s shirt and flipped it over her head. Sandra continued to swing her arms, but she looked like some kid who was doing a very poor job of pretending to be a ghost. Except that Sandra was wearing some lacy number that was barely holding in her unnecessarily large breasts.

Madison would’ve laughed if her whole body wasn’t hurting, and she wasn’t trying to decide whether or not she should grab Sandra and throw her to the ground or run for the door.

The door.

Definitely.

Madison backed up, spun around, but ran smack into some guy.

“Whoa, where you going, sweetheart?”

Still thrumming with the adrenaline and stupidity that got her into the mess, Madison grabbed at the hand clutching her upper arm. “Let go of me, you asshole.”

“I’m not an asshole,” he said, keeping hold of Madison’s arm.

Madison was finally getting around to being embarrassed, so she patted her hair into place and sniffed self-righteously, as though Sandra had forced her into such unbecoming behavior and she was only doing what she had to do. Totally unsure of the protocol required for such an event, Madison let the man guide her back to the table then stood stupidly while he righted the chairs. Sandra, trying to pretend she wasn’t a mess, sat down and glared at them both. The man sat down and pulled out a chair for Madison. Madison sat, eyeing Sandra carefully. The other woman, who had managed to get her shirt back over her obnoxiously large breasts, did not look happy, to say the least, but she didn’t open her mouth to protest either.

He waved off the bouncers, who had been waiting until things stopped before swinging down from their bar stools, explaining that he had everything under control, then introduced himself to Madison and added that he wanted to see her to perform at the reunion. Not as Sandra’s mini me but as her own very sexy, well-singing self.

Sandra snapped, “Why don’t you get the hell out of here?”

Madison took a deep breath, trying to keep from picking up where they left off. “I was trying to but—”