Chapter 40
BIX
Iwatch Slayer and Rafe walk off, arm in arm.
You don’t see grown men do that often. They’re a good pair, I think. Slayer has a true friend.
That makes me smile, yet I feel suddenly adrift in this sea of glittering strangers. Without Slayer by my side, I’m just another face in the crowd.
Or maybe not, given the curious glances thrown my way.
Determined to make the best of it, I wander through the transformed Place des Lices, enjoying Paul’s band as they alternate between swing beats and Renaissance melodies.
I brush my hand absently over my dress. While Antoine chose an outfit appropriate to my Upper-East-Side-Manhattan persona, it’s distinctly out of step with what the other women are wearing this evening.
Almost every other lady is dressed in some body-hugging dress with a plunging neckline and a hemline that barely covers what needs covering. I catch more than a few guests—men and women—giving me the eye.
Maybe they recognize me from the photographs in the paper as Slayer’s new girlfriend. Yet I also wonder if it’s because I look like I’ve walked in from a different party.
Well, I wouldn’t feel comfortable dressed like that anyway. And the men probably look at me even longer because I’m so covered up. Maybe that’s what Antoine had in mind. Keep the mystery.
Across the square, I spot Slayer chatting with Rafe near one of the fire dancers. His profile, illuminated by the flickering flames, makes my heart skip. After this afternoon, everything has changed between us.
At least, I think it has.
I stop to accept a drink from a server and smile at the familiar face reaching for a glass on the other side of his silver tray.
“Sade,” I say, delighted to find someone friendly to talk to.
“Bix, yes?” she asks, lifting her glass of Champagne.
We clink glasses together once the server moves on.
“So nice to see you this evening,” I tell her. “You look fabulous out of uniform.”
Sade performs a pirouette to show off her white dress, molded to her compact, curvy body. It’s so like mine, except her booty’s bigger.
“Love it,” I tell her. “I think we’re the classiest-dressed women here.” I grin.
She nods seriously. “Yes. My mother would freak if she saw me wear anything like these women.”
I try to place her accent, but give up. “Your voice is so lovely. Where did you grow up?”
“Senegal,” she says. “I came to France about five years ago. Paris first. Still looking for my piece of the pie.”
She scans the crowd with purpose before turning back to me. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute. Do you mind if we sit down?”
“Sure.”
She leads me to a park bench beneath one of the ancient plane trees. “I think I told you I’m a singer,” she begins.
I nod. “Yes. I can’t wait to hear you sing.”
“Everyone says I’m good,” she says, looking into my eyes. “Tell me. Do you think Mr. Sterling would be interested in hearing me audition?”
My heart sinks as I sigh. Question of the day. “Join the line. I auditioned for him back in New York but he—” I stop myself once I realize what I’m saying. Shit.
“Oh, well then, you’re all set,” Sade says, an odd look on her face.
“Yes, but... He didn’t...”
She shrugs. “You’re based in New York. You’re Slayer’s girlfriend. I’m sure he’ll consider auditioning you again.”
I take a deep breath. “We’ll see. I don’t really have influence with Mr. Sterling. I’m sorry. But that doesn’t mean you can’t just contact him and try asking him yourself. I’ll introduce you to Milo. He’s his assistant. He may be able to help.”
She frowns. “Yes. I spoke to Milo at the yacht party earlier. He couldn’t help.”
I grasp for something encouraging. “I thought Paul said you auditioned for Carlos Rhodes? He seems to have a good pedigree. His dad started the label and everything. What’s come of that?”
She shakes her head. “Yes. Carlos had me audition. But he still hasn’t decided.”
Her voice carries a hint of frustration.
“I’ve sung for him three times. Each time he says he’s interested, and then nothing.”
I notice Carlos across the square, watching our conversation with undisguised interest. He raises his glass in acknowledgment when he catches my eye.
“I wish I could help,” I say, quickly looking away from him.
Laughter carries through the crowd, and I notice Paul’s musicians nearby, chatting and joking on their break.
I nod towards the bandstand. “Why don’t you get up there and show the world what you can do?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s Paul. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you stepped up to join them during the next set.”
Sade laughs like I said something funny. “Ah. Then you don’t know Paul. He’s a stickler for order. No deviation from his set list.”
“Nonsense. He invited me to sing before he even knew singing was my passion.”
“Here at the market?” She shrugs. “That’s just pro bono work he’s doing for the village. But tonight’s a paid gig, and a big one.”
“You never know until you ask.”
“I couldn’t,” she says, shaking her head.
“Then I’ll do it for you. Follow me.” I take her hand and lead her to Paul. He greets us with friendly hugs and multiple kisses on the cheek.
“I was trying to talk Sade into performing tonight,” I tell him. “All the music VIPs are here. It would be a perfect showcase for her.”
He looks reluctant. “She’s not on the approved schedule.”
“Have you heard her sing?” I counter.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then she passes muster?”
He gives Sade an assessing look. “Of course. She’s dazzling on stage.”
“Look, Sterling hired you, right? If you get in trouble, just tell him Slayer’s girlfriend made you do it. I’ll take the rap.”
“I don’t know, Bix. Heads can roll. I don’t care about myself, but my band depends on me financially. I can’t risk it.”
“I’ll help out if—”
Paul stops me with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re right. I don’t have any money of my own. But I’ll ask Slayer to pay. Give Sade a chance. Please? Pretty please?”
He looks again at Sade, and a sly smile quirks his mouth. “Okay... But only one song.”
We walk toward the bandstand, and Sade climbs the steps to the stage as the musicians take their places.
I watch as she turns to speak to them. They nod their understanding.
“Hello, everyone,” she says, addressing the audience. “I’m so excited this evening to sing a song for all of you. Many of you know me as Sade, the server, working parties and clubs. Yet most of you don’t know that I’ve been singing these past five years.”
I look around. No one’s really listening. Most partygoers are engrossed in eating or gossiping.
“Tonight, I’ll be singing ‘The Man I Love’ with the assistance of my friend, Bix Bismark,” Sade continues.
“What? What is she talking about?” I ask Paul.
But he only shrugs.
From the stage, Sade holds her arms open, smiling.
More than a few people look in my direction, though I don’t see Slayer or Rafe or Sterling anywhere. Now the pressure is on. I take a deep breath and join her on the stage.
Paul motions us over. “I’ve got an idea on how we can orchestrate this impromptu set in a way that makes sense. You girls know call and response?”
“Like in church?” I ask him.
He nods. “Something like that. Here’s how we’re going to play it. Sade, you start as you always do. But Bix, when she’s finished the top part of the song, you sing the response in Bix style.”
I shake my head. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You bebop it. Skat it. Interpret the words Sade sang in your own way.”
I look at Sade. “Do you know what he means?”
She nods. “Exactly. And it’s brilliant. Just follow my lead, Bix.”
Paul gives the band a signal, and they begin the familiar strains of the song.
Sade sings in a beautiful, husky, deep voice, pouring her soul and entire being into the man she loves. Her voice carries the weight of longing, of searching, of hoping for connection.
A few audience members stop their chatting to turn to the stage.
While Sade sings, I swing my hips and my long strands of pearls in opposite directions. I feel the rhythm in my bones, the way Lola taught me.
And when it’s my turn to sing, her magic leads the way.