"Isn't she staying at your place? That was the whole point." I want to scream. He makes me uproot my daughter—and my life—for almost a month so they can bond, and he pawns her off on the nanny.
"I have an early meeting tomorrow, plus she liked Maria's place better. It's smaller, and she said it was more like her home."
Ouch. What a prick.
"She'll be here with me tomorrow night. I just had this last meeting that I couldn't get off the books. And it's my time with her, so you relax. I don't call you all the time about how she's doing. If we need you, which I doubt, we'll be in touch."
No, he doesn't call often, and if it weren't for his wife, I'm sure he never would.
I'm unsettled that I didn't get to talk to Paisley—or at least Maria—directly, but it is late. Knowing Maria, she's got Paisley settled in bed, and it would be too late to talk to her anyway. I should feel better that my daughter is with the only person I trust in the world, but I don't.
There's a soft knock on the door. Henderson pokes his head in. "Howzit going? You wanna leave?"
I start to nod, but then realize something. Now that I know Paisley is with Maria and therefore fine, I don't want to go. I want to stay in this moment and feel again how I did when I was on stage.
For the first time in a very long time, I felt likeme.
I want to get up there and sing again. I want to be a star again. And I want to tell all that to Henderson, but it's not the sort of thing you say on a first date.
It's certainly not the kind of thing you tell someone who could then run and blab to any rag that will listen and publish. Let's face it, we all know that my "child support" includes a hefty implied "keep your mouth shut" bonus.
That's right. The world does not know that I, Tabitha Stetson, a member of the Sassy Cats, had a child with Jonathan Spencer Maxwell. Or that she was conceived in the back of a limo.
Or that Jonathan's wife, Anastasia Jerome, knows all about it.
I mean, it's one reason that I've tried to stay out of the public eye the past few years. Maybe not themainreason but … well, it is a big part of my motivation for privacy.
I didn't think I missed it, until now.
I stand up and take the glass of champagne that Henderson has so thoughtfully brought in here for me. I drain it before glamorously wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I wanna sing another song, and I want you to sing with me."
Before I give Henderson a chance to respond, I take him by the hand and drag him out to the bar.
It's time to get our song on.
Chapter 6: Henderson
Crikeys.
She wants me to sing.
Whatever she had to do in here, it visibly upset her. I guess there could be worse ways to deal with it. After all, she's not the one who will be humiliated.
Ah, but if she embarrasses me, maybe I can use it for leverage to guilt her into taking a role at The Edison. Though the more time I spend with her, the less that's actually on my mind.
"Right. What song?"
She scrolls through the duets list. "Um, how about 'Love is an Open Door?' It's fromFrozen.My world sort of revolves around Elsa and Anna these days."
Ugh. No. "That's a pass." I scan for something that won't make me sound like a complete idiot. "What about 'You're the One That I Want?' fromGrease?" I'd definitely be more comfortable with a show tune that I've heard and directed a million times. Plus, it's not like that song requires much range.
"That song is so tired. Oh! I've got it. It's perfect for us!" She selects an entry before I can see what it is. It'd better not be 'Shallow' or 'Come What May,' as I know those are both popular karaoke duets, and both out of my skill set.
Or at least out of my comfort zone.
But who'm I kidding? Everything about this night is outside my comfort zone.
Because Tabitha is Tabitha, we get the next slot. The manager's all too eager to have her back on the stage. I toss back the rest of my coldie and wish I had several pints more. She drains another glass of champagne.
