A riviting story of intrigue and romance set in Birmingham, Alabama that centers on three women whose lives are forever changed after a devasting tornado rips through the town.
The "Love Songs" of the three main characters are "Someone to Watch Over Me", "Santa Baby' and "Killing Me Softly." Read the exciting and unpredictable novel that describes the complex lives of Gail, Sonja and Evelyn. This book takes off where Waiting to Exhale ends...
Excerpt
Chapter 1
SONJA
Santa Baby
Santa Baby, slip a sable under the tree for me.
Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,
So hurry down the chimney tonight.
There is only one industry in Texas that rivals the oil business. Sex.
The secluded Dallas Baron’s Club looked stately and impressive. The red brick, three story, colonial structure with its circular driveway was competing with the Bentley’s, Mercedes-Benz’s, Ferrari’s and Porsche’s parked on the property.
A passerby would have simply thought it was a very wealthy, respectable gathering of the very wealthy and respectable. They would have been right but very shocked at what actually brought these men to the private Club.
It had a lot to do with wealth, but very little to do with respectable behavior.
Entering the mansion, one couldn’t help but be impressed by the immaculate glass like Italian marble floors, the curving mas-sive staircase and the priceless artwork adorning the walls.
The attractive blonde hostess with her 1,000-watt smile was waiting to seat the guests. Would it be dinner first or entertainment fol-lowed by dinner? She already knew the choice most of the club members would make. It was always entertainment followed by dinner.
No matter how young or how old they were. No matter if they had old money or new money, it was always the entertain-ment first.
The blonde hostess would smile, nod, and discreetly signal for an equally gorgeous blonde, brunette or redhead to show the gen-tlemen to a table.
Tonight’s special guest was the longest living member of the elite club; eighty-two year-old Senator Earl Simmons. He was celebrating retirement from the Texas Senate after 50 years of service and passing the mantle of his Senate seat and political legacy to his 28 year-old grandson.
Most of the voters in the Senator’s district knew the election was just a mere formality. The young Simmons only had to utter the words, “My granddaddy says,” and wishes would be granted. He had been uttering those words since he was six years old at a private boys’ school.
He brashly used them while at Harvard, and after a while the Dallas Police Department ignored his speeding red Ferrari, tired of hearing those words and seeing their law enforcement efforts derailed where the rich Simmons kid was concerned.
Tonight was his right of family passage. He was sharing a Simmons family man’s secret. His grandfather had gotten him a membership into the Dallas Baron’s Club and he took it quite se-riously. He would not disappoint the old man as his father had, first refusing to enter politics and second becoming a Democrat. A bleeding heart liberal! Earl Simmons, III however was going to wear the family crest right on his forehead and make his grand-daddy proud as he worked his first job ever as a Texas State Senator.
The elder Senator Simmons always had the best table at the Dallas Baron’s Club. His server, Denise, a pretty young redhead, was standing at attention with her personal data blackberry con-nected to her Blue-Tooth, ready to respond to his every com-mand. The menu consisted of more than the best Texas beef and bourbon, but the best women.
As the music started, the stage lights dimmed and the cavern-ous room seemed to glow. The white linen tablecloths provided a stark reflection against the Brazilian walnut wood paneled walls. The hardwood stage was polished to resemble a copper penny. The music surrounded the patrons with its state of the art sound system, and it actually felt like an orchestra was playing at each table.
The young Simmons was as giddy as a kid on his first pony ride.
“Granddaddy, this is awesome! When do I get to meet my date?”
The elder statesman smiled and leaned in closer to his grand-son. In a fatherly tone, he started to educate the young lad on the rules. He pointed to the tables in the room, each with a beautiful “assistant” poised at attention, holding her personal data phone as though it were a weapon.
A set of headphones with a nearly invisible microphone curved around their elegantly styled tresses.
“You see my boy, you have to bid on ‘em. Now this one com-ing out now is just like an appetizer. She’s good and all, but not very filling. My assistant here, Denise will let me know what the starting bid is and if I want to counter, I let her know. It goes on like a silent auction until the music and her dancing ends. The highest bidder wins.”
As if on a magical cue, he looked up at Denise, who politely smiled and lit his Cuban cigar.
The young dancer was good and the young Simmons wanted to bid on her right away. These were the prettiest women he had ever laid eyes on. Each could be Miss America, Miss Universe, Miss World, a super model or the Playmate of the Year.
What he didn’t know was that many of these women had in-deed walked those very same famous pageant stages and run-ways, but fell short of receiving the crown. They were now part of an elite and more financially rewarded group than those who had won those pageants. It seemed like an eternity, but dancer after dancer performed and got rave reviews of the filled room. Each dancer was better than the last but as the finale act grew closer, the room took on an electrical charge.
Denise, the assistant leaned down to Senator Simmons ear and whispered. His eyes sparkled and he nudged his grandson.
“Now here comes the main course. This one is the headliner and is the one everyone wants to spend time with. I’m gon’ bid on her for you. Now when I win, understand it’s up to you and her what happens next. She is something else. She’s the best and you deserve the best. Just wait until you see her.”
The stage lights glowed lavender and white as the music slow-ly started to build. The Senator looked up at Denise.
“We are starting Lovely Lena at $8,000 tonight Senator.” She adjusted her earpiece to listen to an incoming transmission.
The red velvet stage curtains slowly opened revealing the sil-houette of a woman in a white trench coat and white fedora. Slow sultry lyrics enveloped the room sung by Phoebe Snow asking,
Did you say I’ve got a lot to learn?
Well don’t think I’m trying not to learn, Since this is the perfect spot to learn.
Teach me tonight.
The woman, billed as Lovely Lena, slowly walked the length of the t- shaped stage and slowly unbuttoned the coat.
Starting with the ABC of it,
Right down to the XYZ of it,
Help me solve the mystery of it.
Teach me tonight.
The coat slowly dropped to the floor to reveal a snow-white lace and satin g-string with matching bra. The fabric molded the tanned and taut body of the woman who shielded her face with the oversized white fedora.
Her legs were bare and perfect and seemed to glide across the floor in the three-inch silver stilettos, as she sensuously swayed to the music. Each man in the room was sure she was asking only him to teach her tonight. The table assistants became frantic as they tried to keep up with the bidding.
The young Mr. Simmons was getting concerned. His grandfa-ther had not placed a bid yet. “Granddaddy, we should bid, shouldn’t we?”
“We will. And we will win. Don’t worry, Denise here always takes care of me.” He winked at Denise, who politely smiled and winked back.
The sky’s a blackboard high above you.
If a shooting star goes by, I’ll use that star to write,
I love you a thousand times across the sky.
Lovely Lena did a perfect spin and split down to the floor, keeping the hat dangerously low over her eyes as her body undu-lated showing a tight abdomen with round and inviting breasts trying to burst from the confines of the satin bra.
One thing isn’t very clear my love,
Should the teacher stand so near my love?
Graduation’s almost here my love.
Come on and teach me tonight.
Phoebe Snow was getting more impatient as she growled out the lyrics and the dancer matched her urgency with steady, rhythmic undulating moves as she positioned herself on her knees. Like a caged tiger, she started to crawl and pace the stage as though looking for her prey.
Each strain of the song’s guitar accentuated her movements and as the crescendo built with Phoebe Snow’s voice, the dancer grabbed the hat with one hand and flung it into the audience, re-vealing silky blue-black hair that fell to her breasts. Her other hand artistically released the bra at the same time to let her hair cover her chest.
The sky’s a blackboard high above you.
If a shooting star goes by, we’ll take that star and write I love you.
One thing isn’t very clear my love.
Should the teacher stand so near to me my love? Gradua-tion’s almost hear my love.
Come on to my house and teach me!
Yeah teach me teach me tonight.
The face was that of a sex goddess. Dark smoldering eyes. Full and passionate pouty lips. As she swiftly turned her back to the audience and slowly sauntered away, she cast a lingering look over her shoulder to invite the one who was man enough to teach her tonight.
Senator Simmons nodded to Denise who professionally keyed in his bid. He always did one thousand dollars more than the highest bid. Lovely Lena was now at $15,000, and the Senator had made it $16,000. His grandson was impressed. Finally catch-ing his breath, he looked at his grandfather with a newfound pride.
“She is damn gorgeous. I mean she looks like Salma Hayek, Marilyn Monroe and Halle Berry all rolled into one.” He gushed and took a swig of his bourbon.
“Well, it’s before your time, but she got that stage name be-cause she looks a lot like the movie star Lena Horne, except our gal is prettier. Now we have to go and wait for her in the dining area.”
The old man was slowly getting up from the table as Denise placed his ticket on the table. He signed it and gave it back to her.
All transactions were done on personal accounts or by cash. The younger Simmons’ face showed disappointment.
“Can’t I have dinner with her alone?”
“Oh you will. I just want her to know you’re someone special. Then I’ll leave you alone. Remember, do not ask her anything on these premises. You got it? You make arrangements to see her on your own and don’t ask her anything about money. This is just like a real date, except we paid for the whole herd instead of the steak. Don’t be a dumbass and get caught up either, she’s a busi-nesswoman and don’t forget it. This ain’t about falling in love and getting married. It’s about having a good time. Let’s go to the dining area.”
Sonja Davenport was in her dressing room with only the white g-string still on, removing her makeup. There was a soft knock at the door and she gave permission to enter.
Denise the assistant jubilantly came in with a small piece of paper and handed it to the performer.
“Sixteen thousand dollars! Congratulations. Another top night. You are great performer!”
Sonja looked at the receipt and signed it to verify she was hav-ing dinner with the patron. She looked at the name on the ticket. Senator Earl Simmons. He hadn’t been around in a while.
“Senator Simmons? That’s a blast from the past,” Sonja mumbled.
Denise answered quickly, “Oh it’s a special night. His grand-son is with him, and the date is for him. He is sooo cute, too. One day I’ll be cashing in like you instead of living off the tips. I can’t wait.”
The dressing room suddenly became ice cold as Sonja glared at the eager assistant in training. “First of all, never compare yourself to me. You will never be as good as I am. Secondly, I don’t need you to give me a babe report on any client. I don’t care how cute they are. I am not your BFF and we don’t share any secrets. I am your boss! Take this ticket and get back to work.” Sonja pushed the paper towards the stunned young woman.
Stammering an apology, Denise quickly exited the dressing room. The insistent ringing of her dressing room phone brought Sonja out of her rage.
“What?” she snapped into the receiver.
“Sonja, sorry to bother you. This is the reception area. I have an emergency phone call for you from the hospital in Birming-ham, Alabama. Your mother’s had a stroke.”
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