Priceless (28 page)

“I’ll send it over later on when it’s done. It might be late. I’ve got some other stuff to do.”

Charlotte looked at her watch. “Shit, I’m going to be late for work. See you later!”

She hugged Jackson and shot off. He’d sent the audio file to the radio station the night before, and they were all hoping Albrecht would come through on his promise to play it. Half running through the streets of the French Quarter, Charlotte felt hopeful for the first time in ages.

THE RADIO WAS
playing in the kitchen, and after some good-natured teasing, the guys let her change it to the popular station. They were more fond of the local Creole channel, which broadcast fast, French-speaking rock and funk, but apart from mockingly singing along to any Britney Spears song that came on, they put up with it. And actually, Ronnie’s routine to “Oops, I Did it Again” was never to be forgotten. He used a colander instead of a space helmet, but it was very convincing.

Suddenly, at around four, the announcer said Jackson’s name. Charlotte looked up, thinking she must be imagining it, but she saw that all the guys had stopped, too, and were looking at her wide-eyed.

“Here’s something hot off the digital presses. Local hero Jackson Pearl, whom many of you have heard playing in the Big Easy, has teamed up with a singer who might just take them all the way. They call themselves Jack and Charlie, and here’s their first single, ‘Fire and Ice.’ It’s clearly homegrown—no big studio involved here—but this is a KCRC exclusive! You can download the song on our Web site and, for now at least, nowhere else!”

And then, in a moment Charlotte would never forget as long as she lived, she heard her own voice pouring out of the radio. The arrangement was simple but sexy and up-tempo, and she
was forced to admit it sounded amazing. The guys in the kitchen were dancing around, cheering and hugging her, and she started to laugh out loud for the craziness of it.

Later on, they played the song again. She could hear the announcer grinning as he introduced it.

“We seem to have hit a nerve with this one, listeners. You guys are lighting up the switchboard for it. One more time, it’s Jack and Charlie.”

When at last her shift was over, she stumbled out of the back door of the kitchen, only to find Jackson waiting for her.

“Did you hear it?” His eyes were glittering in the darkness, his smile gleaming.

“Yes!” She giggled as he lifted her high in the air. “It’s weird, right?”

“If by weird you mean wonderful, then yes. My mother’s invited every relative we have to come listen to the radio. I had to get out before they threw me a ticker-tape parade between the bathroom and the kitchen.” He laughed, still carrying her, turning slow circles in the alley. “You are a star, Ms. Williams. How does it feel?”

She squirmed against his waist. “It feels kind of sexy, actually.”

The alleyway was dark, and he carried her a little bit farther down toward the end. Then, pushing her up against the wall, he began kissing her.

“You are the sexiest woman I have ever met,” he said, his voice hoarse, as he licked her neck. She still had her legs wrapped around his waist, and although the wall was rough against her back, she wasn’t paying much attention. She could feel how excited he was, and her own body was getting hotter by the second.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she whispered, catching her breath as Jackson slipped his hands inside her shirt, pulling her close and undoing her shirt buttons with his teeth. Cool night air made her nipples harden as he pulled her shirt open, and then his warm mouth covered them, making her moan gently.

“No, we can do it right here …”

It was lucky no one looked down the alley, although all they would have seen was two lovers wrapped tightly around each other.

Once it was over, Jackson whispered in her ear. “Your voice
was so beautiful on the radio today that all I could think about was this.”

She smiled against his throat, her head resting on his shoulder, the sweat cooling on her back where it pressed against the wall. “You are the beautiful one,” she replied.

Slowly, they covered themselves up again and started the slow walk home.

When they got back to Kat’s place, Camille had sent the video.

“You are going to flip out when you see this.” Kat’s eyes were gleaming as she hit play.

After a second or two, Charlotte raised her hand to her mouth, amazed. She looked incredibly, achingly, like her mother. Somehow, being on film changed the way she looked, highlighting only the very best aspects of her face and figure. Even Jackson whistled.

“Wow, you look amazing.”

“The camera loves you, baby!” Kat was crowing, dancing around the room. “YouTube is going to eat you up!”

It was strange. Charlotte almost didn’t recognize that girl on the screen as herself. The discovery made her less nervous. She wasn’t exposing herself; she was sending out a more glamorous version to play her on TV.

She grinned. “Camille is a genius! Let’s do it. Put it up!”

She went to pull out a bottle of champagne, and Jackson worked for a few moments, posting it to YouTube.

“Well, for better or worse, there it goes.” He stood up and stretched, accepting a brimming glass of champagne. He raised
it. “To old friends, new friends, and tomorrow’s adventures.”

A quick clink, and they all drank deeply. Whatever tomorrow brought, tonight they were young and talented and happy, and two of them were starting to think they just might be falling in love.

THE NEXT MORNING
dawned hot and muggy. The walk from Kat’s to the restaurant had become second nature for Charlotte, and she greeted some regular faces as she walked along. People often said that New York was a city of villages, like London, but it was totally anonymous compared with New Orleans. People in New Orleans seemed to want to know more about one another, were curious about the people they saw around them, and were ready to volunteer information themselves. Charlotte knew that the woman who sold her coffee every morning had a daughter who lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, and that the woman remembered her name because of it. She knew the woman’s name was Amber and that her daughter’s name was Jade, and that was easy enough to remember on its own. Slowly, day by day, she was starting to relax and feel as if she could maybe get through this period of time and get stronger because of it. Maybe.

The shift was hard, and by the time Charlotte was done, she was ready for a long nap, or a quick drink, whichever came first. But, the peace she craved was not to be had. She came into Kat’s house to find Jackson sitting at the table looking crushed, while Kat herself yelled at someone on the phone.

“Uh … what happened?”

Jackson flipped a newspaper around to face her. It was the
New York Sentinel
, Dan Robinson’s paper, and a small headline on the front page leaped out at her:

“Charlotte Williams Feels Bad for the Little People.” There was a story inside, and sure enough, it bore Dan Robinson’s byline.

“Sitting with Charlotte Williams in a charming café in New Orleans, one can’t help feeling a little sorry for her. After all, she’s incredibly beautiful and was raised as a New York society princess, only to have her whole life destroyed when her father was arrested for securities fraud. ‘It will never end,’ she says, ‘until we run out of money and the lawyers settle.’ Of course, they’ve already run out of money—and bilked investors claim it was never their money in the first place. Nearly 3,000 individual and corporate investors have filed a class-action suit against Jacob Williams’ firm, and Charlotte wishes she could help. ‘I’d love to have something positive to tell them, but I don’t. I’m washing dishes and taking it a day at a time.’ One piece of good news, though: Charlotte and her new boyfriend have recorded a song that’s getting a lot of local radio play. Less good is the fact that the radio station is owned by one of those suing investors, Ben Albrecht, who lists a loss of nearly a million dollars in the suit. Guess Charlotte’s luck has run out—again.”

Charlotte put her hand to her mouth. “Is it true? Is Albrecht an investor?”

“Was he an investor, you mean. Yes, it’s true. Someone at the station told him about this, and he pulled the song immediately. Apparently, he’s livid and thinks we did it on purpose.”

Charlotte frowned. “Why? How?”

“Who the fuck knows? Why would he invest with a criminal? Why would that criminal steal everyone’s money? Why would
his daughter walk into my house and throw my whole life into disarray?” He smacked the paper. “Look, I don’t even get a name check, I’m just ‘Charlotte’s new boyfriend.’”

“Hey, wait a second, don’t get pissy with me. I’m not responsible for any of this.”

Jackson got to his feet. “You didn’t do it on purpose, I’m not saying that, but it’s your dad who’s fucked it up.”

She got mad. “Yeah, but it was my voice that got us on the radio in the first place, remember? And the video is still out there, right?”

“Yeah, and I guess my slack ass just came along for the ride? Fine. You carry on alone, then. You’re certainly more interested in yourself than anyone else.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Charlotte turned to Kat, who was still on the phone. Kat held up a finger—
wait
.

“Yes, Mom. No, I get it. OK, let’s talk in a bit.” She hung up. “First, that whole conversation you just had was, if you ask me, not that you did, totally unreasonable on Jackson’s part. Not that I’m taking sides, but he was wrong, and you were right.”

“I agree. I guess he’s just really disappointed.”

Kat shrugged. “Well, disappointed or not, it’s not OK to be an asshole. Second, my mom is going to talk to Albrecht, to try to change his mind. Again, he might have lost money with your dad, but that doesn’t mean he should take it out on you.”

“Well, that’s very nice of her, but it’s OK. My dad is who he is, and he did what he did. People can’t get to him to shake money out of his pockets or slap him or yell at him, so they look around for someone else to take the blame, and here I am.”

Tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. “I was so happy this morning, and now everything has gone to shit.”

“Aww, baby!” Kat came over and gave her a big hug. “Never mind. You look totally worn out. Why don’t you go and lie down and take a nap? And I’m sure things will look better when you wake up.”

Charlotte nodded, feeling about six years old. Kat walked
her in and drew the curtains, dimming the lights and tucking her in.

“Hang in there, Charlotte, it’s going to improve, OK?”

Charlotte nodded and closed her eyes, hoping desperately that things would be better when she woke up.

Unfortunately, it took a little longer than that.

The next day, things felt subdued, as if they were happening at half speed and volume. Jackson hadn’t reappeared or called or texted, and the radio station in the kitchen was playing Creole music again. Charlotte guessed the guys must have heard about the article, because they were studiously not mentioning the song. They weren’t even making fun of her. It was kind of insulting.

Days passed. Jackson stayed away, and Charlotte stopped checking her phone for texts. Kat was careful not to say anything, and they settled into a routine of working, ordering food, and watching movies. Recovery mode. In some ways, it was exactly what Charlotte needed, and she realized again how alone she had been before her world collapsed. Yes, she’d spent her evenings at glamorous nightclubs with beautiful people doing fabulous things, but it turned out that she loved just hanging out in her PJs and watching
Star Trek
. Her friendship with Kat deepened every day, and she loved how the other young woman didn’t feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. Somehow they just clicked, and in the gentle warmth of her new friend’s affection, Charlotte began to relax and heal. She tried to ignore the sadness she felt about Jackson, reminding herself that in the
grand scheme of shitty things that had happened to her lately, a boyfriend was the least of her worries. She put thoughts about her career in music out of her mind and focused on just making it through the days.