Chapter 11
Linda Morris threw her head back and laughed, her manner unaffected and warm. She held a long, thin cigarette in one hand, the other fingering seductively the rim of her martini glass.
"I think you are positively the freshest thing I've seen in ages!" she said to Sheila, who was telling her about her luck so far in Nashville. "Just imagine your landing both Steve and Dave," she added. "Two of the town's best studs!"
Sheila hung on every word Linda said, the woman's voice dripping sex. Thoughts of Marcia hit Sheila with delicious pangs as she wondered how Linda would look in the raw. Her full, large breasts were accentuated by the tight, pale-yellow halter-top. Her waist was tiny and flat. Her eyes seemed to smolder with a piercing, honest gaze.
From the moment she had met Linda, Sheila knew she would consider her a friend. Linda had shown her the studio, introducing her to several top-ranking officials who had obviously been pleased to have Sheila aboard, and a couple of them had hinted at much more than just a working relationship. Sheila had become unusually shy and embarrassed, which only enhanced her charm.
"Well, the job is for three days a week," Linda was saying. 'The money isn't very good, but like Steve said, since you're so eager to be in the business, at least you'll have the opportunity to meet some performers, get to know the people behind music"
"like you," Sheila said simply.
"That's a laugh," Linda said. "I'm just one of the thousands of little people." She took a long drag from her cigarette and asked, "Did Steve tell you about Glenn's Place?"
"No, what's that?"
"It's supposed to be a sort of open forum for promising singers and instrumentalists. Usually on Friday and Saturday nights, a few of the producers drop in and listen to the local talent. A couple of big-name stars got started there."
"Oh, really?" Sheila exclaimed, her interest high.
"Actually you have to be pretty damned good just to get an audition there. But I know if Steve or Dave called Glenn, assuming of course you can get someone to back you up, it would be a start, anyway."
"That sounds great!" Sheila said, more excited than ever.
"Well, don't get your hopes too out of proportion," Linda intoned, "it's just an idea."
"And a fabulous idea!" Sheila whispered.
Just then, Steve wandered into the dark restaurant.
"Over here!" Linda shouted out, waving her hand.
"There you are," Steve said, taking a seat. "Sorry I'm late. Hello, precious," he added, squeezing Sheila's hand. Then he turned to Linda, and stroking her cheek with his index finger, asked, "You taking really good care of Sheila?"
"Well, the best I can do.. . in a restaurant,"
Linda said, grinding out her cigarette.
"Linda was just telling me about Glenn's Place," Sheila said, breaking the sensual mood.
"Yeah, what about it?" Steve said.
"What do you mean, 'what about it'? " Sheila asked, her tone slightly annoyed. "Linda was telling me that I could probably sing there."
Steve looked at Linda and then to Sheila. "Sure you can. If you have a good bank to back you, a good arranger, and a damned good number. You don't just amble onstage and start singing. That only happens in the movies."
Sheila felt her patience wearing thin. She spoke in an even tone, looking at Steve with determination. "I want to sing there. OK, I need a band. Can't you and Dave back me up? As for the number, well, I've had some ideas floating around in my head for several years, maybe I can come up with one of my own. As for the arranging-"
Steve interrupted, "Hold on, hold on!"
"No, I won't hold on," Sheila said. "At least give me a chance. If I blow it, then I blow it. But can't you help me?"
Steve looked into her pleading eyes, shook his head, and finally said in a low mumble, "OK. But if you think it's going to be a goddamned picnic, you're sadly mistaken."
"Steve, you're wonderful!" Sheila said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Hey, I've got an idea," Linda interrupted. "Why don't we stay after work today and do a take on her voice?"
Steve furrowed his brow in contemplation. "Not a bad idea. Dave's here, and so is Johnny."
"Who is Johnny?" Sheila asked.
"He's our sound engineer, and he also plays piano," Steve answered. "A really nice guy."
"I'll say," Linda said, smacking her lips. "He's known as the Nashville Bull."
AD three laughed at this remark. Sheila laughed because Linda and Steve were obviously enjoying a private joke, and their mirth was infectious.
"They call him the Bull because the president of our company walked into his office one morning and found him banging the hell out of his secretary, right on his desk!" Steve said.
Linda broke in. "And if that wasn't enough, the same day he was caught two other times with different women. If there ever was a male nympho, it's Johnny!"
They finished their lunch, and hurried back to the studio. Sheila worked quickly and efficiently, occasionally glancing at the large clock behind her desk, looking forward to the day's end with feelings of nervousness and delight.
When Dave entered the office, he noticed Sheila's nice round ass tilted upward as she bent low, placing some papers in a low rile drawer. He walked over to her and pressed his crotch into her ass-cheeks.
"Guess who?" he said.
Sheila jumped up with a start. "Oh Dave!" she said. "You scared me!"
"Sony," he apologized, "but you did recognize me!"
"Who wouldn't?" Sheila said, smiling.
"Well, drop everything," he said. "They're waiting for us. You nervous?"
"Just a little," Sheila admitted.
"Then lets go," he said, placing an arm around her waist and guiding her through the door. "But you know," he said whispering into her ear, "it seems a shame to waste that wonderful mouth on singing."
When they entered the studio, she saw Linda looking through stacks of musical arrangements. Steve hadn't noticed her come in. He was tuning his guitar, his ear turned toward an amplifier. To his left stood a tall, muscular man with a short mop of curly hair. He looked up and smiled.
"Hello," he whistled. "Something tells me I'm never going to be lonely again!"
Linda introduced Sheila to Johnny, who was still hungrily looking at Sheila's tits and ass. Sheila took in his handsome face, his broad shoulders, and let her eyes drop, taking a long, lustful look at his bulging crotch.
"Something tells me we're going to be very close friends, Johnny," she said, taking his hand.
"Something tells me I just died and went to heaven," Johnny whispered, his blood suddenly boiling with excitement. He was thinking he'd rather take Sheila over to his place and fuck the hell out of her than listen to her sing.
"Let's get this show on the road," Steve said. "You got some songs ready, Linda?"
Linda handed Sheila a stack of arrangements. "Pick something out you know pretty good. Don't be nervous, just sing out loud and clear into the mike there."
Sheila glanced quickly through the songs, picking out one that she knew by heart. "This is OK," she said, handing the score back to Linda.
Steve started the count, nodded to Dave, then to Johnny, who was sitting at the piano. A slow drum roll from Dave started the introduction, and then Steve and Johnny joined in.
"Six more beats and you're on," Linda said to Sheila. "Five, four, three, two, one," she counted softly, then pointed to Sheila to begin.
Sheila began singing, her voice quiet and unsure, but as she looked into Linda's reassuring eyes, her voice gained in control and power. She closed her eyes and sang for all she was worth, feeling the meaning of the words, her body swaying with the beat of the music.
Steve looked up, stunned, not believing his ears. He looked at Dave, who was enraptured with the silvery, full voice crying out with passion and longing. Linda, too, was amazed. Her smile froze in a comic gesture, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Holy shit," she muttered, "I don't believe it!"
After the last strains of the song died away, there was total silence. Sheila was the first to speak.
"Well?" she asked; afraid that she hadn't done as well as she could have. "Someone say something."
Johnny was the first to answer. He said in a low whisper, barely audible, "This kid sings like a fucking bird!"
Immediately Sheila was surrounded by Linda, Steve, Dave and Johnny, all hugging and kissing her. At first she didn't believe what was happening, but when she saw the genuine admiration and wonder in their eyes, she began to cry.
"You mean I'm good?" she sobbed. "Really good? I mean, was I OK?"
Linda took her face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead. "Baby, if you don't make it, no one will."
"Fve got to hear it again!" Johnny said, playing with some knobs on the recorder.
Everyone agreed and sat back, their faces glinting with pride and amazement. They listened to the song again, smiles on their faces. They nodded their heads, a look of total concentration on their faces as the sweet, pure voice turned a familiar old song into something new and refreshing. Only once did they break up with laughter, as Linda's clear voice was forever captured on tape, saying, "Holy shit!".