Chapter 9

 Candice sat across from her date at the restaurant table. She was fuming.  If anyone had told her earlier today that she would hate Jack Garrett before the night was over she would have declared them crazy, but it was true.  She couldn’t wait for dinner to be over and to bid Jack Garrett goodbye. 

Staring into the flame of the candle in the middle of the table, Candice remembered how only a few hours ago she had looked forward to tonight.  She had a date with the Jack Garrett, maker of major recording stars.  She was so excited she had called her friends to tell them about it.  They had laughed at her, told her she was pulling their leg.  In the end she had invited her two best friends to her apartment – she needed their advice on what to wear anyway – and she allowed them to hang around so they could actually meet the handsome Jack when he picked her up at eight o’clock.  She and her friends had been so excited about this date.  They had swooned over Jack’s good looks when he punctually arrived at eight; declared he looked even better in person than in photographs; and absolutely drooled over his shiny red Ferrari.  They had envied her and she had to promise them, three times, that she would share every detail of the evening with them.  Now a twisted smile sat on Candice’s lips.  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell her friends about tonight, it would be rather humiliating.  Then again, they were her friends and she was sure they would sympathize with her.  Be just as outraged as she was now.

At first being with Jack had been wonderful.  The ride to the restaurant in his car; the way the valet had jumped to serve them; and they were immediately shown to the best table in the room.  But then, within minutes the whole date had turned sour.  With the sweetest smile Jack had turned to her and said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you out tonight.”

She had assumed she had been asked on this date because Jack Garrett liked her.  He must have been attracted to her and he wanted to spend some time with her to get to know her.  But that wasn’t the case.  She quickly learned that Jack Garrett had alternative motives for asking her out.  He was using her, using her to learn the name and telephone number of a customer.  The customer in question, the lovely Jessie Green.  He didn’t know her name of course, he described her only as the woman with dark hair, in her early twenties, who’d left the salon with her blond friend around two o’clock and who had been a client of Francois.

“Why didn’t you just ask me when you were at the salon?” Candice demanded.

“I didn’t want to get you into trouble,” Jack explained.  “Thought it better if I asked you where Francois and the others couldn’t hear you.”

“So you do know that what you’re asking is against the rules.”

“Look at it this way,” Jack smiled charmingly.  “If you give me the customer’s name and number and she becomes a star, then you would be instrumental in her success.”

“I don’t remember her number,” Candice said truthfully.

“I hardly thought you would,” said Jack, “so I’ll give you my card.  When you get to the salon tomorrow, you can phone me, or copy the number down on a piece of paper and call me from your home.  Whatever you prefer.”

“As long as you get it,” Candice concluded sarcastically.

“As you know I’m in the business of discovering new talent,” Jack turned serious.  “Sometimes one finds talent in unusual places.”

Candice shook her head.  “I’m sorry Jack but I can’t help you.  Jessie was a walk in.  She didn’t leave a number.  What’s your interest in her anyway?  As far as I know you’re running a talent agency for singers not models.  I didn’t hear her belch out a tune.”

“I have a friend who’s always looking for new faces,” Jack said.  “He sometimes refers people to me; I refer people to him; that’s how it works.  I’m sure he would have been thrilled to meet … Jessie you said her name is?”

“Sorry,” Candice said with a shrug.  “I can’t help.”

Chapter 4

When Jack Garrett walked into the office, he had the full attention of every female employee.  Standing six foot five inches tall, with an athletic build, and dressed in a white shirt, red tie and a navy blue, pinstripe Armani suit, he was an impressive figure.  The secretaries looked up as he passed their desks and heaved an unnoticeable sigh.  Today he looked tired and the wind had obviously played havoc with his hair, but he was still the most attractive man they had ever seen.  At thirty-five he was devastatingly handsome, with a charm to match.  It was safe to say that all the ladies in the office were smitten with Jack Garrett, even the married ones.  Just the other day, Margaret Bloom, his assistant, had overheard Caroline and Maria talking in the ladies room.

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck in the elevator with him for a while,” Caroline had said.  “The help crew could take their sweet time getting us out.”

“I know what you mean,” Maria had giggled.  “He could park his shoes under my bed any time.”

“You already have Mike in your bed,” Caroline had objected.  “Your husband, remember?”

Maria had huffed and puffed, “For Jack I’d kick him out.”

And it wasn’t just Caroline and Maria who had fantasies.  On several occasions Margaret had noticed how the rattling on computer keyboards stopped and the adding machines noticeably slowed down as soon as the boss walked in. 

She worried about him sometimes.  What would happen to Jack when she retired?  When he hired her ten years ago; she had been utterly surprised.  At the age of forty-five she had not expected to be hired as the assistant of the president of a newly founded talent agency.  Considering the young and beautiful women Margaret was competing with she was certain one of them would land the job.  But Jack Garrett had hired her, making it quite clear that he wanted an assistant, not a love struck puppy.

“Morning Margaret.”

She could tell by Jack’s tone of voice that something was wrong.  Not only did he look tired, he looked depressed, almost defeated.

When she went into his office with today’s itinerary she also brought along a cup of strong coffee.

“I must look worse than I thought,” Jack said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “You never bring me coffee.”

“I bring you coffee every morning,” Margaret objected.

“No,” Jack said, a bit of teasing in his voice, “you ask me if I want coffee and only then do you bring a cup.  Now you didn’t even bother to ask.”

“You look like you could use some,” Margaret furrowed her brow.  “Rough night?”

“More like a frustrating evening followed by a sleepless night,” Jack enlightened her.  “I was on my way to a restaurant to meet some friends for dinner when I heard a girl singing.  She was in one of the apartment buildings at the corner of Kennedy and Becker, but I couldn’t make out which one.  I looked up to see if I could spot her on one of the balconies, but I couldn’t see anyone.  So instead of having a fine dinner with friends, I found myself sitting alone on a bench, eating a hamburger, listening to this incredible voice.”

There was amusement in Margaret’s eyes when she stated   “She must have had quite a voice.”

“She did,” Jack nodded dreamily.  “She had the voice of an angel.”

Margaret understood how frustrating this experience must have been for her boss.  He ran a talent agency, represented the finest singers and bands in the country and was sent hundreds of tapes from aspiring artists.  Those whose job it was to listen to those tapes reported back to him when they found a worthwhile talent but Jack was particular, he only accepted the best.  So if he described a voice as that of an angel, she must be really something.

“And you have no idea where you can find her?”

“Not unless I go knocking on every door in each of the four apartment buildings,” he said.  “And even that won’t guarantee anything.  She might have been visiting someone.”

“Could it perhaps have been a recording?  A tape or a CD?”

Jack shook his head.  “I recognized the songs she was singing, but there was no backup music.  It was a single voice, a real voice.”

He heaved a deep sigh.  “So I sat on that bench for about two hours, then went home and spent a sleepless night.  I hope to hell you haven’t got me booked for any meetings today, because I just might pass out from exhaustion.”

Margaret presented him with his schedule and waited for instructions.  He had no meetings, but he was expected to sit in on two auditions, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, with an in between lunch with his friend Bill Turner.

“Get me out of those auditions will you Maggie,” Jack pleaded.  “I’m really not in the mood to sit and listen to these bands.  Reschedule for next week, come up with some kind of excuse.”

“What about your lunch?”

“I’ll give Bill a call,” he said, reaching for the phone.  “Perhaps I can reschedule that too.”

“She was that good?” Margaret asked, turning at the door.

“You have no idea,” he told her.  “Like I said, she had the voice of an angel.”

When the phone was picked up on the other side, Jack asked for Bill Turner but was told Mr. Turner was in conference.  Would he like to leave a message?  When Jack gave his name, the receptionist’s voice changed at once.

“Mr. Garrett, you should have said it was you.  Let me see if I can reach Mr. Turner.”

Moments later Bill Turner’s voice came on the line.  “What’s up Jack?”

“Would you mind if I took a rain check on our lunch today Bill?”  Jack came straight to the point.

“Not at all,” the cheerful but slightly disappointed reply came.  “What’s the matter?  Had a rough night?”

“Something like that.  We can get together tomorrow or sometime next week.”

“Let’s make it tomorrow if possible,” Bill suggested.  “I have someone who might be of interest to you and I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Jack gave a good humoured snort.  “Of interest to me?  Personal or business?”

“Business.”

“Don’t tell me you found me another singer?”

“I might have.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that I have.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief.  “Bill, you run a modeling agency, how do you end up with a singer?”

“She’s not mine pal,” Bill laughed.  “Amanda is the sister of one of my models.  She came to pick her sister up today after a shoot and I heard her singing in the changing room while she was waiting. Let me tell you, she’s got one hell of a voice on her.  I immediately thought about you, so…”

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, “we’ll meet tomorrow.  Is that soon enough?”

“Perfect.”