Chapter 11

When the last shirt was ironed, Jessie took off her head phones and was almost sorry that she was done for tonight.  She pulled out the plug of the hot iron, set it in the kitchen to cool and folded the ironing board.  Why do I only sing when I do the ironing, she wondered.  She never sang when she dusted her apartment, she never sang when she did the vacuuming nor did she sing with any other housework task.  In a way she knew the answer to the question.  Dusting, vacuuming, and mopping the floors were physically demanding.  She frequently found herself out of breath.  But ironing she found wasn’t demanding at all.  In fact, if it wasn’t that she could sing while she ironed, it would be quite boring.

Having put the ironed laundry away, she went to the kitchen and switched on the kettle for a cup of coffee.  She was looking forward to sitting in her favourite chair, putting her feet up on the futon and spending the remainder of the evening reading.  While waiting for the water to boil, Jessie went on the balcony and watched the traffic on Kennedy Avenue ten floors below her.  Where are all these people going, she wondered.  There was always traffic on the avenue, whether it was twelve o’clock in the afternoon or twelve o’clock at night, there were always cars speeding by. 

Jessie loved watching traffic and she sometimes fantasized about the motorists.  Who were these people who seemed in such in a hurry?  Were they doctors and nurses on their way to the hospital nearby?  Were they lovers on their way to some secret rendezvous?  Or were they just people coming home from a family visit?

Across the street a young couple was walking hand in hand, taking advantage of the warm night air.  Some distance behind them an old lady was walking her dog. 

The fast food restaurant across the street seemed busy.  Despite it being almost eleven o’clock the parking lot was packed with cars.  One of the cars was a Ferrari, Jessie noticed to her surprise.  It wasn’t every day she saw a Ferrari at a fast food place.  She figured that whoever drove such an expensive car would prefer to eat at a classy restaurant.  Then again, the rich didn’t lose their taste for the American favorite. A nice greasy burger, she enjoyed indulging in them herself from time to time. 

When the kettle boiled she went to the kitchen to make her coffee and returned to the balcony with the steaming mug.  She was just in time to see a man opening the door to the Ferrari and folding himself into the driver’s seat.  He didn’t drive off right away, but instead sat for awhile, with the driver’s door open.  Jessie tried to imagine why he sat there. Was he waiting for his girlfriend who was still in the burger place?  Was he lost?  Was he perhaps feeling ill?  She saw him looking at her building scanning each floor. .  Then he closed the door, started the engine and drove off. 

Jessie went inside, closed the balcony door and reached for her book.  She would read for an hour or so and then go to bed.

The next day Jessie made the decision to visit the Premier College and enroll for the secretarial course.  She took the subway downtown, and walked the short distance to the college.  She loved being downtown.  She loved the hustle and bustle of people around her, and the variety of stores.  It was such a difference to the suburbs where she used to work.  Muller’s Dry Cleaning & Laundry Services was located in the middle of nowhere, so to speak, and except for a small convenience store and a coffee shop there had been no shops whatsoever.  She’d used to go for a walk during her lunch hour and sometimes never passed another person on the street.  Here in downtown New York City there were plenty of souls and Jessie appreciated their company. 

At the McKenzie Tower she took one of eight elevators to the twenty sixth floor where the Premier Secretarial College was located.  The receptionist handed her an application form and she was surprised how easy it was to enrol.  She just filled in the form, paid the registration fee and was told the course started on the third of September.  There were no questions regarding her education or if she had finished high school.  She would have appreciated more information about the course.  She wanted to ask how many other students were in the course, what their average age was and what they would be learning, but the receptionist was too busy answering the phone. 

Back on the street she took a deep breath and couldn’t stop smiling.  She had done it, she had made a start.  To celebrate, Jessie decided to buy herself a cup of coffee and as it was almost lunch time a sandwich too.  Sandwiches always tasted so much better when you didn’t make them yourself.

Since it was such a beautiful warm day, she found herself a spot in the park and took a sip of the hot coffee.  She wished Betty was with her.  They could have gone window shopping, or just walk around and take in the sights. 

When a pigeon landed in front of her feet and eyed her sandwich, Jessie threw him a piece of the crust.  The bird hastily pecked at it and waited for more.  Jessie threw another piece.  To her surprise and delight more pigeons landed near her bench, all seemingly hungry.  Seeing them fight over a few crumbs, Jessie broke what was left of her sandwich in small pieces and threw the pieces and crumbs at the birds. 

Soon the park became crowded and Jessie decided it was time to leave.  In her cotton flowery dress she felt out of place between all the office girls who, even in this heat were all dressed in business suits.  She wondered if and when she finished her course would she would feel like she belonged?

Secretarial college was nothing like Jessie had expected.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this.  Day after day she and nineteen other students assembled in a room and typed.  Well, if you could call it typing. What she and the others students did was more like groping in the dark, literally.  As soon as the lesson started, the overhead lights were switched off, plunging the room in total darkness.  Then a giant television screen was switched on.  The screen showed a computer keyboard.  Besides showing letters, figures and characters, the keys were color coded.  The instructor explained that you used your index finger for the red keys, the middle finger for the green keys and the ring finger for the blue keys.  Yellow indicated the pinkie fingers chore.   The spacebar was to be pushed with the thumb.  They had to look up at the giant screen and when a letter was lit up they were to type that letter on their own computer keyboard.  On their monitor they could see if they had hit the correct key or not.  After a few seconds another letter would light up and they were to type that letter.  Jessie concentrated on the screen and her fingers, but it was still a case of reaching, hitting and hoping for the best.  She wondered how her companion students were doing. 

On her left was Alain, a lanky twenty-one year old who was extremely funny. He had the entire class laughing the first day of the course.  The instructor had asked them all to give their names for the attendance register.  Alain had risen and introduced himself as Alain Thenhere.  When the instructor asked for the spelling of his surname Alain had replied with “Thenhere, t-h-e-n-h-e-r-e.  As in then here, then there, you know.”

The whole class had burst out laughing and the instructor had barely kept a straight face himself.  It was as if he already knew that Alain was going to be the class clown, apparently every class had one.

On Jessie’s right was Reeva Hastings.  Reeva was a gorgeous redhead of Irish descent, approximately Jessie’s age with a similar background.  She had been a machine operator in a plastics company until she was laid off.  In search of a better job she had applied for the secretarial course.  She was delighted to be accepted.

“No offense, but quite frankly I think they accept anybody,” Reeva had speculated.  “They don’t check your background or your intelligence.  As long as you pay the entrance fee, you’re in.”

Jessie wasn’t offended.  In fact she was beginning to feel the same way.  Almost everyone in the class was looking to improve their lives. Among her fellow students were waitresses, girls who up until now had worked in the manufacturing industry and bored housewives.  A small minority were young girls who had just finished high school. They had enrolled in the course to put the finishing touch to their education.  They weren’t popular with most of the class because they considered themselves better than the rest of the class.

“How’re you doing?” Reeva asked with an encouraging nod.

“Not too good,” Jessie shrugged, “I keep missing the keys.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Reeva swiped at an invisible fly, “everybody does.”

When the letter ‘N’ was lit up, Jessie reached for the key with her index finger.

“Wanna do something after class?” Reeva asked.

Jessie was about to enthusiastically accept when she remembered her appointment with Betty.  “I’d love to but I can’t Reeva,” she said with a headshake.  “I’m meeting a friend this afternoon.  We’re having our picture taken.”

Reeva nodded her understanding.  “Passport pictures or something?”

Jessie shook her head.  “No, we were at the hairdressers the other day and Francois, one of the stylists, offered us a deal.  If we agreed to have our picture taken, the visit would be free.”

Reeva’s eyebrows shot up.  “Cool.”

“It’s just a picture to hang in the salon,” Jessie explained.  “You know, to show customers different kind of hairstyles.  It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you kidding me!” Reeva gasped.  “Of course it means something.  You’re gonna be on a wall for all to see.  Women are gonna look at your picture and say ‘I wanna look like her’.  I might even copy your hairstyle, it looks great.”

Jessie subconsciously touched her hair and flicked it off her shoulders.  The style did suit her.  It wasn’t as nice and polished as when Francois had styled it, but she was happy with the look.  “Shall we get together tomorrow?”

Reeva nodded with a smile.  “Sure, I’d like that.”

Chapter 10

Damn, Jack thought when he drove home that night, that’s the second girl who has slipped through my fingers.  First a dynamite singer, now a stunning beauty; he could have kicked himself for not walking up to her and introducing himself right there and then in the salon.  He could have given her Bill’s number.  Bill would have been overjoyed with a face like hers.  Not to mention hair like hers.  Any cosmetics company would love to have her promote their product. She was worth a small fortune.  If only he had just walked up to her and asked for her name and number.   Damn, damn, damn.  He still owned Bill a favour for finding Amanda.  Amanda had a great voice and she had a great future as a solo singer but he couldn't stop thinking about the mystery woman, the hypnotic voice he had heard on the street.  Jack smiled to himself, he now thought of this woman as the angel with the beautiful voice.

He had almost reached the onramp to the highway that would take him downtown when he changed his mind and drove east.  Before he knew it he reached the Kennedy and Becker intersection.  He parked his car at the fast food restaurant, got out and walked up Kennedy Avenue.  There it was again, that voice, that heavenly voice.  It stopped him cold.  He looked up and closed his eyes, trying to determine where the voice was coming from.  It was impossible to tell.  He had to find her.  If he had to go to each and every building and go from floor to floor, he had to find this singer.

On an impulse Jack pushed open the door to one of the apartment buildings and went inside.  Almost immediately he realized how difficult if not impossible his mission was.  Now that he was inside he couldn’t hear her anymore.  He had no idea if she was a resident in this building or in one of the other buildings.  Thinking he had to start somewhere, he took the elevator to the top floor and decided to work his way down.  Judging by the buttons in the elevator, the building had thirty floors.  When he stepped out of the elevator he found himself in a red carpeted corridor that stretched on either side of the three elevators.  He listened, the area was completely quiet. 

He walked the entire length of the corridor on his right, turned back and walked the entire length of the corridor to the left.  He heard nothing, not a sound from any of the suites.

Jack went one floor down and continued his search.  This time, along the right hand corridor he could hear a television behind one door and a child crying behind another, but no singing.  In the left hand corridor he was subjected to the very vocal and heated argument between the occupants.

He continued searching each floor but to no avail. An hour later, Jack was back on the ground floor.  He had been on every floor of the building and walked every corridor.  He had learned nothing.

This isn’t working, he thought as he crossed the street.  If he was going to find this girl, he needed a plan.

Chapter 5

Going to the mall was always an exciting experience for Jessie.  The moment she opened the doors and stepped inside, she felt the thrill of promise.  So many stores, so much merchandize; all beautifully presented, just waiting to be purchased and taken home by someone.  Most of the time Jessie had to be selective with her purchases, but not today.  Today, thanks to Mr. Muller, she could splash out. 

“What are we shopping for?” Betty asked as she hitched her bag further up her shoulder. 

“Clothes, shoes, accessories and some make-up” Jessie said, eyes twinkling with excitement.  “Today I’m reinventing myself.”

“Am I missing something?” Betty frowned, as shoppers pushed past them.  “Didn’t you just lose your job?  Shouldn’t you be counting pennies instead of spending them?”

“It’s okay Betty,” Jessie smiled, touched by her friend’s concern.  “I have plenty of money.”

Betty couldn’t be more surprised.  “You do?  What happened since yesterday?  Did you win the Lottery?  Have you come into your inheritance?  Did you find a sugar daddy?”

“Mr. Muller gave me five weeks pay and a three thousand dollar bonus,” Jessie explained.  “I’ve decided to invest the money.”

Betty’s mouth opened wide in stunned silence.  “Three thousand dollars!   You’re joking?”

“No.”

“You’re not joking?”

“No.”

“Why?  Why did he give you the money?”

“I guess he felt bad for letting me go.”

Betty made a face.  “I almost wish he’d let me go.”

Jessie shrugged.  “Like they say, every cloud has a silver lining.”

“And so you’re going to invest the money in clothes and shoes?”

“Yes, and one other thing,” Jessie said hesitantly; unsure how her friend would react to the next piece of information.  “I’m also investing in a secretarial course.  I saw an ad in the paper for a three month course and I’m calling them on Monday.  I’m going to this Betty; I’m going to change my life.”

Jessie waited, expecting some angry or at least sneering remark from her friend, but none came.  Instead she nodded and started walking.

“So where do you wanna go first? Clothes or shoes?”

“Clothes,” Jessie smiled, linking an arm with her friend.

They strode from one boutique to another, happily picking up outfits and putting them back. Jessie was shocked by the price tags.  Everything was so much more expensive than she’d expected.

“How do you like this hot red number?” Betty held up a red pleated skirt.

“I don’t think so girl,” Jessie shook her head.  “I think I’ll stick to dark colors.”

As Betty put the red skirt back on the rack, Jessie picked out a pair of black slacks, gray slacks and a navy blue pencil skirt.  She matched the three items with a white sweater and a pale blue shirt and a soft pink blouse.

“Wait here, okay?” she instructed Betty as she hauled her selections into the change room.

“Of course I’ll wait here,” Betty pulled up her shoulders.  “Where am I gonna go?  Will you come out and model the clothes for me? “

Jessie promised she would before she excitedly closed the door to the small room. .

In the cold light of the cubicle she looked at herself in the full length mirror.  A tall, slender girl, with mid length, wavy dark brown hair, big brown eyes, a long nose and wide mouth stared back at her.  She looked more critically.  She should have washed her hair.  It was slightly greasy and frizzy and it could do with a trim.  She should have worn make-up; at the very least some foundation and lipstick.  Without it she looked as pale as a ghost.  Her eyes traveled over her clothes.  The faded baggy jeans and washed out T-shirt did nothing for her.  Her size seven figure all but disappeared in the rumpled clothes.  And those old sneakers, what had she been thinking!

The ugly duckling Jessie thought concluding her assessment.

Resolutely turning away from the mirror Jessie pulled off her jeans and T-shirt and reached for the black slacks and pale blue shirt.  She loved the feel of soft linen against her legs and back.  Turning towards the mirror her brows went up appreciatively, this was definitively an improvement.  Opening the door of the cubicle she stuck her head outside.

“Psst … psst,” she tried to attract Betty’s attention, but her friend was checking out the accessories counter and apparently couldn’t hear her.  Jessie stepped out of the cubicle and strutted past the other stalls towards Betty.  

“Psst,” she tried again, this time adding a little wave to attract Betty’s attention.

Betty turned around, gave Jessie a blank look, and then turned back to the necklaces and bracelets.  Almost instantly she did an about spin that almost snapped her neck  

“Jessie?”  “Is that really you?  My God, you’re beautiful.”

Jessie blushed under such open admiration.  “No I’m not,” she said, plucking at an imaginary piece of fluff on the slacks, “the clothes are.  They’d look good on anyone.”

Betty didn’t agree.  Jessie was beautiful.  She had the figure of a model and a certain style and elegance Betty had never noticed before.  “You definitely have to buy that outfit,” she nodded so vigorously her head was in danger of falling off.  “Go put the other things on,” she waved her hands, “and make sure you come and show yourself.  Off you go.”

Jessie returned to the change room and appeared a few minutes later in the blue pencil skirt and white top.

“Gorgeous!” Betty clapped her hands.  “You’ll need shoes though.”

Giggling Jessie looked down on her bare feet. She did a little happy hop before she disappeared into her cubicle.  When next she emerged she was wearing the gray slacks with a pink top. 

“Oh my goodness,” Betty gasped, “you look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine.”

“Your friend is right you know,” a sales assistant joined Jessie and Betty. “Are you a model?”

“No,” Jessie smiled embarrassed.

“Perhaps you should be,” the sales assistant suggested.  “You are very beautiful and you obviously have excellent taste.  I’ve been watching you, you know how to mix and match.  The pink top you choose will go very well with the black slacks, the blue top will go with the gray slacks and blue skirt, and the white top, well white goes with everything.”

Jessie nodded.  She hadn’t even considered this, but the girl was right of course, the colors were ideal to mix and match.

“Will you need jackets too?” the sales assistant asked.  “I could give you a special price.”

Jessie was of two minds.  The jackets she had seen were beautiful but rather pricey.

“Go for it Jess,” Betty urged.  “If you’re gonna be an assistant, you’ll have to look the part.  You’ve seen how Jenny Sullivan dresses.”

Within minutes the matching jackets were selected.  At the cash register Jessie received a twenty percent discount and happily left the store.

“Didn’t you want to look at something?” she turned to Betty.

Her friend shook her head.  “When would I get the chance to wear these kinds of clothes?”

“You could come with me,” Jessie suggested.  “Take the course with me.  There’s evening and weekend classes and you could make a change too.”

Betty considered this for a moment but then shook her head.  “It wouldn’t work for me Jess.  You have the drive and the ambition and I can see it happening for you, but not for me.”

“Why not?”

Betty sighed.  “Working all day and then going to a course at night … I don’t think so.”

Jessie decided not to press her friend.  She would dearly love it if Betty took the secretarial course with her, but if Betty didn’t want to come, she couldn’t force her.  Perhaps she would suggest it again another time.

“What’s next?” Betty asked.

“Shoes,” Jessie said.  “I need some shoes to go with the clothes.”

They went to their favorite shoe store.  A place where the shoes didn’t carry a ridiculously high price tag but still, a place where Jessie and Betty could usually only window shop. Today they walked right in.

“Look at these,” Betty picked up a pair of black court shoes.  “Aren’t they just to die for?”

Jessie liked them, but she also liked the pair she was holding with a two inch heel.

“Very sexy,” Betty agreed.  “Get them both.”

“Both!” Jessie cried.

“Yes both.  You can’t wear the same shoes every day.”

Jessie pouted her lips and bobbed her head from side to side.  Her friend had a point.  “But I still need blue shoes to go with the blue outfit,” she said.

“At these prices you can afford it,” Betty waved in the air.

Together they strolled along the size seven racks, filled with black, brown, gray and cream colored shoes.  Jessie and Betty looked, picked up shoes and compared prices. 

“What about these?” Jessie held up a pair of gray shoes.

“We’re looking for blue ones,” Betty reminded her.

“I know we’re looking for blue ones,” Jessie said, “but tell me what you think of these.”

“Very elegant,” Betty nodded.  “But you don’t really need them.  You can wear black shoes under gray slacks.”

“Pfft,” Jessie blew her friend’s practicality away with a wave of her hand, “I like really, really like these so I’m going to get them.

They were already standing in line for the cash register when Betty noticed the woman in front of her clutching a pair of navy blue shoes. 

“Look,” she elbowed Jessie in the ribs.

“Oh, they’re absolutely divine,” Jessie purred.  “Why didn’t we see those?”

Before Jessie could stop her friend Betty had launched into action.

“Excuse ma’am,” she tapped the woman with the shoes on the shoulder, “may I ask were you found those?”

“On the sale rack back there,” the woman pointed.  “They’re half price.”

“Wait here,” Betty said.  “I’ll go see if I can find a size seven.”

Within minutes she was back, carrying two pairs of blue shoes.

“Two pairs?” Jessie questioned.

“One for you and one for me,” Betty explained.

“Why?” Jessie said.

“Why?” Betty was slightly puzzled by the question.

“Yes why?” Jessie repeated.  “You don’t need to buy those, you can borrow mine.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Jessie shrugged; lifting the bags she was carrying.  “And any of this stuff.  We’re the same size.  If you want to borrow something just let me know.”

Betty smiled contentedly.  Whatever Jessie’s future held and whatever lay in store for her, she was sure they would always remain best friends.

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.”

Prologue

When Jack Garrett first heard the otherworldly voice, his head snapped up and he quickly surveyed the street around him.  The song, or rather ‘the voice,’ was hypnotizing, powerful, and crystal clear.  He listened, recognizing the song as Memories, made famous by Barbra Streisand.  He was pretty sure that it wasn’t a recording because he couldn’t hear any accompanying instruments.  His eyes swept over the multi floored apartment buildings, looking for a woman singing; but, he couldn’t see anyone. 

He stood there on the street, with his hands in the pockets of his black cashmere jacket, as he scanned the apartment buildings again, floor by floor, balcony by balcony, looking for any kind of female form. 

“Damn!” he swore, causing one or two pedestrians to look at him disapprovingly.   “Damn, damn, damn!”

How was he going to find this singer?  She could be in any of the numerous apartment buildings on this busy street in Greenwich Village.  If only she would show herself.

When the last notes of her song had faded away, he almost panicked.  His heart was thumping like a drum until the incredible voice started again, this time with Phantom of the Opera.  Her voiced calmed the beating of his heart and he began to relax again. He wondered if she had the skill to hit the high note that challenged so many singers.  He waited in anticipation; but, he wasn’t surprised when she nailed it, effortlessly, just like a professional.

“Where are you girl?” he whispered out loud. “Who are you?  Show yourself.”

He walked up and down the intersection, occasionally stopping to listen more closely, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. 

When his rumbling stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, he ordered a hamburger from street vendor and sat outside on a bench.  In the evening air the angelic voice floated down to him; warming his heart and sending cold chills up his spine. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head.  Such a voice! Such a talent!  And he didn’t have a clue where to look for it.