Hit'n Those Notes Ch. 15

The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Friday, May 2nd, 8:23 p.m.

As Blake and I entered the backstage area, Mike was waiting.

"I don't know where you and Bill came up with these song redo's, but they are money," he exclaimed.

He took the microphone Blake had and watched me walk on by. I barely heard or processed whatever he had said, but I thanked him while continuing to walk towards the back hallway to go meet Mom, Kaley, and Charles. Blake had to double time to catch up, and it felt surreal, odd, confusing, and a little messed up that he was even here.

I stopped midway down the final hallway to the back entrance to the bar area and posted up in his face.

"What are you doing here, Blake?"

My voice, tone, and intensity with which I was questioning him was as menacing as shards of glass. The message I was sending should be clear: I'm not happy to see you.

"Delivering your third-place check..."

Check, yeah, let's have a look at that five-grand check. I was skeptical and opened the envelope, not too carefully, and pulled the check out. Yup, it was from the Grand Cayman Hotel and had the right number of zeroes following the number five. What the hell?! I looked at him intently.

"Why not just send it to me? Why make this big production out of giving it to me?" I'm positive it sounded like I was complaining.

"The production," he began tentatively, "Was my idea. The thought being since you missed out on the audience's fanfare at the finale, this might be kind of a substitute. I just wanted it to be more than you picking up a check from your mailbox. Brea... I thought you deserved more than that."

Fuck! It's not that I wasn't grateful for winning and getting some minuscule amount of accolades from tonight's audience. My problem was 'him' being here. God damn you! Why couldn't you have just stayed in Vegas? Wait, something isn't...

"Did everyone know you were doing this tonight?"

"I... I might have coordinated with your mom and Kaley. I'm pretty sure Bill brought Charles because of this presentation," he said after a few seconds of pause. "I asked them not to say anything to you, so don't blame them... This is all on me."

"Bill too," I asked, surprised. I was shocked because of all my peeps, he was the one that ragged on Blake the hardest. Bill and I would have to talk about...

"I've had several conversations with Bill this past week... He wasn't too happy to hear from me, but he warmed up to the idea of making the presentation tonight. That doesn't mean he didn't chew my ass for how I screwed things up."

Good! But you don't take hints too well, do you? Wait, wait... You just said you screwed things up. What the fuck?!

"Wait, you admit you screwed up the morning I left," I asked, looking for some kind of cringe-like reaction on his part to that question.

"Hey, that morning I blew it... I screwed up the flight over Vegas too. Plain and simple. I should have come after you that morning or called or something. I don't know... I just figured I'd beat your last nerve raw, and it wouldn't have mattered what I said."

"Look, you can't have these one-sided conversations and think the other person is in agreement or on board with your shit. Newsflash - they aren't. I've processed Vegas a hundred ways, upside down, and backwards. I was just starting to feel normal again last week, feeling like I'd come to grips with whatever Vegas was, and here you are confusing me all over again."

"That's not what I'm here to do, Brea... I tried to tell you my flaws, and being separated, well... I don't know... It's hard for me," he said, looking as though he'd just laid his heart out there for me to stomp if I so chose.

"I know it's not like we were dating or even got past a normal first date. I realize that, and I can accept that. But the truth is... I feel like you led me on a little, and I tried to take a bite of more than was really there. That's on me... Being Trans is complicated enough without throwing in relationship complications..."

There! I had said my peace; I felt empowered, but it would be a lie to say my heart wasn't breaking a little again. Why do I even like this guy?

When Blake didn't jump right in and comment, I turned and began walking again. Okay, I don't have time for this crap! Please don't follow me...

Friday, May 2nd, 8:27 p.m.

On the walk to mom's table, I got no less than six 'Congratulations!' comments from some of the regulars. I tried smiling as best as I could, but right now I just wanted to be away from Blake and get over to my mom and the gang.

She was the first to get her arms around me when I approached the table, squeezing me so tight I thought she was going to pop me! In my ear, she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, honey."

When she finally let me go, I got out, "Thanks mom..."

I looked towards Kaley, waiting to hug me, and gave her a questioning look.

"Okay, I get it... But he was very persuasive on the phone," she said, leaning in close to my ear. Then she just reached out and pulled me in for a quick hug.

Charles was next, with another congratulations in my ear and a quick hug. I looked at him hard after the hug and he said, "I had nothing to do with this Brea. I told Bill this might backfire."

"I think William and I are going to have a conversation about this," I replied with just a hint of a smirk.

I looked back towards where I'd entered the bar from backstage and didn't see Blake right away until I looked towards the bar. JJ was talking with him and was setting a draft beer down in front of him.

"You should talk to him, honey... I think you are probably being a little hard on him right now," Mom said.

"Did you have a conversation with him too," I asked, surprised.

"I did. He called me and we had a nice talk, but I also told him I was disappointed in how he behaved and that I wasn't happy about what happened in Vegas," she said calmly.

I was about to reply, but the audience began applauding the final singer of the showcase. I joined in the clapping, but it was a half-hearted effort. Gary was saying something about next week when the house lights came up a little and people began talking while some canned jazz played subtly over the sound system.

"When did you talk to him," I asked.

"He called Kaley last week, on Friday, Right?"

"Mmmuh, I blasted him, Brea, but when he told me about Dana being disqualified and you were going to get five grand, I couldn't help but listen to him... I think you should talk to him," Kaley said, sounding like she'd softened her position on Blake also.

"Brea, you should at least hear him out," Mom added.

I looked at Charles and he said, "Hey, I didn't talk to the guy, but... Here comes Bill; ask him what he thinks."

I turned just as Bill came up behind me and hugged me tight around the waist.

"Hey, hey! Who's five grand richer?"

When Bill let me go, I stared at him for a couple seconds, "Why didn't you tell him to just mail the damn check, Bill?"

"I know, I know...," he said, looking like a mouse trap had snapped on his fingers unexpectedly. "I told him that if he hurt you again, I would hunt his ass down."

"Well, that threat didn't seem to scare him off; he's still here," I complained.

"I know... Okay, I get it, Brea, but you have to admit this presentation was a lot better than finding a check in the mail. Go talk to him; there have been some changes in his life," Bill said, trying to placate me.

Four sets of eyes were staring at me, waiting for my head to either explode or for me to come to my senses and be more reasonable. I did NOT feel like being reasonable - not right now at least. Mom cocked her head towards the bar. God damn-it!

"Fine," I said before turning to seek out the source of my displeasure.

Friday, May 2nd, 8:34 p.m.

I tapped Blake's shoulder, and when he turned around, I said, "Okay..."

He interrupted me, "Do you know that you never had that drink with me you promised?"

Huh?

"I never promised to have a drink with you," I complained.

"I'm pretty sure you said you would," he replied with a shit eating grin.

You are NOT cute! You might think you're being cute, but I think this tactic is bullshit! I huffed a quick breath and said, "Fine, one drink... You tell me your story and we go from there, deal?"

"Sure, but not here," he said smiling that stupid smile of his.

"Nah, here is fine," I replied, annoyed.

"Give me a little leeway, Brea... One drink, not here, and I'll get you home afterwards."

I looked back towards the table mom, Kaley, Bill, and Charles were at - only Kaley remained. I looked towards the hostess stand, and they were... Hey! Mom's leaving?

"I'll be right back," I said to Blake and made my way to where my mom was about to leave with Charles.

"Where are you going," I asked as she was pulling on her coat.

"Charles gave me a ride, sweetie... Plus, I have work in the morning," she replied.

"I..." I was at a loss for words, and before I could say anything more, we were hugging.

"I love you... Be nice, listen, and stand your ground," she said, looking deep into my eyes.

"I love you too, mom."

"Be yourself, Brea," Charles said as he opened the door for my mom.

I was a bit stunned that they were leaving - shocked, really. Was that it for the celebration of placing in Vegas? Whoa... How did this even come about? Dana was out, and I was in. Blake...

Friday, May 2nd, 8:41 p.m.

"Come with us...," I pleaded to Kaley.

"You're kidding, right?" she replied, making a face that said she wasn't about to be the third wheel.

"Why do I feel like everyone knows what's going on here but me?"

"I don't know, but I'll bet if you talk to Blake, you'll be in the know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oooui, JJ just waved at me. I love you, girl, but I've got some questions I want to ask that man," Kaley said while giving me a quick squeeze and making her way to the end of the bar.

Blake was still sitting at the bar, nursing his beer. I looked around for Bill, where the hell is he? Augh! Everyone knows what's going on here, and I'm in the dark! I am NOT digging this! I walked over to where Blake was sitting and asked, "Why do I feel like I'm the last to know what's going on here tonight?"

"Aaah... I don't know. The presentation was pretty much all I had coordinated. The drink thing I just came up with while sitting here..."

"Alright, let's get this drink thing done. I think I could use one about now."

Friday, May 2nd, 8:59 p.m.

The Gaslamp District was crowded with tourists, convention visitors, and off-duty Navy or military types - no different than any other night around here. When we exited the jazz club, we began walking south on Fifth Ave., and at the next block, we crossed over to the east side of the street.

"Do you know where we're going," I asked.

"Right up there," he pointed, "It's a cool boutique hotel called de l'Arcade. It's got a piano bar... I thought it would be as good a place as any to have that drink - neutral ground," he said with a chuckle.

"Ha, ha... Is this place new? I've never heard of it." I knew this place previously as some other hotel, so I was a little confused. "This place was named something different before, I think."

"Correct, new owners, name change, and I think they just did a minor remodel. The grand re-opening was last week, I was told."

"How long have you been in town," I asked. I wanted to know because how would he know about a new hotel and piano bar right down the street from the jazz club? Something wasn't adding up.

"I got here last night, actually."

"Did you fly yourself?"

He chuckled and said, "Nah, my mom still isn't a fan of me flying."

"You staying with her? When do you go back?"

"Yup, I think I'd be in the doghouse if I didn't. I leave Sunday; I'm burning some comp time."

"How did you hear about this place," I asked, not able to contain my curiosity any longer. I'm sure I sounded like I was interrogating him. Whatever, I didn't really care...

"I know the GM. I worked with him in Atlantic City," Blake said, holding the door open to the bar for me.

Once inside, Blake went to the hostess stand while I hung back near the entrance. I could see him speaking quietly to the woman standing there; she nodded several times, and then raised her hand to call over a man in a suit walking by. Now the two guys were talking, and after a handshake Blake turned towards me and waved me over.

"Thanks again, Jonathon...," Blake was saying when I made it to his side.

"My pleasure, Mr. Schultz; enjoy your evening," the suit guy, Jonathon, said smiling at us.

"Okay, are you ready for that drink," Blake asked.

"You pull some hotel secret handshake deal to get us a table," I asked more snarkily than I intended.

He laughed, "No, no secret handshakes... That's a good one, Brea."

"I've got plenty more where that came from," I replied, feeling a little more confident than I had earlier. I wasn't going to be kept in the dark much longer, that's for damn sure!

Friday, May 2nd, 9:06 p.m.

I had never been to this hotel before tonight, so I had no idea if the remodel made this place any better or whatever. On the whole, this was probably not a place to find a cheap room for the night. The finish, furnishings, everything shouted 'upper crust'. The piano bar was absolutely beautiful. I was impressed.

We passed two pianos butted up against each other - that could be an interesting addition to the Gaslamp district. I only knew of one other bar in the area with dueling pianos. I followed Blake to a table, and being the gentleman he was trying hard to be, he pulled my chair out for me. Grrr... Don't be nice to me! I'm angry at you...

I watched him go around the table and sit. Time to get some answers!

"What happened to Dana?"

"Great question, and I'll get to that, I promise... What would you like to drink?"

Really? You can't just say, 'He rigged it with the judges...' or something that's going to annoy me as much as that would? Augh!

"Rum and Coke," I replied with as much patience as I could muster. Then added, "Please..." I'm not a bitch! Stop trying to be one...

Blake signaled a server and put in the order. He asked that my drink be made with Ron Carupano Legendario, explaining after the server left that it was an aged twenty-five-year rum and very smooth. I told him I usually just drank Bacardi or Abuelo and that I didn't have a sophisticated drinking palate. He said that might change after I tried this brand of rum.

I told him curtly, "We'll see..." Thought for a second and decided we'd had enough small talk to this point. "So, Dana?"

"Yeah, interesting story. Three weeks ago, they got an anonymous email from someone saying to look into a recording artist named Danika Warnick."

"Danika being Dana before his transition?"

"Correct..."

"And if Dana had been a recording artist, that would disqualify him," I said, putting the pieces together before Blake had a chance to get all wordy.

"Right... You had to be an amateur, no professional exposure, which was defined as being a recorded artist. You were allowed to sing in a band, play gigs; you just couldn't be published or signed to a record label," he explained. "At one point in his past, as Danika pre-transition, he'd been signed to a small Chicago recording label."

What a fucking cheat! I was pissed!

"Damn him...," I said, my face a little contorted.

"Yeah, I don't blame you for being angry. I'm really sorry, Brea... They did do background checks on every singer, but somehow they missed finding anything on a Ms. Danika Warnick - now Dana Warnick."

"You don't know who turned him in?"

"It could have been anyone, someone who saw the show or someone who knows him."

My money was on Jennifer. She wanted to rip my head off, but she was also pissed at Dana that day outside the banquet room. Maybe that was her revenge. I wondered if her and Tyler were still together. Not really interested in the answer. I didn't care one way or the other; Tyler is all yours, bitch. Enjoy! Of course, the news about Dana didn't make losing in Vegas any better, but at least I had...

"Did you guys get the money back from him," I asked. That thought just popped into my head, and I wanted that asshole to feel some pain for cheating.

"That's going to probably go to small claims court. When they contacted him about being disqualified and informed him he needed to return the five grand, he said he'd already spent it. It's now up to the Grand Cayman's lawyers to go after him. I'm sure they'll get the money back."

Our drinks arrived, and our server asked if we wanted to look at a menu. Blake deferred to me; I said I was fine.

"So, do you have any plans for your newfound wealth," he asked.

"I'll find something to do with it. I'm going to get taxed on this, right?"

"Unfortunately, you will... I think they should have figured out the taxes and paid them, so each contestant walked away with the full prize amount. Maybe they'll do that next year."

"When were you going to tell me," I asked deadpan, staring at him.

Blake looked confused, "About the taxes?"

"No... I can barely remember people's names right after I meet them, but I'm a really good listener, and I have a feeling you've got something you're not telling me..." I picked up my drink and took a sip.

Oooh, that is good! Damn you! I'm sure I can't afford Don Corrugated Laundry-Soap Rum, or whatever this stuff is called. Blake looked nervous now.

"Aaah, you think I'm hiding something?"

"You've said 'they' a lot while talking about your old hotel... The guy at the hostess desk is calling you 'Mr. Schultz'. I think you should just spill it," I said with just a hint of a smile.

It took him a good fifteen seconds of contemplation to figure out if I knew or if I was just fishing.

"Alright. Who told you," he asked.

"You just did," I said with an even bigger smile. I'm smarter than I look, Mr. Schultz; you better figure that out quick.

"Augh... Sneaky, sneaky. Okay, yes, I'm relocating.

I interrupted him, "To San Diego..."

"Yes, and..."

"You've got a job at this hotel," I interjected before he could ramble.

"Surprise," he exclaimed in a kind of cutesy 'I've been found out' voice while raising his hands about shoulder-high.

"I knew there was something bigger going on... The hostess looked at you like you were a big deal, the suit guy, you knowing more about this place than maybe you should... You don't play poker much, do you?"

"No, I don't. I like to have something tangible to show for my hard-earned money."

"You don't spend money unless you get something tangible in return... What about paying for an experience?"

"I'll spend money for an experience; come on... Don't get hung up on lawyers' words," he said, smiling.

I raised my glass, "Congratulations... What will you be doing here?"

Blake reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card, sliding it across the table. I'd seen this move before and couldn't help smiling after I picked it up. I read it aloud: "De l'Arcade, Blake Schultz, Assistant General Manager" and followed that with a question, "Is this job getting you closer to your 'career trajectory'?"

"It is actually...," he said confidently. "I seem to remember telling you I had one of those, a trajectory, but never told you what it was."

"I figured it was some kind of upper management thing. How did you get the job?"

"I told you I knew the GM from when we were in Atlantic City. His Assistant General Manager left to care for his mom. I'm not supposed to know, but she was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer last month."

"Ah, That's terrible."

"Yeah, I don't envy their next bunch of months... Anyway, I got a call from Caleb - he's the GM - asking if I would be interested in the job. I said yes and had a phone interview with his other managers and the head of HR. Caleb ended up calling me that same evening to offer me the job."