The Christmas Singer

by Cheryl Wright

  The Christmas Singer

  Cheryl Wright

  The Christmas Singer

  By Cheryl Wright

  (Originally Published as Deadly Debt 10 January 2017)

  [Edited and Updated December 2019]

  Copyright 2019 by Cheryl Wright

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book

  Dedication

  Thanks to my very dear friends (and authors), Margaret Tanner and Susan Horsnell for their enduring encouragement and friendship.

  Thanks also to Alan, my husband of over 45 years, who has been a relentless supporter of my writing for many years.

  And last, but by no means least, thank you to all my wonderful readers who encourage me to continue writing these stories. It is such a joy to me, knowing so many of you enjoy reading my stories. I love writing them as much as you love reading them.

  Chapter One

  Felicity Montgomery had endured a long day of rehearsals, which was nothing unusual. Her father was a slave driver.

  When she arrived home, Felicity was restless. She couldn’t stay still. She’d tried watching television but couldn’t concentrate.

  She’d tried cooking but had quickly become frustrated and gave up.

  In the end, she’d taken a shower and laid down for a rest. That didn’t work either – her mind was racing so much it wouldn’t let her sleep.

  At her wits end, Felicity dressed and went for a walk.

  Thank goodness she didn’t have a performance tonight.

  It was early evening, and despite the fact she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, she really wasn’t that hungry. Her favourite deli was a few blocks away, so she decided to see what George had on offer. He made the best coffee, and his fruit muffins were to die for.

  Cutting through a backstreet, she heard a noise behind her. The laneway was quite short, and she’d be out of there quickly. This didn’t lessen her apprehension. It grew with every step she took.

  Promising herself she wouldn’t turn around, she stared straight ahead and quickened her pace.

  There it was again.

  Footsteps?

  More like shuffling. Like what you’d expect from a teenage boy. Or someone trying to disguise their presence.

  She stopped dead in her tracks. The sound stopped too.

  She took a few steps and the noise started once again.

  Darkness was descending, but that shouldn’t have worried her, it never had before. Her heartbeat quickened. A pulse throbbed in her throat, her heartbeat was racing through her ears too. She was panicking now.

  Felicity couldn’t remember feeling this kind of fear before. Ever.

  She quickly turned around to look behind her. Did she see a shadowy figure slip into a doorway?

  She shook the foolish notion away.

  How many times had she done this before?

  Hundreds, she was sure. The darkening sky was obviously playing on her very vivid imagination.

  Felicity straightened her shoulders and firmed up her resolve.

  Forge ahead to the deli!

  Her pace quickened. It was just around the corner now, and she turned her head again. Silence reigned.

  Of course her imagination was playing games with her.

  Despite that, Felicity was incredibly relieved when she arrived into the safety of George’s eclectic delicatessen and breathed in the mix of wonderful aromas. Coffee, muffins, homemade cakes – all familiar and comforting scents.

  She was shaking and felt sure she must be white as a ghost. She’d been going there so long, she was sure George would notice something amiss, so tried to keep her voice steady.

  “Hello, George,” she said, planting a fake smile on her face. “It’s a lovely night.”

  George frowned. “What’s up? You don’t look so good.” He stared into her eyes, daring her to tell a lie.

  Felicity shrugged. “Nah, I’m okay. Just a little tired.” She hoped it would be enough to get him off her back, but he could be difficult to fool. “Can I have one of your yummy fruit muffins, please?” She reached for her purse. “Oh, and a coffee too. A big one!”

  George frowned again but began to fill her order. “Yeah, sure. Take a seat, Felicity. I’ll bring it over.”

  She sat fiddling with her hands until her order arrived. George placed the items on the table, as well as a coffee for himself, then sat opposite Felicity. She looked around. The deli was near empty. It was just the two of them.

  She swallowed. Here it comes, she thought.

  George had owned the deli for as long as Felicity could remember – it had been her favourite haunt for years.

  George was more than a deli owner to her, he was a very dear friend.

  She picked up her coffee and began to sip it, ignoring George’s presence, as though ignoring him would make him go away.

  “Felicity,” he demanded. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She stared at him, knowing she could never hide the truth from this dear man.

  “Going on?” she said it a squeaky, uneven voice, then swiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I was followed here, that’s what. Down the little alleyway.” There, she’d said it, and there was no taking it back.

  He stared at her intensely. Looked directly at her shaking hands, then scrutinised her face, taking in every feature, studying every movement.

  “Then you’re not walking home alone.” With that he stood, and took off his apron, then locked the door. There was no arguing. He’d made up his mind it was clear. And Felicity knew better than to try and dissuade George. It had never worked in the past.

  He sat once again, sipping his coffee, patiently waiting until she was ready to leave.

  * * *

  Hector Montgomery paced the floor, his anger rising with every step. What the heck was wrong with his daughter? “No, no, no!” he shouted. “Don’t look at the ground, keep your head high!”

  He’d had just about enough of her ingratitude and selfishness. After all the years he’d put into her career, and she repaid him like this? Downgraded him from manager to what? Nothing more than a lackey. How dare she!

  After all his sacrifices, the wheeling and dealing, and now, with stardom and enormous wealth within his grasp, she was acting like some two-bit prima donna. He wouldn’t stand for it. She would obey him or face the consequences! And, he would find a way to get her money, that was certain.

  He should never have gotten mixed up with Fiorelli and his equally vicious cronies, wouldn’t be so desperate for funds if he had kept away from them. The big money, this deal he was working on, would clear all his debt and still leave plenty over to spend.

  Damn Felicity and her tantrums. Sex sold, it was a well-known fact. It wasn’t as if he was asking her to prostitute herself.

  “You’re supposed to ooze sex appeal.” He slapped his forehead. “What is this, this…?”

  “I don’t want to be a Pop Princess; I don’t want to be the next Madonna!” Felicity stomped her foot as she always did when she didn’t get her own way.

  She was acting like a spoiled teenager, Hector decided. She’d been like this for years, since she was three. No matter how much he tried, he was never able to get her out of that foot-stomping habit of hers.

  Regardless, he was trying to turn her into the next Madonna, but she constantly resisted. What was wrong with her?

  “Felicity!” Hector’s harsh voice reverberated through the room. “Sex kitten? N
ow?”

  Hector watched as Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes, Father,” she said.

  He smiled shrewdly at her meek acquiesce. He would get his own way. Eventually. He always did.

  Chapter Two

  Smoke hit Derek St James in the face as he glanced around, and the smell of booze and cheap cigars assaulted his senses.

  This was not where he wanted to be.

  He watched a waitress flirt with customers, openly rubbing her bare legs against customer’s legs, hips, even hands. He averted his eyes at the sickening scene, nearly gagging as a tray of food passed him by. The smell of greasy, fat-ridden hamburgers churning his stomach to a point of almost retching.

  As he walked toward an empty table he almost slipped on a piece of lettuce carelessly discarded and left to rot. A customer who’d had more than his fill of alcohol bumped into Derek, spilling beer over his well-kept suit.

  As he brushed the liquid away, the full impact of where he was hit him, and he wondered how safe it was, and wanted desperately to leave. But he was here for a reason; he couldn’t leave yet.

  The music began as he neared the bar. His heart beating faster, Derek turned his head toward the stage in anticipation. He’d listened to the demo tape, sent to him by someone who was sure he’d be interested in this songbird. But now he’d seen the flea-bitten joint where she worked, he wasn’t so sure.

  The incessant chatter suddenly stopped as she began to sing. Her voice was strong, clear.

  Felicity exposed her soul with each and every word she sang.

  He pushed through the crowd, past the occupied tables and toward the only empty spot left - in the corner of the room.

  He listened, mesmerised by her voice, the sincerity, the purity of the soulful words. The demo tape was raw, obviously an amateur recording, and went nowhere near the real thing. He closed his eyes, wanting to fully appreciate this rare talent. He drank in her voice and the vibes it created.

  He opened his eyes with a jolt as the crowd began to applaud, whistling and chanting for more.

  She gracefully bowed and began to back away, heading for the stage door. Her eyes scanned the room as she did so, and he stood.

  It was at that moment their eyes met.

  * * *

  Felicity hated that she had to sing in this sleazy dive.

  It was the lowest of the low. She had never envisioned herself performing in a place like this. But it was also the only place she got to sing what she wanted to sing, and not what everyone else wanted. What her father wanted, she thought bitterly.

  Most of the time she was a reluctant Madonna wannabe and that didn’t sit well with her. Her parents had carefully moulded her career over many years. Singing lessons, dance lessons, and classes on deportment.

  When she’d looked back over her childhood, she realised she didn’t have one. She’d spent almost her entire life living her parents dream.

  Their dream, not hers.

  It was their dream to have her perform at the age of four. The cute little girl who enhanced their pitiful act. Without her no one would have ever hired them. She was the drawcard. Had been for as long as she could remember. Not that she saw any real benefit from all her work. They stole every cent she’d ever earned. She should have been rolling in money, but instead she was barely breaking even.

  Felicity swallowed back a sob. Now was not the time to wallow in the past. Tonight was all about her future. A future of singing the Blues.

  At twenty-five, she knew it was time to change. Past time to change. And if performing in this dump meant building toward her dream, so be it.

  She glanced around at the applauding crowd as she backed away. Cheap drinks, cheap cigars, torn jeans and cheap clothes.

  Rock bottom. She was at rock bottom.

  As he stood she saw him – he had a smile on his face and was wearing an expensive suit.

  She simply couldn’t look away.

  * * *

  Derek knocked loudly on Felicity’s dressing room door, which was more like a closet it was so tiny.

  She popped her head around the door and he could see she was apprehensive. He thrust his business card into her hand before she had a chance to speak. “Derek St James,” he said. “I want to be your manager.”

  She stood there open mouthed, watching his every move as he scanned every inch of her. He watched her reaction closely.

  “I don’t need a manager, but thanks anyway,” Felicity said crossly as she started closing the door.

  She didn’t even give him a chance! He jammed his foot in the door, preventing her from shutting him out. “Can we at least talk about it?” He could see this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “No.” The foot was a bad move, he decided. It only made her more annoyed.

  “Remove your foot, or I’ll call security,” she said, scowling at him.

  Taking a step back, he opened his mouth to speak, but she slammed the door, leaving him standing dumbfounded.

  Damn! He was just as annoyed with himself as he was with her. He should have taken it easy, not gone like a bull at a red rag.

  He knew the moment she opened her mouth – she was the next Patsy Cline. Or Billie Holiday. He had to convince her to sign with him; there was no way he was letting an opportunity like this slip through his fingers.

  He lifted his hand and was ready to pound on the door until she opened it. He stopped mid-air, realising it was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  Shoulders sagging, with his back against the wall, Derek recalled the last time he'd done this. A shiver went down his spine. He’d been heavy handed with the last performer he’d represented, and look where that got him. He wasn’t going to risk that again. It simply wasn’t worth it. It wasn't his fault; he didn’t force her to... He shook the bitter memories away.

  "Come on Felicity, let me in," he said in a voice that was barely audible. Very unlike him.

  He decided to reassess his actions. Perhaps he was being too forward, or too informal? At this point he was willing to try anything.

  He recalled her face as she told him she didn’t need a manager. She looked almost...terrified. Why would that be?

  Why did it always have to be so difficult? Why were they so difficult? He knew from experience that performers like Felicity Montgomery had no idea how great they were, or how famous they could become. Would become.

  He just wanted to talk, he really did. He thought again about her expression on opening the door. Totally petrified. Strange.

  Without the makeup she wore on stage, Felicity was even more beautiful. In so many ways she reminded him of.... No! He mentally slapped himself. He wasn't going there.

  The biggest problem he faced right now was actually talking to her. She seemed determined not to let him penetrate her armour.

  She might have thought she’d won this round, but he wasn’t one to give up so easily. He knew talent when he saw it and heard it, and this girl had real talent.

  He decided to rethink his strategy and left the building.

  As he sat out in the alleyway, waiting outside the stage entrance, he pondered the past. Selena Alexander. Where had he gone wrong? Was it really his fault? Any of it?

  Her mother certainly thought so. She’d blamed him for everything. Still blamed him. He’d wanted nothing more than to see her name in lights. To see her credited for the star she was. To know he’d found the one.

  He wasn’t to know it would end in her death. How could he?

  He could never have guessed the outcome. A shudder ran through him, but not from the cold of the night air. His thoughts were playing havoc with his heart. Guilt overwhelmed him.

  He heard the door bang before he saw her. Felicity Montgomery. She stood in the shadows, the street light forming her silhouette. As he moved, her head shot up.

  “Who’s there?” She glanced about. “Is s-someone out there?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. A terrified whisper.

  “It’s Derek St James,” he called bac
k, trying not to startle her, although it appeared to be too late for that. “I just want to talk to you, Ms. Montgomery. Felicity.”

  He heard her sigh as the light breeze sent wisps of hair flying around her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he called.

  “You didn’t,” she said, but he wasn’t convinced. “Was there something you wanted?” she asked, nervously looking around.

  He stepped out of the shadows and shrugged his shoulders. “You wouldn’t talk to me inside, so I decided to wait. I’ll walk you to your car,” he said. “It isn’t safe to walk out alone this late. In this neighbourhood.” In this sleazy neighbourhood, he’d wanted to say. He was sure she would understand the innuendo.

  Felicity looked him up and down, much like she did inside, only this time more thoroughly. Perhaps she thought he didn’t see her in the dim night light, but it was all perfectly clear. Even in the darkness.

  “This is me,” she said, as they arrived at a small car. She took a deep breath, as if finally coming to a decision. “I’ll call your office tomorrow.” She must have seen his doubt, or felt his doubt, because she hastily added, “Promise.”

  Moments later she was gone.

  He stood and stared after her, wondering if he’d ever see her again. Hoping above all hopes that he would. Felicity was a star and could make it to the top with the right guidance. He’d done it before, and he would do it again. If only she would let him.

  As Derek made his way back to his own car, he glanced around. This sure was a scary place.

  He felt as though someone was watching him. Eyes probing him in the darkness. Except for the stray cats scrounging through the bins looking for food, there was dead silence. The eerie quiet put him on edge, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  He heard a dog bark, followed by several cats screeching, then silence again. That was when he heard it. Footsteps. Soft footsteps, like someone trying to conceal their presence.