Singsation

by Jacquelin Thomas

  There was a light tap on the door, and Kim came in. “You look great,” she said, as Deborah stood and twirled in the purple-sequined dress. Kim took a makeup brush and skimmed over Deborah’s face. “Are you ready for your big night?”

  She nodded.

  “I saw your man out front.” Kim smiled. “Why didn’t he want to watch you from backstage?”

  Deborah laughed. “He said he wanted to see me the way the audience sees me.”

  “Girl, you’re all over the papers now.”

  “I know.” Deborah sighed. “That’s the only bad thing. You don’t have any privacy, and ninety percent of what they say about you isn’t true. But that’s the price, right?”

  Brent knocked on the door. “Showtime!”

  Deborah passed Phoebe in the hall, and they hugged.

  “I can’t wait to hear you tonight, girl.”

  Deborah took her place onstage between Emerald and Vianca. It had been Lavelle’s idea to move Deborah to the middle, and though she knew Vianca didn’t like it, Vianca hadn’t said a word.

  They ran through the first part of the show as they always did—with Lavelle swooning and women panting. And when Lavelle came back onto the stage after his jacket change, Deborah stepped forward and stood beside him.

  The crowd cheered when they heard the orchestra’s first notes, and Deborah took a deep breath.

  Here she was, standing center stage in the Los Angeles Arena, listening to the orchestra’s introduction mix with the roar of the crowd. Deborah felt as if God’s abundant blessings were pouring directly on her at that very moment.

  It wasn’t difficult for the words to flow from her soul. She closed her eyes and sang to the Lord, telling Him with her song that she loved Him, she worshiped Him, she praised Him.

  She bent over and held her hand against her waist as the words flowed from her: “I’m lost without you . . . so don’t ever go away. . . .”

  It was only when Lavelle took her hand for them to take a bow that she remembered where she was. Deborah wasn’t sure how long their standing ovation lasted, but when the show was finally over, she was overwhelmed with the backstage reviews.

  “I don’t know what got into you tonight, girl, but you were fantastic,” Lavelle said.

  “Where did that come from? You were great,” Vianca added.

  “My goodness. If I could sing like that, I’d be rich,” Kim gushed.

  Phoebe had tears in her eyes. “You were wonderful.”

  Her heart didn’t return to its normal beat until she was sitting at her dressing table. There was a knock on her door, and she didn’t have to turn around to know it was Triage.

  He came behind her and pulled her from the stool. He kissed her. “I know you’ve heard it all, but I don’t know what happened to you onstage tonight. Girl, you belted out that song. I hope you were thinking of me.”

  I’m lost without you . . .

  She smiled and kissed him on the lips.

  Two days later, Lavelle and Deborah were in the studio with the musicians to record their duet. They’d been working since nine A.M. As the light was beginning to fade, Deborah begged for mercy.

  “How much longer?”

  “Not much.” The engineer laughed.

  Lavelle and Deborah reentered the sound booth and sang their parts. Five more retakes and forty-five minutes later, they called it a wrap.

  Lavelle lifted Deborah from the floor and kissed her. “You know, girl, with a voice like that, you should consider a solo project.”

  Deborah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Really? You think I could do it?”

  “You’re ready.”

  “I hope you’re telling her that she’s ready to leave,” Triage said as he walked into the studio.

  Lavelle laughed. “She’s ready for that too.”

  Deborah grabbed her coat as quickly as she could. She waited until they were in the car before she told Triage what Lavelle had suggested.

  “I totally agree. Deborah, honey, you are more than ready. I never had any doubts. And the way you sang the other night . . . you need to have an album.”

  She was thoughtful for a few minutes. “What would I sing? Which label would I go with, and who would I talk to?”

  “First of all, you’re loaded with material. Think about all the songs you’ve written.”

  She nodded.

  “We can talk to my manager tomorrow if you want. Or I can make a few calls.” He reached over and took her hand.

  “If I do this, there is one song I’d like to record.” She turned sideways in the seat. “Maybe you’ll do it with me. ‘Our Love Is Perfect.’”

  She could feel the car slow down as Triage put his foot on the brake. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course. I love that song. And you did write it for us, right?”

  “That would be great.”

  She sat back in the seat.

  “This could be the beginning of a real career for you.”

  She smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

  CHAPTER 39

  THROUGH THE NEW YEAR AND THE WEEKS THAT followed, Deborah had little chance to think about a solo project. Triage’s manager referred her to the William Martin Agency, which signed her after one meeting. She’d spoken with Mr. Martin several times since, and he told her that there was a lot of interest in her at Capricorn Records.

  While the buzz continued about a possible solo career, Deborah’s attention was elsewhere. Rehearsals for the second part of the tour had been pushed into high gear, but it was their upcoming Grammy performance that was getting most of the group’s attention.

  It was hard for Deborah to believe that not only would she be going to the Grammys, but she’d be performing at them as well. A year ago she and Willetta had ogled over the award show on TV, and now she was a part of it.

  Deborah was glad that this time she didn’t have to drag Vianca or Phoebe into the stores to buy a dress. The stylists brought sample outfits for both their stage performance and their red-carpet appearance.

  The dresses were delivered to Deborah’s condo. She examined the garments’ plunging necklines, low backs, and waist-high side splits. She couldn’t believe how different her eye was nine months into her career. These were the same dresses that made her turn up her nose almost a year ago. But now, she saw them the way she’d been taught—how would they look on the stage? Would they add to the sexiness of the act?

  The day of the Grammys, Kim was assigned to meet Deborah at her condo to help her get ready. By the time Triage picked her up in the limousine, she was decked out in a shimmering lavender halter gown covered with hundreds of glinting beads. The jewel neckline made the dress seem conservative, until she turned around to reveal the daringly open back with crisscrossed straps.

  “Have I ever told you that you’re beautiful?” Triage asked as he nuzzled her neck.

  “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

  He kissed her as the driver held open the door to the limousine.

  Since Triage was the opening act, they were among the first to arrive at the Shrine Auditorium. Deborah waited with Lavelle and Vianca, and they all breathed a sigh of relief when Emerald entered just moments before the show began.

  Deborah beamed when Triage came onstage and clapped along with the crowd as he rocked the arena. But her smile was even wider when Triage won the Grammy for Best New Single.

  After the award for Best R&B Song was given, Deborah followed Lavelle, Vianca, and Emerald backstage to prepare for their performance.

  Deborah shivered with excitement as she changed into her black tuxedo pants and white rhinestone-covered blouse. In just a few moments she’d be center stage, televised across the nation and to Villa Rica specifically.

  When the music began, Deborah led the others as they sashayed across the stage, running their hands across the brims of their matching black hats.

  Deborah smiled as she rocked her body to the beat and spread her arms wide. The crowd roared when Lavelle be
gan singing as he appeared from behind the curtains. Deborah, Vianca, and Emerald surrounded him, sauntering with him toward center stage.

  As they sang the last note, Deborah took off her hat and tossed it in the air with the others. Judging from the crowd’s excitement during their final bow, she knew it had gone well.

  Excitement charged the air backstage as they were congratulated by other groups standing by.

  “I knew I should have gone on before you guys,” Whitney Houston said before she rushed onto the stage.

  Phoebe hugged Deborah. “Girl, you guys were terrific.”

  Deborah grinned. “That was so exciting for me. I kept thinking about my parents. They’re having a Grammy party to watch me.”

  Phoebe laughed. “Girl, walk me to the bathroom.”

  “How does it feel to be nominated?” Deborah asked Phoebe as they sat in front of the mirrors in the rest room. “Are you nervous?”

  Phoebe waved her hand in the air. “There’s nothing to it.” But a moment later, she burst into laughter. “I’m so excited, I can’t even sit in my seat. Do you know what it would be like to win Best New Female Artist?”

  Deborah bobbed her head.

  “Well, let me get back to my date.” Phoebe dropped her lipstick into her purse.

  “It’s not Thomas, is it?” Deborah moaned.

  “I told you, I have a new man. Though Thomas still keeps popping up.” She sighed. “I’m going to have to get a restraining order.”

  Deborah frowned. “You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?”

  “No, he’s just a nuisance. I can handle it.” Phoebe kissed Deborah. “I’ll see you guys after the show.”

  The rest of the night continued to unfold like a dream, as Triage won two more Grammys and Phoebe was named Best New Female Artist.

  Deborah was still shivering with excitement when the four-hour show finally ended. As they waited for the limousine outside, Triage pulled her close.

  “Are you cold, baby?” he asked, covering her bare shoulders with his hands. “We can go back inside and wait.”

  “No, I’m fine. It’s just that this was so incredible for me. Thank you for such a great evening.”

  “I had nothing to do with that part. But you can thank me later on tonight. ’Cause, girl, we have some partying to do tonight.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her into the limousine.

  CHAPTER 40

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, LAVELLE’S GROUP WAS ON a plane heading to northern California for seven shows. When Charles knocked on her hotel door the first night, Deborah wasn’t surprised.

  “It looks like it’s all you tonight . . . again. Emerald is too sick to go on.”

  Deborah turned from where she was sitting. “How is she?”

  Charles shrugged. “I don’t think Lavelle is going to put up with this much longer. It’s a good thing you’re with us. Lavelle feels comfortable doing the duets with you.”

  Deborah nodded and half smiled at Charles as he left. It was flattering to know that Lavelle liked singing with her, but she didn’t like what Emerald was doing to herself.

  Kim put the finishing touches on Deborah’s hair and sprayed a bit of oil sheen on top to make it glisten. “You know, you should think about cutting this weave.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, at least wear it up sometimes. You have a great face. You’d look good with it pulled back.”

  “I can’t think about that now, Kim. I’m really concerned about Emerald. I wish she and I were closer so that I could help.”

  Kim pursed her lips. “It wouldn’t do any good. People have been trying to help Emerald for a long time, but she’s determined to destroy herself.”

  Deborah sighed. “What could possibly be going on in her life that makes her feel that all she can do is drink?”

  “Lavelle.”

  Deborah turned around slowly. Though no one had ever told her about Emerald and Lavelle, it didn’t take a Rhodes Scholar to figure that out. So it wasn’t Kim’s words that shocked her, it was her tone.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m not one to gossip,” Kim said, then paused as she rolled a stool over to Deborah’s dressing table. “But Emerald really loved Lavelle. Then one day, out of the blue, he dumped her.”

  “Oh,” Deborah said simply.

  “I don’t know why Emerald didn’t see it coming. He was sleeping with Phoebe at the same time—some say that he still is—and everyone could tell that Lavelle was never serious. Now the same thing is happening to Vianca.”

  Deborah wished that Kim hadn’t dumped this on her right before she had to go onstage. But she’d learned to perform through all kinds of adversity and drama. By the time they finished the show, it was clear to Deborah that she had learned the lesson well. The crowd screamed her name as much as they called for Lavelle.

  Emerald was back on the stage the next night, talking about how awful her cold had been. But by the time they returned to Los Angeles for a three-day break, Deborah had replaced Emerald in two more shows, and her concern was growing.

  “I think I’m going to talk to Emerald,” Deborah told Triage her first night back. She lay with her head in his lap as they watched Titanic for the tenth time, and she recounted her conversation with Kim.

  “I think you should stay out of it, baby,” Triage said. “Emerald is an unhappy, bitter woman. I don’t know why she stays with the group. Hanging around Lavelle is making her drinking worse.”

  “Well, if she doesn’t want to talk to me, at least I could invite her to come to church with us on Sunday.”

  Triage sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to talk Deborah out of it.

  Deborah called Emerald for two days, leaving numerous messages that were left unanswered. By the time they were ready to leave for three performances in San Diego, Emerald had called Charles and told him that she wouldn’t be making the trip at all.

  “This thing with Emerald can’t go on much longer,” Deborah said to Triage when they returned.

  “Yeah, but from what I’m hearing, your stock is rising. Have you seen what the papers are saying? They’re calling you Lavelle’s next jewel. I think you really need to think about going solo now. Why don’t you call William Martin while you have this break?”

  “I don’t think I want to leave Lavelle right now, with everything that is going on.”

  “You don’t have to, baby. All I want you to do is talk to William, see how serious Capricorn is, and move from there. You can release an album and still sing with Lavelle.”

  “I can?”

  “Lots of people do it that way. Phoebe kept singing with Lavelle until her second album.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Look, let’s just talk to William, okay?”

  Deborah sighed, but agreed. “Okay, when I get back from Phoenix.”

  CHAPTER 41

  AFTER FIVE SHOWS IN PHOENIX AND SCOTTSDALE, Deborah was thrilled to have a weekend off. Triage was out of town making a personal appearance at Tower Records in New York. Though she missed him, it gave her time to catch up with Phoebe.

  They spent Saturday running through Neiman Marcus and Saks, shopping as much as dodging autograph hounds—although Deborah was secretly thrilled when a fan asked for her autograph.

  Back in Deborah’s apartment, Deborah and Phoebe shared seaweed soup and almond chicken and laughed over family pictures Deborah had pulled from an album.

  “That’s my cousin Willetta,” Deborah said, pointing to a group picture of Willetta’s Sweet Sixteen birthday party.

  “Girl, you really were square.” Phoebe laughed.

  Deborah giggled, but stopped as she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection from the granite fireplace. Phoebe was right; she looked very different now than she did a year ago. She was wearing a denim miniskirt and handkerchief top—something she never would have considered in Villa Rica. She had changed, and she wasn’t sure when it all happened.

  “What’s wrong?” Phoebe f
rowned as she sipped her soup.

  “Nothing, really. It’s just that I’m beginning to realize how different I am.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’ve grown.”

  Deborah nodded. “I guess, but I don’t want to get too far from the things that are important to me.”

  “And what things would that be?”

  “My family, Triage, but most important, God.”

  “Well, from what I see, there’s very little chance of that. I wish I had what you have with God.”

  Deborah smiled. “Phoebe, it’s no secret. You can have a relationship with God any time you want it.”

  “That’s what I’ve always heard, but I tried God, and He didn’t seem to listen. I used to pray so hard, begging Him to stop the pain.” Phoebe grimaced. “But nothing ever happened. He never heard my prayers.”

  Deborah sat next to Phoebe. “I don’t think that’s true; maybe you just didn’t recognize God’s voice. I’ve learned that sometimes you have to be still to hear Him.”

  “Even if I tried to talk to God now, He wouldn’t listen, for sure. With all that I’ve done, from the booze to the drugs, the men . . . I tried everything to put aside all that I was feeling.”

  “Maybe you’ve been looking for peace in the wrong place.”

  Phoebe held up her hands. “I know what you’re going to say. But if God can be there for me now, why wasn’t He there when I needed Him the most? Why wasn’t He there when my stepfather . . . my uncle . . .” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t He stop them?”

  Deborah took her hands. “Phoebe, I don’t know why those things happened to you, but I do know that God was there. He did help you survive.”

  Phoebe nodded and wiped away her tears. “It was just so horrible. I think that’s the reason why I’m like this now. I’ve tried to be different, but somehow, I always return—”

  “Phoebe, if you really want to make a change, there’s only one way to do it. The drinking and drugs, the sex and men—none of that will work. Only God can pull you away and deliver you from that.”