Benjamin Cantrell

I held up my hand. "I know that you know. That part has come together. You know why I made my donation..."

"Yes, I know why both you and your step-daughter donated the entire proceeds from Louise's insurance policy to the foundation...I know."

"Anyway, I was visiting old friends in North Carolina and had stopped at my old town bar. A local news station did a fluff piece on how an abandoned town vanished into a giant sinkhole. Of interest were the two dozen or so local farmers and residents who said that Shannonburg was 'beamed away by aliens.'"

CJ snickered. "That is actually true, but I don't know all the details. Can we move onto something else? The Shannonburg Event doesn't really concern you and me at the moment."

"I understand," I nodded. I chewed on the new information and filed it away. "I want a date with you, CJ. Something other than you munching on my uneaten french fries."

She laughed, the sweetest sound I had heard in years. "Let's go sing together. That is certainly a way to bind us or split us."

"I know that you are a good singer. I can hear it in your voice."

"Really?" She pulled back and punched me in the arm. "It takes two to tango."

"Let's go to my club, then. I know you have the address."

The Tahoe dropped us at the front. My bouncer, Geoff, his mouth dropped to the floor when he saw who I was with. I gave him a wink and he pulled open the door for us.

"I love your lobby trap," CJ waved around to all the signs hanging on the walls. "Especially that one." She pointed to the sign that read, 'No Taylor Swift songs in the karaoke catalog.'

"Do you know why?" I asked.

"Yes."

The door on the other end of the lobby trap opened and we went into the club proper. It was still shaking, even at zero hour. The client tables were set in an amphitheater-type setting, and the sight lines were set well enough that the higher tables couldn't see much more than the stage without being caught gawking. Sign number four: 'Don't try to spy on the other guests. Stalkers will be ejected without a refund.' It worked well, the bouncers could always tell when people who knew each other talked across the barrier and were offered adjoining tables if the clients wanted to sit together.

CJ seemed surprised when I didn't lead her to the manager's table at the top of the amphitheatre. Instead I took her to my table on one of the middle decks, my secondary table where I actually sat on my 'normal' days.

My manager came up to the table and sat down two glasses of my favorite brew and the song selection tablet. Juanita was a Brazilian princess who knew numbers like nobody's business. "God, boss, when you finally bring in a date you went to the top of the A-list!"

CJ blushed. If blushing were a sound, hers was a scream.

"CJ, this is Juanita, my manager. Chicago Jane, Juanita Fontes."

"I thought you were the manager," CJ looked at me as she shook hands with Juanita.

"Most people do, sweetie," Juanita said.

"I don't have to say that the staff shouldn't be Facebooking or Tweeting CJ's presence here."

"Boss, everyone values their job too much to even think about that," Juanita nodded. "Cantrell MB just came out with a fresh batch. Drink up."

"You're very high-handed," CJ commented after Juanita walked away.

"Sign number two: 'Be polite, don't take pictures of anybody you don't know personally.' Sign number eighteen: 'Social media is only for people you are actually social with.'"

"Sign number twenty-four: 'MYOB,'" CJ added. "Then it goes on to explain what that means for the person reading it."

"Exactly. I want to protect my customers from the tabloids, so I get repeat business. If they decide to take the stage, that's fair game. I don't really enforce that rule for the singers, but sometimes I make a call and have my tech DMCA the web postings."

"Thank you," she reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. "I don't have to worry about the tabloids in my town. They are only on call here."

"I don't understand."

"If we wake up together, I will tell you why. Deal?"

"Deal."

"What did Juanita mean about 'values their job?'" CJ asked.

"You've had people stalking me and don't know that I'm a partial owner of this club or my employees get paid really well?" I countered. She shook her head. "My average assistant makes at least three hundred in tips a night, more on weekends. If I go out of business, they naturally lose their jobs."

"That's pretty much a given, I suppose. But you make it sound different, I'm sure there is a reason for that," CJ mused. She took a sip of the beer. "Goddess, that's smooth."

"Yes, it is," I smiled and took a swig of mine.

"Cantrell MB? I missed that too."

"It was an investment. A small-batch micro-brewery that I helped get off the ground. My only stipulation was that I get five percent for the club. That was five percent of their original output, not what they can make now. They don't make small batches anymore, not with all the success that their brew has afforded them."

"Yeah, I'd pay a premium for that," CJ smacked her lips. "I've always been a wine girl myself."

"One would think you were a water girl," I teased. "The way you snagged my water in that diner."

"You didn't have any soda," she gave me a strawberry.

"I didn't hurt your feelings when I brushed you off?"

"No, I expected it. I've been lining up snappy comebacks, I would have worn you down."

"Up until yesterday, I wasn't ready to let go. Then you came in that little greasy spoon, all sassy-mouth and self-assured, and I realized I liked that. You want to know something else?"

"What's that? No mind-reading, I promise."

"Tomorrow, and every day after that, I was going to go back there. Just to see if you showed up again. I did not expect to see you at that banquet," I admitted.

"Nice to see that I caught your attention," CJ smiled. "What are we singing?"

"Snacks first," I said.

"We just got done eating," she protested.

"Fine. More snacks for me."

My assistant, I didn't call my waitresses 'servers,' brought a plate of baby meatballs over to us. I speared one with a provided fork and popped it into my mouth. "Thanks, Ally," I smiled.

"Sign one: 'Treat the people who serve you well.' Then something about all of them being assistant managers so that the dissatisfied customer doesn't need to ask for a manager. I missed that earlier, when you said your 'assistants.'"

"That's right," I nodded. I speared another meatball and gave her a smile before I popped it into my mouth. "Hmm."

CJ finally took my challenge and speared a meatball with the other fork. She squinted at me, then popped it into her mouth. She chewed it slowly, then her eyes got wide. "Shit! This is like nothing I've ever tasted before. It's delicious!"

"Guests pay a hundred dollars a plate for those," I said.

"It's worth it," CJ agreed, snagging another meatball. "This is like heaven!"

I chuckled. "Of course it is. You don't know how many times people have tried to poach my chefs. They are very loyal."

There was a reason my people were so loyal. When the last recession hit, the first things that got dropped were the service jobs. People don't go out to eat and drink and sing when they're trying to conserve money. We lost a lot of business, and my people were suffering. I sat them down and cut a deal.

I would pay their base out-of-pocket until the recession let up or I went bankrupt. They agreed and promised me that they would try to find a way to pay me back. The dip didn't turn out to be as long as everyone thought, and business picked up again. When they tried to pay me back, I took that money and invested it into the club. I even bought out an adjacent part of the building and expanded the club into it. For the most part, those men and women were still with me.

"Benji. Can I still call you Benji? Was that a pet name?"

Ben-Ben. That's what Louise called me. 'Benji' was passe for her.

"Yes," I nodded. "Call me Benji."

Her face melted. "I find that I know very little about you."

"How's that?"

"Benji, I don't know. Some of the things I've read about you in the reports..."

"Stalker."

"Mostly I just kept track of what you were doing," CJ countered.

"Not who I was doing?" I raised an eyebrow at her.

She gave me a raised eyebrow in return. "Yes, I kept track of that as well. Maybe I was dismayed that you weren't doing anybody...that you stayed alone."

"It wasn't for lack of options," I ventured.

"You did have options," CJ admitted.

"What else did those reports say?"

"You're shy, reclusive, kind of like what I saw of you in the banquet hall. But here, I see you in your element, you are strong and slightly arrogant."

"But did those reports tell you I was a good singer?" I asked.

"Of course they did. But how did they get it so wrong?"

"Who?"

"Everybody!"

"That woman at the banquet, the woman in the green dress, I've seen her before. I've seen her here, alot."

"Yes. That was Marti, one of Kyle's guardians, she's been keeping an eye on you for me. I've been really busy making movies and haven't had too much time to stalk you myself. It's not surprising that Marti left things out, she left a lot of things out, little pixie," CJ fumed. "Let's talk about something else."

"Okay." I let out a chuckle.

She snagged another meatball, leaving one on the plate. "What was that for? That chuckle?"

"Let's talk about something else." I got the last meatball. "Did you always like singing? Or was it just something to keep up because you thought you might get a singing role in a movie?"

"I've loved singing since I was in choir in middle school." She reached for the tablet, but I caught her hand. "What?"

"When you pick up that tablet, anything you select will automatically be forwarded to the sound booth and we will be bumped to the front of the queue. "Sign seven."

"'Management reserves the right to sing with anyone who takes the stage,'" CJ recited. "Okay, I understand."

"Yes, you do."

We talked past two hours plus fifteen, the traffic holding steady but the quality of singers on stage fading a bit. CJ and I agreed that there was too much alcohol flowing in their blood. Finally I picked up the tablet and started scrolling through the songs for her to see.

"You have Garth in there?" She asked in disbelief. "I love his music!"

"I like the imported stuff," I admitted.

Finally, I found a duet. 'When We Were Young.' I showed her the tablet. "What say you?"

"It could work," she nodded. "Needs a tweak or two."

"Agreed. There's too much Sierra and not enough Alex in there. Let's change it up a little bit."

"You seem to know the song. I'll sing the lead and you add where you will," CJ said.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

My tablet was actually the 'superior tablet,' I made the selection and suddenly CJ and I were at the front of the line. I held out my hand and led her to the stage. A few minutes later, the women singing a 'Carry On My Wayward Son' karaoke of an actual cover, finished their track. I pointed to the table containing the ear monitors. "Lefty or righty. Don't worry, we sanitize them nightly."

"Sign seventeen," CJ picked a left-ear monitor off the table. "'Don't worry about it, everything is clean.' Testing, testing." I knew my technician, his name pronounced 'Shiny' gave her something more than a call-back because CJ smiled.

"Shiny?" I asked.

"You're good, boss," I heard in my right ear.

"How?" CJ asked. "Never mind."

We took the stage, CJ taking a moment to find the prompters. There were actually eight monitors, one model lower than the most expensive teleprompters available. CJ chose one, and I waved my hand for the song to begin.

After we were done, we got applause. It was actually a standing ovation from my patrons. "Encore!" They prodded.

I pulled CJ's mike down. "Frozen, Christina Novelli?"

"Know it," she confirmed.

"Shiny?" I asked.

"On the list, boss," he replied. That meant the song was on the list of tracks that could be sung at my club.

"Go."

We sang the song, and even though I knew it was a solo and not well-known in the US, the crowd still gave us applause. We made our way back to my table, one of my assistants standing guard. "She says she is an original artist, boss."

I looked over her shoulder, and sure enough Essie Cone was sitting at my table. "We're good, Ally. Thanks."

"Essie!" CJ ran over to the table. "LTNS girl!"

I rolled my eyes at the abbreviation. You were only supposed to do that in text messages. "Hi, Benjamin Cantrell," I offered my hand. "I liked the original too."

Essie shook my hand, "You two did well. I wish Garth could have heard that."

"He still can," I said. "When we were singing, the songs were mastered."

"Huh?" CJ asked.

"How many tracks?" Essie asked. "Is it flat?"

She meant all the tracks mastered together, like it would be on a MP3 or on a stream. "Four, no, six, master tracks. The channels are each of us singing, the input stereo tracks and the output tracks of us singing and the music. We don't have the studio masters here. Sorry."

"That's interesting," Essie gave us a half-smile.

"Those songs are only released to the singers and only if they ask for them. "They are deleted from the server within twenty-four hours," I said.

"Why?" Essie asked.

"My wife, my late wife, she loved karaoke. She said it was a shame that we could never listen to ourselves, to revel in the good and make fun of the bad," I replied. "That's why the masters are only available to the actual singers."

"That's very sweet," CJ took my hand. "Is that why you put it in?"

"Well, it's also a big earner," I chuckled. "I had to foot the bill for the computer, but my co-owners said that I would get all the profit."

"Can I get a copy?" Essie asked.

"Shiny, prep a copy of the master tracks. One of the original artists has requested it."

"So, thank you," Essie pulled me into a hug. "I will tell Garth to send you a copy of the remix, if he does one."

CJ smiled. "I'd love that."

"Shiny, delete the performance when you're done," I ordered. When Essie and CJ gave me the 'WTF?' look, I offered this: "My agreement with the labels stipulates destruction of the performance tracks if one copy is made or after twenty-four hours. I do not want to lose the rights to the tracks that I have."

Essie nodded. "I know, labels can be assholes sometimes. I feel you."

"Thank you," I nodded.

"Just how many tracks do you have?" CJ asked.

"Over three hundred ninety-five thousand," I admitted. "I'm missing one hundred twenty-one."

"Sign nineteen," CJ explained to Essie.

Essie giggled. "Yeah, I understand that one." She gave CJ a pat on the arm. "Listen girl, I'm gonna go. Take good care of her, Benjamin."

"I will," I nodded.

"She's a good friend," CJ said after Essie walked off.

"Yeah, I gathered. I'll bet she's a very active texter."

CJ rolled her eyes. "I want to do another song."

"Which one?" I asked.

"Africa."

"The Weezer cover," I teased. You sing the lead."

She gave my hand a squeeze. "You've got a deal."

The crowd had thinned a bit, but we got applause anyways. Instead of going back to the table I found the assistant who had served me and CJ and gave her the tip. It was understood that the food was always on my house but I still gave a tip

CJ stopped near the exit door, where our 'certificate wall' was located. On it were all the certificates the club had gotten over the years for donating to The Pink Foundation. The most prominent one, of course, was the certificate I had just received at the banquet.

"We all donate," I said. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

"It's one of the few things that my people got right," she admitted. "When I get back, I've got to learn you all over again."

"Back?"

"This stay in Silvertown is just a rest stop between movies," she sighed. "Three months on-site in New Zealand, another three weeks in Hawaii."

A half-stretch Lincoln limo pulled up outside the club, Geoff stepped up to open the door for CJ, then thought better of it. I opened the door, casting a look over my shoulder at him. He had a smile on his face, thinking I was going to get lucky tonight.

I slipped into the limo, almost sitting on CJ because she was occupying my side of the seat. She giggled and scooted over so I could sit down.

Once I was comfortable, she quickly straddled me, pulling my face to hers and kissing all over before she met my lips. We made out for what seemed like an hour, her not complaining that my hands sought her breasts and even allowing me to pull up her shirt to do so.

My cock, which had been hard since our first kiss, was straining against my jeans. It didn't help that CJ would randomly grind her pelvis on it. When I tried to lift her off me she shook her head.

"I don't want our first time to be in a car, Benji. I want to be laid down in a bed and fucked like a lady."

"You certainly don't talk like a lady," I chuckled.

CJ got an aghast look on her face. "The use of profanity doesn't mean that I lack the ability to be a lady, kind sir."

"God, CJ. If you keep rubbing on my cock like that, I'm gonna cum right here."

"Goddess, Benji. Gaia wouldn't like you confusing her gender."

"What's she going to do?" My voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Throw a lightning bolt at me?"

"Only sorcerers and wizards can do that. She can't give normal wicca that ability."

"You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Gaia has all kinds of powers which she imparts to her children. She even gave Kyle the ability to give a woman a baby if he kissed her for five minutes."

"Is that some kind of spell or something?"

"No, she came from her garden and gave it to him in person," CJ replied. "I'm sure you will see her soon enough."

"So, gaia is an actual being? She can do magic, like healing people?"

CJ's eyes got wide. "Gaia does not interfere in the course of normal human history."

"She could have healed Louise! Please get off me."

She slipped off my lap and sat in the opposing seat. "I felt the same way about my mother, and I was told the same thing."

"You didn't see Louise waste away!" I was awfully close to crying.

"No, but I did watch my mother fight cancer for over a year!" CJ countered.

"Louise went from being healthy one morning, to having advanced metastatic breast cancer the next evening. It ate her up, the cancer, and every single organ in her body was infected within a week! It took two whole days on her brain."

"Benji, I didn't know."

"Let me out."

CJ slapped the divider behind her, and it switched lanes and came to a stop. "You have something else to say?"

"Louise was pregnant." CJ gasped. "You say your goddess doesn't interfere in normal human history? Well, whatever happened to Louise was NOT normal."

"I'm sorry," CJ said.

The door nearest me came open and I made a move for it. CJ put her hand on my arm to stop me, but I shook my head. "Leave me alone. Every one of you, leave me alone. I don't want to see a witch, wicca, warlock, wizard, sorcerer or whatever within a hundred meters of me. Ever."

"Why are you being like this?" CJ sobbed.

"I told you." I got out of the limo and looked back in. CJ was crying, and I didn't want to pile on. "Where's my tux?"

"Changing room. I'll have it dropped off."

"Donate it to the Goodwill. I'm not going to need it anymore." I didn't even bother to look to see who had opened my door, but it got shut and the car pulled away.

It wasn't the best area for a walk, but I needed to cool my jets a bit. The flower planters set every thirty meters or so were a curiosity. While everything around me seemed to be tagged or at least spray-painted on, the planters were pristine. And they were alive with flowers of every color. The types shifted from planter to planter, but they were beautiful.