The High Notes: A Novel(24)

She hung out in Boy’s room for a while, and then she went to bed. It was comforting to have him there. She would have been lonely without him and was glad he had come. They always had something to talk about, and their silences were comfortable too.

Iris got up early the next morning, and went to the address they had given her for her hair. She walked in and they assigned her to a stylist who took one look at her hair and laughed.

“Oh, darling, welcome to the Big Apple, let’s get rid of that alley cat look right away, shall we?”

“That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see how I looked as a brunette, it wasn’t so good.”

“Most of the women I see are brunettes who want to be blondes. This is a whole new look. A lot of the brown looks like it’s faded.” It had been a good disguise while she needed it, but now she wanted to be herself. The stylist decided that the best solution was to bleach the whole thing back to her natural color, which was nearly platinum blond, and then she wouldn’t have to cut the streaky dyed parts. And when it grew out, the dyed blond would blend with her natural color. It took three hours, but when he finished, it was a huge success. She was a blonde again, the exact color she’d been all her life.

“I had no idea it would be such a mess when I did it,” she admitted to him. “I did it myself.”

“I could tell,” he said. She gave him a big tip, and felt like herself again as she walked back to the hotel, past street vendors selling hats, purses, jewelry, food. She walked into the hotel, took the elevator up, and knocked on Boy’s room. He opened the door quickly and looked relieved when he saw her, and then his eyes widened when he saw her hair.

“Wow, you look gorgeous. Hello, Jean Harlow…or is it Marilyn? Is that your natural color?”

“All my life.” She beamed at him. “He had to bleach it to get it back to my natural color, but this is it. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“It was worth waiting for.” He smiled at her. “Have you called the guy yet?” She shook her head. She was scared. She still hadn’t told Boy who it was. He assumed it was some manager she’d heard about from a friend.

“I think I’ll call him tomorrow. He’s probably out to lunch now,” she said, procrastinating.

“Chicken,” he said with a grin. “Want to play tourist for a day?” She smiled broadly and nodded.

“I’d love it.”

“Great, let’s get lunch and go to the Statue of Liberty.” They left the hotel, excited to have a day off to explore New York.



* * *



—

It had been a month since Iris had escaped the shackles of Glen Hendrix, and no trace of her had turned up. Glen had complained several times to Scott Campbell, who hadn’t found out anything. There was no sign of her. Looking for Iris anywhere in the country was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. He had no idea where to look.

One of Glen’s scouts finally called him the day Boy and Iris were discovering New York. The scout was in Denver, and was one of his best guys.

“I’m not sure it’s her. I was in Jackson Hole last weekend. I went to a restaurant that’s popular and they have a setup for live music they get from time to time. Everybody was talking about a band from Nashville that played here for a few weeks. Two women and three guys. Apparently, they were great, and one of the girls had a killer voice. People are still talking about them. They left about a week ago.”

“Where did they go?” Glen sounded tense.

“Back to Nashville,” the scout in Denver responded. “The girls in the band didn’t match her description. The one with the voice was a brunette. The other girl was young, and kind of blond. Apparently the dark-haired one can hit notes no one had heard in these parts ever.”

“That’s her. I know it. Maybe she dyed her hair.” It occurred to the scout that Glen sounded desperate to find her, as though she had committed a heinous crime and he wanted revenge. He couldn’t figure out why Glen was so determined to find her.

“Well, if it’s her, she’s in Nashville by now. But the owner of the bar said they came from Nashville, so I’m not sure it’s her.”

“Maybe she hooked up with them once she was there. The bitch owes me another year, and I don’t care if you have to drag her back in handcuffs, I want her back on tour.” People had been asking for her by name, and several people had bought their tickets because of her, and wanted their money back when they discovered she was no longer on the tour. She had made a name for herself in the last nine years. Not a big name, but in the small towns across America, they knew who she was, and wanted to see her again. They all talked about her incredible voice. “I’ll call my guys in Nashville,” he said to the Denver scout and hung up without bothering to thank him for the information. He didn’t waste time with the niceties with anyone, and never thanked anyone if he didn’t have to. He figured they owed him. He had no fans, but he paid his scouts well for finding him new talent he could hire at bargain rates.

Glen called both his scouts in Nashville and told them to be on the lookout for her. Then he called Scott Campbell.

“I think she was in Jackson Hole until last week, playing at a restaurant there. She may be a brunette by now, but it sounds like her. No one has a voice like that. It’s what people remember about her.” He was sorry now that he hadn’t made an album with her, while he’d had the chance. He didn’t think he had to. And he didn’t want to make her feel important. But there was no question in his mind now. She had been the draw on the tour she was on. He hadn’t realized that before, and it made him even angrier that she left.