“He’ll indulge me.” The Wade she had known until three years ago before they shifted the balance of their agent-artist relationship and married had never refused her. She stroked the baby’s back. “He wants to keep me productive.”

“But focused. No distractions.” Leslie brought the tall glass with vitamin-fortified juice to Nola's mouth. He raised his watch to her eye level. “We’d better get going.”

She glanced at him. Starting as her choreographer, Leslie had removed, one by one, the stylist, chef, hairdresser and the theatrical makeup artist who stood in the way of his artistic vision. “I’d hate to start bickering with you. I hope you’ll get over your shock and take my side,” she said.

“When it comes to your fighting with Wade, I’m from the UN.”

“We don’t fight—”

Leslie's diamond studs sparkled as he looked toward the ceiling, addressing a divine entity. “I thought making the Olympic gymnastics team was exciting enough.” He addressed Nola again. “The maid’s waiting for the baby.”

There was a knock on the door. Leslie opened it, and when Jean-Claude burst in, the emotional high of the evening blew back in. Nola's body remembered being the instrument that had absorbed and synthesized all her musicians’ sounds.

“I want to tell you again how fantastic you were tonight.” Jean-Claude kissed both her cheeks. “You make people homesick for something they have never had.” His eyes traveled down her robe and stopped at her bare feet. “You’re not dressed? Ginger, we’re all waiting for you!”

She bounced Lulu as she replied, “Hold your horses, Uncle Jean-Claude. Have you met Lulu yet?”

A smirk plastered his narrow, angular face. “Who cares? They’re a dime a million here. Let’s go.”

Lulu’s bray was like the bleat of a wounded lamb. Nola shot Jean-Claude a warning look and cooed comforting sounds to the baby. “I need to settle her down—”

“I’m getting bad crazy.” Jean-Claude’s bony face grew taut and white. “You have dozens of people working for you, plus a whole hotel staff! Tonight’s the biggest night not only of your career, but the careers of the musicians I’ve nurtured so that you could have the best band in the world—”

“Chill out. I’ll be down in a minute—”

His large ears, sticking out through his unkempt hair, turned crimson. “It’s our night, and you’re ruining it! Our families are having block parties, with second cousins and neighbors’ grandmas watching us on TV, jumping out of their skins with pride. And you wipe-ass for some orphan?”

Nola's fury tore through her voice. “What have you been snorting?”

“Since when have you become one of those chicks with runaway hormones?” He yanked Nola's gown off the wall hook and shook a finger near the baby’s face. “Send it to the pound.”

“Get out!” she yelled, as her hand covered Lulu's head.