Sins of the Father (32 page)

Delilah smiled in agreement. Her daughters had brought the entire audience to its
feet with their rendition of the old standard. They made her proud. Her only disappointment
was that Rocky wasn’t here to share in this moment. He’d been the first to recognize
their daughters’ talent. And he’d been their biggest supporter and promoter. She also
wished Tommy could be here, but she understood and agreed with his reasons for staying
away.

The houselights came up then, and the crowd began a rousing applause, followed by
chants of the names of the most popular acts. “Delilah’s Daughters” rang out in the
midst of about five other names, and Delilah’s eyes grew damp with unshed tears of
joy. Her daughters had developed a large fan base. Rocky would have loved it.

The skinny emcee, Morris Williams, came out onto the stage. “Are y’all having a good
time?” he asked the crowd.

The yeahs and yays were so loud, Delilah almost covered her ears. Almost. She was
one of the ones yelling.

“Well, the time you’ve been waiting for is upon us.”

Delilah’s heart raced as the crowd grew quiet.

“We’re going to select three finalists from tonight’s ten semifinalists,” Morris continued.
“My only regret is that all ten acts won’t make it to the finals. So before we announce
the final three, let’s show some love to all of our semifinalists.”

The crowd roared in cheers and applause.

As Morris introduced each semifinal act, they came on the stage, took a bow, and then
went to their designated place on the dais. It seemed to take him forever to get to
Delilah’s Daughters.

“From the lovely city of Birmingham, Alabama, we have Delilah’s Daughters,” he finally
said.

An explosion of applause rang out as her three daughters—Veronica and Roxanne, all
long and lean like their father, and Alisha, her baby girl who, like her, was not
as long and a bit on the thick side—joined the other finalists onstage. Tears welled
in Delilah’s eyes. She was so proud of them—beautiful, talented, and kind. That was
the way she and Rocky had raised them. They had taught their girls that their beauty
and talents were gifts from God and they should treat them accordingly. Egos were
kept in check in the Monroe household. Rocky had seen to it. And after he died, she’d
taken on the job.

As the applause for the tenth and last semifinal act died down, Delilah’s anxiety
rose.

Morris held up an oversized envelope. “In this envelope,” he said, “I have the names
of the three acts that have made it to the finals.”

A hush came over the audience as he lowered the envelope and then opened it. He took
a deep breath. “Our first finalist is Blue Heart.”

The audience erupted into another round of applause as the country band from Nashville
stepped forward, hugging and slapping each other on the back with joy. Delilah had
to admit that they had been good and deserved to be finalists.

She held her breath as Morris read the name of the second finalist.

“Our second finalist is Annie Jones.”

“What?” Delilah said aloud, caught herself, and gave a quick prayer of thanks that
the cheers of Annie’s fans masked her outburst. How had the cross between Madonna
and Carrie Underwood become a finalist? There had to be some mistake.

“I can’t believe it either,” Dexter shouted in her ear. “It must have been her skimpy
outfits that won over the judges and the voting audience. She dressed worse than Lindsay
Lohan on drugs.”

Delilah didn’t say another word. She began to pray in earnest. “I don’t believe you
brought us this far to have us go home empty-handed,” she told the Lord. “Delilah’s
Daughters will be the third finalist. I believe it and receive it.”

Another hush came across the audience.

“The last finalist is . . .”

Delilah held her breath and squeezed her son-in-law’s hand.

“. . . Delilah’s Daughters.”

Alisha eased behind her older sisters and away from the flash of the cameras. She
didn’t like press conferences. Too much light, too many people, too much crosstalk.
She’d much rather be sitting on a couch talking to Oprahor the ladies of
The View
than dealing with this circus.

“Roxanne,” a reporter yelled out to her oldest sister. “How does it feel to be a finalist?”

As her oldest sister took a step forward and flashed a smile that rivaled the cameras
in its intensity, Alisha felt a bit of envy. Roxanne’s experience as a shipboard entertainer
for Dreamland Cruise Lines was paying off big-time. “It’s our destiny,” Roxanne said.
“I only wish our father were here to share in the joy. He always believed in us, believed
that our gifts were meant to be shared with the world.”

Alisha reached for Veronica’s hand as Roxanne spoke of their father. She held on tight,
easing a bit from behind Veronica. Her father wouldn’t want her hiding behind her
sisters. “Don’t hide your light under a bushel, Alisha,” he’d tell her when he saw
her withdrawing into herself. She eased to Veronica’s side.

“What about you, Veronica?” another reporter yelled.

Veronica, always comfortable as the center of attention, stepped forward, hands on
her hips. “I’ll show you how I feel.”Then she twirled in a combination holy dance-slash-Beyoncé
booty-shake that made the reporters laugh and the flashbulbs go crazy. “That’s how
I feel,” she said.

Alisha sucked in her breath, hoping the reporters wouldn’t call on her. But she knew
they would. They always did. It was as if they felt sorry for her and didn’t want
to exclude her. She wished she could tell them she didn’t mind being excluded.

“Your turn, Alisha,” another reporter called out.

Seeing her father’s encouraging face in her mind, she said, “We love music, and we’re
grateful for the opportunity to share our talent with the world. We thank
Sing for America
for giving us this chance.”

She felt relief when she stepped back. Though her response had been boring compared
to her sisters’ responses, at least she hadn’t made a fool out of herself.

A few more questions and the press conference was over. The girls headed to their
dressing room. Alisha was the first to drop down in a chair. “I’m glad that’s over,”
she said. “I thought we were going to be standing there all night.”

Roxanne gave her a light kick in the shin. “Please, girl. We were only up there for
about fifteen minutes.”

Alisha didn’t believe it. It had to have been an hour or more.

“You did fine,” Veronica said. “You always do. I don’t know why you let those things
bother you so much.”

Alisha rolled her eyes. “Easy for the booty-shaker to say. I don’t even believe you
did that.”

Roxanne laughed. “I believe it. It was so like her.”

Veronica repeated her booty-shake. “Don’t hate,” she said. “Appreciate. Anyway, that
was a holy dance. I can’t believe you two didn’t recognize it. Heathens!”

Alisha tossed a pillow from the couch at Veronica. “You’re the heathen. And a married
one at that.”

Veronica laughed. “Hey, how do you think I got Dexter to the altar?” She shook her
booty again. “That shake works with boyfriends, husbands,
and
reporters. That shake is going to help us win this thing.”

Alisha sat up straighter in her chair. “Do you really think we have a shot?”

“We have more than a shot,” Roxanne said. “This is our moment, Alisha. Can’t you feel
it?”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling.” Alisha sank back into the couch. “I just wish we
could perform one of my original songs.”

Roxanne sat next to her and put her arms around her shoulder. “I know you do, sis,
but I think Momma’s right. This contest is as much about showmanship as it is about
talent. To get votes we have to give the audience what they want. And what they seem
to want are familiar songs with our special twist on them. And nobody puts a twist
on a popular tune better than you, Alisha. The songs we’ve performed in this contest
may not have been Alisha originals, but each one of them had your stamp all over it.
Don’t worry so. Hold on to your original songs for our first album. We’re going to
need them.”

“I can see it now,” Veronica added, using her hands to frame the headlines of a newspaper.
“’Delilah’s Daughters debut at number one on the
Billboard
charts.’ Our first single to hit number one will be one you’ve written. Just hold
on, sis,” she said to Alisha. “Your day is coming.”

Roxanne got up, laughing. “Please,” she said. “
Our
day is now. Delilah’s Daughters is about each of us using our gifts and creating
something uniquely special together. That’s our trademark. We’re not Delilah’s Daughters
without all three of us and what we bring. And when we start singing your original
songs, our brand will only be enhanced. Be patient, sis.”

“You’re right,” Alisha said. She saw no benefit in continuing this conversation with
her sisters. They didn’t understand how much her music, her lyrics, her beats, yearned
to be set free. Her music was self-expression, something she’d had to suppress each
day of the last three years she’d worked at McKinley and Thomas Advertising, the biggest
ad agency in the Southeast. The pay was good, but writing jingles for cars and sports
drinks didn’t exactly lend itself to self-expression. The job had been a godsend,
though, when she’d first landed it. On the heels of her father’s death, she’d needed
a break from the music of the heart, and M&T provided it. But that wasn’t the case
any longer. Now she needed more. Even singing with her sisters didn’t fulfill her.
She was only in the group because their parents, their dad especially, had wanted
their daughters to perform together. She’d be as content, if not moreso, writing lyrics
that others would sing.

Things were different with her sisters. As a student in a graduate dance program,
Veronica got to explore the depths of her talent. The more she expressed herself,
the more she excelled in her program. Roxanne was in a similar situation. While being
an entertainer for Dreamland Cruise Lines didn’t sound like a big deal, it was pretty
close to being a Las Vegas act. DCLtreated Roxanne like royalty. They recognized and
appreciated her talent. Not only was she able to pick the songs she sang, but she
even got her sisters in on the act. Veronica had choreographed a few routines for
Roxanne, and every now and then Alisha had given her a song to test-drive with her
Dreamland audience.

“Where’s Momma?” Alisha asked, tiring of her personal pity party. “Shouldn’t she have
gotten back here by now?”

“You know Momma,” Roxanne said. “She’s probably out there wheeling and dealing with
some unsuspecting reporter or record producer. I wouldn’t be surprised if we ended
up with a feature article in a major magazine or a record contract with a major label.
Momma Delilah learned at the feet of the master.”

Veronica nodded. “I want this for Momma as much as I want it for us. I haven’t seen
her so excited and alive since Daddy died. This contest has been good for all of us.”

Alisha agreed, but with a caveat: it had been better for some than for others. Living
the life of a
real
musician the past several weeks had only made her see the emptiness of the life she’d
been living before. There was no way she could go back to her old life now.