The Songbird
Copyright© 2025 by Charlie for now
Chapter 12
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 12 - In need of a ride back to her hometown, a songbird reaches out and finds not only a ride, but a really nice man, and then a bit later, a love so strong it withstands the tests of time and addition, or multiplication, or... Anyway, Charlie was able to help, so he did, then the songbird filled his life with music, and love, and… Let’s just say she added ‘lots of love’. He was introduced to the music world, complete with singers and a lot of the people that made the singers keep singing.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Romantic BiSexual Fiction Polygamy/Polyamory
We spent over two months carting Alicia and Janelle around, meeting up with Willie and Jack and the equipment van, which had mysteriously always been emptied out onto a stage in some out of the way piano bar. A couple of them were in big hotels, but for the most part they were small downtown old style cocktail bar places where it was common for a piano, a guitar, and a bass to accompany a young woman crooning out vocals and providing dancing music for the very small masses.
On these occasions when the music started, it was an internationally famous pop star with one of her backup singers and a Hammond Pro Dual SKX piano with a Leslie 3300. The keyboard would assist with background percussions and such, which, although synthetic, they were very low keyed and did not detract from the music being presented to the crowds. Their vocals were piped through a top notch Ascend tower system. It was all about the songbird and the melody.
The public was not aware, prior to the show, that it would be Alicia playing. She just went out at the time the venue’s live music normally started and fired up her little performance. The crowds caught on, generally a song or two into the set, since someone would recognize her voice, or her face, then the word would spread in the establishment.
For the most part, there was no dancing, no movement, no sounds of any kind until a song or two was over, then the group would burst into applause and vocal tribute, providing us the feedback we were needing but in a much more positive light than Alicia and Cindy were expecting.
One of the fill songs was going to be a massive hit. It wasn’t just one or two venues where that was the indication. It was all of them. The possibility of having six or seven songs charting off of one album would be a pie in the sky dream. Having it actually happen would be a grand accomplishment.
After those two months, and a week or so, and about thirty-five appearances, we were sitting at home, talking about the success of the experiment while engineers were putting together an album copy of the tour, taking the best performance of each song and putting them together. There were going to be two albums cut from the series of songs, one live and one studio album. There was also talk of an MGM Plus production of the little live shows on the streaming service. I could see that happening since Taylor had done so well with the last couple of them she produced.
The doorbell rang, Consuela answered it, receiving a small flat document package from a FedEx driver. It had a Nashville hospital’s return address. Inside was an envelope with a Nashville funeral home’s return address. Inside that was a note, printed, again on a generic laser printer. “Check the envelopes and make reservations. We’re not done with you yet. We won’t be until you are all gone. Best wishes, Jackson, Monica, and Lance.”
A shudder ran through me, since it, too, could have been laced with fentanyl or any number of other toxic materials. Whoever sent it wanted us to sweat for a while though. A call to the FBI and their contact with a profiler back east indicated we might be on the right track.
They tried to trace the package down and determine who might have sent it, but met with either a dead end, or someone who had no relationship with us or anyone in Alicia’s past and was confident enough to lie about it to the agents investigating the case.
Their best guess, the Special Agent in Charge of the Nashville office told us, was that someone probably snuck it into the outbound mail at the hospital and it was handled by their mailroom, just like every other piece of mail. The address and the name Broderick are known to the hospital, so there wasn’t a hiccup there. No one bothered to double check the reason for the mailing. There were no cameras in the administration area of the hospital, so there was no way of determining who that was, nor who they worked for. I say were, because before my people left, they said a couple of IT guys were in the area installing cameras. The administrator never considered the mailroom and admin area a threat location. Going through all of the other camera recordings for the last three days, the time before that package went out, showed nothing out of the ordinary and no one of specific interest. A boondoggle at best.
So, there we were again, very possibly at the mercy of someone with a grudge over the deaths of the three idiots that got themselves killed by our hands.
I called Mike Bartholomew.
Mike would be able to meet with us at the ranch the next afternoon. He asked us to gather up all the information we could about anything suspicious in the last six months. Taking out the Malone family was obviously NOT a completed task.
Mike told us he had an employee, very good with computers, and data, and records, and all the things people like to do to hide data and records. He’d put Sheila on it and let her run. In the meantime, we’d have company, just like before, for the measly sum of twelve thousand dollars a week. He was giving us a discount since we were frequent flyers on the Bart Security machine. He laughed. I smiled. I was the only one.
The money wasn’t an issue. We had that, and it would be a wise investment in our security. The issue was that we needed the help. Someone was out to get Alicia, primarily, but also her mother, and last, but not least, her husband. Not a comfortable position to be in, by any means.
Mike apologized for the levity, but was told there was no reason to do so by the matriarch of the ranch. “Mike, please don’t be sorry for doing something like that. Laughter is the best medicine, after all. Just, please, take care of the threat to my daughter and protect my family. Please.”
“I will, Mizz Broderick. I promise. I’ll call tomorrow with an update.”
The fact that he came in and out on a helicopter surprised us all. Business must be good.
We got updates, empty ones, until three days later when Mike called with information Sheila had uncovered. Jackson and Monica had an illegitimate son, born of an incestuous relationship and put up for adoption. His name was Victor Plessey, and he was in Nashville. He’d stayed at different hotels each night, never making reservations, but signing in with an assumed name, yet using either his credit card or one of Ursula Jackson’s, alternating them.
Mike paid him a visit, and during the conversation, called in the FBI to assist with the questioning. Sitting in the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express, Mike asked him, “What are you planning to do while you’re here in town?”
Evidently, there is some truth to the rumors that inbreeding can cause mental disorders and other issues regarding cognizance, and of course, common sense.
“Well, Mr. Mike, I am going to help my Auntie. She showed me some documentation indicating that I am the son of her husband and his sister. She’s really nice to me, and has given me a credit card, and a car, and some money for nice clothing, and taken me out to nice places to eat.”
“Victor, what are you going to help her with, exactly.”
“Well, she said...” That was when the FBI walked in and asked what was going on. Mike explained it all to the responding special agent at which time he advised Victor Plessey he was under investigation for threatening a public figure, stalking, and threats of violence.
He read Victor his rights, and after he was booked into the Nashville Metro Police Department, he was sprung by a lawyer, on his own recognizance.
Mike was livid. The mental case, known as Victor Plessey, was about to tell him exactly what was going on, but circumstances involving civil rights and political correctness and other trivial bullshit ended the discussion. Once the lawyer was there, he was told to shut up, and hurried out, not giving any information at all about anything concerning the help he was providing for his ‘auntie’.
There wasn’t much else we could do but watch and be careful. Thankfully we were on the frequent flyer program and getting a discount for Mike’s services.
As soon as it was, merely a week really, after the little parade of shows testing out Alicia’s new music, we had to get her back to work. Management decided to put Labor back to work. The humor in that kept us from going stark raving mad at times, wondering whether there was really someone out there, or if it was just a threat to scare and therefore intimidate us.
Alicia was back in the studio, working short days, six to seven hours a day, making sure she was only out and about during daylight hours and that one of Mike’s people and sometimes a Nashville police officer or FBI agent was around. She also kept Cindy with her at all times in public since we knew two sets of eyes were better than one, or in this case, three sets were better. Mike’s men never showed their faces, but pictures provided in the evening reports proved they were not only at hand, but close at hand. As Mike said, “Within striking distance.”
It was another two months, the studio album was ready for release, but Alicia and Elaine felt that letting the club version out first would be a fun way to set this off. “Love’s Light: Alicia Broderick Unbound” was released with no fanfare, just to see how it went over. The hoopla in the news about Alicia Broderick traveling the United States and showing up at random clubs in cities and towns around the country caused a bit of mystery and the album charted immediately. It was wavering around in the top fifteen when two months later, “Love’s Light: Alicia Broderick”, her sixth full album, hit the public. It was the studio recordings of the ten songs from Unbound, in the same order, and two more additional songs she thought she wanted to share with the world.
The second of the two albums went to the top, pushing Unbound ahead of it, trading places and sitting there together at one, two, or three for a number of weeks, then staying in the top ten albums together for another two months. Both albums were a smash in their own right, in industry terms.
The night Unbound took the top slot, number one on the Billboard Hot 100, Alicia and Cindy celebrated with me in between them. Alicia was so wound up and ecstatic about the news, she needed some kind of heavy-duty release. Cindy was beside herself, having been so busy for the last six or eight months she lost control of her inhibitions and turned into a raving sexual animal, proving to me she could and would do anything to keep her girlfriend and boyfriend happy and sexually sated.