“I’m sorry about that.”
He shrugs again.
“You know, I’m not very close to my dad. Or my mom, really. They were always busy with work and talking to each other. I think that they have always loved me and my sister, but they just never really knew what to say or do with us. If we needed them, they’d try to help out. But mostly I’ve always been close to my grandma.”
He turns to face me. “Does she live with you?”
“No. I mean, not now. She lived with me for a few years in LA until I was old enough to live by myself. But what I want to say to you, Tate, is that it has nothing to do with you. Your dad not having time for you. I mean, I don’t know him, but I’m guessing he just doesn’t know how to spend time with you. It’s not your fault. It doesn’t mean you aren’t worth spending time with. Okay?”
He nods.
“My dad hardly ever used to talk to me and my sister, but sometimes on weekends he’d take us for long drives. He’d call it a day trip. And most of the time my sister and I would just tell each other jokes in the backseat or we’d play Mad Libs. But sometimes, my dad would start telling us stories. I think he liked to talk to us when he didn’t have to face us. But we’d always listen.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Like about when he was a kid or when he was in high school or college. Funny things that happened, old friends of his. He was just telling us bits and pieces about his life. That was the best way he knew how to share himself with us. So maybe the next time you see Drew, you can ask him to tell you some stories about himself. Maybe he’ll open up. Sometimes it’s just easier for guys to talk about themselves. Worth a try, right?”
“Yeah… I wish I had a sister.”
“You do?”
He nods. “A little one. She’d have to pay attention when I’m working on new tricks.”
“Yeah. Well. They only do what you tell them to do for so long, and then they start getting their own ideas…You know, my plans for the afternoon were canceled. I was kind of bummed about that, but now that you have some free time too, do you want to hang out with me?”
“Okay.”
“I was thinking we could go shopping for birthday presents for your mom. Her birthday’s coming up, you know.”
“Yeah!”
“You want to?”
“Yeah! I still have twenty dollars from the Tooth Fairy! It’s in my backpack!”
“You can get her something great for twenty dollars.”
“Yeah!”
“And you can help me decide what to get for her too. You got any ideas?”
He sticks his chin out and taps it with his finger. “Hmmm…She keeps saying she needs new bros.”
“Bros? She said that?”
“Yeah.” He cups his hands in front of his chest. “For her boobies. To keep them from bouncing.”
“Oh, bras.”
“Oh yeah.” He drops his head back and laughs. “Booby holders.”
“Well, we can put that on the Maybe list.”
He jumps off the sofa, waving his index finger in the air. “Or or or! You could get her a new deck of cards!”
“You think she’d want that?”
“Then we can both do card tricks. I can teach her.”
“Okay. Good idea. That’s one thing. What do you think about jewelry?” I start looking up shopping malls on my phone.
“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “She wears that stuff sometimes at home. I made her a necklace once in school and she wears it sometimes.”
“Well I don’t have time to make her anything, so I’d have to buy it.”
“Do you have time to make her a card?”
“Maybe. We can do that on the bus when she isn’t looking.”
“Okay. Oh I know what we can get her!”
“What’s that?”
“Something for her mommy drawer.”
“What’s in her mommy drawer?”
“I don’t know because she doesn’t let me look in there. I think it’s where she keeps snacks that she doesn’t want anyone else to have.”
“Oh yeah? Where is this drawer of hers?”
“Beside her bed.”
“I definitely have some ideas, but I’d probably have to order them online.”
I send texts and leave voice messages for Kat, Lou and Ricky, to let them know I’m taking Tate shopping for a couple of hours. When we’re waiting for the elevator, he looks up at me and says, “Can you tell me stories about you?”
* * *
Two hours later, Tate knows more about my time as an actor on That’s So Wizard than his mom does, and we’ve stashed shopping bags in my room before knocking on Kat’s door. The bags are filled with playing cards, hot pink and neon lime colored push-up bras, a DVD of The Santa Clause—which Tate insists is his mom’s favorite movie—a really big tub of caramel popcorn, and a remote-control robot that dances and shoots plastic missiles. She might enjoy the popcorn and I definitely need to order something awesome to be delivered to the hotel in DC, which is where we’ll be for her birthday.
Kat opens the door. Her long hair is damp, face naked and glowing despite the concerned expression on it. “Hey guys,” she says, leaning down to pick Tate up. I get a stunning glimpse of her boobies through the top of the same loose tank top she wore back in Dallas, and that is just the icing on the cake of an afternoon that has meant more to me than I could ever have imagined.
I don’t want to read into the fact that Tate asked me to tell him stories after I told him that it’s something he could do with his dad, but it convinced me of something I had been thinking about ever since New Orleans.
Kat sends Tate into the room to be with Lou and steps out into the hall to chat with me.
“Thank you so much for looking after him,” she says, hugging me. “I can’t believe Drew did that. What a dickhead. He sent me a text that something came up, but he didn’t explain anything.”
“I don’t disagree with your dickhead assessment, but it was fun for me to hang out with Tate. Really.”
She loosens her grip around my neck, pulling away. “I’m sure it was fun for him too. How’d it go with your conference call?”
“I rescheduled it.”
“Ohhh, Nico.”
“It’s not a big deal, really.”
She rests her head on my chest. “It is a big deal. Thank you.”
“I was thinking Tate and Lou should come watch the show tonight.” They’ve done it a couple of times before, at the venues that aren’t bars.
“That’s a good idea,” she says, although I can tell that she is also a little disappointed that means no dressing room nookie tonight.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“What do you get when you cross an exclusive lover with a friend and a guy who cares about your family?”
She furrows her brow. “What?”
“Your boyfriend, dummy. That’s what I am, whether you want to admit it or not. And I don’t want this no-strings thing anymore. I don’t want this to end with the tour. I want to be the guy. For you and for Tate.”
The rims of her eyes turn pink, but as always, she surprises me by saying, “I’ve been thinking about that too. Turns out my mom knows we’ve been sneaking around.”
“I have a feeling your mom knows a lot about sneaking around,” I mutter.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” That’s a conversation for another time.
“I’ll talk to Tate.” She kisses me, in the hallway, without looking around first, without pulling away first. “You sure it’s what you want?”
“You’re joking, right?”
She grins. “Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Your girlfriend.” She whispers in my ear. “Who’s totally going to blow you in the back of the bus tonight when everyone else is sleeping.”
She turns to open the door to her
hotel room, but it’s locked. So much for a graceful exit from the stage after the greatest punchline I’ve ever heard. She sighs, bangs her forehead against the door and knocks.
When Lou opens it, Kat walks in and Lou steps out, closing the door behind her.
“Thanks for being there for Tate,” she says.
“Anytime.”
We walk slowly, down the hall, in the direction of her room and mine. “You know, Kat’s birthday is coming up.”
“I do know. When we’re in D.C.”
“Well, I was thinking we could all celebrate when we’re in D.C. and then I can take Tate to stay with my sister in New Jersey. Let you and Kat…enjoy New York together for a few days when you have your shows there. Just the two of you.”
She glances over at me, with exactly the opposite expression on her face as she had after the Toiletgate incident.
“I would love that, Louise.”
She bumps her shoulder against mine.
“I’m sure Ricky will miss you, though.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snaps, disappearing into her room.
THE CHARMER TOUR UNEDITED FOOTAGE – New York
KAT: Why did you become a singer-songwriter, do you think?
NICO (pause): It has something to do with women. But not in the way that you’d think.
When I was a kid, I’d see my mom and Grams listening to music when they thought they were alone. And they were so beautiful because they were so there. You know? Singing along. In the moment. Not behaving the way that they thought people expected them to. Or looking a certain way because they knew they were being watched or judged. They were in some special place that only that song could take them to. And I guess I wanted to make that kind of song. The kind that makes a woman feel beautiful. Like they’re in love or in lust or on some crazy roller coaster ride of emotions, whatever. Even if it’s just for three and a half minutes. I mean, that’s why I initially wanted to do it.
And then, once I started writing more and more songs it became the easiest way for me to communicate certain things. I haven’t always been good at just telling someone how I really feel. Being genuine? But I’ve gotten pretty good at conveying it in a song.
Like, in my day-to-day life it was always so much easier just to flirt or make people laugh, because in a way that’s just deflecting attention. Catching people off guard. But when you’re singing something…if you aren’t being honest? If you aren’t being real? It’s hard to get away with it. I mean what’s the point?
So I guess, I’ve been showing who I am more through my songs. What I care about. And you just hope that if you put something that’s true out there that it will connect with someone else.
(pause)
Are you crying?
KAT: No. Shut up. You are.
23
Kat
When we were in D.C., Tate, Louise and Ricky were at the sold-out show. We all watched from the wings as Nico performed. There has been a gradual but obvious growing fervor among the concert attendees, as the tour has gone on. His single continues to get radio play and to hover at the top of the indie music charts. He does radio and podcast interviews by phone or Skype while we’re on the road, but other than that Nico has remained very grounded and focused. Whether he’s focused on his travel companions more than his career, it’s hard to say. But he continues to please us and his fans.
He surprised me by dragging me out on stage while he got the whole audience to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and then he dedicated a uniquely peppy cover version of ‘Here Comes the Sun’ to me. I wept like a big baby when Tate told me he was the one who told Nico I used to sing that to him. I suppose my mother forced herself to remain unemotional because Ricky was around, but I don’t know how she managed it. My dad sang that song to me when I was little, so it was a more meaningful gift than Nico could have ever known. Even more meaningful than the bras that he and Tate gave me, or the travel-size waterproof rechargeable clitoral vibrator that Nico had delivered to me at the hotel.
For an encore that night, Nico did a cover of Bon Jovi’s ‘Never Say Goodbye’ and I think my mother actually levitated. I haven’t seen her that happy in years, even though it’s a really poignant song. If Nico had big long hair and wore leather pants, I’d probably be competing with Lou for his affections.
Now, Nico and I are in Manhattan. Tate and Lou are with my aunt in southern New Jersey. Ricky is out partying with some other drivers and roadies in Queens. And I’m alone in our fancy hotel room, waiting for Nico to return from a meeting. Since this is a non-show night, after performances in Brooklyn and here in the city, my only duties for the evening are to shave my legs, “wear something special” and decide whether to wear my hair up or down.
I’m not counting or anything, but so far I’ve had about eleventy thousand orgasms since turning twenty-eight and I am expecting double that tonight.
I just FaceTimed with Tate for the third time today. He seems fine with me and Nico as a couple. I think he understands what it means. He seems to be enjoying his visit with relatives. He liked hanging out on the pier, eating pretzels and cotton candy. But he’s been having more little freak outs. He’s moodier and needier than usual, ever since Raleigh. It may well be, as my mom assures me, because his permanent teeth are starting to come in. But I’m afraid that being on the road this long is starting to wear him out. No matter how much he likes Nico, it might be too much for a six-year old to have his teeth, schedule and sleeping location disrupted all at the same time.
It’s not something I want to think about tonight, though.
It’s no longer something that I can think about, now that I see in the mirror that Nico Todd is standing behind me in the bathroom doorway. He’s wearing a beautiful charcoal gray blazer, tight black V-neck shirt and tapered black dress pants.
I slowly turn to face him.
Sweet Jesus, he looks good.
I make an involuntary sound that starts deep at the back of my throat.
Something like nuuuh.
“Fucking hell,” he exhales, staring at me in my red dress. He puts his hand on his chest. “I think my heart actually stopped beating for a second.”
I should say something. A sentence, or at least one word that describes how I feel right now as I ogle him, but all of my muscles feel slack. Except for the Kegel ones. They’re clenching tight and basically holding me together.
“C’mere, you,” he says, walking all the way over to me, because I can’t move.
He puts his hands on my waist, his lips on my exposed neck, and I inhale him.
“You are stunning,” he says. “In every way. Thank you for wearing this dress. And putting your hair up. And smelling so good.”
“Nuuuh.”
He laughs. “What’s that?”
I clear my throat. “You too.”
“Yeah, I’m glad I put my hair up.”
“Where are you taking me tonight?”
“To Pound Town,” he grins. “But first, to the new photography museum in the Flatiron district.”
I gasp. “The Swedish one?!”
“Yes.”
“Shut up! I’m dying to go there!”
“Well, we’re going there. And then we’re going to eat dinner there. The restaurant’s supposed to be amazing. And then we get back to Pound Town.”
“Good. I like it there. But only with you.”
“I’m taking you on a real date, Katherine Dempsey.”
“How many seconds will this one last?”
He raises my hand to his lips to kiss it. “Infinity.”
* * *
This restaurant in the photography museum is spectacular in its understated elegance, like one you’d find in some luxury Eastern European hotel. I don’t think the people around us recognize Nico, or if they do, they don’t show it. That’s the difference between New Yorkers and Angelenos, I guess. Actual physical privacy is hard to come by here, so the locals try to create it by not crowding each ot
her socially. We are just another attractive couple out on a date in Manhattan. I haven’t worried about Tate ever since Nico walked into the hotel bathroom. I trust that he’s fine with my mom. I trust that I’ll be fine with Nico.
Tonight, I’m just a twenty-eight-year-old woman with a brand new boyfriend. My only concerns involve walking around without getting hit by a cab or a bike messenger, while trying not to make it completely obvious to the entire city that I’m avoiding subway grates or that I’m in a constant state of sexual arousal. Because my brand new boyfriend is so fucking hot. And really thoughtful. Turns out that’s a turn-on too. Who knew?
We’re both drinking wine with dinner. Our knees are touching under the narrow marble tabletop, and when we lean forward and lift our butts up off the seats a tiny bit, we can kiss each other. And every now and then, between gazing and talking and laughing—we do. It’s the perfect blend of intimacy and environmental stimulation. We’re in the bubble.
I’m happy.
And yet, the documentary filmmaker part of my brain never rests, even when the cameras are back at the hotel in a safe.
I take a sip of wine, and ask, “So, what would you be doing if we weren’t on tour with you?”
“Crying into my Cocoa Puffs every morning and night.”
“I’m serious. If we hadn’t met.”
He furrows his brow, considering whether or not to answer this potential minefield of a question. “You really want to know?”
“I really do. Off the record. Be honest. I can take it.”
“Okay. If I had never met you. And I'm on the road on my own, promoting my wildly successful release... I'm getting texts from women every day. Women I've met before, when I'm coming through town. Private messages from women I've never met on Instagram and Facebook.”
“What about Twitter?”
“I'm not on Twitter.”
“And you would respond to these women?”
“I’d try to weed out the crazies and I might pick one. Depending on how interesting she seems, and what’s going on.”
Charmer Page 19
