"Did you really?"
Robin nodded, a pained expression on her face. "Worst mistake of my life. Fashion-wise, anyway."
"Lawd, yes!" Kristina shook her head, still laughing. "I shouldn't have walked around looking like that, much less anyone else."
She put her hand on Robin’s and poked her lip out. "I'm so sorry I led you and countless others astray."
Robin chuckled. "It's okay. It grew back." She let another moment pass, then turned to face Kristina.
“I also remember this one interview. The guy asking the questions seemed to have it out for you. He was so catty. He said something like, ‘Why do you think none of your relationships ever last more than a minute?’ I couldn’t believe he said it. Turned out he was just getting started.”
Kristina's face became hard and she looked away and out at the bustling cityscape below. Flicking the ash from her cigarette over the balcony, she nodded.
"MTV. Yeah, I remember." She took another drag off her cigarette. "His name was Rick or Richard. Something like that." She left the railing and sat in one of the chairs in the outdoor patio set positioned on the balcony.
"For just a second," Robin continued. "I saw this flash of hurt move over your face. It was so quick, I thought I'd imagined it because he just kept right on with the interview, as if nothing had happened. And I remember thinking, he doesn't even think of her as a person. He can't even see that she has feelings. That was the moment I started looking at celebrity differently. And now," she said, releasing a deep sigh. "With Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and YouTube… I don't know how any of you even handle it."
She sat on the chair next to Kristina. She could see the light of the setting sun reflecting off the sunglasses that hid the singer's eyes.
"You're just a commodity." Kristina spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "And don't ever start to lose your value, because they have ten more lined up to replace you."
She put out her cigarette in the tray on the table and shook her head. "Don't get fat, don't get sick, don't be sad. No one has time for that. Just get on stage and sing like a happy little bird. And that's the important part. You have to be happy. Because people with problems aren't sexy or cool or fun.”
The words settled into the silence between them. Robin, hoping Kristina would continue, waited.
"You know, I actually went to this therapist once." Kristina tightened the edges of her coat up around her neck. "I had nightmares that wouldn't go away. I didn't want to go to sleep, so I started taking stuff to stay awake and ended up completely exhausted. I knew something had to give. I thought he could help me. I told him everything. Well," she said, cocking one eyebrow, "almost everything. I don't know what I expected him to say or do, but I had hoped…" Kristina closed her eyes. “I’d prayed he’d be able to tell me something, but…"
"What happened?"
Kristina drew a deep breath. "His professional advice was basically this: You're rich, you're famous. Stop whining and get over it." She laughed, but it was void of any humor. "I thought he was right. I mean, he was a therapist. That was his job. He had to know what he was talking about, right? People go through stuff every day. A messed up childhood didn't make me special."
She tapped her index finger on the edge of the table. "Then two weeks later my publicist called me about the exclusive a tabloid had gotten with a ‘family source.’ It was everything I had told him." She shook her head, a grimace on her face. "Every. Single. Detail."
Again, she laughed out loud. But this time there was an edge to it. "Funny thing is, the story was so outrageous, hardly anyone believed it. It didn't even make Entertainment Tonight. I bet he had been hoping for a book deal or at least an on-camera interview."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that.”
Kristina shrugged. "The point is, I've tried this before and it didn't work." She looked over her shoulder and through the glass doors at her sisters talking to one another on the couch. "But if they need this, I'll stay here for them."
She looked back at Robin and emphasized her point. "For them. Try any of your head shrinking on me, and I'm out."
Kristina stood and stretched her arms out, filling her lungs with the crisp, Texas winter air.
"I'm starving!" She tapped Robin shoulder and opened the sliding glass door. "Let's order room service!"
She went inside but Robin remained in her chair, shoulders slouched. She looked up to heaven. "Now what?"
Apparently, when Kristina said “order room service”, what she really meant was, order everything on the menu.
Literally.
Not being able to decide what she wanted, Kristina asked for everything. It took seven hotel staff members, each with a crowded, wheeled cart, to bring up the food.
Prime rib, filet mignon, lobster tails, crab legs, pizza, macaroni and cheese, a platter of nothing but pickles—just about anything Robin could imagine, was somewhere on the long and polished wood dining table. By the time the servers left, the table was completely covered with hot dishes.
Pam came out of her room after taking a shower and, upon seeing enough food to feed an army, stopped in her tracks.
"Kristina! What did you do? There's no way we'll be able to finish all this."
Kristina eyed Pam over her sunglasses before taking them off and tossing them onto the couch, followed by her fur coat. Then she took out the lollipop hanging from her mouth and said, ”Watch me."
Kristina’s movements were abrupt and Robin could see tiny beads of sweat across her forehead. It was definitely withdrawal. And from what little experience she had with Kristina so far; she expected it was going to be a very interesting evening.
Pam shook her head as she made her way to the dining table and sat down next to Tamia. "I don't know how you're not the size of a house, eating the way you do."
"It's called cocaine. You should try it sometime."
At that, Robin, Pam, and Tamia froze.
Kristina rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way and yanked the lollipop from her mouth. “Ugh. It was a joke. If I'm going to sit through a dinner with you three sad sacs, I'm gonna need some music."
She skipped to the entertainment center and connected her iPod to the dock. Music from the Black Eyed Peas came blaring out the surround sound speakers and Kristina started dancing. She hopped to the mini bar, singing at the top of her lungs on her way there. She then grabbed as many bottles as she could carry and danced back to the dining table, dumping them next to her plate before going back for more.
Pam and Tamia shot glances over at Robin. Pam looked completely exasperated and Tamia offered a weak and apologetic smile.
Kristina came back to the table with her second load of mini bottles and took her seat.
"Kristina…" Pam shook her head, but didn’t finish the sentence.
Kristina opened one of the bottles and downed it in a couple of swigs. "Don't start on me, Pam." She turned to Robin. "You know what we used to call her? Pam the Priest."
Kristina started laughing and got up from her chair. She came around behind Pam and hugged her shoulders. "This is our resident church girl, isn't that right, Tamia?"
Tamia looked up from where she sat next to Pam, her eyes pleading and her voice quiet. "Kristina, please… Let's just eat." She cut a bit of the meat from her plate, put it on the fork and offered it up to her sister. "Taste this prime rib. It’s perfect.”
Kristina leaned back, refusing the offer and made her way back around to her own chair. "Now, wait a minute. Y’all said you wanted to talk about the past. Work out your mommy issues. I think Pam is a good place to start.” Kristina dropped down in her chair and tucked one leg under her, placing the foot of the other on the seat.
Pam reached out for Tamia and Robin's hands. "I'll say grace."
While she did, Kristina kept her eyes open and stared Pam down during the entire prayer. When the others opened their eyes, Kristina used her butter knife to tap the table near Robin's plate.
"See wh
at I mean?”
Robin shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't."
Kristina waved her butter knife around and pointed in Pam's direction. "That. All of that. Saying grace, quoting Jesus, muttering some mess called ‘The Serenity Prayer’. It's just an act. It's what she would do to get on mama's good side. And apparently it worked. Because no matter what, she always had a soft spot for Pam."
"Kristina, please…" Tamia said.
Now, with her sunglasses off, it was a lot easier to see the effects of the withdrawal in Kristina’s eyes. Watery and bloodshot, she kept blinking them wildly.
Robin wondered if she should find a way to end the conversation. Yes, Kristina was finally talking about their mother, but in her current state, there was a good chance she’d say or do something she'd regret later.
Kristina picked up the linen napkin next to her plate and dabbed at her forehead before tossing it back on the table. "It's true. If we got ten lashes with the stick, she got five. If we got eight hours in the box, she got four."
Tamia and Pam became still.
Now, instead of avoiding Kristina’s gaze, both stared right at her.
This sudden and complete shift of attention caught Kristina off guard. She closed her mouth and looked back at them, confused.
"The box?” Robin looked from sister to sister. "What's that?"
Chapter 5
Kristina realized what she’d let slip and stiffened.
Flushed, she reached for another mini bottle, opened it and chugged it. Then she opened one of the small bottles of whiskey, got up on her chair, leaned over the table and poured it into her sister’s iced tea.
Pam nearly jumped out of her chair. "What are you doing?"
"What am I doing? You a favor." Kristina replied. “Mama’s dead. You don't have to be Little Miss Perfect anymore. Have a little fun already."
Pam snatched her napkin from her lap and wiped down the table where the extra whiskey had caused the iced tea to splash out. When she was done, she balled up the napkin and threw it on the table, all the while glaring at Kristina.
"First of all, not drinking is a personal choice. Not a religious one. And how dare you have the nerve to comment on me or how I live my life. I've never said anything when either one of you had a cocktail or a glass of wine. I've never cared. I've never judged you. So why do you care so much that I don't? What is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Kristina snorted. "Oh, I think everybody knows what's wrong with me! I'm the crackhead. I'm the one who can't get through the day without a pill or some powder."
She turned toward Tamia and jabbed her arm in her direction. "Our baby sister can’t even—“
Kristina stopped short when she saw the humiliation on Tamia's face, her café au lait colored cheeks turning a deep burgundy. Kristina swallowed hard and sat down. When she spoke again her voice was quieter, but still filled with an undercurrent of rage. "She still deals with stuff, but not you. Nope. Not mama's little angel."
Pam sat back in her chair, looking as if she'd been punched in the gut. When she spoke, the words came out more like a sigh than anything else. "That's not true…" She picked up her knife and fork and proceeded to eat.
But Robin saw something had changed. It was if the perfect calm and confidence that Pam wore as a shield had cracked.
And Robin wasn’t the only one to notice.
Kristina, seeing that her verbal hits had finally caused some damage, plowed ahead with a renewed sense of self-assurance.
"Please. It was always, ‘You look tired, mama’, ‘Let me make you some tea, mama’, ‘Let me rub your feet, mama.’"
Tamia put her knife and fork down. She glared at her sister. But Kristina was too focused on Pam to notice.
"Never mind that you just knocked me or one of my baby sisters six ways to Sunday. Let me make sure you're all right!" Kristina was close to yelling at that point and Robin began silently praying.
Pam continued to show no reaction. Or, at least, she tried. She kept cutting into her prime rib with a knife and fork and eating it along with her mashed potatoes and gravy as if nothing was happening, but her face was a mask of pain.
"Pam?” Tamia said. She put her hand on her sister’s back.
Robin touched Kristina’s arm and whispered, "Maybe we should all step away for a moment. Let things calm down."
Kristina jerked her arm away. "Why are you two acting like I'm attacking her? It's the truth! Mama was mean as the devil, beat the hell out of us on a regular basis and this one," she said, jabbing her finger in Pam's direction. "This one was over there offering her foot massages and acting like she was some saint. She. Wasn’t. No. Christian!" Kristina banged on the tabletop to emphasize each word. "I don't care what all those pastors and evangelists and missionaries that came to the funeral thought. She was a hypocrite and she was a drunk!"
Kristina stood and walked away from the table, then back again. Her face was contorted with anger and she paced like a caged animal.
No one moved a muscle. Robin felt like they were all sitting on a pressure sensitive bomb waiting to go off the second someone took a breath.
"She wasn't a drunk."
It was Pam that finally spoke. Kristina stopped pacing and threw her hands up.
"Oh, here we go again." She stretched her arm toward Pam, as if presenting someone. "Pamela Langston Scott, ladies and gentlemen. The champion of the late great Mahalia Marie Langston!"
Pam sat up straight and glared at Kristina. "She never took a drink. Not one day in her life."
Kristina came back to the table, put her hands on it palms down and leaned in so she was staring Pam dead in the eye. "She. Was. A. Fall. Down. Drunk." She dragged the words out, low and full of venom. "Not that I'm complaining." She smirked. "As long as she was passed out on the couch, we only got beat half the time. But let's call a spade, a spade."
Pam pushed her plate away and stared at Kristina for a few moments before speaking. “She wasn't drunk, Kristina. She was drugged."
The words hung in the air, leaving Kristina in shock and Robin confused.
Kristina shook her head and backed away from the table. "Wait— What? What are you talking about?"
Pam swallowed hard and stared down at the table. She looked over at her baby sister. Robin noticed an almost imperceptible nod from Tamia to her older sister, as if to give permission for her to answer the question.
Pam nodded and then turned to Robin.
"It was during Easter weekend. Our assistant pastor was invited to speak at another church and he wanted the choir to accompany him. It was in Lubbock." She looked at Kristina. "Remember that?"
Kristina's eyes became wide and she reached out for the back of her chair. When she found it, she slouched down into it, all the manic energy of the previous moments, gone.
Pam turned back to Robin. "I’d had a bad feeling about going. About leaving Tamia there alone. Grades came out that weekend and I knew she’d been struggling with her spelling lessons. But I went anyway." Pam paused. "I so wanted a few days away…"
She looked at Tamia, her eyes welled up with tears and regret. "I left you alone. I never should have left you alone with her."
Tamia remained still, her jaw tight.
"Two days and one afternoon. Sixty-two hours. That’s how long we were gone. When we got home, mama was sitting in her chair, reading her Bible. Just as calm. Just as peaceful. As if everything was normal. I asked her where Tamia was at. When she told me, I couldn't even wrap my mind around it."
Pam put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. "And when I saw her… When I saw my baby sister—“
Pam began sobbing, her body shaking uncontrollably. Kristina turned away and leaned over on the back of her chair, her arms wrapped around herself as if to protect her from the onslaught of emotion she was holding back.
Tamia buried her face in Pam's shoulder. "Don't cry, Pam. Please, don't cry."
Pam nodded and took a deep breath. When she l
ooked at Robin again, there was a fire in her eyes and a hardness about her face.
"I wasn't going to stand by anymore and let mama do whatever she wanted. That's how I felt, anyway. But the truth was, she terrified me. I knew I had to come up with something she wouldn't suspect. After a few days, I had a plan."
Pam directed her attention toward Kristina. "Do you remember Crystal?"
Kristina straightened and looked over her shoulder at Pam. "Grade school Crystal? That rich girl you were friends with?"
Pam nodded. "Her mother's nightstand was practically a pharmacy. She told me about how she’d slipped her mother some of her own sleeping pills, so she could sneak out of the house and go to a party. I scraped together the money I had made from babysitting the neighbor’s kids and started buying pills from her. I made tea and rubbed mama's feet because I knew it relaxed her, anyway. So, if she ended up falling asleep every time I did it, it wouldn't seem out of the ordinary. She’d assume it was the hot tea, and not what was in it, that made her drowsy.”
Pam let out a deep breath. “I couldn't do it every day. I didn't want her to catch on. The entire time, I was terrified I'd get caught. So I would wait until she was especially angry. Of course, there were those times when she’d just go off. Like flipping a switch. I never saw those times coming, but I did my best to stay on her good side, to be close so I could predict her moods and prevent as many beatings as possible."
The atmosphere in the room was heavy. Each woman at the table looked exhausted, more like she'd run a marathon than simply sat down for a meal.
"So, Kristina, I won't argue that she was a hypocrite, but it wasn't because she was a drunk." Pam swallowed and clenched her jaw. "Now me, on the other hand…" She took a deep breath and sank back in her chair.
Tamia didn't look surprised, but Kristina’s mouth fell open so wide, it looked like it unhinged at the jaw.
Pam shrugged. "Turns out Little Miss Perfect wasn't so perfect after all." She slid the whiskey filled iced tea back across the table toward her sister.
Kristina kept shaking her head, as if doing so would cause everything she just heard to suddenly make sense.
He Restores My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 1) Page 3
