Broken Crown

by Susan Ward

  I exhale loudly.

  That was a fucking nightmare.

  I turn to find Ian leaning against the wall beside the refrigerator, stunned into silence, his eyes locked on me, openly speculating. Fuck. I’d forgotten Ian was here. How much of that did he understand?

  “It’s been a banner fucking year, Ian. I’d appreciate it if you forgot everything you heard.”

  Ian bites back a smile. “Consider it forgotten.”

  He studies me, frowns, and I tense. It looks like he’s working up to ask something.

  I wait.

  Nothing.

  He’s a good friend.

  I don’t have to worry about him in this. He’d never run to the tabloids or the gossip mill. He’ll stay silent about this ghastly scene in his kitchen. I’m certain of it, and thank God, I sure as hell don’t want Chrissie ever hearing about this.

  He pulls a bottle from a cabinet. “Do you want a scotch? I’m going to have one. That was fucking intense.”

  “Christ, Ian. It’s seven thirty.”

  His brows shoot up. “A beer?”

  I laugh.

  Ian is a very good friend. However, fucking intense doesn’t quite cover it. A gross understatement, since I’m more than a little floored that Kaley shoved a DNA test in my face and thought that I needed it with Chrissie.

  I rake a hand through my hair. I’m not certain if I should let it go and leave here with it this way. Christ, the girl is walking around with a DNA test in her pack. This whole situation has been harder on her than I thought it would be. It reminds me of Chrissie’s words over coffee. I feel like an ass on both accounts now.

  Ian takes a sip of his drink. He looks at me. “It’s better to let them calm down before you start up at it again.”

  “I’m going to head out. Make sure you direct her back to Chrissie’s.”

  Ian nods. I reach into my pocket. Oh fuck, I still don’t have my keys. Kaley kept them when she left the kitchen. I’ll just use the app to unlock and start the car now that I have it back again.

  I need to get out of here.

  A lot has happened this morning.

  I need some time alone to work it through.

  “Since when are you and Chrissie back together again?” Ian asks.

  No, not answering that one, Ian.

  I don’t even know if we are together.

  I go for the door.

  Chapter 14

  Four days. No text. No call. I’m back in purgatory, and all I did was ask Chrissie to marry me.

  Frozen out.

  What does it mean?

  I wonder if she’s considering my proposal, or if she’s busy doing other things. Is she thinking about me? Does she miss me as much as I miss her?

  Over and over again. Same thoughts. It’s pointless. I won’t know what’s going on with Chrissie until she tells me. That’s how it works. Some things never change.

  I’m tired of bouncing off the walls. I go for a run on the beach, take a fast shower and dress. Before heading out, I check my phone one last time. I scroll through the messages.

  No, nothing from Chrissie.

  With my thumb I go through the list again—same old shit. My thumb lifts from the phone.

  Ah, Kenny.

  Asshole.

  None of the guys have called me since Len broke the news that the band would be going on permanent hiatus after the final leg of the tour. Kenny must have decided enough time has passed for me to cool off so that it would safe to talk to me.

  I hit the callback button anyway.

  Ring. Ring.

  “What the fuck are you doing in LA?” Kenny says into the phone by way of greeting, in a manner that leaves little doubt he knows the unabridged 411 about the sorry state of my life.

  I grimace. Fuck you, Len. You’re such an old woman. Why can’t you keep your big mouth shut?

  I lean back into the cushions on the couch. “Sitting around in Malibu with my cock in my hand doing nothing. I was about to head out.”

  Kenny laughs. “You want to lay down some drum tracks today? I’m in Encino. My usual LA gang. Just messing around in the studio. Seeing what the fuck we can do. We need a drummer. You free?”

  Free? Fucking understatement of the century.

  I sigh. “Same studio as last time?”

  “Yep, same one.”

  “I can pop over there for a while.”

  I click off the phone. The thought of spending the afternoon in that hot, poorly ventilated recording space Kenny books isn’t uplifting. But why the fuck shouldn’t I do it? I’ve got nothing better on the calendar for the afternoon.

  My choices for diversion are limited now that I’m back with Chrissie. No parties. No sex—unless with her, and our status is no sex at present—and I put on the list this time without being asked by her no synthetic recreation or excess booze. Time to clean up my act now that I’m a father. But I’ve wiped from the possibilities list everything I do to keep busy when I’m not touring.

  I do feel better physically with all the healthy living shit, though. And hell, it’s only been a week. Not so bad. Except the no sex part. That’s a fucking misery.

  The recording studio in Encino is intolerably stuffy when I arrive. Kenny’s mob consists of three other musicians, marquee members of other bands. They’re OK guys.

  I’m bombarded with fast greetings, spiced with the usual shit—short versions of what everyone’s been up to and questions about what I’m doing—then we get down to it and start jamming.

  Doing drums—instead of guitar, which is what everyone except Kenny pulls me into studios to do—feels good. I should do it more often. A great way to work the tension out of my body and some of the sexual frustration until Chrissie decides she wants to see me again.

  Ten hours later, I’m loose, sweaty, drained and lying on a couch listening to the playback of the tape we rolled today. We haven’t done a damn thing worth recording, not in my opinion, but this is Kenny’s gig so what the fuck do I care if it’s not brilliant?

  Kenny shoves a bottle across the floor. I open my eyes. He’s still sitting there across the room from me, even though everyone else has cut out for the night, and not so subtly studying me, wondering if we’re OK.

  I guess it’s time for us to clear the air but, fuck, I’m not giving him an easy way to feel good about what they did behind my back since the band didn’t even fucking tell me to my face together. I deserve better than that from each of those pricks.

  “So you’re not even going to fucking drink with me?” Kenny asks, staring at the bottle of JD he slid over to me on the floor. He shakes his head. “We’ve been friends since we were teenagers, man. Don’t make the band an issue between us. It’s the right move, Manny. We’re still a band. Just not going to be a working band.”

  “Fuck you, Kenny. Don’t patronize me. I don’t give a fuck about the band. All you fucking wankers can do what you want.”

  “Then have a drink with me so I know we’re cool.”

  I lift up my bottle of chilled water. “I’m sticking with aqua these days. Cutting down on the bad living, the cigarettes and the booze.”

  He rolls his eyes, frustrated, and runs his fingers through his hair. “If you fucking give up bad living, cigarettes and booze all in the same week your body will drop dead from detox.”

  “Fuck you, Kenny.”

  He laughs. “Remmy is out of town. I’m flying solo. Want to do dinner? Hit a party? Some clubs or something? It’s too early to fucking go home.”

  Remmy. Kenny’s wife. Never could stand the woman. Linda is right. Kenny did remarry too soon after his last divorce.

  I exhale. “No. It’s late. I think I’m just going to go back to Malibu.”

  “It’s fucking ten thirty, you wanker. What’s the matter? Been having some rough nights lately, have you?”

  “Something like that,” I answer ambiguously.

  “Chrissie,” he says, laying his head back against the wall and laughing. “Someday y
ou’re going to have to explain to me how an asshole like you managed to stay in the game with her this long. She’s a fucking incredible woman.”

  My temper spikes. Thanks a lot, Len, for running your mouth to no doubt everyone we know.

  Kenny’s eyes open. “By the way, congratulations. After all this fucking time you and Chrissie back together again and you’ve got a kid. It’s the way it should be. The two of you together. Finally. There’s still time, mate. Enough time to have some of the things in life worth doing. I’m glad you both decided to stop wasting time.”

  Oh Christ, Kenny being philosophical in his uniquely moronic way. Still time…blow me. He’s on his way to divorce court again. Nope, not staying and drinking with him and listening to him ramble on about Remmy. Time to cut out.

  I move to sit up on the couch and finish my water. I toss the bottle into the trash and stand. “Well, you know what cowboys say. You ride the horse until it bucks you off then you ride it again.”

  Fuck, that was idiotic, but it makes Kenny laugh.

  “One would think you’d figured out how to ride that horse by now,” he jeers. “Hey, it’s a little girl, right?”

  “Yes. Khloe. She’s five months.” I try to sound casual over it, but it still sends a current across my nerves every time I think of her.

  Kenny laughs again. “Fuck, you guys didn’t waste any time after Jesse’s death. Better marry Chrissie soon. Not take any chances this go around or you’ll lose her, mate.”

  I ignore that comment. “Good night.”

  “Do you have a picture of your daughter?”

  I’m shocked that he asked, then shocked when I realize that I don’t.

  I change the subject. “Come on. I am hungry. Let’s go grab something to eat.”

  We leave the studio and meet up again at an elite rockers’ club in West Hollywood a few blocks from the Whiskey. I make it to the front door, powering through the standard array of bullshit to get into the damn place—fans, press—and blow past the interference inside—ex-lovers and women hoping to fill that slot tonight—and find Kenny already seated in a red leather booth in the back of the joint.

  Fuck, why did Kenny pick here to eat? It’s packed, there’s live music, and I just wanted something quiet, fast and no hassle. But Kenny can’t spend one minute out of the mix. It’s like a drug for him. No wonder his life has turned to shit again.

  By the time we’ve finished, Kenny’s drunk and I’m still nursing my first glass of wine, ready to take off, but he won’t fucking stop rambling. Yep, his marriage is falling apart. It doesn’t seem right not to listen.

  Kenny stands up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to hit the head.”

  I watch him disappear into the crowd. I reach for my phone. It’s bugged me since Kenny asked. Fuck, it’s midnight. Too late to call. I decide to text.

  Me: Can I have a picture?

  I set my phone on the table, finish my wine, and my cell dings just as I’m about to slip quietly away from the table before Kenny returns.

  Chrissie: A picture, huh? At this hour? Someone is missing me and having nasty thoughts. It’s nice to know.

  I smile. I didn’t expect her to be awake. I didn’t expect her to answer so promptly after staying out of contact for days. And I didn’t expect the answer to be that.

  Me: Always missing you. Always having nasty thoughts. What are you doing?

  Chrissie: Linda stopped by. Just talking. What did you do today? Where are you?

  Me: Spent the day in Encino. Recording drum tracks. Having dinner with Kenny.

  Chrissie: What kind of picture do you want? I’m limited on what I can send you right now.

  I laugh. Oh, definitely a better answer than I hoped for.

  Me: I still have the Polaroids we did in New York. Very useful the last few days. We need to find some time alone together soon, baby.

  I wait. Maybe she’ll get rid of Linda and invite me over.

  Chrissie: What kind of picture do you want?

  Fuck, not the response I wanted.

  Me: Send me that beautiful part of you that is mine.

  I wait, wondering if she’ll get that. It’s a win either way. I’m definitely missing her.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Oh, lots of pictures. I thumb through them. Oh, Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful. Just looking at Khloe gets me all choked up.

  Me: How long is Linda hanging around?

  Chrissie: Maybe another hour.

  Me: Can I stop by? Say good night to Khloe? Say good night to you both?

  Chrissie: Alan, you can come here any time you want. You’re Khloe’s father. No call necessary. You don’t have to ask. See you at my place in an hour.

  I stare at the phone.

  She’s not angry with me.

  And she just invited me to drop by at midnight.

  I click off the phone.

  “What’s the matter?”

  I look up to find Kenny slipping back into the booth across the table from me.

  “Why does it always feel like all women have a set of rules they live by and expect you to know, but the rules are never fucking logical.”

  Kenny laughs uproariously, a little louder than that comment deserves.

  “Because they all do,” Kenny says, leaning forward against the table. “And they are pretty simple rules. We just don’t follow them. They expect you to show. They expect you to really be there. They’ll never ask, but that’s what they want. And they’ll fucking go find someone who will if you don’t play by their rules.”

  I stand up. “I’m out of here.”

  Kenny’s eyes fix on me. “You want some advice? Really show up for Chrissie this time. You don’t want to blow it. And you certainly don’t want to fuck it up with your daughter. I’ve got three kids that won’t talk to me. You want to make this work with Chrissie? There’s only one way. Doing right by your daughter. That’s how you don’t fuck it up with Chrissie this go around.”

  “That’s great fucking advice, Kenny,” I jeer, pulling the keys from my pocket.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said to Len when he told it to me. But it’s the fucking truth.”

  I pat him on the shoulder. “Catch you later.”

  I start weaving my way through the crowd. I stop. I stare. Oh no, it’s can’t be.

  What the hell is Kaley doing in a place like this, dressed like that? Tight pencil skirt up to her ass. Bare midriff. And definitely too much showing in front—Jesus Christ, look at the way she’s dancing. Fuck, it makes me uncomfortable just to see it.

  I start pushing past the jostling bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the people staring at me in surprise and trying to get in my way.

  I put a hand on her arm to stop the motion of her body. I glare at the guy who was grinding on her a minute ago. “Get lost. Now. Before I decide to help you leave.”

  I don’t know what startles the guy more, what I said or that it was me who said it, but he cuts out quickly, no questions asked.

  My gaze shifts back to Kaley. “I’m taking you home. Now.”

  She jerks free of my hold. “Fuck off.”

  The sharpness of her voice startles me.

  I can feel heavy stares from every direction.

  I ignore her outburst. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

  She laughs. “Does my mother know you’re here? Better question.”

  I stare at her. Is she drunk? “Do you have a car?”

  She jerks her chin and looks away. “Zoe drove. I’ve had my keys taken away for two weeks. Thanks for telling my mom about me borrowing your car the other morning.”

  My eyes widen. “Borrowing? Interesting choice of words. And I didn’t say a word to your mother. I said I wouldn’t and I didn’t.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t believe anything you say.”

  I rake a hand through my hair. Why is she being so combative? What did I ever do to her to deserve this?

  I struggle to maintain my composure. “We are leaving. Now. I’m taking you
home.”

  I motion her toward the exit, and she shakes her head. “I’m not leaving without talking to Zoe.”

  I scan the room. I don’t see the girl anywhere.

  “You can text her from the car,” I say firmly.

  My eyes stare into hers, unblinking.

  She breaks off first and starts rushing through the crowd. “Why do you have to always ruin everything?” she hisses over her shoulder.

  I go out of the club and give my ticket to the valet.

  Kaley whirls on me. “You don’t have any right to tell me where I can go or what I can do,” she exclaims in a voice that could puncture the sound barrier.

  “That’s enough, Kaley. You’re embarrassing us both.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fuck, you are such an asshole. Don’t you get it? You just embarrassed me in there.”

  “The only one to create a scene tonight was you, Kaley. And there is no way in hell I was going to leave you in a place like that alone. Do you even have a clue what could happen to you, drunk, in a place like that?”

  She makes a face at me. “Place like what? Someplace you’d go? Zoe and I like to hit clubs. Dance. Even Mom wouldn’t freak out about that. We don’t do anything. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Then I’ll ask your mother when I get you home, and if I’m wrong, I will apologize.”

  She crosses her arms, staring stonily ahead. “Don’t bother. You’ve already ruined my night enough.”

  Just like I thought. Chrissie would not have approved. I’m feeling better about this, even as horrid as it’s been.

  My car rolls to a stop in front of me. I go to the valet to take my key and watch him run around to the other side to open Kaley’s door. I wait until she climbs in.

  I sink down onto the driver’s seat. I put the car into gear and pull away from the curb.

  “I’ve always cared about you, Kaley. Don’t expect me to stop now. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s not what I intended. I was concerned.”

  The answering look in her eyes is pure venom. She turns to stare out the window. “I’m surprised you’re still in LA. You haven’t been around for days. I thought you’d split California.”

  I tense, surprised she’s noticed that I haven’t been at Chrissie’s. And more surprised that it bothers her.