by Susan Ward
Nate’s eyes fix on mine intensely. “We’d really appreciate that if you did. Everything is going to get fucked up if Andy sticks around.”
I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I didn’t know any of this. And I wonder if that’s the strangeness in my marriage. Is Neil back into the drug scene again? I wonder if Nate and Josh are not telling me the whole truth.
I stare directly at Nate. “Are you telling me the truth about everything? Or is Neil fucking around with drugs again?”
“Neil’s not on drugs,” Nate shoots back emphatically.
Josh doesn’t look at me. “There’s nothing else, Chrissie.”
I nod. “Hey guys, thanks for telling me this.”
I pat Nate on the leg and then stand up. I hurry up the stairs and out into the garage. I pause at the doors to the patio.
I spot Neil laughing, barefooted, cross-legged on a cushioned chaise lounge, looking rock star chic, with tousled hair and sparkling green eyes. He’s surrounded by girls—where the fuck did they come from?—being pulled at, claimed, kissed, fawned over and wooed.
Andy—my stomach turns—is reclined on a chaise across from him, and they are laughing and drinking as if they’ve never passed a day in their life as enemies. Neil doesn’t even look like the same guy I left this morning. At 9 a.m. he was tense, aloof, angry, and as if he couldn’t wait to be away from me and everyone. Now he’s the center of the universe, completely engaged and alive and whooping it up with Andy.
I pause a moment to collect myself and to figure out what’s pulsing through me. In surprise I realize I don’t feel a hint of jealousy seeing Neil surrounded by girls. What I feel is an intense desperation, confusing in its sudden rise and severity, to get Andy the hell away from him.
I slide back the door and step into the party. I am quickly bombarded by fast quips and greetings. Smiling, I cut my way through the crowd.
I stop beside Neil’s chair, waiting for him to notice me. I can feel Andy staring at me, but I don’t look at him. I have no interest in looking at that fucker.
Neil looks up at me. He smiles. “When did you get back, baby?”
Really? That’s what he has to say to me?
I ignore the heavy pressure of eyes on me. “Can we talk for a minute, Neil? Now.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I turn and start making my way back into the house. I don’t look over my shoulder. I know Neil is following. I heard the quips when he set down his drink and Andy’s jeering. Fuck him. I don’t care what Andy thinks about me.
I am down the stairs and in the living room before Neil catches up to me.
“You are pissed off about the party,” he says, sinking down in a chair a good distance from me.
“I don’t care about the party.” I hold him in an unrelenting stare. “What is Andy Despensa doing in our house?”
He runs a hand through his hair in a jerky, agitated way. His jaw clenches. “Fuck, is that it? I’m not even allowed to have friends now, unless you approve of them, Chrissie?”
My entire body burns deep red. Since when are they friends? “No, Neil. Not when they are asshole drug dealers who fuck over everyone they come in contact with. I can’t believe you let a drug dealer into the house with Kaley.”
Neil rolls his eyes. “Who the fuck told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I want him out. Now. I don’t ever want to see Andy Despensa here again.”
Neil’s eyes bore into me. “Don’t tell me what to do, Chrissie. I don’t tell you who you can be friends with and you fucking don’t have a right to tell me.”
I jump, startled. The last part of that was spoken on a bellow. He doesn’t even feel like my Neil. He feels peculiar, more strange than the stranger I’ve been living with for too long.
All my nerve endings start to prickle. I make a snap decision. “I’m going on tour with Alan starting in September. Ten weeks. I’m taking Kaley with me. You want to change that? You keep Andy from our house and away from our life and you don’t ever speak to me that way again.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
October 1997
I sit on the cold stage floor, stare at my journal, and then write the page heading. Week 8 on tour with Alan. I chew on the tip of my pen. Thoughts cluster in my head. I’m feeling it again. Afraid to put my words on paper. Sometimes my fears and worries don’t hold the feel of realness, or clarity, until I see them in black ink.
Black…
I peek up at Alan standing center stage, working through something in his head. Sound check was over hours ago. Everyone has cut out since this is a three-day hop instead of two: tonight off, tomorrow performance, next day travel to another city. Only the roadies and the tech crew are left in the arena assembling the elaborate stage set that is so Alan.
Why did I stay behind with Alan? Why do I always stick close to him these days?
My thoughts whisk me back to The Farm. This tour holds that strange feeling New York did our first spring: Alan dragging me along in his life and me letting him. Only this time we’re buddies, not lovers, just friends. And even as friends, I’m feeling like I did then; my life spinning out of control through shadowy darkness, things I can’t see, fears undefined, nagging at my subconscious, and me staying as close to Alan as I can, as if somehow he is going to keep me from crashing and burning.
Lame, Chrissie. Lame. We’ve both grown up since then. Moved on from each other. Different worlds. No longer connected.
Alan can’t do a damn thing to fix the problems in my world. I don’t even know what needs to be fixed, let alone how to fix it. I make a face and the pen starts to move. Connected in the disconnect. The only thing that holds the feel of realness to me now.
I close my eyes and listen to Alan play. I haven’t heard this song before. What is he picking at? Soft, haunting music. Intense quiet. It suits my mood today.
The music stops. I hear footsteps coming close. I open my eyes and slap shut my journal.
“Are you ready to cut out?” Alan asks, standing above me.
“More than ready. I can’t seem to write today. I thought maybe I’d be more productive here than back in the room with Kaley distracting me.” I smile up at him. “I can’t find the words in my head.”
I say it in a silly way. Alan doesn’t smile. He studies me.
“Are you doing all right, Chrissie?”
“Sure.” I start shoving my stuff into my tote.
There is silence between us for a moment. Then he offers me his hand and helps me to my feet. For a second I let myself enjoy the feel of him, but once I’m standing I pull my hand away.
We start walking across the stage to the corridor that will take us to the waiting car. Alan is silent and I’m glad he doesn’t say anything. Even benign pleasantries feel like a dangerous thing today. It occurs to me we are quieter with each other than we were in any time we loved each other and that it’s a nice thing. To be quiet with Alan. It makes me quieter in myself.
Once in the car, I grow aware that I’m feeling better, even in this small place with Alan too close to me. I turn my head and stare out the window. Rome is a beautiful city. I wish we were spending more than three days here. There is never any time to see anything. Short hops. Cities gone too quickly.
Everything in life goes too quickly. At least the good parts do. My loving Alan. The happy days in my marriage. My ten weeks on the road, my reprieve from having to be in the same house as Neil…
I cut off my thoughts. I don’t want to think of Neil and I definitely don’t want to cry here with Alan. The car is rolling to a stop in front of the hotel. There will be fans and press there. There are always mobs everywhere Alan is.
The door is opened and I climb out first, to be swallowed up by Alan’s security team. I’m ushered through the hotel with flashing cameras and screaming all around me. I’m guided into a private elevator with him. The doors shut. Silence.
Alan leans back against the polished, mirrored wall and studies me while the attendant rema
ins artfully invisible.
“There’s a patio on the rooftop,” Alan says abruptly. “It’s lovely at sunset. Beautiful views of the city from there. I was going to have drinks, maybe dinner up there. It would be nice to sit outside for a while. Why don’t you come up, Chrissie?”
He gives me that friendly nothing smile, the one that screams politeness, and still I’m filled with trepidation over whether I should join him. I hang around with Alan too much already. People are starting to notice and gossip. Fuck, why do people have to talk so much shit on the road? We’re just friends.
I smile. “I should probably stay in with Kaley tonight.”
He looks amused. “Bring her along. She might enjoy it up there. Being outside in the sunshine and the air.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m sure she would. But I don’t know if anyone else would enjoy it if Kaley were there. She’s a bit of a handful right now. The terrible twos are really terrible. It’s not a lie.”
I laugh, but Alan doesn’t. He stares. What a stupid thing to say to him.
The doors open. “If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.”
I step ahead of him into the hall and hurry to the door of the suite next to his. I can feel Alan watching as I slip the key into the lock.
The hotel room is warm inside and dimly lit. I drop my things on the couch in the sitting room. Silence. Maybe Lourdes has taken Kaley somewhere. I check my watch. It’s only six in the evening. She can’t be sleeping yet.
I kick off my shoes, cross the room and peek into the makeshift nursery. Jeez, I didn’t have a chance to see it this morning before it was put together for Kaley. Linda is definitely a world class packer on the road. Instant nursery. She’s thought of everything the kids would need. The only thing I had to remember to bring were Kaley’s clothes, Daddy’s picture, and Bear. Effortless motherhood while touring à la Linda. There is nothing Linda can’t do expertly.
I spot Kaley in her bed, curled up beneath the blankets, holding her stuffed animal and sound asleep. Beside her, Lourdes sits in a chair, quietly reading.
Thank God my housekeeper is legal and could travel to Europe with me. I wanted Maria but she couldn’t leave the States and get back in. She is the closest thing to a mother I have, and she couldn’t travel with us on this trip.
Lourdes looks up.
“Did everything go well today?” I whisper.
She nods. “We spent the day with Mrs. Rowan and Bobby. Mrs. Rowan likes to go, go, go. Kaley is exhausted. My feet hurt.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry. I hope you feel better soon. Thank you for everything, Lourdes.”
She nods. She reminds me so much of Maria. It feels good to be close to Lourdes, too.
I start to close the door but pause.
“Have you had dinner yet?”
Lourdes nods. “We ate with Mrs. Rowan. Very fancy. Kaley did not like it. I fed her later here.”
This time I have to smile. “I may go out to dinner tonight. Would that be OK?”
She looks amused by the question.
I flush. When did I decide to have dinner with Alan?
“Go out. Have fun, Mrs. Stanton. You work too much. Too hard. La niña, she is not going to wake. It will be fine.”
I go to my room, shower, do my makeup and hair, and dress quickly. I stare at myself in the mirror to make sure in my hurry I didn’t make any glaring mistakes. Not bad. Short black dress, cautiously noncommittal between sexy and not saying yes, pretty little Italian sandals—thank you, Linda, for liking to shop for me—and a silver filmy wrap.
From my tote I grab my room key, my passport, some cash and my mobile phone. I stare at the phone. I turn it off, and then tuck everything into a small evening bag.
I make a fast stop at Kaley’s room.
“I’m on my way out. Everything still OK?”
Lourdes laughs. “You look very beautiful tonight, Mrs. Stanton. Go. La niña will be fine.”
I close the door.
Inside the elevator, I grow frustrated with myself. Dressing like this. Turning off my phone. I’m behaving ridiculously. Alan asking me to dinner doesn’t mean anything. It just is.
The doors open and I step out. I hear a laugh that could puncture the sound barrier. My heart stills and my face falls.
They’re all here. The entire band. Crowding around Alan on small sofas and stuffed chairs, with a table in the center, a lit fire pit on it.
It’s everyone. The Rowans. Jimmy. Kenny Jones. Assorted girlfriends. Alan invited everyone to have dinner tonight. He wasn’t inviting specifically me.
God, I feel lame…
I plaster a smile on my face and make my way through the crowded rooftop patio. The air is alive with laughter and chatter, and it’s gorgeous, dimly lit, nothing between the tile floor and the sky. I carefully maneuver between the sitting areas packed with people to the spot claimed by Alan against the glass wall on the far side of the terrace.
“Chrissie, over here,” I hear Linda say too loudly.
Why does she have to be so loud?
“Little kitty has arrived. At last the band is together,” Len Rowan announces, rising to his feet.
I glare up at him, teasing. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
He grins. “Nope. Not until she—” He nods toward Linda. “—makes me.”
“And I’ll never do that, Chrissie,” Linda announces. “You will always be little kitty with us.”
I make a face at her. “Thanks a lot, Linda.”
She smiles and I try to step back from Len’s too-close presence, but he takes me in an overly familiar hug and places a sloppy kiss on my lips. Yuck. I can smell booze on his breath. Len is halfway to being lit. They probably all are.
Linda glares at him as she fills a wineglass. She pats the cushion beside her. I guess she’s decided my place here. Jimmy and Kenny kiss me as I pass them making my way around the sofa to the couch Linda is sitting on.
“What are you drinking tonight?”
I gesture at the bottle she has in hand. “I’ll just have that,” I say, since I know nothing about wine and Linda definitely knows her reds.
She fills a glass and shoves it toward me as I sink down beside her.
“Everything OK in your room with Kaley?” Linda asks.
“Sound asleep. What did you do to her today?”
Linda leans back, turning her body toward me. “We went everywhere. If I don’t keep Bobby moving he’s a nightmare. Little boys are exhausting. You have to wear them out or they’ll drive you crazy. Just like men.”
“And you know what to do with men to wear them out, don’t you love?” Len says with a grin, leaning in to kiss her.
Linda shoves him off. “Oh, will you shut up, Len?”
I choke back my laughter and hide my expression behind my wineglass. I take a sip of my wine. The Rowans are uncensored and bickering tonight.
“I’m starving. What do you want to eat?” Linda asks me.
I turn my head toward her and find Alan quietly probing me with his gaze, as if trying to figure out something he finds confusing about me.
“You OK?” he asks.
I flush. It occurs to me he’s ignored me since I joined the table. Why did he ask me that?
I smile. “I’m great.”
He’s still staring at me, expectant. Shit, why is he doing that?
Linda points with a red-tipped nail at an item on the menu. She crinkles her nose. “How about this and this?”
“Order for the both of us. You are such a good orderer.”
Linda laughs. “I love food. I’m a world class meal planner on five continents. I think we should have this, Chrissie.”
I have to refrain from rolling my eyes since she says her opinions with an air of importance, and in anything she does she’s world class.
After our food arrives, it’s hard to keep up with the fast-moving conversation and currents at the table. Everyone is laughing, eating and d
rinking. Alan seems subdued, and he has that look he sometimes gets, aloof and tired, like he doesn’t want to be surrounded by them.
Strange, I haven’t seen that look in a long time. What’s bugging him tonight? Something is. He’s pulsing with it. I can feel it across the table. He’s said hardly a word to anyone this evening. He just sits there, staring.
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. Stare. Stare. Stare. I smile and shift my gaze back to Linda and attempt to focus on her nonstop chatter.
After dinner, Linda gathers up her things and stands. She hugs me and drops a kiss on my cheek. “We’re going to cut out. It’s been a long day.”
My brows hitch up. “Really? I’ll go down with you.”
“No, stay. We’ll stop in your room and check on Kaley before we turn in. I’ll call you if there’s a problem. But there won’t be. So stay.”
She practically pushes me back into my seat. What the heck is up with her? And then everything speeds up around me. Hugs, kisses, goodbyes all at once.
I am suddenly alone on the rooftop with Alan before I even know how it’s happened.
I stare into my wine. Not good, Chrissie. Not good.
I look at him. “Is something wrong?”
With easy grace, Alan rises from his chair and settles on the spot beside me on the sofa only recently vacated by Linda.
“Not a thing. Why would you wonder that?” he murmurs softly.
I stare up at him. “You’ve been very quiet tonight. You feel pissed off to me.”
He laughs. “Why would I be angry? I’m never angry when I’m with you, Chrissie.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Or rather I don’t know what to say after how he said that.
“No?” I finally manage to say. “I recall a time or two you were very angry and with me.”
A slight smile touches his lips. “No. Never.”
Beneath his unreadable surface I feel just a smidge of my Alan in there.
I study his face, suspicious. “Why did you chase everyone off?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t. You did.”
“Me?”
