by Ward, Susan
He crossed the room and opened a cello case.
Oh fuck—was that what I thought it was?
A Domenico Montagnana.
“You said Chrissie was a cellist, right? That she’s auditioning at Juilliard next week. I thought an apology gift was in order seeing as how I ruined her Christmas.”
Jesus Christ, with everything going on, that he remembered even so minute a detail as something I said in passing was nearly as touching as it was unsettling what he thought was an appropriate apology gift.
“No, Alan. I can’t give her that. She’s only eighteen. It must have cost some kind of bucks. And a gift; not necessary.”
“Why?”
He looked confused, and it made my heart clench. Life had taught this kid that when people cared it meant they wanted something. Worse, he used money to buy his way out of feeling guilty over the things he did badly. It was better for him in the long run not to be let off on whatever he was feeling with an extravagant gift, if that’s what he was trying to do here.
“Listen, Alan, you’re here because I want you here. No apologies. No gifts. Not ever. Open door. Always. That’s how it works with me.”
He nodded, but I could see he was choked up.
“What time do you head out in the morning?” I asked, changing the subject.
He smiled, amused. “When I’m ready. My pilot waits on me. I only travel commercial with you.”
I laughed. “Rehab is not supposed to be a luxury experience.”
“It feels pretty luxurious here to me.”
I was almost out the door when he said, “Since you won’t accept the cello for Chrissie, why don’t you let her travel back to New York with me? I’d like to do that for you, Jack.”
I pointed at him. “But I wouldn’t do that to you. She’s traveling with a girlfriend, and I think Rene would be more than you bargained for.”
He laughed, and I hurried off before he could try to give me something else. As for the traveling with him, inside my head had screamed hell no.
Rene had said the drivel about Alan making a girl want him to bite her on the neck and drag her into the darkness, but I wasn’t counting on Chrissie not feeling that way, too.
Hell no.
Fucking hell no would I let my daughter travel with him.
In the car, I tried to call Linda. No answer. We’d been hit and miss for five months. I told myself it was better that way, since I hadn’t let anyone know except my manager that Alan was with me, and Linda had her own mess to deal with in Len Rowan. He was all fucked up after having found Alan lying on the floor dead after deliberately snorting a life-ending-sized speedball.
Still, not seeing her for six months was making me a mess. An edgy, horny, somewhat miserable mess.
It was good we were both dealing with our own shit separately—Linda was right that sometimes a couple needed space for their own lives—but Chrissie was off for spring break the next day, Alan was out of my pool house, and I was ready to be in a bed with Linda somewhere.
Fuck, right now I didn’t even care where.
I tried to call her once again after I parked the car. Still no answer. I switched off the phone and headed for the school performing arts center
I slipped quietly down the side aisle of the theater and sank into the last seat in the far left corner. My usual spot. If I was lucky tonight people wouldn’t notice me here until the program was over and by then it would be too late to corner me.
God, Chrissie hated when I caused a commotion at her school, and I didn’t want anything fueling her volatile emotions tonight since I was pretty sure she’s was going to be upset when I told her at dinner that I wasn’t traveling with her to New York.
I didn’t like disappointing my girl, but fuck, my life had been in segmented parts for too long. Linda deserved my full focus now, especially since she was going to blow when I told her that Alan had been with me the entire time she’d been in New York frantic for news about him.
Better to deliver that news bulletin face-to-face in case she didn’t understand why I felt it necessary to keep everyone—even her—from knowing where Alan was.
I gave artists time to catch their breath.
Free from pressure.
And often the people who loved them the most were the most pressure. Sitting six months in a jail cell had taught me that. I don’t know if I could have seen the process through the way I needed if I’d believed Lena had been on the outside needing me.
Nope, I would have called Georgie and begged him to get me out.
When the concert ended I slipped out of the theater before the applause was over and headed off for Chrissie’s dorm room to wait for her.
After a few tense moments as the girls changed out of their performance clothes, we went to dinner and that’s when everything fell apart for the evening.
Yep, she wasn’t happy I wasn’t going to spring break in New York with them or be at the Juilliard audition.
Being charming and fun Dad didn’t help. Fuck, I’d said something lame like “who wants their dad along on spring break?”
Rene thought that a reasonable sentiment—that should have been my first clue that sending them off alone was a mistake—but Chrissie melted down, like she does; overly sensitive, overly dramatic out of nowhere, and totally beyond my comprehension.
Back home, I ordered them to stay clear of the pool house since I was pretty sure Alan was holed up alone in there like he preferred to spend most of his hours, and I was definitely sure I didn’t ever want these two parts of my life—the girls and my fucked-up British superstar—to collide.
He didn’t need the stress of their teenage, lovestruck adoration, and they sure as hell didn’t need him.
Nope, Venus and Mars not colliding on my watch.
In the kitchen, I looked through the wall of glass to find the patio as I expected: Liam and the guys around the pool and Alan Manzone in his cave.
Chrissie and Rene took off for the night to do whatever they did, probably for Chrissie to complain about me since she was pissed off about me not doing the New York trip.
I went out and joined the guys by the pool, and stayed up most of the night keeping watch, which was stupid because Chrissie got home around 2:00 a.m. and Alan Manzone hadn’t been seen since I left for the concert. But then, parenting made you paranoid at times. Even when it shouldn’t.
It was all quiet.
All good.
Once the last of the guys called it a night and went to his room, I went to bed. The next morning, I sent Chrissie and Rene off to New York. A few hours later, Alan left Hope Ranch.
I realigned my priorities and thoughts—a process I was expert at after nine years with Linda while trying to keep balance with Chrissie—and decided it was time to track down my woman.
Almost three weeks later I still couldn’t reach her.
That instinct thing was twisting my gut nonstop.
I was never unable to reach Linda.
And there was something off—well, more off than usual—when I spoke with Chrissie by phone.
Something was wrong.
I was positive, could feel it, even before I opened the paper and saw a picture of Chrissie with Alan, holding each other, sitting on the terrace of what I could only assume was his New York apartment.
Jesus Christ, how the fuck had this happened?
Forty-Seven
On the flight from California to New York it was all I could do to keep myself together.
Each moment of my life spun out of control inside me. The past, the present, my flaws, my son’s death, Lena and Linda, and Chrissie.
My daughter—my sweet, naïve, somewhat ethereal, borderline nerdy daughter—was running wild through Manhattan with an only mildly in control former heroin addict, who six months earlier tried to kill himself.
Unimaginable father panic—beyond and more consuming than anything I’d ever lived before. And, fuck, I’d bee
n through a lot. Only this one blindsided me—not just the guy—but because I thought things between Chrissie and me were good.
Clearly they were not.
Girls didn’t hook up with troubled older guys, not if their fathers were doing their job. That was the worst part of it for me. Replaying each carefully articulated word Linda had spoken through the years as to why it wasn’t time for her to marry me. Realizing that Linda from afar could see and read the warning signs in Chrissie better than I could being with her.
The mounting suspicion that Linda was with them only made it more heart wrenching.
Both parts of Jack—Jack who loved Linda, and Jack who loved Chrissie—were being held hostage by the nightmare that was Alan.
I went to my apartment in Manhattan.
There were signs they’d been there, but no Chrissie.
I made the trek around the New York hot spots.
Called everyone I could think of.
Nothing.
I went to Linda’s apartment, let myself in with the key she’d given me, found it vacant, and resolved to wait there.
Chrissie and Alan were somewhere.
Linda would know where the fuck they were.
I passed two miserable days in the Rowans’ apartment before I heard the front door open.
I hung up the phone in mid-call and sprang across the room, grabbing hold of Linda just as she stepped out of the foyer.
“Where the hell are they? I can’t believe you didn’t call me, Linda. Where is Chrissie?”
Linda’s eyes flew wide as her face turned scarlet.
“Where is Chrissie?” I repeated, my fingers tightening on her arms.
“She’s on her way back to the city with Alan. I think they’ll probably go to his place.”
Oh fuck.
“Damn you, Linda.”
I was almost out the door when she darted around me, flattening herself between the wood and me.
“I’m sorry.” She sobbed, her darks eyes fixed on my face. “You have to believe me, I wouldn’t have let this happen if I’d known Chrissie was your Chrissie. It never occurred to me when I first met her that she was your Chrissie. I thought your daughter was in school in California. Then later, after I realized it, it was too late. Things were moving so quickly with Alan I could hardly keep up and watch over her. I did—”
“Jesus Christ, don’t pretend you didn’t know. How could you not know she was my daughter? How could you let this happen, Linda?”
“I didn’t know! And I didn’t let it happen. I know you’re worried, but it’s not fair to blame me for this.”
I stepped back from her, my body trembling with fury, though I knew she was telling me the truth.
“I haven’t seen even a picture of her in more than nine years,” she continued sadly. “I love her like she’s my own daughter, Jack. Even though I hadn’t met her before two weeks ago, she’s as much a part of my life as you are. You have to believe—”
“But she’s not your daughter, Linda. You made sure of that and now I’m glad that you did.”
Her eyes flew wide.
Oh fuck.
“Jack.” One word, heartbroken, on nearly all breath.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’ve done a lot helping me with her. It’s just—”
I couldn’t finish.
Not with the way she was staring at me.
Oh Christ, what was I doing fighting with Linda now that I knew where my daughter was?
“I need to go, Linda. Please, move from the door.”
She sniffed back her tears, brushed the wetness from her face, and lifted her chin. “Nope, not letting you go until I’ve said what I need to say. There’s a lot going on with your girl, Jack, that isn’t good. Stuff beyond Alan, and you need to calm down before you see her. If you pounce on her the way you did me, you’re going to lose her. She’s young and in love with Alan. Pull too hard, she’s going to pull away, and she’s not ready to be with him and not with you yet.”
“Jesus Christ, Linda, she’s eighteen. Last month some kid named Brad was her boyfriend. Next month it will be someone else.”
She sucked in her lower lip, shaking her head at me. “This is different. And like I said, there’s a lot going on with Chrissie. I won’t let you out of this door until you promise me you won’t go off on her the way you did me.”
That made me feel like a bastard.
Worse, it put me on edge even more than I already was, like Linda knew things she wasn’t sharing with me. Jesus Christ, what more could there be to know?
“I’ll take it slow, Linda. I won’t yell at her. But I’m finding my daughter and hauling her ass home. Will you let me out of your apartment now?”
She shook her head at me, disappointed and worried, and seemed to debate with herself, then she stepped aside.
I hurried out of the building and practically ran the four blocks to Alan’s apartment. I was stopped by building security and they had to phone up for me, and I was thinking of ways to bypass security when Alan gave permission for the doorman show me up.
After all I’d done for him, his nerve. His gall.
Each floor I struggled to hold back my mounting emotions. The second I stepped into the apartment and saw him calmly waiting for me, there was nothing I could do.
Everything inside me rushed to the surface and I exploded in a torrent of angry words as Alan sat, the rational one in the room, and listened.
I could barely catch hold of my thoughts as they streamed out of my mouth too quickly. Not a single word I said was of any importance to Alan, almost like something insulated him from my tirade and accusations, to the point where nothing rattled him.
Not even when Chrissie raced onto the terrace to stop my yelling—wearing only his shirt, which was like a match to accelerant for me.
I was ready to explode into new levels, but then Linda’s voice inside my head chided If you pounce on her the way you did me, you’re going to lose her.
And when I looked into Chrissie’s eyes and realized what I saw there, Lena’s voice revived as well. She’s a fearful girl. Show her she has nothing to be afraid of.
Chrissie’s tear-filled gaze doused my anger and replaced it with dread. At that point, the only words of any importance were hers.
If emotional shock could kill you, I would have died right then. I learned three horrifying truths I hadn’t known.
First, Chrissie had been in the room the night her brother had overdosed. At the age of eight she had watched him die, and she blamed herself for Sammy’s death.
Second, she was an addict. Not drugs, though, but self-mutilation. She burned her own flesh to block out the pain.
Third, my daughter thought I hated her and blamed her for her brother’s death.
Not your average paternal wake-up call, and worse, her being with Alan wasn’t his fault, it was mine. Whatever she had needed to get this out of her and finally tell me, she had gotten from him and not me.
That was made clear as Chrissie and I sat on the terrace talking through the dawn. She was different with me. Stronger. More composed. Less confusing.
Christ, she even told me we weren’t going home until we boxed up Lena’s things in the apartment together.
As much as I hated it, she wanted one more day with him before I dragged her home, and because I was so relieved things were calm between us and she was coming home, I let her stay the night with him.
Probably a wrong move, another gigantic Jack parenting mistake, but I left her with him.
In the car on the way back to my apartment, I stared out the window, unmindful of the sunny day and the crowded pavements, each word of the night replaying in my head.
I never wanted to see Alan Manzone again. Not because he’d seduced my daughter or because he was a train wreck just waiting to happen, but because he helped the person I loved the most and could see things in Chrissie I couldn’t see. They b
oth seemed to see things in each other I couldn’t see, and hell, Alan was only twenty-six and Chrissie eighteen.
Linda was right. What had happened between Alan and my daughter was something very different, and if I’d pulled too hard on Chrissie, she would have broken away and I would have lost her.
Linda, yet again, had kept me from making the wrong move with Chrissie.
I felt depleted, awful, and remorseful when I reached my apartment, and kicked myself more as I unlocked the front door because it wouldn’t have surprised me if that ugly scene at Linda’s apartment hadn’t cost me her forever.
I’d been horrible to her.
Unwantingly cruel.
I had much to apologize for.
And much I regretted.
Now calm, I knew that being with the two wayward lovers, trying to hold shit from exploding the way Linda did, had taken her on a wild emotional journey as well.
Fuck, for the past nine years from behind the scenes that woman had helped me raise Chrissie.
If Linda walked out on me, I wouldn’t blame her.
Not after the things I’d said.
I stepped into my living room and froze.
Linda stood up and said, “I thought you might need a friend when you got back here.”
Gorgeous brown eyes.
Loving.
Generous.
Waiting for me.
The tears only loosely contained since last night were like acid in my eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here. Not after how I treated you, baby.”
She walked across the room to me. “Where else would I be? You’re here. And I love you. You are a wonderful man. Wonderful father. You were worried. I knew I wasn’t the one you were angry at when you got upset with me. I was worried, too, and I’m really glad you’re here.”
She surrounded me with her arms and the lump in my throat was painful. Her fingers fluttered in my hair as she lightly kissed me.
“It’s going to be all right, Jack.”
“I’m sorry I went off on you. The things I said. I’m sorry about everything, Linda.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. I told you I understand. Sometimes it during the Chrissie moments that I love you the most.”
Chrissie moments—Linda in epic understatement.
