“Yes, that’s right,” Jerith assured her. “Okay, so how does this work? I haven’t exactly done this interview thing much—I think I’ve done one other interview, about five years ago…”
“Yes, I know. I read the interview—you weren’t exactly an open book even then,” she said, grinning. She’d looked up the article, which had been done by Hit Parader after the band’s first tour. Even in print, it had sounded like the interviewer had had to basically pull teeth to get an answer out of Jerith. “Well, my style is a little different than the usual question and answer session. I basically like to shadow a person for a few days and just get an overall feel for them. I ask what questions I need to, and in the end I write the story according to my impressions and feelings. Would that be okay with you, Mr.—I mean, Jerith?”
“Sounds fine to me. I can’t assure you any real excitement where my life is concerned. I’m pretty boring.” He sat forward then, looking serious. “Now, this shadowing—does it mean twenty-four-hour?”
“Well, I prefer to get all the information I can. Not all night, or anything—I do have a hotel room reserved and all. I would like to see where you live, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”
“No, that’s fine,” Jerith said, feeling comfortable with this woman. She seemed very sincere in her desire to improve the image of his band, and when it came right down to it, the band’s image needed work. He noted that her cup was empty. “Shall we go then?”
She smiled. “Sure, great.”
“Did you want to check in to your hotel first?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll take care of it later.”
“Okay.” He walked toward the front door, holding it open and gesturing for her to precede him. When they got back to his car, he deactivated his alarm and opened the door for her. As she sat there, looking around, she wondered at his politeness.
Jerith got in the car and glanced over at her. “I have to warn you,” he said, his tone cautionary. “I have two major hang-ups—cars and music. I like them fast and loud, in that order. If it’s too much, let me know, okay?”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. My boyfriend has a band, and he’s always cranking the stereo or his amps. And as for fast cars… I have a 1974 Corvette Stingray that I bought with my first big check from Rolling Stone.”
Jerith nodded his approval, then started the Z4 and drove out of the studio lot. It was a nice day out, and he rolled his window down. Sherri did the same. She glanced over at him as he drove, and his satisfied grin and the speedometer told her that he hadn’t been kidding about his love for fast cars. He was, however, a good driver, and to Sherri’s surprise, very courteous. He let people in front of him, stopped for pedestrians in the city, and didn’t run any red lights.
“You are very law-abiding, I’ll give you that,” she said.
He grinned. “My girlfriend’s a cop—I have to be.” Then he looked chagrined. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”
“Which part? That you have a girlfriend, or that she’s a police officer?”
Jerith looked over at her and grinned. “Neither.” But then he shrugged. “I guess it’s okay.”
“It is okay to have a girlfriend,” Sherri said, giving him a sideways glance, knowing all the while that what he had meant was that he guessed it was okay that she knew, not that he had one in the first place.
“So you said your ‘boyfriend,’” Jerith said. “Does it bug him that you come all the way to America to interview people?”
“Not usually, no. Usually I get to interview someone that he would kill to meet, and he thinks it’s pretty cool to be able to tell his friends that I met so and so. This time’s a little different, though.”
“Why’s that?” Jerith was totally unaware of how incredible he looked at that moment. He was wearing faded jeans, a black oxford shirt, and black boots. His blond mane was blowing in the breeze from the open window. He looked like the consummate rock star.
“Well,” Sherri said hesitantly, “the fact that I’ve had a major thing for you for almost seven years now might have something to do with it…” She looked abashed as she said it, and Jerith surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing.
“Somehow I’ll bet that was something you didn’t mean to tell me,” he said, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes.
“Too right,” she replied, her cheeks still red from her embarrassment.
He was quiet for a while, and Sherri could see that he was thinking about something.
“Jerith,” she said after a long while. “What was your childhood like?”
Jerith looked surprised by the question, but then shrugged. “Very average for twenty-five years ago. Two parents, three sisters, and a brother.”
“So you’d say pretty stable, then?”
“Very.”
Sherri could see that he was hesitant to talk too much about his family, so she left off on the questions. Twenty minutes later they drove up to his house. Sherri was not surprised by his home; she was, however, impressed with its simple elegance. Jerith Michaels certainly wasn’t extravagant. While he was showing her around, the phone rang, and he picked it up with an “Excuse me.” Sherri found that he was very polite and courteous; it was different for someone of his caliber, especially in the rock ’n’ roll business. Sherri only heard his side of the conversation, but it was obvious from his demeanor that the person on the other end of the line was his girlfriend.
“Hello?” He smiled brilliantly. “Hi there,” he said then, his voice softer. He glanced at Sherri, giving her a “one minute” signal. She nodded and politely turned to look around the room. She couldn’t help but overhear the conversation, but she knew that anything she actually heard was completely off the record.
The phone call was short, but she picked up on the tenderness in Jerith’s voice as well as the humor of the conversation. Sherri wondered idly if his girlfriend was bothered by a female reporter interviewing him, if that was why she had called. When Jerith hung up, Sherri turned to look at him.
“That was your girlfriend, right?” she said, the question rhetorical. Jerith nodded, a little smile on his face still. “Is she the jealous type?” She was curious about the woman who had obviously snared Kid Michaels’ heart.
He shrugged. “Not that I know of, although it hasn’t really been an issue.”
He proceeded to show her the rest of his house, and they ended up having dinner at a restaurant nearby. Sherri asked all the questions she dared. Some of them Jerith would answer, others he would just look at her silently, and she took that as a cue that she’d asked something too personal for the general public.
Over the next three days, she followed Jerith around, watching him in the studio. Seeing the way he dealt with Billy. Billy was on her best behavior, having been warned by Alan that a reporter from Rolling Stone was in town and that she had better not give the woman a real story to write. Jerith had backed that threat up, telling Billy that she needed to stay out of the limelight for a while so they could rebuild their image. She had been irritated at his comment, although he had been generally delicate about it, not one to blame Billy for everything or play on her guilt the way that Alan did.
When Sherri left, she had a better understanding of Jerith “Kid” Michaels, and was happy to have had the opportunity to meet him. Jerith himself drove her to the airport. She hugged him on impulse, and to her surprise Jerith hugged her back, thanking her for making this “interview thing” easier for him. Sherri had gotten on her plane feeling elated.
Jerith got back to the studio in time to hear yet another fight between Billy and Alan. He leaned against the outside wall of the studio, his forehead against the cool concrete. Billy came out, slamming the door, and looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she snapped.
Jerith turned to look at her, his eyes cool. “Nothing a new lead singer won’t fix,” he said, and walked past her into the studio.
Billy stared aft
er him, aware he was just pissed off but not liking the comment all the same. Things between Billy and Alan were love/hate. Billy would call him needing someone to “worship” her, as Skyler had put it, and Alan would be happy to oblige. When things were all over though, Billy would get irritated at the slightest thing and have a screaming fight with him. “She loves drama,” Alan would always tell Jerith and the band when Billy laid into him in front of them. Jerith watched with pained eyes, knowing that Billy was on the very edge and that just about anything could push her over.
****
The edge became a lot sheerer when the Rolling Stone article about Jerith came out three months later. Jerith and the rest of the band were in the studio. Billy stormed in, holding a copy of Rolling Stone. Jerith hadn’t even seen the story yet, so he didn’t realize what Billy was angry about. She threw the magazine at him. Jerith blocked it easily, then leaned down to pick it up, looking at Billy quizzically. She stood with her hands on her hips, her blue eyes blazing at him.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Billy shrilled.
“What are you screaming about?” Jerith said, his tone indicating that he thought she was crazy.
“‘Kid Michaels has the voice of a true up and comer,’” Billy recited. “What the fuck did you do to that reporter, Kid? She thinks you’re a fucking god or something!”
“What?” Jerith opened the magazine and flipped to the article. The title was Kid Michaels: Rock’s Good Boy. There was a full-page picture of him sitting on a stool and holding his sapphire-blue guitar with the flames vertically, his arms around the base of it. He was looking straight into the camera, his blue eyes seeming to glow. Jerith skimmed the article quickly, coming to the part where Sherri talked about his singing. She described the way it had left her trembling. She went on to indicate that if Billy Montague didn’t watch her step, she’d be looking for a new career. Jerith wasn’t sure what to say to Billy. He hadn’t realized that his little experiment had had that effect on the reporter. She hadn’t mentioned it the whole time she’d been with him, hence he’d figured he’d gotten away with it. The rest of the article was very complimentary of him. And Billy was right—Sherri did indeed seem charmed by him.
Billy watched him, her stance not relaxing one bit. Tommy, the drummer, reached over to take the magazine, and the other two guys grouped around him to read the article. Jerith looked back at Billy, his face passive. She was in no mood for passive.
“If I didn’t know better, Kid, I’d say you fucked her to get a good story out of her.”
“But you know me better, don’t you,” he said, no question in his voice.
“Oh, hell yes I do. She certainly got the title of the article right. Of course, a better one would have been ‘Kid Michaels so fucking clean he squeaks.’”
Jerith didn’t say anything. He knew she needed to vent her anger, and replying to her nasty comments would only incite more of them. The rest of the day at the studio was a waste of time, and by the end of it, Jerith was so irritated he made a snap decision on the way home. Instead of going back to his house, he went to the airport and got on a plane headed to Sacramento. He turned up at Nicolette’s doorstep at 7:30 p.m., shocking the hell out of her.
She opened the door and stood staring at him, openmouthed. He took the initiative to open the screen door and walk in, taking her into his arms. Nicolette could tell by the look on his face, and by the way he held her, that he was upset. Pulling away from him gently, she took his hand and led him over to the couch, sitting down and pulling him down with her.
“What happened?”
Jerith told her the whole story, leaving out nothing. Nicolette nodded and listened, understanding his frustration. They talked late into the night, since it was Friday and Ryan was at a friend’s house for the evening. Eventually they went to her bedroom, and Jerith fell asleep while she cradled his head on her lap, stroking his hair. Nicolette looked down at him, thinking how incredible it was that this man meant so much to her. She found herself wanting to go down to LA and knock Billy’s head off for making his life so difficult.
Nicolette had picked up the magazine that day and sat reading the article in her office. She’d been impressed but not surprised by the reporter’s words. She was happy that Sherri Sophield had seen the Jerith Michaels she knew—the sweet, polite, wonderful man that he was. Nicolette was also happy to see in print that Jerith Michaels had an incredible voice. She knew she’d been right the night he’d sung in front of her in LA, but having someone that seemed more knowledgeable back up her statements made it even better. She hadn’t taken the opportunity to tell him “I told you so,” knowing that it was the last thing in the world he needed at that point.
Jerith and Nicolette spent the weekend talking and relaxing. It was becoming apparent to Nicolette that all the stress of making the album was taking its toll on him. She could tell he was exhausted and under a great deal of pressure. When he left on Sunday, she cautioned him to try and relax a little bit more. He’d grinned. “Yeah, tell that to Billy.”
♫ Five ♫
It took Billy a long time to get over the Rolling Stone article, but two months later the band seemed to be making actual progress on the album. They had laid the final tracks the day Billy decided to call Skyler and see if he’d come to LA to celebrate finishing the album. She hadn’t talked to him in two weeks, because he had told her not to come up when she’d wanted to. “I’ve got a big case going right now, and I’m twenty-four-hours on call,” he’d explained, but Billy had been mad anyway. She’d finally decided to forgive him, and called him from the studio.
The phone rang and rang, and eventually his machine picked up. Instead of the usual message, this one indicated that if the call was important Skyler could be reached at another number. Billy wrote it down and hung up. She looked at the number for a long time, then decided that yes, she felt this was important. Again, she picked up the phone and dialed. A young girl answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Billy said, furrowing her brow. “I’m looking for Skyler Kristiani. Is he there?”
“He’s not here right now, but my mom is. Would you like to talk to her?”
Billy’s blood ran cold. Suddenly she knew that the girl she was talking to was Chelsea Kristiani, and that her “mom” was Theresa. Billy hung up, looking very pale. “Sonofabitch!” she screamed, picking up the phone and throwing it across the room. Jerith looked up from where he sat in the studio, as did the rest of the band.
Billy stood up, looking at them, her face contorted with rage. “That bastard! I’ll kill him!” She stormed out of the studio.
Jerith caught up to her in the parking lot as she was getting behind of the wheel of her Cougar. “Whoa!” he said, holding up a cautionary hand. “Where’re you going?”
“Get the hell out of my way, Kid!” Billy said, low and threatening.
“Billy! Wait a minute!” Jerith yelled, trying to make himself heard over the roar of the car’s engine as she started it. But Billy didn’t look even close to being patient. Without giving it another thought, Jerith ran around to the passenger side and got in. Billy looked at him for a long minute, then shrugged as she tore out of the lot.
Billy was silent for a long time, but eventually she began to talk and Jerith found out what she had discerned from her phone call. “He’s with her again. I don’t believe it!” she said, almost hysterically.
“Are you sure? Maybe you just didn’t get the whole story…”
“Oh, I got the whole story.” Billy nodded, her face an angry mask. “He’s playing house with wifey-pooh again, and I’m shit out of luck!”
Jerith was quiet for a long time, not sure what to say. He wanted to tell her that he had warned her about getting back together with Skyler, but he knew that would be far from productive at this point. So he remained silent. Eventually Billy seemed to calm down, and she drove Jerith back to the studio to pick up his car. Everything seemed okay, and Jerith had no choice other than to
let her go. He had no idea that the first thing she did when she got to her house in Beverly Hills was call her drug connection.
Billy sat waiting for the guy to bring her the stuff she needed. She knew she was going off the wagon, as it were, but at this point she didn’t care. She’d stayed straight during the entire making of the album; now it was her turn to let go and relax. And relax she did. She went on a three-day bender, inviting a number of people, some of whom were famous names, to join her.
****
Meanwhile, Jerith was spending some well-deserved time off with Nicolette and Ryan. Ryan was off for winter break by this time, and they spent the two weeks of his vacation together. Nicolette was surprised by Jerith’s attention to Ryan, though knew she shouldn’t be. John had left Sacramento shortly after Jerith, and had basically done nothing to repair his relationship with his son. It had been Nicolette that had garnered John’s main interest; Ryan had known that, and had made a point of avoiding John for that reason.
Jerith took them to Disneyland, to Magic Mountain, and to Sea World in San Diego. They stayed at the world-famous Hotel del Coronado and dined in one of the most elegant restaurants in the world. For Disneyland and Magic Mountain, Jerith wore his hair in a ponytail, donning a hat and sunglasses. Nicolette had doubted that the disguise would work, but it had for most of the day. At one point, however, while they were having lunch at one of the outdoor restaurants, Nicolette noticed two teenage girls looking in their direction. She knew the jig was up, and she glanced over at Jerith, who was talking animatedly with Ryan about the last ride they’d gone on; he had no idea of the attention he was receiving. When Nicolette looked up, she saw that one of the girls was walking toward their table, obviously trying to gather her courage. Jerith looked up as she drew close, his eyes still hidden by his Serengeti driver sunglasses.
Missez (Wild Irish Silence Book 4) Page 15
