One Long Kiss

by Susan Ward

  I shake my head. “Then you’re going about it wrong. You’re hurting everyone, Walter.”

  “I’m going about it the only way left to me,” he counters fiercely. “Jack doesn’t listen. He sees what he wants to see. Sammy…” His voice trails off.

  I tense. “What do you mean Sammy?”

  “The boy had issues,” he answers through gritted teeth. “Everyone could see he was out of control. And Jack didn’t do a damn thing. It’s his fault that Sammy is dead.”

  Fury makes me shoot forward in my chair, bringing my face close to his. “You can’t blame Jack for that. It wasn’t his fault. Sammy had issues. I knew Sammy. No one was going to stop him. He was out of control on drugs. Drugs killed Sammy. You can’t blame Jack for that. It tears at him every day. The loss of his son.”

  “Guilt and regret will do that,” he says icily. “He should have done something. Not let the boy spin out of control. And now he’s making the same mistakes with Chrissie. I can’t let that happen a second time.”

  My brows crinkle and my eyes narrow. “Is this why you’re doing this? You blame Jack for Sam’s death? The kid OD’d. He was an addict. How dare you blame Jack for that?”

  Walter ignores that and starts gathering up papers. “I’ve been assured by my attorneys that if we use this in court I’ll win. No judge would want to place a troubled young girl in the care of a woman like you. Especially with a father who doesn’t always have the best judgement.”

  Woman like me. I can’t even think of anything to say to argue that point. We both know what I’ve been, and while I’m a different woman today, since loving Jack, my past is like a stain that will never go away. Even marrying Jack won’t cleanse me in most people’s eyes.

  Reality is sitting across the table from me, and it is a devastating thing to see. Painful, but the truth.

  I stare at a vacant spot in the yard, trying to compose my emotions so I can speak without letting him know how he’s hurt me.

  Such a pretty, perfect world here, and it was so close to being my home. But the ugly hides behind the perfect here, just as it has always done in my less than beautiful world. And you can’t pretend it away, even if you want to.

  “How lucky she is,” I whisper, without intending to.

  Walter’s face snaps up. “Excuse me?”

  I smile sadly. “Chrissie. How lucky she is to have so many people love her so much they are willing to rip each other apart for her. You. Jack. Even me.”

  His features tighten in an unpleasant way. “That little girl is far from lucky. She’s been through hell. I intend to see that change.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to go, far away, and never come back. I’ve decided to drop the case against Jack. After reading that report it’s the only thing I can do for Chrissie. Leave her with her father. The best of a bad hand of options. But since my investigators found out about you, it’s been something I’ve been reluctant to do.” His eyes lock on me like a hawk. “I don’t want her back in this house with Jack if you’re here.”

  Cruel. So cruel. How does a man grow cruel enough to say such a thing to a woman he doesn’t even know?

  “You’ll break Jack’s heart. You will break mine if you force me to do this.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure a way to make the blow of your leaving hurt less for Jack.”

  Figure a way…the bile rises in my throat in reflex to how he says that.

  “And if I leave you’ll stop everything? Drop the case?”

  He closes his file. “As long as you stay away and never come back.”

  I feel like I’m about to hyperventilate. My world has just crashed around me.

  I stand up. “Consider me gone. If you drop the case I’ll never return. You have my word. Just leave Jack alone. Now go away. I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

  I rush into the house and slam the door. My tears let loose before I’ve reached the bedroom.

  ~~~

  I’ve been sitting on my packed bags for hours. The tears finally ended twenty minutes ago. I’m in a brief moment of emotional calm. Or maybe it’s numbness. I’m not sure which.

  I check the clock. Six p.m. Damn it, Jack, come home so I can get through this and out of here before my will crumbles and I make the wrong decision for all of us.

  It is a savagely painful thing to do the loving thing for the person you love most. The right thing for Jack. The right thing for Chrissie. The wrong thing for me and the only thing I can do. A true act of love. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that to love this way could be such a heartless thing?

  I love Jack more than I love myself. The way people should love, but it is not going to do a damn thing for me.

  Crap, another tear. I brush it away. The front door opens and closes and my body jerks. I quickly call the car service for a pickup, and then wait for Jack as I fight to steady myself.

  Jack enters the bedroom. His eyes go wide and he halts mid-step.

  “Linda, what’s going on? Why are you packed?” he says in alarm.

  He looks ragged and tense, like he’s already had a hell of a day, and now this. My heart shatters within my chest.

  I stand up. “It’s time for me to go. I’m leaving.”

  His brilliant blue eyes start to flash with confusion and panic. “I don’t understand. We’re getting married, Linda. It’s decided. What do you mean you’re leaving?”

  I look away. I can’t meet his gaze. “I can’t stay with you, Jack. It’s a marvelous dream, but that’s all it is. I can’t live this life.” I sink my teeth into my lower lip. The words are painful to say, and I force myself to continue in my carefully constructed speech. “I’m twenty-two years old. This isn’t the life I want. I haven’t even lived yet, Jack, and you want me to marry you and move in here with you and your daughter. I can’t do that. I’m not ready for that.”

  He stops me from gathering my things. He takes my forearms in his hands. He anxiously searches my face.

  “You were ready this morning. Damn it, Linda. What’s happening here?”

  I place my hand on his cheek. The feel of him runs through my veins, glorious and agonizing. “You’re going to get your daughter back. You are going to raise her. And I don’t want to be a part of it. I’m leaving. For good this time. Don’t call. I don’t want to hear from you. We’re over. That’s what’s happening here.”

  He stares at me, not saying anything, and if I could die in this moment I would will myself to. I shut my eyes, unable to look any longer at how he’s staring at me. I know that if I live a thousand years I will never forget Jack’s expression at this moment.

  Twisted bands of confusion, hurt, shock and unconditional love still shining in his eyes for me.

  Twelve

  Two months later

  I step into my mother’s condo and dump my purse and keys on the entry table. I kick off my shoes.

  Doris exits the kitchen. “Bad day, dear?”

  I laugh. My mother is a master at the art of the understatement. “Bad would be an improvement. Five interviews. Five strikeouts. I’ll never find a job.”

  She pouts. “Be patient. These things take time, and you can always stay here with me as long as you need to, Linda.”

  I arch a brow. “That’s not a cheery thought. You shouldn’t have to live with your mother after you’ve graduated college. I should be able to find a job and get on my feet.”

  She nods, and then her expression changes in that way she has when she’s suddenly remembered something. She rushes back into the kitchen and comes out holding a letter.

  She smiles. “You have mail. Maybe it’s good news.”

  I take the envelope and my heart drops to my knees. Another one. I won’t talk to Jack by phone. If I do I’ll crumble, tell everything and run back to him. But he still sends the letters.

  I go to the fridge, pour a glass of wine, and then go into my bedroom for privacy. I carefully ease open the flap of the envelope. I want
it perfect when I tuck the note back in to put in my keep-forever drawer.

  The tears come and I sniff them back. A simple note, but then Jack can say more with a few words than most men could with a dictionary full. Please call. I love you. Two lines, but I hear his voice in my head as I read them and their effect is leveling.

  The urge to call him is overwhelming. Every day it gets harder to hold myself from him. But I can’t go back. Walter kept his word. He dropped the case against Jack. I don’t doubt if I went back, Walter would keep his word a second time and start legal action again.

  It’s better for them all that I stay away, but my heart is dead in my chest and I don’t know how I’ll make it another day without him. It’s too hard. I love him. I miss him. Even knowing it’s all worked out as it should hasn’t made this one ounce easier.

  The phone rings and I tense. Oh crap, not a call from Jack. Not now. I don’t have the strength to do what I must if I speak with him.

  Doris knocks on my door and I cross the room to open it.

  “It’s for you, Linda.”

  Her hand is covering the receiver. “Who is it, Mom?”

  “That cute guy you used to work for. Sandy Harris.”

  Curiosity replaces the anxiety in my veins. Why the hell would he be calling me? I didn’t exactly quit my job in a professional way.

  I take the phone, close the door, and sink down to sit on my bed. I inhale deeply to compose myself.

  “Well hello, Sandy Harris. How the hell are you? I didn’t expect to ever hear from you again.”

  He laughs. “I didn’t expect to be calling either. You didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms.”

  He says that in that affable way he has that makes any comment sound charming.

  I smile. “So why are you calling?”

  “I have a job for you if you want it.”

  I’m stunned, and since my prospects are decidedly not good I am surprisingly interested.

  “What kind of job?” I ask, deliberately cautious and disinterested.

  “The kid.”

  He says it simply and I cringe. Crap, not the deranged musicians from hell. No power on earth could get me within a hundred feet of Alan Manzone again.

  “Listen, it was nice of you to think of me, but really, I’m not interested.”

  I start to hang up the phone and I can hear Sandy calling out to me from the receiver. “Wait, Linda. Hear me out,” he says, his voice now anxious.

  I put the phone back against my ear. “You’ve got five minutes.”

  “Things have gone to shit since you left. They guys leave on the US tour in two weeks and Manny is self-destructing. He’s in full crisis mode, and everyone is panicking. He says he won’t talk to anyone except you.”

  “Me? That’s crazy and it’s not my problem. I’d like to help you and I could definitely use the job, but not if it depends on Alan Manzone. Not again. I won’t do it.”

  “He’s a fucked-up, troubled guy, Linda. But he trusts you and he needs help. Please come. You pull him back together and you can write your own ticket. Anything you want and this time you’ll be their personal road manager on the US tour. Complete control over the band with no one watching over your shoulder. Anything you want.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t—”

  “I’ll leave a plane ticket at the gate for you. You’ll do the right thing. You’re a stand-up girl.”

  I click down the phone. The last thing I want is to see Alan Manzone ever. Why the hell am I considering going back to the UK to help him?

  ~~~

  Len is waiting for me outside the customs gate at Heathrow. He looks ragged, on the verge of desperation.

  “Thank God you’re here,” he exclaims before I reach him. His tone is so earnest it takes me by surprise.

  I search his face. “What the hell is going on? Sandy said it was urgent. A crisis. I owe Sandy Harris a lot. It’s the only reason I’m here. Now it’s time for someone to tell me why the fuck you dragged me back from California.”

  Len runs an anxious hand through his reddish-blond mane of hair. “I don’t know. Manny’s been bolted in a room for weeks now. He won’t talk to anyone. He hasn’t seen anyone for days. He won’t work. I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

  I frown. “That doesn’t sound like Alan. Do you think it’s drugs again?”

  Our gazes lock, and the concern in his eyes confirms my worry.

  “Fuck,” I say under my breath. “I don’t need this. I don’t need more Alan Manzone drama, and he certainly doesn’t deserve for me to be here. What the fuck do you all expect me to do? Drag him by his ear to rehab? He’s a grown man. Fuck.”

  “Talk to him, Linda. That’s all. If anyone can get to the bottom of what’s going on it’s you. He trusts you. He’ll talk to you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Trusts me? Bullshit. Alan doesn’t trust anyone. Everything he does is a game. He just likes to fuck with everyone. If you had any sense you’d run from him as fast as you can before he fucks up your life, too. ”

  The expression in Len’s eyes changes, making me regret my words and sharp tone. What the hell has been going on here? I’m gone one month and everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

  I run my fingers through my hair to steady myself. “I’m sorry, Len. It was a long flight. I’m a little tired and snappy. Let’s grab my bag and get out of here.”

  Silently we walk toward the luggage claim area. I peek up at Len lumbering beside me. Crap, he looks like shit. I shouldn’t yell at him. He’s such a kindhearted guy and he’s genuinely worried about Alan.

  I see my suitcase and I point. Len pulls it from the carousel.

  “It’s going to be all right, Len. Whatever it is.”

  “He hasn’t been the same since you left, Linda.”

  My muscles tense. “Whatever is happening doesn’t have anything to do with my leaving. Don’t try to blame this on me.”

  Len flushes. “I’m not. I’m just glad you’re here.”

  After collecting my bag, we make our way to the waiting car. I’m surprised to find Colin standing next to Alan’s car, and that Len’s friendship with Alan is significant enough that he could just take Alan’s car without asking.

  We climb into the backseat and the door is quickly slammed closed. The car begins to move from the curb and into the heavy, slow-moving traffic.

  I glance at Len. “Why are you such a good friend to him? You’re a better friend than Alan deserves.”

  Len looks at me, startled. “When he first broke free of that insane asylum Lillian raised him in, he didn’t know squat about anything. Hadn’t spent a day in the real world his entire life. Certainly wasn’t prepared for my neighborhood, and a flat there was all he could afford, picking up gigs here and there and selling what he could. He would have died on the streets if someone didn’t take him in hand. He said he would always take care of me and I believed him. A year ago he inherited a fortune from his father. Rich as the Bank of England he is, and I’m still here. I’m not close to his league, as a musician, as a man, as anything, and I’m still here. He keeps his word. In the end, a guy like me only has his mates and his word.”

  I shift my gaze to stare out the window. Alan’s voice whispers through my memory from that long ago day when I asked him what he was doing sticking around with this group of fuckups. Loyalty, I value loyalty. There isn’t one of them who wouldn’t kill for me if someone tried harm me. I value loyalty from men and truth from women. The sound of Alan’s voice, even only in my head, makes me shiver.

  I pat Len’s hand. “It will be all right, Len. I promise.”

  Fifteen minutes pass with neither of us saying anything. We pull to a stop in front of a hotel, and I spring from the car before either Colin or the doorman can open it for me.

  Len and I rush into the lobby.

  “Why is he staying at a hotel?” I ask.

  “No one knows he’s here. The press is camped out at his flat and he doesn’t want anyone to fi
nd him.”

  I roll my eyes since that smacks of a petulant child hiding from the world. I remind myself that Alan may be nineteen, but in many ways he’s far from grown up. Then some of my irritation wanes as I remember it’s not his fault. I was raised on the LA streets and grew up quickly. He was raised in a bubble, spoilt since birth, and is still woefully ill-prepared for the business of living.

  Then a question breaks free in my spinning thoughts. “Why is the press camped out at his house?”

  Len’s eyes widen. “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what? I haven’t been keeping up with the press or anything. What’s happened?”

  “That dumb cunt wouldn’t take the money. She’s dragging him to court. It’s only a matter of time before the truth of who he is is known. It will destroy him, Linda. He can’t take that. Not now. You need to fix this.”

  I search his face, anxious and confused. “Fix this? How? Court for what? What are you talking about? What don’t I know?”

  Len shakes his head. “I’ve said enough.”

  He gestures for me to enter the elevator and I step in front of him.

  “Fourth floor,” he says to the attendant.

  As we chug upward floor by floor Len is entirely too grim. I make a face. “Fourth floor, huh? What? No penthouse?” I tease.

  As pitiful of a wisecrack that is, a slight smile softens Len’s lips. “You’re a pretty all-right girl, Linda. Cool. Calm. Caring. You walk through the shit like it doesn’t touch you.”

  I start to laugh. “Len, you were doing OK with the compliment until that walking through shit part. You might want to rethink that.”

  He laughs in a tired way. Good.

  We go down the hall and stop at a door. Len removes a key from his pocket.

  “I’ll wait in the hallway,” he says. “I think it’s better you talk to him alone.”

  I take a deep breath, ask myself for the hundredth time why I’m doing this, and then push through the door. I freeze in my tracks.

  Alan is sitting across the room, casually dressed, chicly perfect, calmly smoking a cigarette. He has a drink in one hand and is staring at me with those great black eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but not this. He looks perfect, not a tousled hair out of place. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and lets the smoke curl from his lips.