Chapter 20
We land in Mumbai and it’s a fucking mob scene at the airport. Not a surprise. It’s the first time we’ve played here.
Krystal is staring out the window, eyes wide.
I kiss her on the head. “Come on, sunshine. It looks worse than it is.”
She plops around in her seat to face me. “Is it always like this? It’s crazier than it is for Mom.”
I shrug. “No accounting for taste. I’d be in the crowd screaming if it was your mother getting off the plane. She’s the one who is amazing.”
Krystal’s smile grows enormous and her eyes alertly search my face. Fuck, what did I say to make her react that way? It’s just the truth…oh fuck…the kids are anxious and standoffish because there is no way to separate what’s happening between me and Chrissie from them.
Damn. Kaley is right. I am an idiot at times. Why didn’t I realize this before I snatched them away from Chrissie?
“Grab your things,” I say, struggling to sound natural.
Everyone starts moving. Getting to the front of the plane without losing Krystal is a hassle. People are trying to get my attention and Krystal gets sidetracked by anyone who says so much as a single word to her.
I nudge her forward and ignore everyone. I just want off the plane. And ah, there’s finally some help here. I’d bet money that older woman standing, formidable and aloof, by the door with Kaley and the boys is my missing nanny.
She extends her hand. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Barton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a big fan.”
Yep, the nanny. A fan. No, not buying that one. Definitely British. Crap. I don’t like her. Severe. And, fuck, now is when she finally decides to appear. Where the hell was she the entire flight? Is that booze I smell on her breath?
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, but no, not really and I can tell she knows that. “These are my daughters, Kaley and Krystal. Those are my sons, Ethan and Eric. Eric is the one with the tiny birthmark beneath his left ear. It’s the only way I can tell them apart for sure. Collect the boys. The girls can manage on their own.”
She stares at me, like instruction is insulting. Hmm, I wonder if Chrissie would send Lourdes to me. Lourdes likes me. The kids like Lourdes. She’s toured with Chrissie. Why didn’t I think of that before I left?
Kaley starts moving toward the metal steps.
“Stop,” I say. I wait until they are all looking at me. “Same routine as last time. We walk off the plane. Say nothing to anyone and climb into the car they direct you to.”
Kaley rolls her eyes. Then she exhales. “We already know this,” she snaps. Hey, she’s talking to me again. “You don’t have to repeat everything a thousand times. This is nothing new. We’ve traveled with Mom. You keep telling us exactly what she makes us do.”
Oh. I keep my face stripped of reaction. “Good. I won’t do it again.”
Krystal nods.
Ah, approval. For some reason I want to pick her up. I lift her in my arms and kiss her on the cheek and we hang back while the others disappear to the tarmac.
I step into the open door and Krystal jerks and tightens her hold on me when the cameras explode. I do a fast scan of the scene in front of me. Good, everyone else is in the black SUV.
Oh crud, press and microphones. I should have sent Krystal ahead with the rest of them. Len and the guys are already there. I can bypass and just leave.
The second my foot touches land, the activity around me kicks up another notch, and the air is flooded with my name being shouted.
Oh damn, is that Jen cutting her way through the crowd toward me? I didn’t know she was traveling with us on this leg of the tour. But yep, it’s her. Short tight dress, Dolce & Gabbana whiff closing in, and an I’m up for anything smile on her face even though I’m standing here with my daughter.
Fuck.
She ignores Krystal and fixes her eyes on me. “You have to take a few questions before you leave, Manny. Let them gets some pictures. It’s a big deal you’re in Mumbai. You don’t want the press to be bad. You don’t want to insult them.”
Bad press?
Really?
After the Kaley debacle, how could it get worse than it currently is?
As I walk toward them, the nonstop flashes from the photographers are blinding. I get to the microphones and then realize I forgot to put Krystal down and send her off to the SUV.
I start pointing and answering questions. Halfway through I wonder what’s going on here. It’s almost like they like me. Nah, the press has hated me for thirty years.
What the fuck is happening here?
I shift my gaze to Krystal.
She’s got Chrissie’s smile on her face.
She’s charming.
A camera hog.
They are being polite to me because of her.
“That’s all, everyone,” I say, stepping back from the microphones.
“That went good, I think,” Krystal announces in her sweet, serious, imperative way.
I fight not to smile. “Really? You think I did well?”
The way she nods makes me laugh. I set her on the ground and she scampers to the black SUV.
I climb into the car. Shit, it’s packed with the usual people who surround me when I’m on tour. Security. PR. My assistant. And fuck, there’s Jen caressing me with her eyes from the seat beside the driver.
I shift my gaze to the nanny from hell. Is that a flirty glint in her eye? Old bat, I’m not interested in you either.
I start to laugh as I pretend to listen to my assistant going through the schedule.
“We have to do all that today?”
I look over my shoulder to see Krystal on her knees, arms spread across the seat at my shoulders, staring at the tablet being held in front of me.
“I have to. Every day I get a schedule like this and you get to have fun.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
No, Krystal, it does not. Touring is not all parties and fun, no matter what people read and believe, and no matter how successful a band gets. It’s a grind of endless work, even with the seven-day hops we have on this leg of the tour. And this much working won’t be good. I don’t need the kids disapproving of another thing. Like a father who drags them somewhere they don’t want to be and is never there.
How much of this shit can I cross off the list before someone screams? I take the stylus from my assistant’s hand and start scratching through things.
“Manny, what are you doing?” she asks, panicked and with dread.
“The only parts of the schedule I’m doing are the things I don’t cross off. When we’re done with this, email it to me.”
When I’m finished it looks like I scribbled across the screen with a marker. I hand it back to her as Krystal starts tugging on my shoulder.
I turn in the seat.
She’s pointing out the window, shocked and overwhelmed.
“Look,” she says.
People are lining the streets with signs, screaming. We’re just a few blocks from the hotel. Not surprising.
I shrug. “It’s nothing to get worked up about, Krystal. Just ignore it.”
She makes an impatient gesture with her hand.
“No! It’s Kaley. Everywhere.”
I lean over my assistant so I can see the signs better. The way she says everywhere almost makes me laugh until I figure out what Krystal is excited about and it’s not funny.
Oh no.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
It is Kaley.
Everywhere.
Mixed all through the crowd turned out to see me.
Signs being held with her picture or notes for her. I Love Kaley. Bring back Kaley’s World. Speak truth to Power. It’s impressive. I frown. Fuck, I’m the power in that last slogan. How the hell did I get to be the bad guy and the one not cool?
How did she manage to have fans in Mumbai on the day we landed here?
“Kaley, are you tweeting and blogging again?” I snap, eliciting an interesting collection of stares around me.
The only one who didn’t hear me is Kaley.
Eyes closed.
Earbuds.
She’s decided it’s time to tune me out for the ride to the hotel.
I turn to Krystal. “Has she been blogging and tweeting?”
Krystal shakes her head. “She can’t. Mom only let her take her phone and the cameras. Mom turned off the data and didn’t get her enough international airtime for her to waste it getting into any trouble. She has practically no contact with the world. That’s why she’s angry about being here. She can’t text and call Bobby all day every day like she usually does. You’re ruining her life.”
Brilliant, even in this I’m the bad guy. I’m not the one who thought of limiting the phone for her. Still, good move, Chrissie. Oh, definitely with what I’m seeing through the windows.
Chrissie would be blown away by this.
“Stop the vehicle,” I order, startling everyone—except stoic, walling-out-the-world Kaley. I tap my assistant. “Can you move, please?” I can feel stares from every direction as I start snapping pictures with my phone. I don’t look up. “OK, we can go now.”
I start to text as the SUV moves forward again.
Me: In Mumbai. Just landed. Look what greeted us. Can you believe it, Chrissie?
I attach the photo and hit send before I realize what I’ve done. I haven’t talked to Chrissie since I left California. That message is going to come across random enough that it will probably hurt her, but my first impulse was to share this with her and I did it without thinking it through.
Ding.
Chrissie: Is that on the street in Mumbai? Are those signs? Bring back Kaley’s World. Really? Laughing…not. Pretty unbelievable. But I can top that. Can you believe this, Alan?
A video. I wait for it to load. Ah…a smile rises, consuming my face. Khloe. Oh fuck, I miss her. Surrounded by kids and I still miss the one not here. My eyes are locked on the screen until the short clip is over.
Me: You win. Yours is more incredible. When did that start?
Chrissie: Our lazy girl decided to start crawling this afternoon. Nonstop. Very determined. Sometimes I turn her around in the other direction because it annoys her and she makes the funniest face. Her expression looks exactly like yours when she’s irritated. I laugh so hard sometimes I can’t take it. Then I turn her around again.
The laughter abruptly clogs in my throat. I shut off my phone without answer and stare out the window, shaking my head.
What am I doing?
I can’t let myself act like everything is normal between us when it isn’t.
As much as I’d like to pretend we’re going to be OK, I’m not sure that we are.
As much as I love her, I don’t know if I’m even capable—
I push away my thoughts. The pain in my gut twists and tightens. Perhaps this agony would go away if I could just stop thinking about Chrissie.
* * *
Three weeks later
“I’m not going on another Bataan Death March all day with Mrs. Doubtfire.”
I lift my head from my pillow and check the clock. It’s only 9:30 a.m.
Dammit.
I have a concert tonight.
I need to sleep.
Mrs. Doubtfire.
Inconveniently funny.
I roll over in bed, pushing the hair from my face. “Bataan Death March. Wrong country. That’s the Philippines. We’re in Australia. Melbourne is an interesting city. You are going today. You want to be a filmmaker—go learn something. I need quiet and sleep, so you get sightseeing today.”
I wait for the door to slam.
Kaley crosses the room and drops down on the edge of the bed. “I’m too old for a nanny. You do realize that, don’t you? Or do you just get off embarrassing me?”
I sit up in bed. I reach for my cigarettes, then remember I can’t light one in my own suite because of the kids.
“Mrs. Barton isn’t here for you, Kaley. The security detail is. It sucks being an Internet sensation, doesn’t it?”
She rolls her eyes. “This is ridiculous. I don’t want to go with them. I don’t need security every time I leave the suite. Mom wouldn’t make me live this way. She’d know it was lame.”
I climb from the bed. I need coffee.
“Maybe, but your mom isn’t here.”
“And whose fault is that?” she exclaims and then flounces from the room, slamming the door.
I ring for coffee and my breakfast to be brought and then step onto the terrace and light my cigarette. Once my meal is delivered, I settle in a chair. I’m never going to get back to sleep now even though I can tell by the quiet that the kids have gone for the day.
I turn on my phone and the notifications appear. I push through them. Yep, evening text from Chrissie arriving for my morning here. Twice a day. Every day. Morning and night like clockwork even though I don’t answer her.
I don’t understand where she gets the emotional stamina to do the text thing. I see the notification and everything inside me starts to roil.
Why doesn’t she stop?
It must hurt her, too, especially when I don’t reply.
She can’t think it will be that simple to fix the fucked-up state of our marriage.
I block out the thought of her by going through my morning routine. Email. Online newspapers. Chatting on the phone. Eating. Texting. Rote activity to block thinking.
I toss my cell on the table. Four hours of nothing. I’m tired, frustrated, and I just want this fucking knot in my stomach to go away and to feel normal again.
I need to bury myself in being on tour.
Go to a party.
Get laid.
That would be finality.
Irrevocable for Chrissie.
The only woman I’ve ever chased.
The only woman I’ve ever loved.
Oh, but she’d walk away from me forever if I did that.
Then maybe the pain would stop surfacing—nagging, aching, reminding me of what I had and why I can’t forgive her. Jen is still traveling with the tour. Available. Fun. Up for anything. Maybe I should just go and get laid.
* * *
“OK, kids. The car is here. I’ve got to run.”
The kids are lying sprawled around the sitting room. Kaley looks up from her book, does a quick, stiff smile, and then shifts her gaze away. The boys are asleep. I drop a kiss on Krystal’s forehead.
Krystal smiles. “Why are you in such a good mood tonight, Dad?”
Those wide blue eyes fix on me, and I tense and instantly start to feel guilty.
Crap.
I haven’t done anything yet.
All I did was text Jen to confirm she was free tonight. I didn’t set up anything. OK, fuck, that’s bullshit. Texting Jen is the same as paying a hooker. Deal sealed. OK, I’m just considering it. That’s all.
At the door I look back at Krystal. I widen my eyes. “Behave.”
She laughs, and I step into the hall to be surrounded by my security team. Inside the elevator I’m feeling lighter, more upbeat, and I’m starting to get some of that performance excitement and nervous energy going that’s been mostly absent on this tour. It’s a fucking great rush when I get it.
By the time the car rolls to a stop at the arena I’m pumped, feeling the way I should before going on stage. I get another infusion of adrenaline pushed into my veins as I go from the car to the entrance.
Anything I want.
Yep, I deserve it.
Why shouldn’t I have it?
As I’m escorted down the tunnel to the green room, noise, vibration, roaring fans, and beautiful, fawning women inject me with enough endorphins that it makes getting my dick wet tonight an absolute necessity.
I’m fucking someone tonight.
Fuck you, Chrissie.
When I join up with the guys, I start drinking with them like we did in the old days. Soon we’re laughing and shooting the shit with the ease we used to. I scan the women for new, untasted possibilities. I’ve got time for a suck before I go on stage. Fuck, I definitely need it. I haven’t gotten fucked in over a month. Maybe two women later. I feel like I could fuck for a week nonstop.
Plenty of luscious options to choose from. And there’s Jen hovering where she’s always in the line of my vision.
Everything is falling into place. Everything feels fucking good when we’re ushered from the green room onto the stage. The arena is stirred up into a frenzy and so am I by the time our set is through. I run off stage and my body is beyond lit.
I make my way down the corridor. I’m just going to grab Jen and get the fuck out of here with her. She’s a great lay, adventurous and up for anything.
Back in the green room we’re swallowed up by people. Journalists, musicians from other bands, the famous, and the road whores. Twenty minutes into getting my ego stroked, I’m there, ready for my after-party. I fix my stare on Jen, she looks, and I nod. She slips out from the crowd and into the exit corridor.
I turn to Len.
“I’m heading out.”
Len grabs my arm and drags me away. “Don’t do it.”
I give him the what the fuck face. “Don’t give me that shit, Len. You fuck every cunt you can on the road.”
“Linda and I have an understanding. You fuck Jen, that’s it. Done. Over. Everyone will know. Jen will make sure everyone knows. You’ll be in divorce court before it’s wheels up in Australia.”
I shake Len off. “I don’t give a fuck. Do you hear me, Len? I don’t care.”
“Well, I do, you witless bastard. You’re not thinking clearly. When you stop being angry you’re going to care, because you fucking love Chrissie, you always will, but then it will be too late.”
“I guess that means you’re not going to give me a handful of those rubbers you carry,” I jeer and then laugh in his face for added insult.
Len glares at me, shakes his head and walks away.
Good, I didn’t want him fucking with my head anyway.
I start making my way out of the room and an image flashes in my head. A picture of Chrissie straddling me and trying to inexpertly rip open a foil square is immediately followed by flashing pictures of riding me, her head back and mouth open in ecstasy. I love the way her hair surrounds me, lightly teasing my flesh as she slowly glides up then slams hard, the way she smells—
Oh fuck.
I lean into Trey, the head of my security team. “Keep Jen off me and make sure I leave here in the car alone.”
* * *
I step into my suite, go to the bar, and fix myself a drink.
“Did you have a good show, Dad?”
I whirl to find Krystal lying on the sofa, drowsy-eyed.
I sink down in front of her so we’re at eye level. “What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you in bed?”
She rubs her eyes. “I wanted to wait up for you, but I guess I fell asleep.”
Smiling, I kiss her on the forehead. “You don’t need to wait up for me.”
She turns on her side, facing me. “I thought someone should. Mom would have waited up for you.”
The void I left the arena with is now cavernous and aching. I press two fingers against my forehead trying to bring my heart, my body and thoughts back into control.
“Come on. It’s two in the morning. Let’s get you into bed.”
Her blue eyes rapidly search my face. “What’s wrong?”
I rake the hair back from my face. I exhale. She has Chrissie’s eyes. They’re like truth serum.
Fuck it.
Who cares?
It’s the truth.
And I’m exhausted from pretending.
“I miss your mom.”
Krystal smiles and nods. “I do, too.”
I rub my brow and try to will myself calm. “Hey, do you want to sit up with me until I’m ready to sleep and watch really bad American cinema? That’s something else your mom would have done for me.”