by Ann Lister
He followed her to the door and called her name. She stopped and walked back to him. Then with a spiteful smile upon her flawless face she spoke.
“Go to hell. Do you hear me? Go to hell!”
Seconds later she was gone from his sight. He was still standing there staring off into the distance when Bull came up beside him.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
“Nothing,” he answered glumly. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah. Lets go.”
Bull waited until they were seated in the back of the limousine before he pulled the CD from his coat pocket.
“Here. Don’t say I never give you anything,” he said, handing Michael the plastic case.
“What’s this?”
“Take a look and see for yourself.”
Michael’s eyes focused on the cover and saw the naked woman with the guitar. “Do I know her?” he asked.
Bull laughed. “You should.”
Michael’s eyes fell back to the CD. This time he read the title and the artists name. “Holy shit. Where did you get this?”
“There was a box of them out by the production department back at the music hall. I figured you’d want one and decided to help myself.”
Michael’s eyes were still glued to the cover art when the limousine stopped in front of his hotel.
“Are you okay?” Bull asked, giving Michael a nudge.
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.” Once inside the suite, Michael immediately went to the bar and grabbed a full bottle of whiskey as if it were a lifeline. Then he removed the disc from its case and loaded it into the compact disc player by the television.
“Do you want me to stay?” Bull asked, concerned with Michael’s actions.
“No. I should probably listen to this by myself, don’t you think? But thanks.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
Michael nodded and sat on the couch to remove his boots. When he heard the door click shut, he hit the play button. The room quickly filled with the sound of Annie’s voice. It echoed inside his head and vibrated through his body. He remembered some of the songs but most were completely new to him.
At times, she sounded like a wounded child and at other times her voice was filled with bitterness, anger and regret. The lyrics were a perfect portrait to what she had been through – what he had put her through.
The impact of this personal glimpse into her soul hit him like a bus. When his emotion surfaced it was unstoppable and all-consuming. He openly grieved for his losses. He cried for Annie and he wept for Brian; which was something he still hadn't done since his death. His failures seemed to outnumber his successes. His greatest achievements seemed worthless now. He felt worthless. The more he wallowed in misery, the deeper he slid into an abyss that had become his life.
When the liquor behind the bar was depleted, his body filled with rage. He cursed everyone in his life. He cursed himself. With each regret he threw another glass at the wall. When he ran out of glassware, he started with the furniture, turning over whatever was too heavy to throw. Staggering from exhaustion and booze, he tripped over a broken leg of a coffee table and fell to the floor. In the pre-dawn hours, Michael, bloodied from a gash on his forehead and several more cuts on his hands and arms, hit his proverbial rock-bottom.
Several hours later, Bull entered the war zone that was once the living room of one of Trump Tower’s finest suites. He rushed to Michael’s side and slowly lifted him upright.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell did you do?”
Michael’s eyes rolled and tried to focus.
“Oh man, you’re bleeding,” Bull exhaled, visually searching the room for a phone. “You’re going to need stitches.”
“No doctors,” Michael moaned.
Bull pulled Michael to his feet and dragged him into the bathroom. With one arm holding Michael upright, he managed to clean the blood and glass off his boss’s face.
“You know something? I’m getting tired of cleaning up your messes and it ain’t getting any better.”
He lifted Michael’s face and held it pinched between his fingers. “You need help, man. The kind I can’t give you. Are you getting my drift?”
Michael nodded.
“Then what do you suppose we do?”
Michael closed his eyes.
“You’re not passing out again, man! Now what do you think we should do?” he asked, shaking him awake.
“I need help,” Michael muttered softly.
“Finally, a rational thought comes from your mouth. Where do you want to go?”
Michael sighed. “As far away from here as I can get.”
“Fine. I’ll take care of it.
Before the end of the day, Bull had Michael’s forehead stitched and then admitted into one of California’s finest rehab facilities. It overlooked the city of Los Angles and was the best money could buy. It would take sixty days for Michael to recover completely, physically and emotionally; and when his time was over, he vowed to take back control of his life and reclaim his family.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Annie patiently waited in a long line of cars at the Woods Hole ferry terminal for the ten o’clock steamship that would take her back to Martha’s Vineyard. It was mid-June and the sun was already hot in the early morning sky. Beside her, and safely secured in her car seat, was her two-month-old daughter, Angel. Sammi sat in the backseat, eyes wide with enthusiasm for her next great adventure - a ferry ride to the island.
Annie recalled the tearful good-bye she had with Taylor the day before. For such a long time, Taylor had been her life preserver, mentor and best friend. Taylor knew more about her life than anyone except for Michael. They shared great highs and extreme low points in their lives but it was time to move on and they both knew it was for the best. Taylor was taking her band on tour in Europe for the summer and Annie wanted to slip into seclusion with her babies and immerse herself in motherhood. It would be a new beginning. A step she was nervous to take without Taylor’s watchful eye, but, nonetheless, it was necessary.
Now she sat unassumingly with her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, a baseball cap pulled down over her brow and sunglasses to conceal her eyes. Taking a car over on the ferry was a maneuver Michael never would have attempted, she sniffed with sarcasm, feeling bold that she would attempt such a venture. She scolded herself for allowing the thought of him to enter her mind at all. It bothered her to admit it, but even now, months after their divorce, she still felt as if she had something to prove to him.
She could hear his admonishing voice ringing in her ears, saying she should have taken a plane to the island and had someone else drive her car. Any other option was clearly too risky. Then she glanced at her infant daughter sleeping soundly in her seat, tiny bubbles collecting on her full bottom lip. Annie’s face relaxed into a proud smile. It was just the three of them now, and she would do what she saw fit to love and protect her children. That wasn’t to say safety wasn’t an issue for her - it was, even more so now that she was a single parent. But most often she went unrecognized by the general public. Besides a few people giving her second glances, as if they thought her face looked familiar, most passed her by with indifference.
In her side mirror, Annie watched a woman approaching with a large dog on a chain leash. It wasn’t until the woman was beside her open window that her face turned and Annie recognized her.
“Dara?” Annie asked quietly.
The petite, blond-headed woman stopped and turned back toward Annie’s car. A slow smile turned the corners of her mouth. Then with her index finger she pulled her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.
“Annie! My God, I can’t believe it’s you, and of all places, waiting in line for the ferry!”
For many years, Dara had been the personal assistant to Taylor, retiring from the position the previous year. Her duties also included keeping a watchful eye on Annie too. The two had become ver
y close during Lace’s touring schedule and Annie hated to see her retire.
“Yeah, well, you know me, always the risk taker!”
Both woman laughed then Dara reached and touched Annie on the shoulder, the smile suddenly fading from her face. “I was sorry to hear about you and Michael. I honestly didn’t see that coming. How are you holding up?”
Annie dropped her eyes to her lap, avoiding Dara’s stare. “I’ve never been better,” she lied. Angel began to stir in her safety seat and Annie instantly reached to soothe her.
“Oh, so this must be the latest addition to the family?” Dara asked, sticking her head into the open window. “My God, she’s beautiful. Spitting image of her mother.”
“She’s eight weeks old today,” Annie replied with pride.
“What did you name her?”
“Angel, because she is my angel,” she answered using a baby voice.
“And you must be Sammi?” Dara asked, peeking into the backseat. “I can’t believe how big you grew since the last time I saw you! And you’re looking more and more like your daddy too!”
“It’s been almost a year since I saw you,” Annie softly spoke. “I believe the last time I saw you was at Brian’s funeral.”
“Brian has been gone that long already? It seems like it was yesterday,” Dara replied.
Annie’s eyes began to fill with tears at the memory and nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean. I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime since he died.”
“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” Dara commented.
“Yes, we do.”
“How long will you be on the island?”
“Indefinitely,” Annie replied.
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I got the beach house in the divorce settlement so I’ll be living there. It’s the only thing I wanted. I told him he could shove the rest of it up his ass.” Annie forced a smile onto her delicate face. Her comment made Dara burst out in laughter.
Suddenly, the line of cars in front of Annie began to inch forward toward the ferry.
“I’ll give you a day or two to settle in and then I’m coming over. Okay?” Dara said.
“Sounds good.”
A few days later, Dara arrived at the beach house, her arms filled with gifts for both young girls.
“You didn’t have to bring them anything,” Annie protested.
“I know, but I wanted to. What can I say? After being blessed with three sons, I’m a sucker for little girl things!”
After making small talk for several minutes, Dara sighed heavily. “Okay, my friend. Start spilling your guts and don’t leave anything out because you know I can tell when you’re omitting details!”
Annie shuddered. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“Don't give me that crap! This is me you're talking to.”
Annie met Dara’s stern gaze.
“Okay, where do you want me to begin?” Annie asked, knowing she had lost the battle.
“You can start with your divorce. What the hell happened between the two of you?”
Annie folded her arms across her chest and walked to the large windows facing the ocean. She sighed heavily before she began and closed her eyes. “Michael wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
“No man is,” Dara quickly added.
“True. But not all men cheat and lie to your face about it.”
“Annie, if I divorced Billy after his first adulterous fling, none of my boys would have been born. I hate to say it, but in most cases, it goes hand-in-hand with people in the music business. Some of them seem to think they are entitled, like it's one of the perks of being in the public eye. And they don't think of it as cheating either. They believe it is all part of the lifestyle .”
Annie turned and faced Dara. Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “I’m so sick of people telling me that! It’s a load of crap and you know it.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with it. I’m merely stating the facts.”
Annie’s eyes drifted back to the ocean and wiped away the tears that dripped down her cheeks. “He started drinking again after Brian died,” she said softly.
Dara’s back stiffened. “Oh, dear. That’s not good.”
Annie shook her head. “It became a matter of my sanity and the safety of my girls. I had to leave. It was the only solution. I filed for divorce after that. I knew then, there was no going back and whatever it was I thought we had, was over. It was time to move on with my life.”
Annie dropped herself into a chair facing her friend. “It sucks. I’m almost thirty-five and look where I am.”
Dara laughed. “Age is just a number.”
Annie leaved forward. “It’s not the number I’m afraid of, it’s the situation. I’m not even forty and I’ve been divorced twice and I’m now a single mother of two with no definitive career goals in mind. If someone had told me ten years ago this is where I’d be at this age, I would have slapped them across the face.”
“Unless you’ve had your hands amputated, I don’t understand why you don’t have any career goals.”
“It’s not that I don’t have goals,” Annie sighed. “I’m not certain I can handle being on the road again. It’s not just me anymore. I have Sammi and Angel to worry about and they need me more than I need a career.”
“They could travel with you. People do that every day.”
“No way! I’m not inflicting that lifestyle on them.”
Dara cocked her head curiously. “What happened that left such an obvious bad taste in your mouth about being on the road?”
Annie’s back straightened and her eyes met Dara’s inquisitive stare. For several awkward moments the room remained silent. Annie shifted uneasily in her chair.
“It’s okay, Annie. You can tell me,” Dara’s comforting tone urged.
Annie dropped her head against he back of the chair as new tears began to fall. “I was attacked by a roadie in the bathroom at my last gig,” she said with a shrug. “He tried to rape me and slammed my face into the wall, cracked my cheek bone,” she said, touching her face.
“Oh, my God, Annie. Taylor never mentioned that to me. I’m so sorry.”
“I asked Taylor not to tell anyone, and for the most part, it was kept pretty quiet.”
“Did he go to jail?”
“Yes, but not for my attack. They got him on drug possession charges so he’s in jail for the time being. Thank God I didn’t miscarry.”
“I had no idea you had been through so much. What did Michael do?”
Annie laughed. We were already separated by that point but he did manage to make an appearance at the hospital. I’m not sure who told him I was there but, nonetheless, he came. He showed up drunk and disorderly, and made a real ass of himself. Security had to remove him from the building. How sad is that? Luckily, I had already been discharged.”
“Did he know you were pregnant?”
“No way! I kept that to myself. I knew he’d fight the divorce if he knew about it so I waited until everything was finalized.”
Annie sat back and massaged her temples with her finger tips, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “I believe the first time he realized I was expecting again was at the music awards back in March. They gave Brian a tribute that night so Michael and his band were all there. I came out on stage with Taylor and Lacey to present an award and he was sitting in the front row. I was about eight months pregnant and the look on his face was priceless. He found me backstage after the show, and demanded to talk to me. He wasn’t drunk but I could definitely smell alcohol on his breath.”
“So, what happened. What did he say?”
“I could see the pain in his eyes when he looked at me and I felt nothing but pity and contempt for him. We exchanged a few heated words and I told him to stay the hell away from me. I haven’t seen him since. From what I understand, he’s made no effort to contact my lawyer to even ask if we had a boy or a girl. Great father, isn’t he?”
“M
aybe he’s in rehab?” Dara offered.
Annie shook her head. “I doubt that. I'm not convinced he wants to get sober. I think he enjoys wallowing in his misery. Besides, I haven't heard any rumors he is in rehab and you know how news like that travels.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
It took Annie most of the following week to settle the girls and herself into their new home and a routine. She hired a nanny to help her and, upon Dara’s urging, began to socialize at night.
“Come on, Annie! You can’t hide forever out there on the beach,” Dara had scolded. “Billy’s band is in town tonight. They’re playing a gig at the Hot Tin Roof in Edgartown. Meet us there at nine o’clock and who knows, you might actually have some fun!”
For twenty-three years Dara had been married to Billy Wainwright, the drummer for the James Fellowship Band. The band was well known locally and had a reasonable following nationwide. During the summer months they played a few gigs each week on the island then played the rest of the week in clubs up and down the north and south shores of Massachusetts.
Dara squealed with delight when she saw Annie enter the tiny backstage dressing area. “You actually came!”
Annie’s face flushed hotly, as everyone in the room stopped and stared at her. Suddenly, she wished her skirt was longer and concealed more of her legs. One by one, Dara introduced her to all the band members. There were five of them, all handsome in their own ways, some married and some not, but it was Jay that immediately set himself apart from the others by kissing her knuckles upon their introduction.
“Nice to meet you, Annie. I’m Jay Preston, the bass player,” he said, gallantly lifting her tiny fingers to his mouth.
His hair was soft and shiny with multiple shades of blond and hung straight, touching the collar of his polo shirt. His eyes were a deep shade of sapphire and twinkled with life. Annie’s eyes dropped to his full, sensual lips, and felt her chest tighten. His bottom lip was fuller than the top and curled crookedly when his face relaxed into a sly grin. The skin on his face was tanned and led to a thick, muscled throat; at the base of which, a mass of dark chest hair grew.