by Susan Ward
“This will probably sound lame but it kind of feels like I’m trying to retrace my steps. How I ended up married to Neil. What happened with Alan and me. Hopefully try to make sense of my life.”
“Perfectly normal.”
Normal? None of this is normal. The house. How it makes me feel. And what I am considering so quickly even before I’ve officially ended my marriage to Neil. Hell, I haven’t even talked to my husband since that night, and my thoughts are held captive by Alan.
I change the subject. “Do you want to go walk on the beach?”
She checks her watch. “Sure, we’ve got time. Not a lot. But we can do a quick walk. That should be fine.”
I smile over Rene’s hyper-organized tendencies and spring to my feet. At the glass doors to the patio, I look back to see Rene grabbing the bottle of scotch from the bar.
She gives me the look. “What? Don’t stare at me that way. It’s after lunch. I can have a drink or two.”
My brows shoot up. “I didn’t say a word.”
“You, Chrissie, don’t have to.”
I kick off my shoes, leaving them next to an outdoor chair, and make my way to the sand. The sun is a sinking red ball dipping into the Pacific. There are a few people littering the sand, but not many, and it’s surprisingly quiet here.
We walk in silence for a while. I shove my hands into my pockets. There is just enough coastal mist in the air to make the wind chilly.
“In all the times Alan and I were here, do you know we never once walked on the beach together?”
Rene takes a long pull from the scotch bottle. “Probably wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do. Christ, I still can’t believe you had an affair with a married man all through college and never told me about it until after it ended. That hurt me, Chrissie. It really hurt.”
Inwardly I flinch from the married man part. I sink down to sit in the sand and Rene settles beside me. I stare at the water, searching for the right words to say.
I lie back in the sand. “You and Neil were so tight by the time we graduated Berkeley. I was afraid you’d tell him if I told you about Alan.”
Rene shoots up into a half-sitting position leaning on an arm, staring down at me, partly furious and partly annoyed. “It might have worked out better for you if I had told Neil about you and Alan. Which I wouldn’t have. Shit, Chrissie, I’m a better friend than that and you should know it.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes since not all the memories of Berkeley are good.
“It just got crazy at the end, Rene. Breaking up with Neil. Alan dumping me. Neil coming back. Everything moving too quickly all at once. Finding out I was…”
My words clog in my throat. I open my eyes to find Rene staring at me speculatively, but I ignore the question in her eyes and lift the bottle from her fingers. No, Chrissie, no. Don’t tell her about the abortion. Don’t open that lockbox today.
I take a long drink. That part of my history I don’t ever want to share with anyone else ever again. I think of Alan and push it away. Nope, not talking about this one.
We lie in the sand, passing the bottle back and forth and not talking. Above us the sky is starting to fade into darkness and the sand feels good beneath me. Behind me are the hushed tones of a couple talking, in the distance faint music and in front of me is only the sound of the waves. The sounds are familiar and calming.
Startled, I realize the sky is dark and it’s night. I let the minutes drift away without even noticing it. I turn my head. How long has Rene been doing nothing but lying in the sand, silent, staring at me?
“I don’t know what to do, Rene.”
Rene seems to give it thought. “You know what I’d do? Instead of lying here in the sand thinking about Alan, I’d grab hold of him tonight and fuck him until he’s raw. You need to get laid. You need to feel like a woman so you can manage your life like a woman. That’s why we’re here. It’s why you’re obsessing about Alan tonight. It doesn’t mean anything. Not really, and you don’t owe Neil anything so you shouldn’t beat yourself up over thinking about it. Just get it out of your system, Chrissie. Get both Neil and Alan out of your head. Then, take a breath and figure out what you want to do.”
And just like that, out of nowhere, Rene can read almost every thought in my head. Almost—she missed the part about me being in love with Alan and not wanting him out of my head. But nearly perfect.
Rene springs to her feet and begins to brush the sand from her legs. “We need to head out, Chrissie.”
I let out a ragged breath and climb from the sand. On the way to the house, Rene loops her arm around my neck.
“Everything is going to be OK.”
I nod. “I know.”
“It’s always crummiest before it gets better.”
I start to laugh. “When did you come up with that one? That one was not motivational at all, Rene.”
“Just now. I think I’ve had too much scotch to be creative, profound or eloquent. And darkest before the dawn is so trite. Crummiest before better sounded way better in my head.”
I study her face. “Shit, are you drunk already?”
“Almost, not quite. We’re going out tonight like in the old days. I get to watch my best friend live on stage. I’m sure there’s a concert after-party somewhere. And we don’t have to go home. We don’t have to say no to anything. We both don’t have anyone waiting for us tonight. We can just be Santa Barbara girls gone wild.”
The don’t have anyone waiting for us tonight remark makes my emotions sharply adjust and then my mood plummet.
We wash off our feet on the patio and collect our shoes.
“I’m not going to any after-party,” I announce, slipping my feet into my sandals.
“Well, you can’t fuck Alan out of your system unless you go where he is.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not going to fuck Alan tonight. I’m not ready to start anything with anyone yet. I haven’t even spoken to Neil since that night.”
I open the patio door. I step into the room and freeze.
Oh fuck.
A woman turns to face me. Elaina. Alan’s latest supermodel bed partner. Her sultry eyes lock with mine and my stomach shimmies. I feel small and inferior and not at all pretty just being in the same room with her.
She frowns, setting her purse on a table in a single graceful move. “Chrissie, what are you doing here?”
Her voice holds a sharp edge, potently suggestive. I flush. How awful is this?
I force a smile. “I was just leaving, Elaina.”
“Alan said he wouldn’t be here until tonight. After the concert.” She gives me a sharp once-over, leaving very little doubt what she’s thinking about finding me here. The heat on my cheeks turns into a full burn. “Where is he?”
I grab my keys from my pocket. “I don’t know where he is. He’s not here. And he hasn’t been, Elaina. My mistake. I thought no one would be here until tomorrow.”
As far as exit points go in extremely awkward female moments, this has got to be about as terrible as they get, but I leave anyway.
Halfway to the entry hall, Rene leans into me and whispers, “Well, that was fucked. But maybe not. She looks ready to kill him. I think you’ve pretty much ruined Alan’s after-party.”
She is laughing as I open the front door.
I hurry down the walkway toward my car, feeling like a perfect fool. Like an adolescent girl making fanciful plots about making it happen with a guy. That moronic Teri used to do that over Neil during our freshman year at Cal.
But I’m a grown woman. Married with a child. I can’t behave this way. Pathetic and little-girlish, ready to start something new the second I’m hurt by a different guy.
Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? How could I spend half a day at Alan’s house and never consider in my fantasies that he is always making it happen elsewhere.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Inside the car, I can’t stop shaking as we make our way from Brentwood to
the concert venue. Pre-performance jitters run rampant with all the other mess coursing through me.
Crap, I missed sound check lying on the beach with Rene and didn’t even realize it. Alan is going to be furious.
With everything else completely wrong in my life, tonight I sure as hell don’t need pissed off Alan. Shit, he’s called twenty times since two. What’s up with that? His response to me being MIA seems a little extreme, and it definitely wasn’t smart not to call him back.
Not smart, Chrissie. Not smart doing something that would make Alan angry with you.
I just keep making more mess in my life. Hiding from Neil. Blowing off sound check. Ignoring Alan’s calls. At some point, I’m going to have to pull it together enough to start reassembling my life again. Ending my marriage to Neil. A new home for Kaley and me. Alan.
Rene gives me a fast once-over and smiles.
“You look really hot, Chrissie. Your makeup artist is amazing. I can’t even tell you spent half the day crying. And that outfit. Well, you should definitely let her dress you more often. She knows where your best assets are.” She arches a brow. “And it’s definitely not your ass. You should show the girls more often.”
She looks pointedly at my cleavage and I roll my eyes. Typical Rene-ism, all’s well for those who look hot and have big tits. Why the hell did I let Rene and my makeup girl turn me into a slutty-looking Barbie, about the most obvious type of look a woman could possible select? I never dress this way, not even on stage. This over-the-top blatantly sexual way.
My appearance unmistakably screams fuck me tonight, Alan. So pathetic.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Rene states firmly. “No one will have a clue what’s happening in your life right now. Not with how you look. We get through tonight, then tomorrow we figure out what to do about Neil and everything.”
I nod.
She reaches into the bar and pours two glasses of scotch. She hands one to me before she slouches down in her seat. “When was the last time we got drunk inside a limo together? We should definitely get drunk tonight, don’t you think?”
I take a sip of my drink. “We haven’t been in a limo together since New York. 1989.”
She frowns. “Really? That long?”
“Yep.”
She settles against me in an affectionate way. I study her. I’ve always wanted to ask her, though I don’t really need to. Deep inside me, in the part of me that is all things Alan, I know he has always told me the truth about this.
“Do you remember our night at The Blue Light?”
“Oh my God. Of course I remember. How could you even ask? We were insane that night.” She laughs and then makes a face. “You were so messed up and I met that weird guy. What was his name?”
She frowns.
“Weird guy? He was a drug dealer. Jimmy Stallworth.”
She chuckles. “Yep, Jimmy Stallworth. I remember him. Definitely remember Jimmy.”
She says that in a way that makes it unnecessary to ask what she means by remember Jimmy and unpleasantly reminds me of how sexually easy she used to be when we were young.
My gaze sharpens on her. “Did Alan talk to you that night at The Blue Light?”
Her pretty face contorts with anger. “Fucker. He shoved me into a bathroom and got in my face. Ruined our evening. Snarling at me about needing to take you home and me being a worthless friend.” She shakes her head with her memories. “God, he was such an asshole that night.”
Exactly the same story as Alan’s. Why did I ask her? I already knew the truth, that Alan hadn’t lied to me.
I focus out the window. Before I’m ready for it, the car slows to a stop in front of the private security entrance of the arena.
My eyes widen in alarm. Alan must not be here yet. It’s packed, countless bodies deep all around the security door, and more press mixed in the crowd than would ever wait for me. It’s never like this when I arrive. Not ever. The hordes move with Alan wherever he goes.
Rene gathers her stuff. The door opens. She starts to climb out, then freezes, looking back at me. “What’s wrong?”
I stare. For some reason I’m trembling in that way when you know something terrible is about to happen. I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Rene frowns. “It will be all right, Chrissie. You look hot, like everything is hunky-dory in your world. Smile. No one will pick up on anything.”
Then she disappears through the open door and the cameras go crazy in repeated rapid flashing that makes my trembling increase.
I paste on a smile and force myself to climb from the safety of the leather seat. One foot lands on concrete, and before I can see it happen I’m swallowed up in a circle of security and there are shouting voices and even more frenzied flashing.
I can’t catch the words, the questions shooting at me from every direction, as I’m being pushed toward the entrance through the jostling mob. And then I realize that I have a full security team around me, not just my usual escort, Trey, but I am guarded on every side of me by the hulking security team which usually surrounds Alan.
As I’m shoved through the security door into the overly lit corridor, I hear someone bellow, “No comment!”
I rapidly search the reporters pushing in too close and I see my manager, Brian Craig, cutting his way through bodies toward me.
His eyes are flashing with anger and his fingers close on my arm and, before I can say anything, he shouts up at Trey, “Not in there, you idiot. No press. I thought you understood. No one gets near her. On stage. Off stage. Out of here. No press. Nothing. You keep everyone away from her.”
I’m being pushed down the corridor again. “Brian, what’s happened?” Dread is curling all through my body, telling me that what I’ve feared most has already happened without my knowing it.
“Not now, Chrissie.”
How Brian says that leaves little doubt that somehow my private nightmare went public tonight. Oh God…
As we’re ushered into a dressing room, Brian snaps, “No one through. Understand? Absolutely no one,” and then the door is bolted closed behind us.
“Oh fuck, Chrissie.” I’m startled from my mental fog by Rene. I look at her and the building alarm inside me is written on her face.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Brian says in a frantic, heavily exasperated way.
“What’s happened?”
His bushy brows shoot up. “You haven’t heard? Why didn’t you return my calls today? We could have put together a response. Something.” He points an angry finger at me. “When you have a problem, you call me first. Why the hell didn’t you come to me?”
I try to steady my shaking limbs. “Will you stop yelling at me, Brian, and tell me what is going on here?”
He jerks an agitated hand through his gray hair. “There was a press conference this afternoon. Your husband. That’s what’s happening here, Chrissie.”
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
He snaps his fingers, and that’s when I notice Brian’s senior press secretary standing behind him. She starts rummaging through her case. She hands papers to him.
He reads, “Neil Stanton, lead singer for Arctic Hole, splits with wife, singer/songwriter Christian Parker. Sources close to Stanton—that would be fucking Ernie Levine, Chrissie—state that Parker’s continued involvement with rocker Alan Manzone is partially to blame for their separation.”
“I don’t believe it. Neil wouldn’t do that.” I turn to Rene. “He wouldn’t do that, would he, Rene?”
“Asshole,” she exclaims under her breath.
Brian’s eyes fix on me, unrelenting, angry. “Damn it, Chrissie. Neil has already done it. It’s been out on the wire service since two. You should have told me so I could get ahead of this. They’ve taken the first shot. Neil’s people are coming after you. What the hell is happening?”
My snapping brain can’t begin to make sense of this. “Coming after me for what? Neil and I are having problems, but…I don’t understand why Er
nie Levine would do this.”
“Ernie must have thought he had to get ahead of events to protect Neil,” Brian replies grimly. “What happened? Levine is in attack mode. He wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t afraid you’d do something to fuck with the money and the brand.”
My heart stills in my chest. Oh no, it can’t be that. Frantically, I start looking around the room. “Where’s my stuff? My phone? Damn it, I need a phone.”
Rene rummages through her bag and holds out her mobile to me. I flip it open, seeing all the calls from Neil in the log. I click on one. I hold it to my ear, listening to the ring, and step away from everyone to put distance between us to have what little privacy I can in this humiliating moment.
My nerves grow tauter with each ring.
“Rene,” Neil’s voice anxiously floats through the earpiece.
“No, it’s Chrissie.”
A long moment of silence.
A loud exhale of breath.
“Oh God, are you OK, baby? Where are you?”
My eyes widen, stunned.
“I’m surprised you care,” I snap with more ire than I intend.
“I’ll always care, Chrissie. Whatever has changed, that hasn’t and never will.”
What I hear in his voice intensifies my internal disarray and I struggle to remain focused on why I called. “Then why did Ernie release that statement today? How could you do it, Neil? Go public and blame me. And how could you drag Alan into this? You know it’s not true. Damn you.”
“I had nothing to do with it, Chrissie,” he shoots back, ragged and distressed. “Ernie Levine did that without my consent. I swear. I never would have let him do that if I’d known. You’ve got to believe me. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
Wouldn’t hurt me for the world? I fight back the flashing images of him and Andy in my bed as I choke back fresh tears.
“I’ve called you a thousand times,” he continues. “You won’t talk to me. I admit I’ve been out of my mind, worried about what you might do. So I called a meeting with the band and I came clean with the guys. Told them everything. What I’ve done. The decisions I’m making in my life. They affect them, too. Ernie was at the meeting. But I never expected him to jump out ahead of us talking and release that bullshit statement today.”