Always Box Set

by Ward, Susan

  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’m interested.

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

  “The kid.”

  He says it simply and I cringe. Crap, not the deranged musician 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 again. 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 what’s happening, Linda. 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. He has to help himself.”

  “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 has free use of Alan’s property.

  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 to 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 find him.”

  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 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.

  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.

  “Hello, Linda.”

  He calmly sips his drink. Not a flicker of surprise at seeing me. Staring at him, I can see the truth of what this is by how he’s watching me. Crisis my ass. Damn him, he maneuvered this because he wanted me here. Stupid, Linda, stupid. You fell for his cry-for-help drama hook, line and sinker. I’m furious.

  “How dare you manipulate me to come here?”

  No reaction. None.

  “Was Len part of this farce to trick me here?” I snap.

  Another drag of his cigarette. Another sip of his drink. It takes every ounce of control for me not to lunge across the room and hit him.

  “Len is genuinely concerned,” he says. “Me, I need your help.”

  Fuck you, Alan Manzone.

  “Did it ever occur to you to pick up the phone like a normal human being and ask for my help?”

  He arches a brow. “You wouldn’t have come if I called. You care but you don’t want to and you sure as hell don’t want to show it.”

  I tense. I’d forgotten how easily he can read people. And he’s right. If he’d asked I wouldn’t have come. I’d have told him to go to hell.

  “What is it you want?”

  “That hideous friend of yours is becoming a problem.”

  Oh crap.

  I stare at him in disbelief. “You made me cross an ocean because Jeanette is being difficult?” I gape at him. “You picked her, you asshole. Now you deal with her. I’m getting the hell out of here.”

  “Please, don’t go.”

  Something in his voice stops me.

  “She won’t take the money, Linda,” he says desperately, his eyes impassioned. “She won’t listen to reason. She won’t settle. She wants me to marry her and she is taking me to court knowing I can’t let that happen.”

  I frown. Crap, why does Alan’s life always play out like a nineteenth century British novel?

  “Take you to court for what?” I ask.

  A long pause, and the color darkens in his eyes. “She’s pregnant.” His gaze lifts from me as he focuses on stomping out his cigarette. “We were together one time. Only that one time, Linda. And she claims she’s pregnant and it’s mine.”

  Fuck. I can’t believe he dragged me back and into this. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

  His gaze shifts to mine.

  “Fix it,” he says fiercely. “Get her to take the money. Get her to go away. Get her to stay silent.”

  I laugh. “You think I have influence over Jeanette?” My laughter grows stronger. “I’m sorry, Manny. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get me here and I can’t do a fucking thing to help you.”

  His gaze holds mine and the way he’s staring at me has the unkind ability to soften my heart.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything but talk to her,” he says. “You talking to her might get her to see reason.”

  I laugh again. Yeah, right. Jeanette and I have only been marginal friends in our best of times.

  “Will you do it?” he asks.

  I stare at a vacant spot in the room. His nerve. How dare he ask me to do this? My answer should be: no, no, and hell no. In disappointment, I realize I’m considering it.

  I shift my gaze back to him. “I don’t know if it will help. I don’t know if I will do it. But I do know if you don’t answer my questions truthfully I walk out that door and never come back. And you can wallow in whatever disaster you are so afraid will happen if the world knows who you really are.”

  “I’ve never lied to you about anything, Linda.”

  Damn him. Why do I believe him? And why does my anger toward him continue to wane when I don’t want it to? I see him, and it all slowly melts away. Damn him.

  I stay carefully standing near the door of the hotel room.

  “What was I to you?” I ask.

  Alan’s black eyes burn into me. “Nothing. You were the girl who walked out on Jackson Parker. And I wanted to fuck you because of that. That’s how it started with me.” His expression soften. “Later, it was something quite different.”

  “Aha.”

  I take a moment to collect my rioting emotions. In control again, I say, “And what was Jeanette to you?”

  He lights another cigarette and stares at me through the smoke for a moment. “Nothing. Just something to do.”

  “God, you are an asshole, Alan Manzone.”

  He arches a brow. “Not exactly something I haven’t heard before. I was expecting something more original from you, Linda.”

  I take just enough steps into the room to sink down on the couch. A part of me wants to run as far away from him as I can. A part of me wants to smack him. And a part of me feels sorry for him. He’s not even twenty yet. How the hell does a guy get so fucked up so young?

  “Let me set you straight on a few things, Alan. You are a fucking train wreck waiting to happen every minute of your life. Even I can’t keep that from happening. Sandy hired me to fix and handle you. Well, it can’t be done. You’re a train wreck in process and I should get the hell out of here before you take me down with you.”

  The look in his eyes took on a subtle glow. Crap, even as much as I hate him after what he did to me the feel him runs through my veins.

  “Then handle me, Linda,” he whispers. “You’ll get no more shit from me. None. Just don’t let me crash.”

  “Why should I?” I snap, not at all sure what it is he’s suggesting. “I should let you self-destruct and put everyone out of their misery. Why should I help you?”

  He leans forward, elbows on knees. “Because I trust you. And I care for you.”

  Not the answer I expected.

  “I despise you,” I say, though deep down inside I know that isn’t true.

  The smile that rises to his face is alluring and terrifying at once. “Good. It will make us better friends.”

  Shaking my head, I study his amused expression.

  “How awful your life must be,” I hiss scathingly. “To be able to have anything you want. For all women to adore you. And yet you despise us all.”

  The way he is staring at me makes me start to shiver.

  “No woman adores me. They want what they can get from me. But me? They couldn’t give a fuck about.”

  I’m about to leave the room when the expression in his eyes changes into something I’ve never seen before, burning shards of wistfulness, pain and despondency.

  “I don’t despise women,” he adds softly. “Jeanette I despise. You I care for, Linda. You I would marry.”

  My heart jumps against my chest and I can’t believe he actually said that.

  I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I would never marry you.”

  He arches a brow. “And you will never marry Jackson Parker either. So why don’t you stay, fix my problem, go back on the road with us, marry Len, love Jack, and be good to me?”

  Thirteen

  Two years later

  I sit in the backseat of the limo wedged between Alan and Len, and I can’t stop laughing. We’ve been on an amazing ride for over two years, and while we may not have started out completely liking each other, we’ve molded in
to something akin to a family.

  The regrets I have—many—have lost their edge with time. I still think of Jack. I miss him every day, the smile in his eyes, the sound of his voice, but I stay away. I’m not ready yet to see him again. I’m not sure what would happen if I did. Time has not erased my loving him. And I don’t want to discover if it has for Jack. It would make the things I had to do too painful to know we ended without him loving me.

  Alan drapes his arm around my shoulder and puts a sloppy kiss on me. He’s in a particularly good mood today, affectionate and silly. But then again, why shouldn’t he be? In under two years he’s become an international superstar.

  I push him off me. “Go away, ugly. I don’t like you in the least today.”

  He looks amused. “You should have married me instead of Len.”

  I arch a brow. “I wouldn’t have you. Remember?”

  Len sets the bottle of JD back into the car bar. “Are you sure you want us to drop you back at the apartment, love? Why don’t you come with us? CBGBs, a few drinks, a few laughs. Some music. You love a good party, Linda, and everyone will be there.”

  I smile at Len. “I’m tired. Besides. You two jerkoffs will have more fun without me.”

  They both laugh and I stare out the window at the brightly lit streets. I never expected to become a permanent east coaster, but every member of the band now lives in Manhattan instead of the UK. Alan moved first and the rest followed. Pretty much sums up our lives these days. We follow Alan and it’s been a hell of a wild ride.

  The car rolls to a stop in front of our Central Park West high-rise condo. I drop a fast kiss on Len’s cheek.

  I point a finger back and forth between the two of them. “Behave. No getting into trouble. I’m not bailing you out of jail or anywhere else tonight.”

  Len smiles. “We’ll be perfect gentlemen, I promise.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’d settle for gentlemen. Perfect is a definite stretch.”

  Alan climbs out of the car and I follow him.

  He studies my face. “Are you sure you’re OK, Linda?”

  I look at him, startled, and I wonder what he can see on my face. It’s October again and I have my October blues, only this time I thought I was hiding it well.