The Girl On The Half Shell

by Susan Ward

  “The tracks will be finished next week,” Alan says heavily, “and then I’m done. Do you hear me, Brian? I quit.”

  Silence, dead silence through the phone and all around me. Quitting? Is he really quitting? Is he walking out on his career?

  I stare up at him, my eyes round, unable to process any of this.

  “You don’t mean that, Manny. It’s just post recovery emotionalism. I’ve seen this a hundred times,” Brian says sagely.

  Alan clicks off the phone.

  “Well, I think that went well,” Rene says, breaking the tense silence.

  I look cautiously up at Alan. “Are you OK?”

  He gives me a tired smile. “I wish I was back on the beach with you, Chrissie.”

  I blush, not knowing what to make of that. He looks different, so strange, and it never occurred to me he would look different, strange, back in his life.

  We are at Jack’s New York apartment and I wonder how Alan knew where to take us. The car stops and Alan lowers the privacy glass.

  “Stay with her all the way to her door,” he says to the driver.

  “Sure, Manny.”

  Rene rolls forward in her seat. “Well, it’s been real, Manny.” She looks at me, and then she climbs from the car.

  Now that we’re alone, I feel a strange nervousness claim me. I feel the pressure to say something. Anything. “It’s going to be all right. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Alan laughs. “I’d walk you in, but it’s better I don’t.”

  The driver has the luggage and is waiting. I stare at Alan, not knowing what to do. Shaking hands goodbye seems stupid. But should I kiss him? And where should I kiss him? A fast peck on the check? The lips? The thought that I probably won’t ever see him again enters my mind. I am prospectively depressed.

  “Thank you for the lift,” I murmur, as I climb out of the car. I lean back in and laugh. “That sounds really lame considering you gave me a lift in a private plane.”

  “I’d walk you up, but I can’t. It’s better for you that I don’t.”

  Well, he certainly didn’t put anything in that statement to make me hope I’d see him again. I smile. “See ya, Mr. Whoever You Are.”

  Alan laughs. “See ya. Good luck at your audition, Chrissie.”

  “My audition.” I laugh. I’d forgotten why I came to New York.

  I step back from the car and close the door. The doorman pulls open the door for me and I follow Rene into the elevator. I struggle to keep my expression blank as we go floor by floor to the penthouse.

  A blast of music pulls me from my thoughts and I notice that the elevator doors are open. Rene is in the apartment, has switched on the sound system and Blondie is blasting. Deborah Harry’s voice bounces off the wood floors and high ceilings as Rene dances around in the center of the room singing One way Or Another.

  The driver sets our bags in the foyer.

  “Thank you for seeing us to the door.”

  “You take care, Miss Parker.”

  I frown. How does the driver know who I am?

  He smiles. “You look just like Jack. I thought for sure those assholes in the press would notice and be on his story. They’d know where he’s been.”

  Was that why Alan was afraid they’d see me? They’d be on his story; his months in California, whatever had gone on there with Jack. I realize with a start that I don’t even know what that was all about. How Jack was involved. Why Jack brought him home. And I don’t know completely what happened to Alan last year.

  The driver is watching me. I smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Colin, Miss Parker.”

  “Well, Colin, thank you for everything. Take care of him, OK?”

  Colin smiles. I shut the door. Rene instantly darts across the room to bounce on her knees on the sofa.

  Rene raises her eyebrows. “We should call him. He can get us into all the best parties.”

  “God, Rene, we just left him. Besides I don’t know how to call him.”

  Rene frowns, then grabs the phone. Who is she calling? I panic and then realize it’s the doorman.

  “This is Miss Parker. Could you please arrange for a car to pick us up at eleven and that we are on the list tonight at wherever is currently considered the hottest night spot in Manhattan.”

  Rene smiles. She listens. She nods. “Thank you very much.” She hangs up and bursts into laughter. “God, Chrissie, I’d love to be you for just one day.”

  “I am not going out tonight. I am not partying until after my audition Monday.”

  “Oh, yes we are, Chrissie. We are alone. It’s Saturday night. We are in Manhattan. We are going out.”

  Chapter Five

  Rene sloshes her Cosmopolitan all over my bedroom rug as she finishes the last touches of makeup on me. I’m not sure about wearing her black halter mini dress. I feel like an overdressed Barbie, but Rene is happy so I don’t put up a fight.

  Rene hands me a tiny silk wallet.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a bra purse. Mom makes me carry one every time we’re out of The States. Put your ID and cash in there so we don’t lose it.”

  I do as instructed and frown. “Do I just take it out right in front of people when I need something?”

  Rene laughs. “Yes, Chrissie. It’s no big deal. It’s not like anyone is going to see anything.”

  She picks up my drink and hands it to me. “Pound it, Chrissie. You need to loosen up. I want to have fun tonight. I sure as hell don’t want to sit around here all night watching you look at the phone every ten seconds waiting for Alan Manzone to call. Face it, Chrissie, he isn’t going to call. He’s not interested in you. Jeez, he’s not even interested in me.” She makes a face. “Maybe he’s gay.”

  The intercom buzzes and Rene jumps to her feet. “I have a friend.”

  I roll my eyes. It’s just the doorman informing us that the car is here, but Rene is in a festive mood and is going to be a wild handful to keep up with tonight.

  Grabbing my hand, Rene pulls me at a running pace into the elevator and then collapses against the mirrored walls as we chug slowly to the lobby.

  Our driver is waiting with Elliot the doorman.

  “Miss Parker, this is David. He’ll be your driver while in New York.”

  David gives me a carefully trained smile from an emotionless face.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say.

  “Miss Parker.” He nods.

  Somehow David gets to the car before us and is waiting patiently with a door open to the backseat. I turn to stare out the window at the passing lights, as Rene flicks on the sound system, flipping through songs before settling on Paula Abdul.

  She rummages through the compartments until she finds the mini-fridge. “Look. A bar.”

  She pulls out a bottle of champagne, pops the cork, and then lets it fizz all over the carpet before taking a swig from the bottle.

  “We’re going to have fun tonight, Chrissie,” she orders, pushing the bottle on me. “Drink.”

  I take only a small sip because, for some reason, I hardly touched my dinner and I know this is not a good idea on top of the Cosmos we had in the bedroom.

  Rene gives me the look and tilts the bottle upward until my mouth is full and I have to take a large swallow.

  “We’re celebrating our freedom. Just think, in another month no more boarding school…,”she makes a face, “…no more rules. No more Eliza. Freedom, utter and complete freedom.”

  Trying to match Rene’s high spirits, I do a little tip with the bottle. “To our new lives.”

  Rene beams. “Hopefully, it starts tonight. Face it, Chrissie. Our life in Santa Barbara is so pathetic.”

  “Which club are we going to?”

  Rene shrugs, taking the bottle, and laughs. “I haven’t a clue.” She rolls down the privacy partition. “David? Where are you taking us?”

  David’s eyes shift and I can see them in the rearview mirror. “I was t
old to take you to The Blue Light, Miss.”

  Rene makes a face at me. “The Blue Light?” she whispers. “Have you ever heard of that club, Chrissie?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s new, Miss. Very popular. I’m sure you’ll have an enjoyable evening,” David says, somehow hearing Rene.

  Rene chokes on a laugh and eagerly rolls up the partition. “I’m sure we’ll have an enjoyable evening,” she says with a heavy male voice impression.

  I laugh.

  Rene takes another long pull on the bottle. “God, David’s cute. Like a blond Nordic God. We’re going to have to take the car every chance we get.”

  “Is there anyone you don’t enjoy messing with?”

  “Nope, pretty much not.”

  We’re suddenly laughing our heads off and we’ve killed the bottle of champagne by the time the car rolls to a stop. It’s impossible to go out with Rene and not have fun. She’s got such an I don’t give a crap what anyone thinks, self-confident manner.

  “Are you ready to party?” Rene bellows. The door opens and David offers her his hand. She has a sweetly docile, ladylike smile on her face. I curl over in the seat laughing.

  “Elliot assures me you are on the list, Miss,” David says formally as he assists Rene from the car.

  “Thank you, very much,” Rene says slightly aloof, slightly stuffy.

  Behind David’s back she makes a face at me as I’m assisted from the car. I bite my lip not to laugh.

  This must be a popular club. The sidewalk is packed and the line well down the street, and there are plenty of tabloid photographers here. There is a little bit of everything that is New York crowding the concrete waiting to get in: the always hot; the always not; the always freaky; and the artsy.

  “I’ll be waiting across the street, Miss Parker. When you are ready to leave, don’t come to me. I will come to you, Miss.”

  “Yes, David,” I say obediently. So much for no rules.

  Rene loops her arm through mine as we stroll to the door. “God, Chrissie, you mystify me. I don’t know why you don’t love your life. If I were you I’d be out having mad fun 24/7. It’s like having nothing but E-tickets in the pack. There isn’t any place you can’t get into. Except perhaps the White House with a Republican President.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why do you always have to exaggerate? My life isn’t like that and you know it.”

  “It could be like that.”

  Rene gives my name to security at the door, the bouncer checks the list and we are immediately allowed to enter. Rene makes a face. “E-ticket. I hate it when you downplay thinking I’m jealous that you have the famous dad. It’s so annoying, Chrissie.”

  “It’s no big deal,” I say fiercely. “I hate that you make such a big deal of it.”

  “Then let’s own it for one night and have some fun, Chrissie. Let’s get into some crazy-ass trouble. Let’s show Eliza how the real hot girls roll.”

  She does a loud whoop! holding up her arms and makes a sassy swish with her hips. Instead of coming off looking dorky, it draws every set of male eyes to Rene. But that’s Rene, everything always works for her.

  The three-story club is hot and packed and earsplitting with the sounds of a live band. The walls are black and all the furnishings covered in blue velvet. There are strobe lights and floor steam and two levels for dancing, and Rene drags me behind her as she fights our way through the crush of bodies.

  “God, Chrissie, this place is so incredible. Why don’t we have something like this in Santa Barbara? Peppers looks so small town lame by comparison.”

  We finally find two free spots on a sofa near the downstairs dance floor and she plops down with a heavy drop. “We should have gone to the clubs in LA more. We didn’t take full advantage of our partying opportunities.”

  Right now, I’m glad we didn’t. I’m feeling a little fuzzy, the champagne from the car finally hit me, and we’re just starting our night.

  Before our first drink round arrives, Rene has already got a small court of preppy young college guys surrounding our sofa-level table. She does know how to kickstart a party. The college guys from NYU are really only interested in Rene, but by the third round of drinks I’m exhausted from laughing and dancing, and we are crowded around our table playing quarters, since the band is on break and the giant video monitors are blasting.

  Rene bounces a quarter, making it into the glass, and she forces a shot on me. She holds the tequila shooter in my face. “Pound it, Chrissie.”

  I pound it and Rene laughs, but her latest male conquest gives me a sympathetic smile. I can tell he can tell I’m pretty messed up at this point by the way I laugh, how wobbly I am just sitting, and the flush spreading on my cheeks. Rene has forced on me every shooter round she’s won, but the guys stopped picking on me three shots ago.

  “I think we should take a break from the drinking.” Jimmy Stallworth motions for the waitress to bring me a glass of water. “Do you always let your friend get you so messed up?”

  I shake my head weakly. “Never. I don’t know why she is being so rotten to me tonight. She never forces me to take every shooter.”

  Rene waves off his concern. “Oh, don’t worry about, Chrissie. She’s a lightweight, but she never passes out.”

  I turn my head to find Victor staring at me strangely. “Do you need to go outside for some air?” he asks.

  I smile weakly at him, but Rene grabs my arm. “No, no, no! You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  When the water comes, Jimmy Stallworth forces it into my hand and orders me to drink. I’m halfway through the glass when the video on the monitor changes. The moving lights cast strange colors and shadows all around me, I’m in a totally groggy frame of mind, but not too groggy to recognize the gorgeous guy one story tall on the monitor…or is my mind playing tricks on me? Is that what happens after too much alcohol? You just start imagining you see a guy everywhere.

  “Is he everywhere?” I try to focus my blurry vision on Jimmy Stallworth. “It’s strange…two days ago nothing, and now I see him everywhere. Is he really on the monitor or am I imaging it?”

  Rene shakes her head. “You’re all right, Chrissie. He’s really on the monitor.”

  I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m already seeing double. It would be really bad if I were seeing things not there.”

  Jimmy Stallworth sighs heavily and pushes the glass back up to my lips. “OK, no more drinks for you, and lets have some more water. Do you have a way home? I can get them to call a cab for you. I think you should take your friend home before she passes out. She’s really fucked up, Rene.”

  Rene points to the monitor. “No, she’s not wasted. She’s talking about the video. We know him.”

  Victor leans across me to speak to Rene. “You know Alan Manzone?”

  Rene shrugs. “We flew to New York with him.”

  “Bullshit,” says Jimmy Stallworth. “California girls are always full of such shit.”

  I shake my head. “No, we know him.”

  “Then who is that sitting over there giving Rene the serious fuck me stare?”

  I turn my head in the direction Jimmy indicates, but I’m seeing double, so this just isn’t going to work.

  “What? Are we in eighth grade or something?” Rene snaps. She looks. She frowns. “That’s Kenny Jones, Blackpoll’s drummer.”

  “Well, if you know Manzone you must know Kenny Jones.”

  Rene shrugs and springs to her feet.

  I just want to sit and Rene is trying to pull me to my feet. I stare up at her. “Are we going home?”

  “Come on, Chrissie.”

  I lean into her and my thoughts fade in and out of my brain and the floor feels like it’s coming up to meet me. I am suddenly too hot and I am really glad that Rene is always here for me.

  * * *

  It hurts just to try to open my eyes. It’s not possible to feel as badly as I feel. The light in the room is muted, it must be morning, and I am in bed an
d every muscle in my body aches.

  I struggle to roll onto my side. The spot beside me is empty, but the blankets are pushed down. Rene’s everything bag is lying beside me. At least I did manage to bring Rene home with me. On the bedside table there is a glass of orange juice and two Tylenol.

  My befuddled brain struggles through fractured snapshots of the night before. I remember going into the club. The drinks. The NYU preppies all hot in their boxers for Rene. The drinking games, but then only bits and pieces. I don’t remember how we got home. I’m still wearing my black halter dress and panties, but I don’t have my bra on. I find it lying on the floor beside the bed.

  I sit up and take the Tylenol and drink the juice. I fall back into the pillows and tug the blankets tightly around my aching flesh.

  Rene runs into the bedroom. She is ecstatic. She drops on the bed with a bounce that makes my head swim. “Finally! You’re awake. You are not going to believe this. You are never going to believe this.”

  I pull a pillow tightly over my head.

  “I hope you don’t feel as bad as you look. I should have stopped forcing shooters on you,” Rene says matter-of-factly.

  Ya think? And why is she waiving a newspaper?

  She collapses beside me on the pillows. Just the motion of her body nearly makes me to throw up. She snaps open the paper.

  “I’m on the front page of the New York Post, Chrissie.”

  “What?”

  As miserable as I feel, that gets me into a sitting position. She is on the front page. It’s a picture of her exiting the plane with Alan. I feel even more sick, but not from the alcohol. There are also pictures of her in the club last night. Did Rene really dance on a table? I don’t remember any of this, and even the single photo that has me in it has that surreal feel of not being me because I don’t remember any of this.