“It had a thorough once over after the funeral. But if you really need another, I can fit it in the schedule. Early next week okay, Mr. Malone?”
After a big sigh I say, “Well if that’s all you got. I’ll just have to tell Miss NovaKain, who is flying in tomorrow, that she can see the stage sometime next week. Sure hope she doesn’t quit.”
“NovaKain is going to be singing…here?”
“Yes and living there too. You might want to let Jean in the kitchen know, we need to beef her up a little. Make sure he fills my refrigerator with some treats, would ya? She’s awfully skinny.”
My last call is to our graphic designer. “Make it really special, a very warm welcome from Vegas,” I say.
“You got it, Shamus.”
By the time I crawl into bed that night, I’m exhausted.
I’ve been tense since I’d left her, but I saw it in her eyes. She wasn’t ready quite yet.
What if tomorrow comes and she’s still not here? What will I do? Drag her into court? Use Justice as muscle. If I keep thinking of all the what if’s, I’m never going to get any sleep.
Needing a distraction, I turn on the news.
One click, and she’s everywhere.
Breaking news. Unapologetic as ever, NovaKain says, ‘F U Grammys.’ With both hands.
Oh no. There’s my star attraction, high as hell. Wearing the same clothes I left her in. Yesterday. Right down to the hospital ID band on her wrist. It’s like deja vu in hell, except…Isn’t that the guy from Fight Club?
Yep, and she’s on him like a patch on a jacket.
Off balance, she giggles through a statement of some sort. Two words in and the beautiful duo completely breaks down into raucous peals of laughter. Unable to contain the hilarity, she hands the newsman a familiar ivory envelope and my gut churns.
Practically salivating, the reporter can’t spread the bad news fast enough. “Dear Miss Kain...”
As he reads, I get a sinking feeling. Like the noose is already around my neck and the stool’s wobbling.
Where are her handlers? Those that are supposed to be looking out for her? Right here.
I never should have left her. I won’t make that mistake again.
I should have tied her up and thrown her in the trunk.
It should end right there. But on live TV, she’s gotta have the last say. Glassy-eyed, she smirks as the camera zooms in. “Man have I had a week. Rusty hasn’t changed. I don’t think I have any more friends left, but if I do, he’d find a way to screw them too. Then there’s the overdose. Oh my God! Did you guys hear? They tried to 5150 my ass. Monday’s suck. Amirite?”
It’s Sunday, but no one corrects her.
“All I wanted was a little fun before I’m shut off and somehow I’m the bad guy. Whatever haters. Come see me at The Four Leaf. Vegas Baby!”
She turns to the reporter. “Can I say hi to my boss, Shamrock Malone?”
It’s Shamus but I’ve been called worse. At least she got the venue right.
Then I think of what Justice said. We forgive famous people of everything just to be in their light.
I text my brother. Justice, we have a problem.
Chapter 15
NovaKain
With no idea where I am, I wake with the taste of her on my tongue. Kiki’s naked body spread across me like melted butter. Petal soft limbs encircle me. Her legs cling like a vine.
Sleep tousled, she pouts, “Why can’t you just stay with me?”
It’s almost enough to get me to stay and I can see why Rusty couldn’t say no.
Still, I liked her better when she was just my Kiki, not one I had to share.
As I shimmy out from beneath her, she says, “You can’t just make love to me…”
And I push her off completely. “Hold up. There was no love lost on these sheets last night. I only picked you because Brad was out of condoms. We fucked, don’t get it twisted,” I warn.
I sit up and she pools around my waist with the sheet. One step away from tears, she clings to me.
She fucked my ex…and I’m the asshole?
Softening my tone, my voice fills with the sultry seduction that the critics love. Or used to love. “To be honest, I don’t have a choice. Washed up pop stars that overdose in the presence of hookers, aren’t in high demand. Even if said hookers are male. Feminism really is dead.”
Tears forgotten, she giggles. “Not in this bed. I wore that pussy like a hat.”
And that’s what I love about her. Whether she does it out of the kindness of her heart, or just because she’s paid really well, she makes me feel normal. Sane.
Add on a good night’s sleep and the truth comes out. "Opportunities not knocking for a girl like me. I gotta take what I can get and try my best not to fuck it all up.” I say before disentangling myself and starting the Easter egg hunt for my stuff, which is strewn all over. The packing I’d required did not involve clothes. “Did you get what I asked for?”
“Yeah, some of it was hard to find. My connections are drying up,” she laments, and then she’s right back to Kiki.
With stars in her eyes, she hugs me. “Try to stay positive about the Vegas thing. Who knows? If you try really hard, you might be the next Britney.”
If only.
“I’m about one head shave away.”
She hands me a pill bottle on the way to the bathroom. Staring down at a bottle of children’s vitamins, I ask, “What’s this?”
“The packing you requested.”
"Flintstone vitamins? That’s not obvious, Kiki,” I say.
She looks around the door with a mouthful of toothpaste and says. “It was all I could find on short notice.”
With a quick shake, I peer through the side of the bottle. There’s an assortment of pills, all shapes, and sizes. “Are there any people from Bedrock in here?”
“Just Bam-Bam,” she yells from the toilet.
When she comes back in, she puts on her glasses and nothing else. Peering down at my handful of pills, she says, “It’s the usual. Uppers, downers. Oh, and I scored a few flyers,” she teases the last word out and I’m intrigued.
With a wink, she says, “The star shaped ones. Jimmy recommends them.”
But I’m drawing a blank. “I’m sorry. Jimmy?”
“C’mon, you know Jimmy. That hot guy that serenades you with his guitar every time we go to Stop ‘N’ Shop. You’ve partied with him.”
Holding a hand up, I beg. “Please stop.”
She giggles. “It’ll come to you. Oh, there’s a special treat in the side pocket of your bag. M&M’s. Your favorite.”
As I linger in the shower, washing away the grime of the weekend, I hear a beep. With soap in my eyes, I freeze. Was that?
The bathroom door bangs open and Kiki yells, “Your ride’s here.”
Shit. My hair’s dripping down the back of my Donna Karen shift as I zip up the trademark boots. I grab the handle of my suitcase, but I take a moment. What am I forgetting?
Kiki hands me my real ID.
“Almost forgot, thanks. Better give me the fake one too. I don’t remember if it’s under Anastasia Beaverhausen or NovaKain,” I say.
“You put it in your carry on,” she whispers and then we both stare at each other.
Clear eyed, there’s nothing more to say. All our rage, hurt and anger left on the sheets, which will need to be washed.
I take her in my arms and whisper the only good-bye I know. “You are so fucking fired. You know that, don’t you?”
She watches as I tuck a folded check into the cup of her lacey bra.
“I’ll miss you,” she says. But it rings false. In her eyes I see that my welcome has worn thin.
As the driver loads my bags, I think, this can’t be it.
I turn back with my hand raised, a salute to the good times, but the porch is empty.
You’d think $200,000 would have at least bought me a tearful goodbye.
****
On the one day I
don’t want to be known, it seems like everyone does, including the Uber driver.
Between the traffic and a never-ending list of his favorite songs-pictures-I barely make it to the airport on time. I’m stressed, not a good flyer and the call from Shamus isn’t helping matters. I almost don’t answer, but that would be the opposite of trying really hard.
“Just checking in,” he’d said.
More like making sure my ass was up and getting on his plane. After allaying his fears, I’m frazzled.
And running through the airport in 6-inch heels while trying to wrangle a disorderly rolling suitcase isn’t helping.
My anxiety hits panic mode when I see that security’s been beefed up at LAX.
Guards with guns and jackboots. Complete with sniffing eye dogs. The kind that can see through bags with just one whiff and I’m stress eating my way through the M&M’s as I wait to check in. I’m halfway through the bag before I realize. There’s something wrong with this candy. It tastes stale, or…I sniff the bag.
Kiki! She knows edibles and I don’t mix. Or at least, she should. I’ve told her enough times.
In my head, I start tallying up the weed, the wine, the GD two stars I took in the limo on the way over after the Samoan driver told me the whole story of how he lost his virginity to my song, “Gimme a V!”
Oh, don’t forget the original overdose less than three days ago. I’m sure there’s scuzz lying around in my cells just waiting to get lathered up. Jeez. Add in half a bag of…I turn the bag, which looks surprisingly legit, I’m impressed, Kiki. And yes, just as I suspected, it’s a king-sized bag of edible marijuana with a candy-coated shell. Shittt.
Paranoid, l look around. Expecting sniffing eye dogs on my tail, I’m surprised to find the only person with an eye on me is a lady seated in the boarding section.
With two bites, she finishes a Whopper with cheese. Finding no napkins, she shrugs and wipes her face with the actual bag.
Wow, that’s having it your way. If the King could only see her now.
I giggle through numb lips for way too long at my stupid joke. That’s really good shit, Kiki.
Why let it go to waste?
When I’m next, I toss the rest of the candy into my mouth. Using the edge of the bag, I dab the corners of my mouth and search for the Whopper lady.
But her numbers been called. I’m just looking at an empty chair. Did that really happen?
I might not make my plane. I might end up in airport jail before I am through.
Straighten up. It’s then that I imagine every stereotypical straight-laced person I know. Be normal. Falling down stupid, don’t be that, I think.
When it’s my turn, I square my shoulders, smile, and try to wobble a straight line. But after just two steps, it’s no good. I’m seeing double. Praying it’s my sunglasses, I pull them off with a flourish.
And the ticket taker calls me by name. “Oh, Miss Kain! You didn’t have to wait. You should have notified us, we could have met you….”
Before I bother to be flattered, I make sure my face isn’t on my shirt.
With a smile, I say, “No need. Just point me to the boarding area for private planes.”
Leaning over the counter, she points down a long hall. “Almost there. Just pass through security and it will be on your right.”
Security. All I can think about are foot operated cars fleeing TSA security guards.
“Listen, I don’t know if you heard about the overdose?” I say and pull the vitamins out of my bag. Of course, the lids off. I scoop as many as I can back into the bottle but leave two on the counter.
Wide eyed, she nods. “Maybe you shouldn’t take those.”
“These? Just vitamins. To the dry spell ahead.” I say and dry swallow them.
Her smile doesn’t budge as she picks up her airline trashcan and calmly sweeps my mess into the trash. It appears she used to dealing with…us.
There’s no way I’m going to make it. Feeling shaky, I hold tight to the counter. “Listen, I’ve gotta make this plane. And I’m…wasted. Can you help a sister out?”
I’m pretty sure she said yes, but at that moment my feet turn to rubber and start stretching the opposite way. Feeling like Dorothy in a twister, I end up on the ground, next to my M&M wrapper.
A true professional, the lady tears around the counter and assesses the damage. Shoulder mic pressed to her check she says. “Jay, we need an escort to counter two and bring a wheelchair.”
Still smiling, she picks up my candy wrapper and tosses it into the trash.
I’m scooped up and dropped into a wheelchair. I’m going to be a real treat for Shamus.
As I’m wheeled-like an old person-through LAX I have a moment to think. This right here, is absolute rock-bottom. If it were possible to dig a hole under rock bottom and lay myself to rest? Do that.
Breathless, I say, “I feel like I’m going to faint.”
With a firm grip on my shoulder, my wheelchair pusher says. “Just don’t get up. You’re in the right place.”
The hand I’ve been using as a shield against camera phones, flies to my mouth just as an acidic burp escapes. I have a second to think that tasted weird-like chocolate covered yard clippings-before I throw up in my hand. Not a lot. Just enough to put the cherry on top of the whole fucked up sundae.
And the nut topping? A teen with a pierced eyebrow captures my shame on his phone.
We take the next left on one wheel and it feels like I’m on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Holding on with a death grip, I’m down the walkway at breakneck speed. Someone pours me into a seat and buckles me in nice and tight. It’s not the thought that less than 48 hours after my attempted overdose-I guess my heart stopped and everything-I’m high as a fucking kite. Caught on video, in a wheelchair, puking on myself. I’m not thinking about the internet splash that’s going to make. No, what’s on my mind is an overturned Target cart with a blue tarp over it. A makeshift fort behind bushes.
That Jimmy? I slept with a homeless guy?
I need to find a meeting quick. Trying really hard isn’t working.
Chapter 16
Shamus
The company jet touches down on time. Without a bump or jostle, it brings my resident celebrity home.
My stomach’s been aching since I saw her televised “speech” last night. Now that’s she’s here, I’m scared shitless. What if I make things worse?
Wiping my damp palms on my slacks, I turn to Justice and ask. “Run through the Handler stuff again, would ya?”
“Don’t worry bro, you’ve got this. Just handle her with care. I liked when you said that, by the way and she did too. You’ll never go wrong if you make her needs your number one priority, Shamus,” he says.
I can do that.
“Do your job well, and before you know it? You’ll have the funds to finally do The Four Leaf the way you want it. The Surge bar. Instant posts to Facebook when you win. It’s all going to be funded by your new show, featuring NovaKain.” He does the same up in lights things with his hands that his dad does.
And he never forgets a word I say. “You’re a great brother, you know that?”
He winks. “Yup.”
Both of us wait near the airport stairs for deboarding, but nothing happens.
“A closed door is never a good sign, bro,” Justice says.
Ignoring him, I climb the stairs and I’ve gotta knock to be let on my own plane. Well, my uncle’s plane, but same difference.
When Micah opens the door, all the answer I need is written all over his face, but still, I gotta know. “What’s going on?”
He shakes his head and points to another closed door at the back of the plane. Is it possible she’s sleeping? I mean the trips only an hour.
“Why is she naked?” I ask, gathering filmy undergarments, a dress, a boot flung around the cabin’s interior. Everything carries the stale smell you’d expect upon leaving Vegas not arrival.
“It was a floor show.” Micah says with a sniff.
>
“A what?” Justice asks from behind me.
I don’t even want to know. When I run out of aisle, I almost knock. Instead, I put my ear against the door.
“What’s she saying? Ancient Chinese Secret? That can’t be right, can it?” I look back at Micah. Tidy in his uniform, ready for every mid-air emergency, even he couldn’t have prepared for this.
Totally put out, he nods. “She’s been saying it the whole trip. That and asking for salt shakers. I don’t get it. Maybe she’s dehydrated?”
Justice leans on the back of the closest leather seat. Arms crossed, he hurries Micah along. “Get to the part where she locked herself in the bedroom.”
With the crew huddled around Micah, murmuring their support, he says. “We locked.”
What?” Justice breathes out.
He scrubs a hand over his face before asking. “Do you know who that is?”
“Oh God. Not you too. She wouldn’t shut up with the do you know who I am shit. When I wouldn’t serve her any alcohol, she asked if it was coming out of my pocket. When I turned the air on, she was cold. So, I turned it down and she proclaimed her skin to be melting off and stripped, midair, which I’m sure is against every FAA regulation.”
The crew behind him grumbles even louder and he’s bolstered on.
“And that wasn’t even the worst. She invited me to uh…sample the goods, and when I wouldn’t? She rode me like a stripper pole. That was the last straw.” He looks pained.
With a touch of sarcasm, Justice says. “Wow, a hot girl strips and rubs herself all over you, must’ve been really traumatizing.”
“It was. Since I’m gay,” Micah quips.
“Really? Your Clark Kent is amazing. I’d never have guessed you had a hidden super power.” Justice says.
“I’ve got a bird and a plane just for you, Justice,” Micah chuckles as he passes and Justice jumps like he’s been goosed.
“Ha, the fuck ha,” Justice says too loud and once Micah’s out of earshot he turns to me. Pissed, he says. “Little fucker grabs my ass again, I swear Shamus.”
“He is a little handsy. But we love him. Besides, it’s the jeans,” I say.
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