“Fuck you, Kenny.”
He laughs. “Remmy is out of town. I’m flying solo. Want to do dinner? Hit a party? Some clubs or something? It’s too early to fucking go home.”
Remmy. Kenny’s wife. Never could stand the woman. Linda is right. Kenny did remarry too soon after his last divorce.
I exhale. “No. It’s late. I think I’m just going to go back to Malibu.”
“It’s fucking ten thirty, you wanker. What’s the matter? Been having some rough nights lately, have you?”
“Something like that,” I answer ambiguously.
“Chrissie,” he says, laying his head back against the wall and laughing. “Someday you’re going to have to explain to me how an asshole like you managed to stay in the game with her this long. She’s a fucking incredible woman.”
My temper spikes. Thanks a lot, Len, for running your mouth to no doubt everyone we know.
Kenny’s eyes open. “By the way, congratulations. After all this fucking time you and Chrissie back together again and you’ve got a kid. It’s the way it should be. The two of you together. Finally. There’s still time, mate. Enough time to have some of the things in life worth doing. I’m glad you both decided to stop wasting time.”
Oh Christ, Kenny being philosophical in his uniquely moronic way. Still time…blow me. He’s on his way to divorce court again. Nope, not staying and drinking with him and listening to him ramble on about Remmy. Time to cut out.
I move to sit up on the couch and finish my water. I toss the bottle into the trash and stand. “Well, you know what cowboys say. You ride the horse until it bucks you off then you ride it again.”
Fuck, that was idiotic, but it makes Kenny laugh.
“One would think you’d figured out how to ride that horse by now,” he jeers. “Hey, it’s a little girl, right?”
“Yes. Khloe. She’s five months.” I try to sound casual over it, but it still sends a current across my nerves every time I think of her.
Kenny laughs again. “Fuck, you guys didn’t waste any time after Jesse’s death. Better marry Chrissie soon. Not take any chances this go around or you’ll lose her, mate.”
I ignore that comment. “Good night.”
“Do you have a picture of your daughter?”
I’m shocked that he asked, then shocked when I realize that I don’t.
I change the subject. “Come on. I am hungry. Let’s go grab something to eat.”
We leave the studio and meet up again at an elite rockers’ club in West Hollywood a few blocks from the Whiskey. I make it to the front door, powering through the standard array of bullshit to get into the damn place—fans, press—and blow past the interference inside—ex-lovers and women hoping to fill that slot tonight—and find Kenny already seated in a red leather booth in the back of the joint.
Fuck, why did Kenny pick here to eat? It’s packed, there’s live music, and I just wanted something quiet, fast and no hassle. But Kenny can’t spend one minute out of the mix. It’s like a drug for him. No wonder his life has turned to shit again.
By the time we’ve finished, Kenny’s drunk and I’m still nursing my first glass of wine, ready to take off, but he won’t fucking stop rambling. Yep, his marriage is falling apart. It doesn’t seem right not to listen.
Kenny stands up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to hit the head.”
I watch him disappear into the crowd. I reach for my phone. It’s bugged me since Kenny asked. Fuck, it’s midnight. Too late to call. I decide to text.
Me: Can I have a picture?
I set my phone on the table, finish my wine, and my cell dings just as I’m about to slip quietly away from the table before Kenny returns.
Chrissie: A picture, huh? At this hour? Someone is missing me and having nasty thoughts. It’s nice to know.
I smile. I didn’t expect her to be awake. I didn’t expect her to answer so promptly after staying out of contact for days. And I didn’t expect the answer to be that.
Me: Always missing you. Always having nasty thoughts. What are you doing?
Chrissie: Linda stopped by. Just talking. What did you do today? Where are you?
Me: Spent the day in Encino. Recording drum tracks. Having dinner with Kenny.
Chrissie: What kind of picture do you want? I’m limited on what I can send you right now.
I laugh. Oh, definitely a better answer than I hoped for.
Me: I still have the Polaroids we did in New York. Very useful the last few days. We need to find some time alone together soon, baby.
I wait. Maybe she’ll get rid of Linda and invite me over.
Chrissie: What kind of picture do you want?
Fuck, not the response I wanted.
Me: Send me that beautiful part of you that is mine.
I wait, wondering if she’ll get that. It’s a win either way. I’m definitely missing her.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Oh, lots of pictures. I thumb through them. Oh, Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful. Just looking at Khloe gets me all choked up.
Me: How long is Linda hanging around?
Chrissie: Maybe another hour.
Me: Can I stop by? Say good night to Khloe? Say good night to you both?
Chrissie: Alan, you can come here any time you want. You’re Khloe’s father. No call necessary. You don’t have to ask. See you at my place in an hour.
I stare at the phone.
She’s not angry with me.
And she just invited me to drop by at midnight.
I click off the phone.
“What’s the matter?”
I look up to find Kenny slipping back into the booth across the table from me.
“Why does it always feel like all women have a set of rules they live by and expect you to know, but the rules are never fucking logical.”
Kenny laughs uproariously, a little louder than that comment deserves.
“Because they all do,” Kenny says, leaning forward against the table. “And they are pretty simple rules. We just don’t follow them. They expect you to show. They expect you to really be there. They’ll never ask, but that’s what they want. And they’ll fucking go find someone who will if you don’t play by their rules.”
I stand up. “I’m out of here.”
Kenny’s eyes fix on me. “You want some advice? Really show up for Chrissie this time. You don’t want to blow it. And you certainly don’t want to fuck it up with your daughter. I’ve got three kids that won’t talk to me. You want to make this work with Chrissie? There’s only one way. Doing right by your daughter. That’s how you don’t fuck it up with Chrissie this go around.”
“That’s great fucking advice, Kenny,” I jeer, pulling the keys from my pocket.
“Yeah, that’s what I said to Len when he told it to me. But it’s the fucking truth.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “Catch you later.”
I start weaving my way through the crowd. I stop. I stare. Oh no, it’s can’t be.
What the hell is Kaley doing in a place like this, dressed like that? Tight pencil skirt up to her ass. Bare midriff. And definitely too much showing in front—Jesus Christ, look at the way she’s dancing. Fuck, it makes me uncomfortable just to see it.
I start pushing past the jostling bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the people staring at me in surprise and trying to get in my way.
I put a hand on her arm to stop the motion of her body. I glare at the guy who was grinding on her a minute ago. “Get lost. Now. Before I decide to help you leave.”
I don’t know what startles the guy more, what I said or that it was me who said it, but he cuts out quickly, no questions asked.
My gaze shifts back to Kaley. “I’m taking you home. Now.”
She jerks free of my hold. “Fuck off.”
The sharpness of her voice startles me.
I can feel heavy stares from every direction.
I ignore her outburst. “Does your mother know you’re here?”