My brows hitch up. “If you want to film, you’ll answer my questions.”
“Fine. Yes. I got in. My ambition in life is a three hundred thousand dollar education so I can strive to underachieve by making low budget documentary films that will make me no money at all. Happy now?”
I want to laugh and force myself not to. I wonder if this is true. “You can film anything you want under two conditions. The first is you don’t send it viral. No posting online. And before you do anything with the film, I get to see it and approve.”
Her eyes narrow and her cheeks reddened. “I already told you I wouldn’t post it. What’s the second condition?”
“When we land you get online, accept your admission to USC, tell your mother you got in, and then show me how to pay for it.”
She looks away. “What’s it to you if I go?”
“I think I’ll enjoy watching you evolve into being a capitalist.”
“I’m already a capitalist. The problem is I’m also a realist. Hardly anyone gets rich on documentaries. I want to do what I want to do and fuck them if they don’t get it.”
This time I can’t stop the laughter, though I should since she dropped an f-bomb in there and I know Chrissie wouldn’t approve. But the amusement came too quickly to stop it and Linda’s voice saying Mini-Manny rises in my memory. I laugh harder. “Look on the bright side, Kaley. You’ll probably be more successful than Michael Moore in this. You come by your talent and your attitude naturally.”
She glares. “I hate it when you laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you, Kaley. I’m laughing at me.”
“Right, so anyway, can I start filming now?”
“Film away.”
“We’re different, you and me. Do you get that?”
“Yes, I get that.”
“Then don’t think you know me because we share some obscure genetic link. You don’t know me at all. And you paying for USC doesn’t make us even. Not even close. It’s not that easy. We’re not a fucking Maury Povich show. We don’t live happily ever after once the DNA results are shared. No one does. They just don’t show the ‘after’ on camera.”
Interesting perspective. A betraying thought, perhaps? “Is that why you want to film? To show the ‘after’?”
Her jaw tightens. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I hope you’ll explain it to me once you know.”
“Fuck, it’s your job to explain things to me.” That’s all she says before she springs to her feet and returns to her seat.
Chapter 20
We land in Mumbai and it’s a fucking mob scene at the airport. Not a surprise. It’s the first time we’ve played here.
Krystal is staring out the window, eyes wide.
I kiss her on the head. “Come on, sunshine. It looks worse than it is.”
She plops around in her seat to face me. “Is it always like this? It’s crazier than it is for Mom.”
I shrug. “No accounting for taste. I’d be in the crowd screaming if it was your mother getting off the plane. She’s the one who is amazing.”
Krystal’s smile grows enormous and her eyes alertly search my face. Fuck, what did I say to make her react that way? It’s just the truth…oh fuck…the kids are anxious and standoffish because there is no way to separate what’s happening between me and Chrissie from them.
Damn. Kaley is right. I am an idiot at times. Why didn’t I realize this before I snatched them away from Chrissie?
“Grab your things,” I say, struggling to sound natural.
Everyone starts moving. Getting to the front of the plane without losing Krystal is a hassle. People are trying to get my attention and Krystal gets sidetracked by anyone who says so much as a single word to her.
I nudge her forward and ignore everyone. I just want off the plane. And ah, there’s finally some help here. I’d bet money that older woman standing, formidable and aloof, by the door with Kaley and the boys is my missing nanny.
She extends her hand. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Barton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a big fan.”
Yep, the nanny. A fan. No, not buying that one. Definitely British. Crap. I don’t like her. Severe. And, fuck, now is when she finally decides to appear. Where the hell was she the entire flight? Is that booze I smell on her breath?
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, but no, not really and I can tell she knows that. “These are my daughters, Kaley and Krystal. Those are my sons, Ethan and Eric. Eric is the one with the tiny birthmark beneath his left ear. It’s the only way I can tell them apart for sure. Collect the boys. The girls can manage on their own.”
She stares at me, like instruction is insulting. Hmm, I wonder if Chrissie would send Lourdes to me. Lourdes likes me. The kids like Lourdes. She’s toured with Chrissie. Why didn’t I think of that before I left?
Kaley starts moving toward the metal steps.
“Stop,” I say. I wait until they are all looking at me. “Same routine as last time. We walk off the plane. Say nothing to anyone and climb into the car they direct you to.”
Kaley rolls her eyes. Then she exhales. “We already know this,” she snaps. Hey, she’s talking to me again. “You don’t have to repeat everything a thousand times. This is nothing new. We’ve traveled with Mom. You keep telling us exactly what she makes us do.”
Oh. I keep my face stripped of reaction. “Good. I won’t do it again.”
Krystal nods.
Ah, approval. For some reason I want to pick her up. I lift her in my arms and kiss her on the cheek and we hang back while the others disappear to the tarmac.
I step into the open door and Krystal jerks and tightens her hold on me when the cameras explode. I do a fast scan of the scene in front of me. Good, everyone else is in the black SUV.
Oh crud, press and microphones. I should have sent Krystal ahead with the rest of them. Len and the guys are already there. I can bypass and just leave.
The second my foot touches land, the activity around me kicks up another notch, and the air is flooded with my name being shouted.
Oh damn, is that Jen cutting her way through the crowd toward me? I didn’t know she was traveling with us on this leg of the tour. But yep, it’s her. Short tight dress, Dolce & Gabbana whiff closing in, and an I’m up for anything smile on her face even though I’m standing here with my daughter.
Fuck.
She ignores Krystal and fixes her eyes on me. “You have to take a few questions before you leave, Manny. Let them gets some pictures. It’s a big deal you’re in Mumbai. You don’t want the press to be bad. You don’t want to insult them.”
Bad press?
Really?
After the Kaley debacle, how could it get worse than it currently is?
As I walk toward them, the nonstop flashes from the photographers are blinding. I get to the microphones and then realize I forgot to put Krystal down and send her off to the SUV.
I start pointing and answering questions. Halfway through I wonder what’s going on here. It’s almost like they like me. Nah, the press has hated me for thirty years.
What the fuck is happening here?
I shift my gaze to Krystal.
She’s got Chrissie’s smile on her face.
She’s charming.
A camera hog.
They are being polite to me because of her.
“That’s all, everyone,” I say, stepping back from the microphones.
“That went good, I think,” Krystal announces in her sweet, serious, imperative way.
I fight not to smile. “Really? You think I did well?”
The way she nods makes me laugh. I set her on the ground and she scampers to the black SUV.