I climb into the car. Shit, it’s packed with the usual people who surround me when I’m on tour. Security. PR. My assistant. And fuck, there’s Jen caressing me with her eyes from the seat beside the driver.
I shift my gaze to the nanny from hell. Is that a flirty glint in her eye? Old bat, I’m not interested in you either.
I start to laugh as I pretend to listen to my assistant going through the schedule.
“We have to do all that today?”
I look over my shoulder to see Krystal on her knees, arms spread across the seat at my shoulders, staring at the tablet being held in front of me.
“I have to. Every day I get a schedule like this and you get to have fun.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
No, Krystal, it does not. Touring is not all parties and fun, no matter what people read and believe, and no matter how successful a band gets. It’s a grind of endless work, even with the seven-day hops we have on this leg of the tour. And this much working won’t be good. I don’t need the kids disapproving of another thing. Like a father who drags them somewhere they don’t want to be and is never there.
How much of this shit can I cross off the list before someone screams? I take the stylus from my assistant’s hand and start scratching through things.
“Manny, what are you doing?” she asks, panicked and with dread.
“The only parts of the schedule I’m doing are the things I don’t cross off. When we’re done with this, email it to me.”
When I’m finished it looks like I scribbled across the screen with a marker. I hand it back to her as Krystal starts tugging on my shoulder.
I turn in the seat.
She’s pointing out the window, shocked and overwhelmed.
“Look,” she says.
People are lining the streets with signs, screaming. We’re just a few blocks from the hotel. Not surprising.
I shrug. “It’s nothing to get worked up about, Krystal. Just ignore it.”
She makes an impatient gesture with her hand.
“No! It’s Kaley. Everywhere.”
I lean over my assistant so I can see the signs better. The way she says everywhere almost makes me laugh until I figure out what Krystal is excited about and it’s not funny.
Oh no.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
It is Kaley.
Everywhere.
Mixed all through the crowd turned out to see me.
Signs being held with her picture or notes for her. I Love Kaley. Bring back Kaley’s World. Speak truth to Power. It’s impressive. I frown. Fuck, I’m the power in that last slogan. How the hell did I get to be the bad guy and the one not cool?
How did she manage to have fans in Mumbai on the day we landed here?
“Kaley, are you tweeting and blogging again?” I snap, eliciting an interesting collection of stares around me.
The only one who didn’t hear me is Kaley.
Eyes closed.
Earbuds.
She’s decided it’s time to tune me out for the ride to the hotel.
I turn to Krystal. “Has she been blogging and tweeting?”
Krystal shakes her head. “She can’t. Mom only let her take her phone and the cameras. Mom turned off the data and didn’t get her enough international airtime for her to waste it getting into any trouble. She has practically no contact with the world. That’s why she’s angry about being here. She can’t text and call Bobby all day every day like she usually does. You’re ruining her life.”
Brilliant, even in this I’m the bad guy. I’m not the one who thought of limiting the phone for her. Still, good move, Chrissie. Oh, definitely with what I’m seeing through the windows.
Chrissie would be blown away by this.
“Stop the vehicle,” I order, startling everyone—except stoic, walling-out-the-world Kaley. I tap my assistant. “Can you move, please?” I can feel stares from every direction as I start snapping pictures with my phone. I don’t look up. “OK, we can go now.”
I start to text as the SUV moves forward again.
Me: In Mumbai. Just landed. Look what greeted us. Can you believe it, Chrissie?
I attach the photo and hit send before I realize what I’ve done. I haven’t talked to Chrissie since I left California. That message is going to come across random enough that it will probably hurt her, but my first impulse was to share this with her and I did it without thinking it through.
Ding.
Chrissie: Is that on the street in Mumbai? Are those signs? Bring back Kaley’s World. Really? Laughing…not. Pretty unbelievable. But I can top that. Can you believe this, Alan?
A video. I wait for it to load. Ah…a smile rises, consuming my face. Khloe. Oh fuck, I miss her. Surrounded by kids and I still miss the one not here. My eyes are locked on the screen until the short clip is over.
Me: You win. Yours is more incredible. When did that start?
Chrissie: Our lazy girl decided to start crawling this afternoon. Nonstop. Very determined. Sometimes I turn her around in the other direction because it annoys her and she makes the funniest face. Her expression looks exactly like yours when she’s irritated. I laugh so hard sometimes I can’t take it. Then I turn her around again.
The laughter abruptly clogs in my throat. I shut off my phone without answer and stare out the window, shaking my head.
What am I doing?
I can’t let myself act like everything is normal between us when it isn’t.
As much as I’d like to pretend we’re going to be OK, I’m not sure that we are.
As much as I love her, I don’t know if I’m even capable—
I push away my thoughts. The pain in my gut twists and tightens. Perhaps this agony would go away if I could just stop thinking about Chrissie.
* * *
Three weeks later
“I’m not going on another Bataan Death March all day with Mrs. Doubtfire.”
I lift my head from my pillow and check the clock. It’s only 9:30 a.m.
Dammit.
I have a concert tonight.
I need to sleep.
Mrs. Doubtfire.
Inconveniently funny.
I roll over in bed, pushing the hair from my face. “Bataan Death March. Wrong country. That’s the Philippines. We’re in Australia. Melbourne is an interesting city. You are going today. You want to be a filmmaker—go learn something. I need quiet and sleep, so you get sightseeing today.”
I wait for the door to slam.
Kaley crosses the room and drops down on the edge of the bed. “I’m too old for a nanny. You do realize that, don’t you? Or do you just get off embarrassing me?”
I sit up in bed. I reach for my cigarettes, then remember I can’t light one in my own suite because of the kids.
“Mrs. Barton isn’t here for you, Kaley. The security detail is. It sucks being an Internet sensation, doesn’t it?”
She rolls her eyes. “This is ridiculous. I don’t want to go with them. I don’t need security every time I leave the suite. Mom wouldn’t make me live this way. She’d know it was lame.”
I climb from the bed. I need coffee.
“Maybe, but your mom isn’t here.”
“And whose fault is that?” she exclaims and then flounces from the room, slamming the door.
I ring for coffee and my breakfast to be brought and then step onto the terrace and light my cigarette. Once my meal is delivered, I settle in a chair. I’m never going to get back to sleep now even though I can tell by the quiet that the kids have gone for the day.
I turn on my phone and the notifications appear. I push through them. Yep, evening text from Chrissie arriving for my morning here. Twice a day. Every day. Morning and night like clockwork even though I don’t answer her.
I don’t understand where she gets the emotional stamina to do the text thing. I see the notification and everything inside me starts to roil.
Why doesn’t she stop?