“I’d love to,” Jake said, “but I’m flying later. Gotta get home tonight so the nanny can start her weekend.”
Matt sighed lasciviously. “The twenty-one-year-old nanny named Meghan,” he said. “That’s fuckin’ hot shit, dude. Is she like ... like really tight?”
“I told you, I’m not doing the nanny,” Jake said tiredly.
Matt laughed. “Of course you’re not,” he said. “Anyway, me and the guys are on a chartered flight to Cabo tomorrow morning. Gonna stay at my pad for a few days, bone some local gash, go out and do some fishing ... or at least everyone but Steve is gonna fish, he’s a fuckin’ pussy that gets seasick in the harbor.”
“Sounds like fun,” Jake said.
“I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to come with us,” Matt said.
Jake looked at him pointedly. “You’re inviting me to come to Cabo with you? To stay in your house with you?”
Matt shrugged. “Why the fuck not?” he asked. “We been working together all this time. I know there’s a lot of shit in our past, but maybe it’s time to start letting some of that shit go, you know what I mean?”
Jake was actually touched by this gesture. “Yeah,” he said. “I know what you mean. And I agree. Unfortunately, I still have Celia’s show to finish up so she can get out on schedule too. I’ll have to stay local.”
Matt nodded, as if he had expected this reply. “Just thought I’d ask,” he said.
“I appreciate it,” Jake said, and he did, although even if he had not had Celia’s show to work on, there was no way in hell he would have actually gone. Laura would most definitely not approve of a trip to Mexico with Matt Tisdale. Nor would Matt approve of a Jake Kingsley who did not care to sample the local gash because he was married with a child now.
“I’ll check you later, then,” Matt said.
“Check you later,” Jake returned.
And with that, Matt headed backstage again. Jake would not see him anymore before he and the band boarded their flight to Bangor on August 6th.
Celia and her band performed the first of their three dress rehearsals on August 5th. By this point, The End of the Journey was number 3 on the Billboard list and projected to reach number 1 by the following week. Living in Limbo had now sold one hundred and thirty thousand copies, with more and more being purchased every day. Reviewers loved the CD and were touting it as the best Celia Valdez release yet, full of poignant, emotional songs of love and love lost. Tickets for the first of three Seattle shows had all sold out in less than an hour. The cheapest seats for these shows were $150 retail. The VIP tickets near the front of the stage were retailing for $500. Scalpers were reportedly selling tickets for well over a thousand dollars and they were being bought.
The August 5th rehearsal hit a few minor snags, none of them having to do with the musicians. There were a few problems with the light sequences and the timing of the spotlights. There were a few issues with the video screens when the producers lost their communication with each other and could not discuss what angles or shots to show during several of the songs. It was likely nothing that an actual audience would have even paid much attention to, and an extensive debrief was able to solve the issues and keep them from recurring during the next day’s rehearsal.
For the final dress rehearsal on August 8, the same day that Matt’s show would be opening in Bangor, Laura stayed home in Oceano with Caydee. Jake had a couple of special guests that Celia had invited come with him instead.
True to her word, Celia had asked Meghan and her sister Danielle to come see the performance. Danielle was unable to attend because she had to work. But then Meghan hit Jake out of left field when she asked if her mother could come in Danielle’s place.
“Your mother?” he asked incredulously. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she said. “If it’s okay. My mom’s a little stuffy, that’s true, but she’s okay.”
“She ... would want to come see Celia?” Jake asked.
“She listens to Celia’s music,” Meghan told him. “She owns a couple of her CDs and listens to them in her car all the time. And she really likes the new song they play on the radio. She says it’s one of the saddest songs she’s ever heard.”
“Wow,” Jake said. “Does she know it’s me playing the guitar on most of Celia’s music?” he asked.
“Uh ... no, I never told her that.”
“And does she realize that coming with you to the show means that she would have to climb into my airplane with me at the controls so we could get there?”
“I haven’t told her that detail yet,” Meghan admitted. “I just asked her if she might like to come instead of Dannie and she said it sounded like fun.”
“I see,” Jake said, not sure how to feel about this. “Well ... if she is willing to get in the plane with me, bring her along. Why not?”
“Cool!” Meghan said. “I’ll give her a call right now.”
There is no way in hell that this woman who thinks I’m a Satanic wife beater is going to even be in the same room with me, he thought, let alone let me fly her somewhere. Problem solved.
But, to his surprise, Loraine Zachary accepted the offer.
“You’re shitting me,” Jake said when Meghan told him the news.
“Not at all,” she said. “She told me she’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“Does she own a gun?” Jake asked.
“No, she doesn’t own a gun,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve been talking to her a lot about you and Laura ever since that American Watcher deal. Nothing private, of course, just about how cool the two of you are, how you’re nothing like what the media says. I think maybe she’s starting to believe me and she wants to meet you for herself.”
“Well ... all right then,” Jake said. “Ask her if she wants to come over for lunch at noon tomorrow. We’ll eat and then head to the airport after that. Wheels up at 1:15. The dress rehearsal starts at 3:00.”
“She’ll be here,” Meghan said with a smile.
And she was. She arrived promptly at noon, pulling up to the gate in her 1996 Audi convertible. She was an attractive woman for her age, her hair dark and neatly styled, her face pretty. The family resemblance to Meghan and Danielle in her features was actually quite striking. She was a little heavier than her daughters, but by no means fat or even chubby—just natural middle-aged plump. She was dressed fashionably in a pair of black slacks, a burgundy blouse, and a pair of fancy pumps. Her face was pretty much expressionless as Meghan made the introductions to Jake, Laura, and Caydee in the foyer.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Zachary,” Jake greeted, shaking her hand.
“Please, call me Loraine,” she said, returning the shake demurely.
Caydee served to melt a little of the ice. She smiled widely at the new visitor from Laura’s arms.
“What an incredibly adorable little girl,” Loraine exclaimed, seeing that smile. “You were right about her, Meggie. She is simply too cute.”
“Told you,” Meghan said, smiling.
“Look at that red hair!” Loraine said. She looked up at Laura. “I can certainly see where she gets that from.”
“Yeah, and the fair skin to go with it,” Laura told her.
Laura handed Caydee over to Jake and then she and Meghan took Loraine on a tour of the infamous “Kingsley Mansion” as it was often referred to in the local press. Though she was visibly impressed with the layout and décor, she seemed a little surprised that it was not nearly as decadent as she had been led to believe. After all, there was no dungeon with whips and chains in it, no room established and set aside for high-capacity orgies, no ornate pentagrams hanging on the walls, no altar to Satan, no oil portraits of Adolph Hitler, no piles of cocaine in serving bowls laying around. And the maid was a late middle aged Nigerian woman, not a slinky blonde dressed in the traditional short black skirt.