There is acid in Linda’s voice when she says that last part, as if she’s thinking of someone particular in Alan’s past. Was it a girl that hurt him so badly? I debate with myself whether to ask her.
I smile weakly. “So, that’s where I am. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Linda laughs and leans in to hug me. “I’ve been married five years and I don’t know what I’m doing. Keeps life interesting, though. Doesn’t it?”
We’re laughing as we take our bags from Colin and step into the garage elevator. I lean back into the mirrored walls, smiling and feeling OK. It was good to get out with Linda, to just let all the emotions rest for a while. There is no law that says I have to figure out everything today.
Linda is chattering on, probing what I would like to do tonight, when the elevator doors open. My face falls and my heart stills.
The music is blasting and there are hundreds of people in the apartment. It’s packed, packed with famous faces: the currently hot; the always freaky; the artsy; a hodgepodge of everything that is the music industry. There are bars set up everywhere and I wonder where the set-up bars and serving help came from. There is food, lots of food, floating around the room on pretty trays: sushi, dim sum, caviar, and a lot of food I can’t even identify. And the air is suffocating with laughter, talk, and smoke.
Linda studies my face. “Fuck! This is what you get when you leave them alone for more than an hour. The party is on speed dial.”
“Really! How convenient.”
We have to fight just to get through the entryway. I spot Alan on the terrace, exactly where I left him, only now he is New York Rock Star chic. He is laughing, barefooted, cross-legged on a cushioned chaise in a black flowing shirt and leather pants with tousled long hair and twinkling black eyes.
Exactly where I left him, except he’s surrounded by girls, being pulled at, claimed, kissed, fawned on and wooed. It is a surprisingly unsettling thing to see him like this, restless with adrenalin, surrounded by swarming admirers. He doesn’t even look like the same guy I left at four.
At four he was tense, aloof, almost as if he were uncomfortable with people near him, but now he is the magnet in the center of the universe, making all things twirl, holding everyone captive of him, and completely engaged and alive and dominant.
Len is reclined on a chaise across from Alan, and they are laughing and drinking as if they hadn’t nearly killed each other earlier this week. Beautiful women are all around, pressed up against them. My heart goes out to Linda. Poor, Linda. Poor, poor Linda.
“Are you OK, Chrissie?”
I can feel Linda staring at me.
“I’m just going to put my things away. Do you want me to take yours?”
I slip quickly down the hall into the bedroom and close the door. That familiar anxiety and sadness whispers through me. I’ve never liked parties. Why did Alan do this? Shouldn’t he have at least asked me if I wanted a party? I’m starting to feel chaotic inside, off balance and disoriented, and I wish I could just go out there and make everyone go away.
There is a push on the bedroom door, and I slam it shut and lock it. I sink on the bed, running my hands through my hair. That party has nothing to do with me, so there is no point in being a pissed off mess about it.
I go into the bathroom, wash my face and brush my hair. As an afterthought, I grab the phone and call the service for messages. Seven from Rene. One from Jack. The call from Jack surprises me and I wonder what’s up with that.
I cringe. Has the gossip from New York reached Santa Barbara? Santa Barbara only just feels like the edge of the earth. It isn’t really. It’s a phone call away and I was stupid not to consider that, after working a week in a studio with him, that Ian Kennedy might mention it in passing to Jack. They’re good friends.
Ring, ring, ring.
“Hello?”
I exhale. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Chrissie! I was just thinking about you.”
I try to pick out clues in Jack’s voice to figure out where this conversation might take me. Jack sounds happy. He doesn’t sound like a father who has just learned that his daughter is having a relationship with a recovering heroin addict.
I curl the phone cord around my arm until it pinches hard. “So, what’s up? You called yesterday. Sorry I didn’t call you earlier. I just got the message from the service. Everything going OK?”
“Everything is fine. I was just checking on you. It’s allowed. I am your dad.”
My cheeks burn. Even though he’s laughing, there is something in Jack’s voice I can’t read.
“Daddy, I need to tell you something.”
Silence. “OK. Why so serious?”
I’m having an affair with Alan Manzone! “It’s just…I spent four thousand dollars shopping today.”
I roll my eyes at myself. A long pause. God, that came out so lame.
“Are you worried that I’m going to be angry that you spent four grand shopping? Is that why you sound so strange?” Jack laughs almost in relief. I stare at the receiver. Do I sound strange? “It’s relative. You’re shopping in New York. I wouldn’t want you to get in the habit of it, but it’s no big deal, Chrissie.”
Jack laughs harder. I almost start to cry. He says, “Shit, you had me really worried for a while. I don’t know. Something in your voice. I thought you were going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”
I brush at my tears. “I went shopping today with a girlfriend. I know it’s a lot of money. I just sort of got carried away and before I could stop myself it was done.”
I’m talking about shopping, but not really, not inside of me. Tears fill up my air way.
“Whoa, Chrissie. Slow down. Why are you crying? Why are you upset?”
Oh god, why did I start this? Why did I call Jack today?
“Are you OK?” he presses more insistently into the phone. “Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened, Daddy.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m just emotional today, I guess.”
“Is that all there is, Chrissie? I sense something more. You can tell me anything. What’s wrong?”
I bite my lip. I’m in love. That’s what’s wrong.
“Is there anything you need to talk to me about, Chrissie?”
What does he know? Why does it always feel like he knows everything, but won’t ever tip his hand about anything?
“There’s nothing, Daddy.”
I expect to hear the click. Instead, “Tell me about New York, baby girl.”
I curl around the phone, and for the first time in a very long time I just talk to Jack. I can’t remember the last time we talked this way and I’m not exactly sure why we are doing it today. But it feels good. Really, really good.
* * *
I’ve just finished my call when there is a soft tap on the bedroom, and instinctively I know its Linda. I open the door to find her holding two glasses. She sinks beside me with a look of heavy dread and pushes what I think is a daiquiri into my hand.
“You OK?” she asks.
I nod. “I’m OK.”
“I want us to be great friends.”
I remind myself that Linda is a fragile girl. I take a sip of the daiquiri. I smile. “It’s good.”
Linda downs her daiquiri in a single gulp. “I really, really hate this shit.”
I nod. We both know she’s not talking about the drink.
Linda sighs. “I should have brought the whole pitcher!”
Chapter Thirteen
When we return to the party, Alan is slow dancing with Nia, and it really bothers me that he looks completely into her. His body presses against her flesh in a way that tells me they’ve been intimate before.
The sharp, burning knives cutting my insides take me completely by surprise. I never expected to feel flash jealousy over Alan, and I realize that is exactly what I’m feeling, standing here like an idiot watching him dance with another girl.