The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet Page 9

  I open the French door. “Hi, Daddy.”

  Jack springs to his feet and crosses the patio to me, smiling. “Hey, you two. My day just got brighter.” He leans into the carrier, kisses Kaley, and then takes the car seat from me. “You got time for a cup of coffee?”

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  I put down Kaley’s bag and settle in a chair across from Jack. He pours me a cup and hands it to me.

  “I was really surprised when you called this morning. I was wondering how long you’d stay up there alone with a baby before you went stir-crazy.” He looks up from making faces at Kaley. “So where are you off to?”

  “Just stuff and junk, Daddy.”

  He leans back in his chair, his eyes twinkling. “Whatever it is I’m glad you called. I’m glad to get a little time with my favorite girl.”

  I give him a pout. “I thought I was your favorite girl.”

  Jack reaches for his coffee. “That goes without saying.”

  Now that I’m here, about to leave Kaley, I’m starting to feel frantic and unsure. Not that I wasn’t already feeling that way. Only now I’ve got the why am I going messy rolling with the maternal messy.

  I stare at them, gnawing my lower lip. “Are you sure you can handle her all day?”

  He gives me the are you joking face. “You don’t think I know how to take care of a baby? Who do you think raised you?”

  He’s right. That was lame. Still… “Maria,” I tease.

  Jack shakes his head. “Maria will be here all day. I’m not flying solo, if that helps you any.”

  I smile. “It helps enormously. I’ve packed everything she needs. You can reach me on my mobile phone. I should be back before six.”

  “Go. Have fun. Don’t worry about us.” He runs his finger along Kaley’s dainty chin. “We’re going to be fine, aren’t we, Kaley?”

  I lift her from the car seat, kiss her and then cuddle her up against me. “Be good for Grandpa.”

  Jack grimaces. “I’m never going to get used to hearing that one.”

  Laughing, I put Kaley into his outstretched arms.

  As I straighten up his eyes sharpen on my face. “Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”

  I flush. “I told you.”

  “Chrissie, you used to use the same excuse when you were young when you didn’t want me to know what you were up to.” He shakes his head. “Stuff and junk?”

  My face darkens to crimson.

  “Very funny, Daddy. Ha, ha.” I drop a kiss on his cheek. “I’m twenty-four years old. I am married. I have a daughter. Don’t you think it’s time to stop giving me the parental treatment?”

  He reaches for his coffee and studies me over the rim. “Nope. Got to keep my skills sharp for this one,” he says, nodding his head toward Kaley.

  I make a face at him. Jack was only teasing me. God, why does he have to do that? It’s an emotionally taxing day without a dose of Chrissie ribbing.

  Leaving Kaley for the first time…not discussing with Neil about being with Alan at the recording session…seeing Alan…shit, I wish I didn’t feel so guilty and anxious about everything.

  I head for the door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I roll to a stop in a driveway outside a black iron gate. A stucco wall encircles an enormous house in Newport Beach.

  Where the hell am I? Did I screw up the directions?

  I rummage through the papers on the passenger seat and lift out the fax with the date-time-location information. I check it against the plaque by the gate. Nope, this is right.

  I hit the button on the intercom.

  “Yes?”

  I lean out my open window. “This is Chrissie Parker.” Oh shit. “Stanton. Chrissie Stanton.”

  Low, amused male laughter. My brows shoot up. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

  “I knew who it was the first time. Come on through, Chrissie.”

  The gate opens and I slowly make my way to the front of the house. I park, sit back in my seat and stare.

  Oh my. I should have recognized the voice on the intercom. Dressed in UGG boots, baggy walking shorts, and a loose silk shirt, with his sandy blond hair, deep golden tan and a Rolex flashing in the sun from his wrist, Ian Kennedy, music producer extraordinaire, is standing in the middle of the driveway smiling exuberantly at me.

  I open my door and hurry from the car.

  He holds his arms wide. “It’s Chrissie Parker.”

  “It’s Ian Kennedy.”

  Laughing, I let him pull me into a hug. He drops sloppy kisses all over my face, shaking me side to side, and then steps back, his caramel eyes twinkling. “Jesus Christ, girl, you look good. I about fell out of my chair when I found out you married Neil Stanton and have a kid of your own now. The next thing I know you’re here about to have your first song recorded. Things move fast in your world, girl. It’s been too long. How come we never see each other unless it’s totally random and unexpected?”

  I lift my brows doing a slight shake of my head as if to say I don’t know, but random and unexpected is the understatement of the century.

  Arm draped loosely around my shoulders, he starts to guide me into the house. “Fuck, what has it been? Four years? New York, right? The tracks to Long and Hard?”

  I nod. “Six years. But you’re right. New York.”

  He shakes his head, those lovely eyes smiling at me. “Too long. We need to catch up. Last time I saw you, you were hot and heavy with Manny. This time married to Neil-mania.”

  I smile and refrain from comment. Fuck, Ian, you still don’t have any tact. Hot and heavy with Manny? Neil-mania? Crud. Is the entire day going to be like this? Effusive Ian making embarrassing remarks in This Is Your Life fashion.

  The interior of the house has tile floors and a forty-foot-high open ceiling that echo from our steps. I try to focus on that sound instead of my mounting nerves since arriving here.

  God, maybe I shouldn’t have come today.

  “So how’s your old man?”

  Praise God. A safe subject. “Jack is great. You know Jack. He’s always great.”

  “Everything good with Neil? He’s sure taken off like wildfire. He’s all you ever hear about anymore.”

  “Neil’s doing great. We’re doing great together.”

  He nods. “Then you can’t ask for anything more. So don’t.”

  He taps my nose. He opens a heavy door that I know belongs to the studio.

  The air is heavy with the smell of weed and tobacco, and there is booze all over the console and ashtrays overflowing with cigarettes. There is a guy at the sound board, tilted back, eyes closed, looking half-asleep and I realize it’s Ryan Norris, Ian’s mix engineer. Beyond the glass I spot Alan lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling. He has that look. Energized and hyper-focused. Working Alan.

  A nervous tingle runs along my flesh. Wistfulness whispers through my body. There is a lot to absorb here and too much to deal with. God, Alan looks beautiful and being in here with him, doing this, feels and is all exactly like I remember…

  “Chrissie.”

  Startled, I turn to find Linda sitting on the couch.

  I flash a smile to hide my discomposure. “Linda. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  She exhales in a silly way. “Where else would I be?” She pats the space beside her and I sink down. She takes me in a breezy hug and touches my cheek. “Your timing is brilliant. I think they are about to lay the vocal tracks for your song. That is, if Manny can stop being pissed off for five minutes so he can sing.”

  She makes a face.

  I laugh. “Not going well?”

  “Pretty much SOP. Something has pissed Manny off.” She nods in the direction of the soundproofing glass. “I don’t know how she manages with him. He has been awful to her all day. But she just rolls with it. Never an angry word. Never a tear. She just rolls with the shit. I would have hit Manny with my shoe two hours ago.”

  I look in the direction of Linda�
�s stare and my heart stills. I didn’t see her before when I looked through the glass. Built. Dramatic dark hair with blue eyes. Drop dead gorgeous. Your basic worst nightmare any day of the week. Fuck, who is she?

  I turn back to Linda, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Who is that?”

  Linda’s brows hitch up. “That’s Kathy King. She’s part of the extended band. You don’t know her? She’s recording tracks on your song. Tracks on the new album.”

  I stare, stunned. I don’t know how I feel about this.

  I sink into the couch beside Linda. My eyes lock on Kathy.

  “Is she any good?”

  Linda nods. “A very talented vocalist.”

  “How long has she been part of the extended band?”

  Linda shrugs. “Six months. You’ll like her. Everyone likes Kathy.”

  I definitely don’t like that one. Alan is fucking her. I can tell. I start studying her even more intensely.

  I can feel Linda’s heavy watching gaze on me. “Don’t ask the next question, Chrissie. I can see this is uncomfortable for you.”

  I make a what the fuck are you talking about gesture with my hand. “It’s not uncomfortable and there is no next question, Linda,” I say dismissively.

  She rolls her eyes. “You want to know if that is where Alan is getting his dick wet these days. Yep. They’ve been together four months.”

  I have to fight not to visibly cringe—dick wet? Really, Linda? She’s being deliberately crass to get me to back off. Fine. Backing off.

  The studio door opens. Linda and I both look as Kathy comes flouncing out, breathy and excited. Why is she smiling at me that way? Yuck, this is awful.

  She floats down onto a chair facing us. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you,” she gushes, and damn if it doesn’t sound like she means it. “Your song is amazing. I’m so honored to get to record it. And your vocals on Long and Hard—incredible. I can’t even come close to them. Not even close.”

  I can’t do anything. I can’t find the words in my head. I can’t even smile. I’m plunged into disarray by too many things hitting me all at once: this girl is fucking Alan; this girl knows I used to fuck Alan—awkward, Chrissie, awkward—and I am irrationally hurt and feeling violated that Alan played for her the tracks of Long and Hard.

  And what the fuck did she mean? Come even close to my vocals?

  I manage a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Kathy.”

  Her smile is beaming. My insides turn.

  “We’ve been doing those songs for two months on the road. Every time I’m about to step out on stage, I run your vocals through my head.”

  On the road? She tours with Alan. She sings my parts from the album. She sings Long and Hard. The song Alan wrote about us.

  Ian swivels around to face us. “They’ve been promoting the album for two months. You must be excited, Chrissie, that the label is releasing it.”

  Releasing it? I feel like I’ve just been run over by a truck. If it’s possible to be sent into a coma and be still aware that would almost describe how I’m feeling now.

  They all start chatting and I am mute, wishing I could drop through the floor. Neil is going to freak when he finds out about Long and Hard. Damn, why is it being released? Alan promised me it never would be.

  “This should take one take, Ian, if you don’t fuck it up,” Alans says through the microphone, and Kathy springs from her chair.

  She smiles at me. “We’ll talk more later, OK?”

  Not if there is a God in Heaven.

  I watch her disappear beyond the glass where Alan is and those black eyes fix on me. I can tell by his expression that he knew the exact second I arrived and thirty minutes has passed and he hasn’t even said hello to me.

  He kisses Kathy and puts the cans on her head. I feel as though I’m shrinking, diminishing. Why did I come here? This was a mistake. I sit numb, not even able to hear them clearly through my distorting thoughts and emotions, hurt and panic.

  The guys hit the track. The music starts to play and I’m struck by the third leveling shock of the day. I’m consumed by the music practically from the first note. He’s slowed it down, quiet, precise, powerful, a blending of darkness and light. The arrangement, the subtle changes to the melody, it’s so beautiful. My little ballad is an Alan power-ballad, exactly what I heard in my head and could never seem to create on the tapes.

  I scan the lead sheet in my hand. The words are nakedly revealing of me. I wonder if they are to Alan. It’s a beautiful ballad and Alan has breathed us into it. My gaze lifts to stare at Kathy. Or at least, that’s what I hear.

  Four hours later, I’m frozen on the couch beside Linda after listening to my song—and watching Alan singing it with Kathy—so many times my stomach is sick. I can’t seem to escape the was he like this with me when we recorded heartache turning over and over again in my thoughts. A caress of her face. His lips on her ear. Kathy never out of his touch. It was like that with us and it unreasonably hurts, more than I ever expected it to, to witness it.

  And then there are the images of how we were in bed after that recording session. The unspent adrenaline rushing through Alan’s flesh as he devoured me, totally consuming my body as he whispered, “The opposite of death is you. You are my opposite of death.”

  Fuck, I should go.

  The last playback finishes and the studio door bursts open and Alan drops into a chair. I’ve been here for hours and he still hasn’t spoken to me. I didn’t expect that one.

  Ian reaches for his coffee mug. “Are we good?”

  Alan’s eyes flash wide, his gaze angry. “No. We’re not even fucking in the realm of good.”

  “What do you want to do?” Ian asks.

  Alan closes his eyes again and says nothing.

  I lean into Linda. “I’m going to go. I don’t need to hear any more. And I don’t like driving after dark.”

  Linda hugs me. “Talk to you soon, sweetheart.”

  Alan shoots out of his chair and in a minute he’s in front of me. “No. You’re not leaving.”

  His reaction and voice startle me, especially after an entire of day of being ignored by him.

  “I need to go, Alan. It’s late. I love what you’ve done to my song. I don’t need to stay.”

  Those black eyes burn into me. “Sing it once with me, Chrissie. Before you leave.”

  What?

  He grabs my hand and looks at Kathy. “I know you can hear. I want you to listen to her sing this.”

  I flush scarlet. “No, Alan. I really have to go.”

  “I need you to do this,” he orders.

  My head spins.

  Alan touches my cheek. “You are the most gifted female vocalist I’ve ever heard. You can show her what I can’t explain to her, in one track.”

  I stare at him, shocked. He wants me to sing with him so she’ll know how to sing it for him. Oh God…

  “Please do this for me, Chrissie. I want it to be perfect. Perfect for you.”

  It feels like the earth has turned upside down. Oh, that was unfair, Alan. That was unfair. Before I can muster a response, he pulls me with him into the studio.

  Three hours later, I sit on a chair in the studio listening to the final playback. Fuck, what the hell just happened here today? Somehow I’ve done it again. I not only gave Alan my song to record, I’ve recorded it with him. In the too-fast-moving shifting currents of Alan’s universe, I replaced Kathy on the album without ever intending to or consciously doing it.

  Alan merely told Ian after the first take we did that that’s the track we release, and the next thing I know I’m redubbing Kathy’s vocals on other songs.

  Shit. I’ve totally fucked up my life in a single day. I should never have dared being near Alan.

  “There’s another song I’d like you to record. When are you available?”

  Alan lifts his head from the cushion on the couch. He looks at me. I’m strapped on the runaway train that is Alan again.

  �
�I don’t know. I can’t run to LA. I can’t have days this long away from home again. It would be easier if you came to the house and we recorded there.”

  He sits up, planting his feet on the ground. “Fine. We’ll do it in your studio.”

  My head spins. That was a stalling tactic and it just blew up in my face.

  Before I can say anything, Kathy comes through the studio door. She drops down on the couch close to Alan, melting into his side.

  He looks at her. “You’re ready to go, aren’t you?” he says in an affectionately teasing way.

  She smiles up at him. “I was ready to go three hours ago after you fired me.”

  Kathy laughs. She doesn’t sound at all angry with Alan. There isn’t even a hint of hostility in her eyes when she looks at me. Amazing and so irritating. Linda is right. I would like this girl if she wasn’t sleeping with Alan.

  Alan smiles, and then looks at me. “We’re on our way to dinner. Why don’t you join us, Chrissie?”

  My gaze pauses overly long on the loose drape of Alan’s arm around Kathy’s shoulders and how she presses against his side. The lump in my throat is a hideous thing.

  I force a smile. “No. I really need to get back to Santa Barbara.”

  Alan smiles. “Maybe next time, then. Drive carefully.”

  He leans in to me and touches my forehead with his lips. A drive-by peck. I stand up quickly.

  “Good night,” I choke out. I hurry to the door, and then out to the driveway and my car.

  By the time I reach Santa Barbara, the things I’m fretting about have proliferated tenfold. Being with Alan was intoxicating and torturous. So him. And he didn’t do a damn thing to make it that way. In every moment his manner said friends, nothing else. I’m the pathetic one. Conflicting emotions, unreasonable irritations I never expected to have, in that this guy used to be mine female territorial way that I hate. Definitely wrong since I’m happy with Neil and shouldn’t feel anything seeing Alan with Kathy. I should want Alan to be happy. Right?

  I park my car in Jack’s driveway and pull the key out of the ignition. Crap, it’s after 9 p.m. I told him I would be back by six. I’ve missed Neil’s nightly call and I didn’t tell Neil what I was planning to do today. Maybe I should have. Maybe he’d have stopped me and I wouldn’t be in the mess I am now. Neil is going to go ballistic since I didn’t just collaborate at the recording, I recorded my song with Alan. And somehow I have been roped in to recording more and replacing Kathy on the album.