Текст книги "The Girl of Sand & Fog"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

CHAPTER 30

Toronto, Canada, three months later

I sit on a stadium chair, listening to my dad doing a sound check on stage and waiting for Graham Carson to finish watching the final cut of my documentary about the tour.

I can’t tell by his face if he thinks it’s good or bad. Shit, why did I show him this? I didn’t realize how much the film mattered to me until I hit play. I also didn’t realize how much it mattered to me what Graham would think of it.

It was, after all, his suggestion. Filming our months on the road. His voice rises in my memory—the camera doesn’t lie. Not if you don’t let it. Film everything and you might learn something about your father.

Fifty-nine minutes of torture and still counting. Fuck, throw me a bone here. Anything to tell me what you think. His eyes have been locked on the screen, his expression agonizingly neutral, and he hasn’t pulled out the earbuds once so I can ask him what he thinks of what he’s seen so far.

I curl my legs up in front of me and turn until I’m facing him. Oh well. No need to panic over it now. It’s done. I don’t know what to do with the film now. Showing Alan seems too daunting a thing just yet. Graham’s right. The camera doesn’t lie if you don’t let it.

He makes a low whistle, pulls out the earbuds and sits back in his chair. “Jesus Christ.”

My eyes go wide. “Is that good or bad?”

He studies me, shaking his head. “How old are you, kid?”

“Eighteen. I was eighteen when you met me. Eighteen when we started this today and even though you took forever to watch my documentary”—I make a silly face—“I’m still eighteen.”

“You have one hell of an eye, Kaley.” He clicks closed the laptop. “It’s an amazing film. Long and Hard: My Journey With my Father. When the title came up on screen, my heart stopped and I got chills. I couldn’t tear my eyes away until it was finished.”

A beaming smile fills my face before I can stop it. “Really? You think it’s good?”

His gaze softens, approving. “Best documentary I’ve ever seen about your dad, hands down, and I’ve seen them all. You captured the real Alan Manzone brilliantly—the still pictures cut into the film at times gave me goosebumps. You capture the man and that’s something every other cinematographer has failed to do completely.”

My cheeks rapidly heat. “Thanks. It means a lot to me that you think it’s good.”

Graham hands the computer back to me. “Have you shown it to your dad?”

I shake my head.

“Why not? He’d be so proud of you if he could see that. And I think really happy. Because that’s not just a film about him. It’s film about you, too, and how much you love your dad. It’s in every frame of film how much you love your father. Show it to him, Kaley. He deserves to see it. The past four months have been a journey for your dad, too. Let him know that he’s forgiven and you love him.”

I fight not to get all teary-eyed and exhale the breath I’ve been holding. I shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re ready for that much honesty between us yet in our relationship.”

Graham slips an arm around my neck, pulling me in to drop a kiss on my curls. “Alan is there. He always has been. But now you are, too. Show it to him, Kaley.”

I nod, struggling to hold back my emotion because Graham reads me like a book and is right. He’s always right about everything. Overbearing at times with his opinions, but he’s a good friend with my best interests at heart.

“You doing all right, Kaley?”

I nod.

He smiles. “You must be really excited about going home to California tomorrow.”

To hide my expression from him, I focus on loading my junk into my tote. The mention of home is a definite mood kill. “Excited? Sort of. I don’t really have anything going on at home.”

“You start USC in September. That definitely sounds like something exciting to me.”

“Yep. I do have school.” I put the strap of my bag over my head. “Can you take me back to the hotel?”

His brows shoot up. “You want to leave when your mom’s on stage? I think she’s going to sing with your dad. Don’t you want to listen?”

I shift my gaze to find Chrissie next to Alan center stage. Jeez, they look so happy. Everyone is happy—my folks, my brothers and sisters—everyone except me.

I debate grabbing my camera and snapping a picture of them. Oh well, the documentary is done, and this experience is done, too. The way my parents stare at each other reminds me of everything I lost and makes the hurt in my heart burn.

All going back to California means is that tomorrow my next phase of life starts: Pacific Palisades without Bobby.

The lump in my throat becomes strangling.

Graham slips an arm around me.

“It’s going to be all right, Kaley. If it was meant to be, it will be there when you get home. Four months won’t have changed a thing. And if Bobby is not there waiting for you, then he wasn’t worth your time in the first place.”

Shit, how did he know what I was thinking?

I settle back into my seat, slouch down and brace my feet on the back of the chair in front of me. “We broke up. It’s over. I don’t expect him to be waiting for me.”

Graham shakes his head at me. “He’ll be there. I’m not worried about that.”

I wish I could believe him, but I don’t.

The arena fills with the sound of screaming guitars and my parents’ voices. Slowly we slouch into each other, my head tilted and resting against Graham’s, our eyes glued on the mesmerizing picture that is my mother when she’s with Alan.

“God, your mom’s incredible,” Graham murmurs appreciatively. “Her voice is like a thousand volt jolt through the body. Forty-two years old and she’s still one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen.”

I grimace. “Gross. Don’t say things like that about my mother. Besides, you’re gay. She should do nothing for you.”

Graham’s eyes start to twinkle. “Sexy is sexy, sweetheart. I don’t need to be straight to see how hot your mom is. Both of your parents are sexy as hell.”

I shudder. “Ew. Anyway, my mom has no moves at all on stage. She’s got to be one of the least coordinated recording artists ever.”

Graham’s head goes back as he laughs. “OK. I’ll give you that. She’s no Jennifer Lopez, but she doesn’t have to be. Even no moves works for Chrissie.”

I watch her. Jeez, Dad is smiling and staring at her as if she’s the most amazing thing ever.

My humor vanishes and my mood dips.

A prick of sadness.

“Everything works for Chrissie. Always. My mom has everything she wants, the way she wants, always.”

Graham takes me in a one-arm, shoulder-wrapping hug and lays his cheek on my curls. “You do, too, Kaley. And you always will. You just don’t know it yet.”

CHAPTER 31

I stare out the window as the plane slowly descends. Southern California has never looked better to me than it does today from the air.

I’m finally home. I can track down Bobby and try to fix things with him, though I’m sure the smart girl move would be not to chase him and I’m pretty sure my dad is going to object if I try to cut out first thing.

My dad will tell me not to do it.

He’s probably right.

His guy advice is always right, probably because he’s such a guy, the alpha male of all alpha males.

I’m going after Bobby anyway.

I turn and stare at the closed door of the luxurious sleeping compartment on Alan’s Lear jet where my parents have hung out alone pretty much since wheels up in Toronto. It’s sweet, though awkward at times, how into each other they are. Who would have thought two people could still be so hot and heavy and in love at their age, especially after five kids?

Yep, I’ve definitely witnessed a lot of too much visual moments since my mom flew to Australia to be with Dad. As embarrassing as they behave at times, watching them makes me a little sad and jealous. It’s like there is no one else in the world for them than each other, and though it’s confusing that their life together wasn’t always a smooth thing, it’s kind of a nice feeling to know I have two parents married and deeply in love with each other.

My gaze shifts to my sister sound asleep in Lourdes’s arms. Khloe is so lucky that that is all she’s ever going to have in her life: both parents loving her and in love with each other. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Chrissie and Alan are going to be together forever this time.

I shut down the twinge of resentment inside me because it’s wrong and I don’t want to resent Khloe any longer, and I’m really glad that she’s here. I’m not sure we would have ever become a family without her.

And my mom is so happy. I’ve never seen her happier. Nope, it’s time to put the past and the unpleasant feelings away, and only enjoy where we all are today.

One family, a little weird, totally not normal, but good.

“We are thirty minutes from touching down in Los Angeles,” the pilot’s voice announces through the intercom. “It’s clear skies, 74 degrees in the south land, and we should be taxiing in around 1:30 p.m. California time.”

My heart jumps; we’re landing soon.

Maybe it’s safe to bother my parents.

I unbuckle my seat belt—please let it be safe—and make my way toward the back of the plane.

I knock.

I wait.

“You can come in, Kaley,” my dad says through the door.

My brows hitch up.

How did he know it was me?

I slowly turn the knob, inch it open, peek in and then breathe a sigh of relief. Alan is sitting on the bed, fully clothed, reading a newspaper, and my mom is asleep beside him, curled in a tight ball, using his lap as her pillow.

Not what I expected.

So maritally normal.

Crap, my dad even has half glasses resting low on his nose.

I sink down on the bed, sitting on my knees facing them. “How did you know it was me?”

My dad folds his paper and tosses it aside. “We’re nearly home. Who else would be interrupting us first thing? I’m reasonably certain none of the rest of the herd is itching to bolt. What do you want, Kaley?”

I choke back a laugh at the term herd and fight off a grimace at the itching to bolt comment.

I shrug.

“I’m itching to bolt.”

Since my dad can read me without effort, no point in beating around the bush.

He shakes his head slowly, not in a gesture of no, you can’t go, but more in an I shouldn’t let you do this kind of way.

Damn.

“You said,” I remind heatedly before Alan can formulate a response, “that if I did exactly what you told me to the entire four months on the road, that I didn’t have to stay in lockdown until the end of my six months’ probation. I did everything you asked. You said that I could have my freedom back when we reached LA. You promised. I want to take off for a while after we land.”

Alan rakes his messy black waves from his face as his eyes fix on me in an odd blend of amusement, exasperation and apprehension. “Do you want some advice?”

Oh crap.

“Not really, Pop.”

My dad’s lips pucker as if he’s beating back laughter. “Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway. Run after a guy and he’ll run your life forever.”

I let loose an aggravated shake of my head. “That’s not even close to true and definitely not Bobby. And I’m not running after anyone.”

“Then there is no reason why you can’t come home with us, play it cool, and see what happens,” Alan counters quickly. “It’s what Chrissie wants. It’s what I want. To go home together as a family. It’s important to us, Kaley.”

I exhale loudly in frustration. “I have to go home with you. How do you think I’m going to get my car? I just want to leave after I get there. It’s been four months. I just want to see him. Talk to him. Apologize. I’ve got a lot to apologize for. Come on, Pop. Can’t you be cool just once?”

He studies me for a moment, unmoved. “Send it in a letter. No wait, an e-mail. But, please, don’t do it by posting a video online.”

He starts to laugh and I give him a light shove in the leg. “Don’t make jokes. This is important.”

“No, Alan’s right,” Chrissie pipes in quietly.

I shift my gaze to find my mom’s eyes wide open and watching us.

Damn, she’s been awake and listening.

Now I’ve got to battle two of them.

“Please. I promise I’ll be home by curfew. Even though I’ve never had one and I am over eighteen, you can set one if you let me go. Please…”

“Don’t wheedle, Kaley. It’s beneath you,” he teases. We square off with our eyes, but it’s my dad who closes his first. “You can go if you want to. It was our agreement and I always keep my word, but you shouldn’t do it, sweetheart.”

Even with the last jibe, I’m so happy I lunge into my dad and give him a fast hug and kiss.

When I pull back, Alan rolls his eyes and groans. “Can you do one thing for me, so I’ll worry less about you taking off? Can you try to be less obvious than you just were with me when you see Bobby?”

My cheeks burn but I nod.

My dad makes an aggravated groan, but I spring from the bed before he can say another word, and go back to my seat, more than ready to reach LA now.

The plane tilts, levels off and then I feel a series of bumps—landing gear touching earth—followed by the loud whoosh of slowing engines. We taxi and then stop. The steps are pulled down.

The doors open, and a burst of sunshine floods the cabin with the warm August air. Everyone starts moving, gathering things. Lourdes ticks off a rapid stream of commands—half in English, half in Spanish—to my brothers and sisters.

My parents emerge from their private cave, and my dad lifts Khloe from the housekeeper’s arms.

I pause at the top step of the open cabin door. Nothing but private aviation personnel, ground crew, the waiting car and driver to take us home, and the two remaining members of my dad’s security team, Trey and Graham, who made the last leg of the journey home with us. There’s not even press here. Just normal airport activity and us.

My mood dips.

I didn’t really expect to see Bobby waiting for me.

Why did I look to see if he was there?

Stupid, Kaley. Bobby dumped you.

Graham looks up at me, waves, and smiles. I trot down the steps and cross the tarmac toward him.

“I’m glad my dad picked you to stay with us this flight.” I make a face. “Don’t take this the wrong way. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy to be done with having you as my bodyguard everywhere I go, but I’m going to miss you.”

Graham laughs. “Believe it or not, I’m going to miss you, too, Kaley.”

“Thank you for everything. You’ve been a really good friend to me.”

He drops a kiss on top of my head. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m not worried about you anymore. Things look like they’re going well with you and your dad. Just—”

He pauses.

I shouldn’t ask.

Fuck, I’m asking.

“Just what?” I demand pointedly. “Spit it out, Graham. No need to stop being overbearing now.”

I can tell by the gleam in his eyes that I shouldn’t have stepped into this.

He taps my nose. “Try listening to your dad. He won’t steer you wrong. He’s a good man and he loves you.”

I groan. “And here we were, doing so well, and you had to get one last one in, didn’t you?”

He grins. “I had to try.”

I almost walk away, then I slip my arms around him and give him a firm hug.

“Kaley…” he chides in a slow, exaggerated way.

“Graham…”

“I’ve already told you. Never do that. Drop your arms. Step back. We’re in the US. This time your fingers really are on my gun.”

Crap.

Grimacing, I do as ordered.

His eyes sparkle at me.

Oh fudge.

“Very funny. Ha, ha, ha. You don’t carry a gun. You’re only for show. All looks. No heat.”

He arches a brow. “Really? You think no heat?”

“Then show me your gun,” I challenge.

Full dimples this time. “I’m not showing you my gun, sweetie. I’ve already told you, you’re not my type.”

I explode into laughter.

“You are so obnoxious. I really am going to miss you.”

Smiling, he juts his chin. “You’re not going to have time to miss me. I think you’re about to have something better going on real soon. Definitely hot. Damn. I don’t think he’s here for me.”

I turn in the direction Graham is staring.

My heart jumps.

Parked just beyond the gate of the private aviation entrance, leaning back against the hood of his Aston Martin.

Bobby.

He did come.

He’s here.

Green eyes lock on me.

“Kaley, let’s roll,” I hear my dad call out.

I tear my gaze away from Bobby.

Crap. The bags are loaded and everyone’s in the car except my dad. He’s standing in the space behind the open door, impatient and ready to go.

“Steady, solider,” Graham whispers. “Try not to run. Go talk to your dad first. Take your time. Play it cool. Don’t make it too easy for Bobby. He did break up with you, remember?”

Same advice my dad gave me.

If Graham says it, it’s got to be right.

I wonder if they coordinate via text my daily doses of male guidance.

I sigh heavily. “I won’t run. I’ll talk to my dad first. Happy? Jeez, you’re as big of a pain as my dad is sometimes.”

Graham’s laughter follows me as I move toward the car. I rummage through my bag for my phone and keys, then hand my carry tote to the driver.

I turn to Alan. “Bobby’s here.”

My dad frowns. He scans the airport. His face changes; he’s spotted Bobby.

“Well, can I go?”

Shit, Alan’s expression isn’t encouraging.

“Are you going to remember what I said?”

I nod.

“I want you back at the house no later than ten.”

Crap.

Ten?

The curfew nonsense just blew up in my face.

I didn’t mean it.

I’m eighteen.

This is stupid.

“Fine. Ten. Can I go?”

Waiting.

Waiting.

“Please?”

Come on, Alan, come through for me.

“You can go,” he says slowly, then winks and smiles.

Jeez.

“God, why do you have to be that way? You were going to let me go all along and dragged it out. Do you always have to be so—so—?”

Crap. I don’t know what to call it.

“Parental?” He lifts a brow. “Yes. I do. I love you.”

He climbs into the car.

“Ten p.m. Not one second later,” he orders before the door is shut.

I stay rooted in place, deciding to wait until they’re gone before I make my move. Once the black SUV disappears from view, I shift my gaze to Bobby.

We stare at each other for a moment. Even from this distance, I can see his eyes are lush with a smile for me. It happens. After four months. That flutter in the pit of my stomach when I see him.

He looks good. Fit. Tan. Relaxed. There are more golden sun-streaks in his hair. He’s been surfing a lot. Crap, he even looks happy, and after everything that went down, even I’m not conceited enough to assume it’s only because he’s seeing me.

He just sits there.

Staring at me.

Why doesn’t he move?

I start walking toward him, my heart jumping, and it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs. I’m moving, but I’m unaware of anything but him. Everything inside me comes alive all at once, clicks into place in a way that makes it a shock how much of me has felt detached and subdued since I left California.

Incomplete.

I stop just short of stepping into the space made by the V of his legs as he leans against the car.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here. Or do you pick up all your ex-girlfriends at the airport?”

I mentally kick myself because not being obvious just went out the door with what I let slip into my voice, and after four months I should have had ready something more neutral, less bitchy than that to say to him.

He closes his eyes and I wait. Oh no. There is no way I can bear to have him tell me again we’re over…

When his eyes shoot open, everything in them is different. The color is darker, intense, and full of emotion and need. It’s like looking at my own reflection. “No. I don’t pick up my ex-girlfriends at airports or anywhere else. I’m here because you’re here. Where else would I be, Kaley?”

He stares into my eyes and I don’t know what to say.

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk?” he asks.

Talk?

Neither of us move.

He waits, and I swallow hard and nod.

Bobby pushes off the car, moves to the passenger door, and opens it. It doesn’t escape me that he hasn’t touched me.

I sink down onto the passenger seat, and in a few seconds we’re going down a street and I don’t even know where to.

He merges into the lane for the Sepulveda Tunnel. We’re heading toward the coast. Maybe his house?

Once we’re out of the underground section of road, I tilt my face back toward the sun and close my eyes. “So how’s it been in the ’Sades?”

I hear him shift gears. “Quiet since graduation. Before graduation not so quiet.”

Nope, no need to ask him to explain that one.

I’m sure I was the fast moving gossip at PP Academy.

Make a public spectacle of yourself on YouTube.

Then drop out of high school before graduation.

Become an Internet sensation.

Get dumped by the hottest guy on campus.

What’s not to talk about?

“So how was being on tour with Alan?”

Make-do conversation. Impersonal. Safe.

I hate it.

There’s so much in my head and heart screaming to get out. I shrug. “Interesting. Good actually. Learned a lot about my dad I didn’t know before. We got sort of close. Or maybe I should say we made a good start at getting close.”

Bobby’s eyes are serious. “I’m glad something good came out of this.”

This?

Which this?

Fuck, I hope he doesn’t mean us breaking up.

“My dad seems happy. My parents seem like they’re in a good place together.”

“How about you?”

I’m miserable, Bobby. I miss you. “I’m OK.”

“Did you meet anyone? Hang out with anyone?”

A jolt shoots through my body even though Bobby’s voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. I turn my head to face him and open my eyes. “No. Have you?”

“No. Haven’t really been hanging out with anyone since graduation. Not even our old crowd. I’ve just been keeping to myself.”

He turns onto Highway 1.

His jaw flexes.

“Who was that at the airport?”

Bobby’s eyes fix on me then shift back to the road. Jealousy. He’s not even trying to hide it. My mood soars.

“Graham Carson.”

I purposely don’t explain; I wait for him to ask, but he doesn’t.

Crap, that was lame.

A Zoe kind of ploy.

Beneath me.

We never play these kind of games with each other.

I manage a small smile. “Graham was my bodyguard. Went everywhere with me. My dad thought I needed security on tour. Stupid, huh?”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at me. “Not stupid. Not with where you were traveling and definitely not with how recognizable your face became after that video and all the press. Thank God all that bullshit is finally dying down. Maybe things will start getting back to normal again here for you.”

There is something in his voice; I don’t know what to make of it.

He flicks the signal and turns down a short road that dead-ends at the shoreline in Manhattan Beach. He hits a button. A ground-level garage door opens on a narrow three-story glass and concrete house.

We pull in, park, and Bobby comes around to open my door. He gestures me forward through a heavy fire door leading to a flight of stairs.

At the top step I pause. The house is small, California casual and trendy, and it looks over the ocean. I cross to the far side and stare out the glass of the patio doors.

Right on the water.

A handful of steps from the ocean.

Maybe he’s been training—competitive surf competitions? Is that what he’s planning instead of college?

Four months without contact; I don’t have a clue what’s going on in Bobby’s mind and life anymore, and before I left I knew everything…at least I thought I knew everything.

This place surprises me.

I turn to find him standing across the room from me, watching. “Whose house is this?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a rental. After graduation I needed a change. Someplace to be alone for a while. The lease is up next month.”

My brows shoot up. “What are you going to do then? Move back home?”

He sinks down on a chair. “No. Not that.” Shit. A feeling of dread contracts my stomach. I don’t like the sound of that. “I can’t. I would have moved out when I turned eighteen if Linda hadn’t asked me to stay through graduation.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

His expression only feeds my worst fear.

Bobby lets out a huge breath. “Listen, Kaley—”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

I can hear him speaking, but the words, their meanings, are lost in my fast rising panic. He’s going to say goodbye to me again…

I rush across the room, sinking down on my knees in the space between his legs, stopping his words with the press of my hands. “Please, stop. Don’t say whatever you think you have to tell me yet. Not yet. Let me say what I need to say first. My dad told me I shouldn’t rush after you. Hang back, see how it goes. Even Graham told me I should play it cool. Not be obvious. But I don’t care. I am obvious with you. I always have been. I love you, Bobby. And I can’t take another moment not knowing if you still love me.”

His eyes go wide. “Still? I never stopped loving you, Kaley. You’re all I think about. I love you. That’s never going to change.”

My breathing quickens as everything starts to hit me—being home, being with Bobby, the words he was about to say, the words in my head I haven’t yet said, and the feelings in my heart—and my body is screaming fuck the smart move.

I don’t have to play it safe.

I don’t have to hold back.

Not with Bobby.

I can’t wait a second longer to touch him. I lean in, kissing him with everything in me. My mouth moves, urgent and demanding, against his, and I can feel his pulse going faster and faster. He’s matching my kiss, moving with me.

Why doesn’t he take me in his arms?

If he doesn’t touch me soon…

I break the kiss and stare up at him.

He cups my face with his palms. “I love you, Kaley. But we need to talk first.”

His voice is breathy. Ragged. Intense.

His words make me feel like crying. He’s such a good guy. Never unfair. But I don’t want what comes next for us, not if it’s not good. Oh no, not yet.

Tears sting my eyes.

Damn.

I don’t want him to see them. I wrap my arms around his neck and tuck my face against his shoulder.

“I’ll listen to everything you want to tell to me. Later. Just not now.”

“Kaley—” He groans and it sounds like he’s in physical pain. “Don’t think I don’t want to, but —”

I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Even if we’re over after we talk, even if all I get of him is this—him making love to me one last time—I want it.

I start kissing his neck, nipping and touching my tongue to all the spots I know get him crazy. My hand moves to his nape, dragging him back to my mouth, as my other hand slides down his torso to cover the glorious hardness in his jeans.

“It doesn’t matter what happens after we talk,” I whisper. “I won’t make it through today without being with you. Make love to me, Bobby.”

I can feel he’s struggling against me, but he starts touching and kissing me back. “We should talk first.”

“I don’t want to.”

I ease back so he can see my face and his eyes start to shimmer in response. In a flash I’m scooped up from the floor, and we start moving down a hallway, his lips trailing across my face as I’m lowered to the bed.

He covers me with his body and we are kissing and touching in the way two people who love and haven’t been together in too long do—as if we can’t feel or taste or get close enough to each other.

We pull off our clothes in a hurry and it still doesn’t feel fast enough. Not by a long shot.

I mold my body into him, feeding the starvation of my pulsing sex, brushing against his erection as I struggle to match the heated thrust of his tongue and the force of his kisses.

I hear the rip of a foil square and my eyes open to see him sheathing himself. I feel him searching at my entrance with his cock and fingers, and, without delay, he plunges into me.

A hoarse moan—need and relief—escapes with my rapid breaths as my body tightens around him. He needs to be in me. I need to have him in me. After four months our hearts and bodies are in sync without effort, the need to feel complete by being together beyond any other need in both of us.

My body races to match his thrusts. He is moving in me as if he can’t get deep enough. I arch my back as I lift my pelvis into him. I tense, everything heating and coursing through me at once.

I love him.

He still loves me.

Whatever there is left for us to get through, everything is going to be OK.

I can feel it.

For the first time in too long, I am complete.