Chapter 19

Six days later

The car rolls to a stop at the airstrip. The tarmac is busy with activity. The road crew is loading equipment. Band and wives and children are standing in the sun, laughing and talking. Our usual horde of press is here. Last leg of the tour—the final tour, I remind myself—and we’re all traveling together on that nightmare 757. Linda’s fucking idea. She wanted something special and this was her idea of special.

Why did I give in? I let out a ragged breath, reminding myself that a year ago when I consented I didn’t know I’d be taking off from the UK with four out of five of my kids by Chrissie. Fuck, a year ago I didn’t even know I had any kids.

I battle down the reaction that stirs, really wishing I could fortify myself with some scotch, but these damn kids don’t miss a thing. Krystal openly remarks on everything she sees and the rest of them just stare disapprovingly. Half the time I don’t even know what I’ve done to make them disapprove.

I thought our five days in my country home outside London were…pleasant? Progress? Denial is a terminal addiction. Fine, they avoided me as much as they could. I tried to talk, they pretended to listen—Kaley wouldn’t come out of her room. Hardly at all—but we have to start somewhere together. I just wish it wasn’t with them still anxious and oddly disapproving me.

Maybe I should have had the nanny at Winderly House with us. She would have probably known better how to entertain them.

No more stalling. Time to get this over with. More than a few loitering around the plane are staring at the car impatiently. I’m late. So what? Delays come out of my pocket not theirs. And what the hell do they all expect? Being late is nothing new for me. What is new is being late because I had to fight four kids to get here.

Fuck, I need a drink and about ten hours’ sleep. It is very fitting that my angry gesture, my idiotic show of fatherhood authority with Chrissie—taking the kids on the road with me. Brilliant, Alan, just brilliant—has turned into a fit punishment for me. These are Chrissie’s kids. I should not have expected it to be easy.

From behind my sunglasses I cautiously check each kid staring at me. God, they look grim. All of them, except Kaley. She looks ready to murder me. Jesus Christ, they’re skipping the last months of the school year to travel the world on a plane with a rock band. They should be a little more upbeat, shouldn’t they? Probably not, they are traveling with me.

I take off my glasses so they can see my eyes when I speak. “Listen, there is press out there. I want you to exit the car, go directly onto the plane and say not one word to anyone.”

Krystal nods. Kaley rolls her eyes. I can’t tell if Ethan or Eric even understand the language I speak. But then again, they’re only six; they probably don’t even know what the word press means.

Fuck, I wish Chrissie were here. All the guys—Len, Jimmy, Kenny and Pat—have their wives with them. For once I have my family with me. Now that I’m over being angry, the kids make me miss Chrissie even more desperately.

The car door opens. I put on my sunglasses and gesture Kaley out first. Then Krystal. I climb out. The cameras explode. There are shouted questions from every direction.

I do a fast look over my shoulder. The girls are climbing the metal stairs to the plane. At least Kaley did one thing as asked without argument.

I bend and look into the car. The twins look terrified. I hold a hand out to the boys. “Come on. It’s OK. It’s a short walk to the plane. I’ll be with you the entire way.”

I wait. Just take my hand, one of you, please. Nothing. They’re afraid to get out of the car.

Decision made. I lean in, scoop one under each arm, and carefully back away from the car until I can stand.

I adjust my hold so I can see them. “Do you want to walk or do you want me to carry you?”

Eric tries to wiggle free. I set him on his feet, but Ethan loops his arms around my neck. It is a uniquely pleasant feeling.

I smile. “It’s going to be OK, kiddo. Just ignore them. That’s what I do.”

I march toward the stairs with the boys. I usher Eric in front of me, and the cameras don’t stop even though they’ve got nothing to see but my back. Haven’t the tabloids ever seen kids before?

The flashes start popping even more rapidly. What the fuck has happened now? I feel movement in my arms and shift my gaze to Ethan. His arm that was around my neck is behind my back waving at the press. I almost smile. Nice touch, kid.

Inside the plane, I find the girls waiting for me. Every seat from the tenth row back is full. Who the fuck are all these people? The nanny is supposed to be here. I don’t see her and I’m not going to search through the plane looking for her.

I stop at the bank of seats in the front row where the tour manager has already staked his claim. I set Eric down on one side of him, and Ethan on the other. Cuddy looks up from his phone and gives me a startled look, though he doesn’t have the nerve to tell me not to put my kids here. It’s probably rude just to surround him with them without asking, but fuck it, it’s my plane.

I motion for Kaley and Krystal to sit.

“This is Cuddy, the tour manager,” I explain. “He’ll make sure the flight crew gets you whatever you need.” I point to the hulking figure standing twenty rows away. “Back there is Nick Day, the production manager. That’s as far back in the plane as you’re allowed to go. You’re not allowed to mix with the road crew. I’m going to sleep until we land in Mumbai. Behave yourselves.”

I can feel stares from all around me. Everyone on the plane is watching and not pretending to do otherwise. Fine, I didn’t announce I’d be bringing the kids. Get over it.

My gaze settles on Kaley. That’s where the trouble is going to come from if there is going to be any.

She glares. I arch a brow at her. No response. Silent treatment still in effect. Fine, Kaley, today that’s a win for me. I start making my way down the aisle to Linda and Len.

“Daddy, are we there yet? I’m bored.”

That stops me. After six days of unrelenting, hostile silence now Kaley decides to speak. It’s not going to be good. I turn back toward the front of the plane. She is sitting on her seat on her knees, arms draped over the top, staring at me.

I’m not sure what pisses me off more: her relentless efforts to irritate me; her willingness to engage in shocking public displays rather than just talking to me—why won’t the girl just talk to me?—or her flexible voice that dominates the air without effort that I can no longer deny she’s inherited from me.

I meet her stare for stare. “You speak to me in that sarcastic tone of voice again and this trip is going to get real rough real fast.”

Kaley smiles. “Sure, Pop. I just have one question, though. Why did you drag us along on the Smash the Family tour? You should have just left me home with Mom. At least she’s not an asshole.”

I feel the beginnings of an Alec Baldwin moment. I’ve always been critical of Alec for that damn voice mail he left his daughter that’s had far too much media play. But now I understand it better. The chaotic emotions and flash responses your own kids can stir. Of course, Alec had been stupid in the extreme thinking only of the immediate release and not the long game, but oh, I am beginning to understand it. Kaley can effortlessly hack through my reserve and the girl uses a machete.

I count to ten inside my head. “Go ahead, Kaley. Keep it up. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

“Fine, I’ll sit here and tweet.” The smile she gives me is pure Chrissie. “Come on, Pop. Lighten up. Admit it, that was a little funny.”

Yep, that round she was Chrissie. I sink into the seat across the aisle from Linda, recline, and nearly have my eyes shut before Linda starts to laugh.