The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet (12 page)

The patio door opens. Great, that’s all I need
this morning.

Josh Moss steps out. “What the fuck is everyone
doing up so early?”

“I’m thinking about hitting the beach. Trying to
surf a little today,” Nate says. “I don’t even care if we can’t find waves.
Just be somewhere quiet for a while. You up for it, man?”

Josh nods. He drops heavily into the chair,
squinting against the bright morning light.

“Do you want some coffee?” I ask him.

“I’ll get it myself, Chrissie.” Josh nods toward
the yard. “Are we bringing him?”

Nate laughs. “Fuck no.”

I look over my shoulder. Neil is on the trail up
to the house.

Josh stands up and gestures to Nate. They both
leave me.

I sit in my chair, curled up hugging my legs, as
I wait for Neil to reach me. Please don’t let it only be round two today. I
want this done. Over. The knots in my stomach won’t quiet until it is.

Neil doesn’t look at me as he climbs the steps.
He settles in the chair beside me and unstraps Kaley from his chest. He takes
her from the carrier and hands her to me.

“She’s hungry, I think,” he says stiffly.

I pull up my t-shirt and put her to my breast.
“Did you have a good hike?”

He nods.

We sit in silence for a while. Slowly he uncoils
and sits back in his chair.

“It was quiet out there,” Neil says. “I could
clear my head. Too many people are telling me what to think. What to do. What I
should think.”

He pauses and I wait, not sure where this is
going and afraid to say anything.

He stands up. He reaches for my cup. “Do you want
more coffee? I need some fucking coffee. I haven’t slept in weeks.”

I struggle to hold back my reaction to those
words. I don’t really want any coffee, but if I ask for some, he’ll have to
come back and at least this morning we’re talking calmly. It’s strained, but
he’s not yelling and looking like he wants to smash up the room.

“Thanks. Another cup would be good.”

A few minutes later, Neil comes back with two
full mugs and a packet of papers beneath his arm. He sets the cups on the table
between us and lays the papers on the side near me. He settles back in his
chair, saying nothing.

“What is that?” I ask, unable to take the
mounting dread and fear over what’s in that folder another second.

Neil reaches for his coffee. “Patricia put that
together. It’s an itinerary. Press appearances we’re going to make together
while I’m home on the break.”

My eyes go wide. “We had an agreement. You
promised you would never expect me to do the press thing for you.”

“And I would rather not do it,” he says in a way
that makes me cringe. “Don’t argue with me, Chrissie. I’m not even sure if it matters
to me anymore trying to spin our marriage into something more than a locker
room joke in the tabloids. But Ernie thinks it’s necessary and we’re doing it.”

Oh fuck.

Neil leans forward in his chair, elbows on his
legs. He starts shaking his head. I can see he’s struggling really hard still,
just being near me and talking to me.

“I listened to your tapes last night,” he says
quietly. “You’re a brilliant songwriter and vocalist. I respect your artistry.
I always have. Maybe I haven’t shown it. Maybe I should have told you and you’d
have come to me instead of going to him if you wanted to get something going
with your music. I fucking understand you wanting your music out there. And I
would never tell you what you can or can’t do. What you should or shouldn’t do
for us. I won’t ever tell you. Equal partners, Chrissie. You make your own
decisions. That’s always been our deal. But I hope you’ll share with me the
things you want to do. So it can be part of us. I love you. You’re my best
friend. My wife. It’s not what you’ve done, baby. That’s not why we are where
we are. It’s the
who.
”

I nod, unable to get the words out through the
emotion clogging my throat. I stare down at Kaley suckling against my breast.
Please, let us be OK for her.

Neil stands up. “But you have stirred everything
up, Chrissie. The gossip. The tabloids. The fucked-up stuff in our marriage.
And it is time for you to decide who you are married to. Me or him.”

~~~

I
find Neil in the bedroom, lying on the bed reading. I carefully ease Kaley from
my arms into her cradle and sink down beside Neil on the bed.

“I read through the itinerary,” I say softly. “I
love you. I’ll do it. I’m married to you, Neil.”

A visible shudder rolls down his body. He pulls
me into his arms and turns me beneath him on the bed. His mouth moves in hungry
desperation against me. He whispers, “You still don’t get it, how much I love
you, Chrissie.”

He enters my body quick, rough and hard. At first
thrust I know this isn’t going to be gentle or tender or loving. It is angry
fucking. But I don’t care. He is touching me, filling me, kissing me, searching
in my flesh for his own need, and I feel the building climb in both our bodies
propelled by the anger he’s trying no longer to share.

I come hard, arching up into him as the rolling
waves rumble through my limbs. He thrusts into my body faster and faster. He is
moaning and shaking, moisture dripping from his skin. He rears up, taking my
hips with him as he spills into me.

He collapses against my breast, tired and
passion-drained. I run my hands up and down his back and kiss his hair. Maybe
now we’ll be OK.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

January
1997

I
lie impatiently in bed, waiting for Neil to finish his call. I check the clock.
It’s fucking 3 a.m. What the hell is the matter with Ernie Levine? Can’t he
tell time? He interrupted what could have been a good thing starting here, and
has now jabbered on for nearly two hours.

Neil snaps shut his mobile phone and lets out a
ragged sigh.

I stare up at him. “I can’t believe you just let
Ernie rope you into another four months on the road.”

Aggravated, he runs a hand through his hair. “The
tour starts April. It’s only four months. It’s the business, Chrissie. You know
that. Don’t start. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

I turn over onto my back. “Fine. No shit.”

Neil sinks down on his pillow.

I stare up at the ceiling and tell myself not to
nag him. He’s stressed. Sixteen months straight on the road. Then six months
home trying to record a new album. Soon, back out again for another four
months.

“How long is everyone going to stay here?” I
whisper. “Can you kick them out? Maybe for a month before you go? I want to have
some quiet, private family time again.”

He lets out another long, aggravated breath. “We
need to finish the album before we head back on the road.”

I lean up on an arm and make a face at him.
“Maybe you and the guys would work better if the house were less crowded. I
don’t know why there are all these extra people here. I’m cool with the guys
being here. Get rid of everyone else.”

“Fine. Everyone tomorrow except the guys,” Neil
says in a tired way. “The guys stay until we’ve got enough songs for the new
album. Happy now, Chrissie?”

I smile and nod. “Very happy. Thank you.”

I kiss his cheek and settle back in bed. Maybe
now I’ll be able to fix whatever is wrong between us. The constant noise and
the people have definitely been too much for my raw senses. With them gone,
maybe I can start getting us back on track. 

It’s so hard for us to connect emotionally when
we’re never alone together. No wonder we can’t break free of this terrible
place we’re in: the space between loving and hating, a sort of sexual
purgatory, where he infrequently fucks me hard and then quickly disengages.

Maybe I was wrong to continue working with Alan.
Maybe I was wrong to believe Neil when he said he was cool with it. He’s been
strange with me ever since. Not good. Not bad. Just not him.

He’s his normal self with the guys. He is
my
Neil
when he’s with Kaley. But I can’t lie to myself anymore. We haven’t
been completely OK, not since
that
day. We’ve just moved into a
different type of broken. Angry fucking and nothing else.

He shuts off the light and rolls onto his side in
his ready-to-sleep position.

“You still going to LA next week?” he asks.

I tense. “Alan is recording my new song. A couple
of days at most.”

Silence. Damn.

“Neil, please, you said there was no problem with
me working with Alan. That you were OK with it. Alan has been with Kathy for
two years. Don’t get all weird. It’s not fair to tell me everything is OK with
you and then get all weird on me when I do them.”

“Chrissie, you don’t have to explain. It’s good.
We’re good. Fuck, you’ve had six songs on the charts.
Long and Hard
is
an incredible album, and ‘Parts’ an amazing song. Why fuck with success? Why
shouldn’t you record with him? I’m proud of you, baby.”

Then why don’t you sound proud?

I curl into him and start to lightly kiss his
back as my hand slowly caresses, moving around to the front of him.

Neil pulls away. “I’m tired, Chrissie. I just
want to sleep.”

His voice turns me cold. My cheeks flush. “Maybe
you’d sleep better if we had sex once in a while.”

He plumps his pillow. “I need to sleep, Chrissie.
I’ve just remembered, I’m heading out early with the guys in the morning. We’re
going to go camp and surf for a few days. Get away from all the shit for a
while.”

Shit? What shit? Me?

“How long will you be gone?” I ask.

“I’ll be back next week. Before you leave.”

He rolls into me and drops a fast kiss on my
lips. “Night, Chrissie.”

He turns away. I stare at his back, hugging my
pillow, willing my tears not to come. But it is the worst feeling I have ever
known, night after night, lying in the darkness beside a man I love, untouched,
afraid and alone.  

~~~

I
sit on a couch in the living room basking in the silence. I hate that Neil is
off camping with the guys, that he didn’t even bother to ask me if I wanted to
join them, but having the house empty for once is a marvelous thing. Maybe I
can write some new lyrics for a change.

House quiet. Kaley napping. Life is good today.

I chew on the tip of my pen and stare at the
blank page. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Mind totally empty. I toss my stuff onto
the coffee table. I’m too emotionally messy to work.
Face it, Chrissie, life
isn’t good today. Not with you and Neil.

I stare out the windows at the ocean. Why didn’t
Neil ask me to join him surfing today like he used to in Berkeley? He used to
love having me sit on the beach, watching him and waiting. I would have gone if
he’d asked me.

I hear a car in the driveway and shut off my
musings. I spring from the couch and hurry up the stairs to the foyer.
I step
out into the warm sun just as Linda Rowan steps out from the driver’s seat.

My brows hitch up. “Linda, what are you doing
here?”

She sets her elbows on the roof of her car and
scrunches up her nose. “Well, that’s a fine greeting. I thought you’d be happy
to see me.”

I smile. “I am happy to see you. I’m just
surprised. You didn’t call. What are you doing here?”

She holds her arms wide in a dramatic way. “I was
in Santa Barbara. So here I am. I wanted to see you before I hit the road to go
back to LA. And I don’t have to call. We’re practically family.”

I laugh, more than a little pleased she just
dropped in. A diversion from my worries would be nice for a change.

“How long are you staying?” I ask.

“Just a few hours. I need to get back home.
Leaving Len in charge of Bobby for more than a few days is a recipe for a
fucked-up kid.”

I make a pout. “You’ve been in town a few days
and you didn’t call me?”

“I had things to do, Chrissie,” she counters in a
heavily exaggerated way. “You are a priority on the visit list, but not my
first.”

“Oh,” I say with heavy meaning.

She shakes her head, annoyed. “And what’s that
supposed to mean?”

I meet her stare for stare. “It means you’re
doing shit you don’t want me to know about.”

She rolls her eyes. “You have a suspicious mind
and, no, I went to a spa. I can’t keep my body looking this way without regular
intervals at the spa. Some of us are nearing forty.”

“Bullshit. You are drop dead gorgeous and you
know it,” I say, moving toward the front door.

Inside, Linda pauses on the foyer landing. Her
gaze moves slowly around the room. “Jeez, it’s been too long since I’ve been
here. I’ve forgotten how incredible the view is. And you’ve really done a lot
to the house since I was last here. It looks amazing.”

I smile. “What’s amazing is what you can get done
when your husband is never home.”

Her gaze sharpens on my face and I note too late
there was just a touch of edge to my voice when I said ‘husband is never home.’
Shit, that’s all I need. Linda the bulldog sensing something is wrong and
digging around in my shit.

I change the subject quickly. “Neil is off surfing
and Kaley is napping so you’re not going to get to see them. You’re stuck with
visiting just me today. Would you like something to drink? Are you hungry?”

“No, but thanks. I really can only stay a few
minutes. I just popped up here to give you something.” Linda drops down heavily
on the sofa and begins to rummage through her bag. “I figured I was in town,
why mail it?”

I groan, sinking down beside her. “Please, not
another birthday present from Alan for Kaley. I’ve asked him to stop sending
them, but they keep coming every birthday and Christmas. Can’t you do something
to make him stop?”

Linda doesn’t look up as she continues to search
the junk in her massive tote, but she’s shaking her head in a way that tells me
I’ve struck her Alan protectiveness and angered her.

“Alan is a giver to the core, Chrissie. I told
you that a long time ago. You matter to him so Kaley matters to him. It’s as
simple as that. There is nothing wrong with him being kind to a little girl.
Why are you being so petty about this?”

Really, Linda? Petty?

If anyone should understand why the gifts send my
nerves into full alarm, Linda should know. I wonder if I should ask her if
there is more to Alan’s attentiveness to Kaley than she’s letting on. Linda is
so crafty in how she negotiates the complicated web of her friendships. I don’t
think she’s said anything to Alan—
and I haven’t really said anything point
blank to her
—but everyone is always commenting on Kaley’s beautiful,
enormous brown eyes. Even Alan smiled at her and said something the last time
he was here. I almost had a heart attack until the moment blew over into
nothingness.

Finally, she pulls something from her bag. My
eyes widen in surprise. “It’s not a present for Kaley. You brought me a book?
You drove all the way up the mountain to personally deliver a book?”

Her expression grows amused and sparkly as she
sets it in my hands. “
The Signature
,” she announces in an excited way
that doesn’t match the gift. “You haven’t read it?”

I crinkle my nose as I read the back jacket. “No.
I don’t read novels. And I definitely wouldn’t read a romance novel.”

Her gaze intensifies on me. “Well, you should
read this one. It’s written by your neighbor, Jesse Harris.”

“Jesse? You’ve got to be kidding.” I study it and
then frown. “That’s not the name on the cover.”

“If you were a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist,
would you put your name on a romance novel?” She swipes her finger across the
cover over the author’s name. “That’s a pen name. But he’s definitely the
author. Since Bianca and Kenny split up, she’s had to work and she works at
this publishing house. She wasn’t supposed to tell me, but she did. Jesse
Harris is the real author. But that’s not the best part.”

She makes a dramatic pause, and I roll my eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you so
overheated about this book?” I ask. “Is it dirty? Is my favorite neighbor a
closet sicko?”

She laughs. “Sort of. But not the way you think.
And the book is sweet and romantic, actually.” She takes back the book and
starts thumbing through the pages. “It’s the characters. The characters in the
book. They are us. We’re all in this book.”

My eyes widen. “What do you mean, all?”

“You, me, Neil, and Manny. Even Jesse’s brother,
Sandy. It’s us. He’s been sitting in that house on the hill above us watching
us and writing a fictional romance where he is the hero and ends up with you.”

My heart stops in my chest. “You’re joking,
right?”

She shakes her head spiritedly. “Krystal Palmer.
It’s you, Chrissie. I’d bet every dollar I have that Jesse Harris is having a
fictional love affair with you in this book. That you are Krystal Palmer and he
is Devon Howard.”

I give her the
are you out of your fucking
mind
look. “Very funny.”

She lights a cigarette and shrugs. “Fine. Don’t
believe me. Read the book. You’ll see. I saw it at once.”

I stare down at the cover. A blonde who mildly
resembles me, and she is a singer. But no, no, no. This is too crazy. Jesse is
a good friend. If there were something off about him I would have seen it. And
Linda’s suspicions would definitely indicate there’s something off about the
guy. It’s not possible. Linda has this wrong.

I set the book on the coffee table and she picks
it back up, shoving it at me.

“Read it,” she orders.

I tense. “Why? Is there something in there that
should make me worried about him living so close to me?”

She gives me a look of annoyance. “No. It’s a
sweet book. I told you that. But the man is definitely hung up on you and you
should know it.”

“Know it? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Linda counters heatedly. “I just think
you should know what Jesse Harris is doing up there.”

I stand up. “This entire conversation is absurd.
I’m getting some ice tea. Do you want some?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not flattered. He’s
gorgeous. Sexy as all hell. And he’s up there totally into you. So much so he
writes a book about you where he steals you from—” Her brows pucker and she
reads the back cover. “—Morgan Katz. Who’s written in a way that makes him a
dead ringer for Manny. Come on, Chrissie. It must be a little bit of a turn-on
to have that hot guy lusting after you to the point he’s writing books so he
can fuck you.”