Chapter 8
“It’s electronic ticketing, right?
Just show I.D.?” Kevin paced the huge bedroom. He needed furniture. He knew a
decorator, but he didn’t have the time or the commitment to start furnishing
his new house. It was a mansion by all definitions, but it wasn’t home. Home
was music blaring from Jessie’s room, Lupe arguing with the gardeners, Jeanie
barefoot and in cut-offs, and everyone watching their step as Madison roared
through the house underfoot. It was the smell of damp hay early in the morning
as they saddled up the horses at sunrise. It was waking in the middle of the
night to Jeanie’s delicately scented arm outstretched over his back or chest as
they slept.
There had been so many times
lately that he ached to feel her, but she wasn’t there. Their lives were always
too busy or they were always too tired. She wasn’t in a position to travel with
him. Not with Jessie and certainly not with Madison. She had a career that she
would never relinquish. Besides, he would never ask her to give up what she
loved. He wouldn’t give up his career, how could ask her to?
He loved his wife. Life was never
better than when he made love to Jeanie. The problem was time and distance and
too many lonely nights. She made it better than he did. Madi and Jessie kept
her so busy that she hardly missed him. Kevin didn’t do as well.
So, he looked elsewhere. It was
more than easy to find women who would accommodate his desires. He knew it
wasn’t right, but somewhere deep inside he justified it. With the skill of a
surgeon, he could analytically dissect it and separate it from his love for his
family and home life. That was, until he got caught.
Cell phone in hand, he roamed room
to room. The new house was massive and sterile and hauntingly quiet. He
eventually ended up in his recording studio. Sheet music was spread out, as
were cassette tapes of demos for the new album. He picked up a tape, glancing
at the J-card…song title, songwriter, publishing info… how many of these had
Jeanie and Mike submitted over the years? Thousands. He smiled…those two were
prolific when it came to their craft.
Kevin closed his eyes for a
moment, letting his head fall back a little. Frustrated, he angrily slung the
tape across the studio, watching the plastic case pop and shatter as it hit the
wall.
He needed to pack. His
reservations were for very early the next morning. His destination: New
Providence Island, Bahamas.
********
A.J. sat quietly by pool. It was
the middle of night. Nick and Jeanie had finally convinced him to leave the
club. Call it a day. As Jeanie put it, “Pull your wagons in a circle, cowboy,
regroup and think about a plan of attack.” He was so drunk when she said it
that he had no idea what she was talking about. Now, as he sat alone and tried
to figure out what do next, he understood.
Lindsay watched A.J. from the
gate. At first, she thought he might have fallen asleep because he was so
still. She should already be in bed. Sean cautioned her, no drinking and to get
a good nights sleep or the camera would only chronicle her hangover. The latch
on the fence squeaked a little as she entered the pool area. A.J., lost in
thought, never heard her as she quietly approached him from behind.
She loved him so much.
She reached out one hand and
gently lay it on his shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure she
could even look at him and not have vivid flashbacks of that terrible night.
However, she was sure that she loved him.
He sat for a moment. He didn't
even have to look. He could tell by her touch that it was Lindsay. Pulling
himself together, he whispered, “Linds…” She silenced him, holding her index
finger to his lips. A.J.’s pain was more than obvious as she looked at him.
He’d suffered as much as she had. “We need to talk.”
“Not tonight…” She lovingly picked
up his hand and began to kiss his fingers. He couldn’t help but notice that she
was trembling. He offered her a small, cautious kiss. Lindsay eagerly accepted
anxious to feel his mouth soft upon hers, lips gently parted, his fingers
entwined in her long hair.
Without warning, she withdrew from
him. “I can’t do this yet…”
“It’s okay…” He wrapped his arms
her. “It’s okay…”
“A.J. if I spend the night here,
will you hold me? Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I need to get some sleep, but I want to
feel you next me. I want to wake up in your arms.”
A small tear of relief broke free
and inched its way down his cheek. “I want you in my arms, Linds. I want you in
my arms tomorrow and every day after that…I love you.”