Public Secrets

a knife and slashed him from heart to gut there might have been less pain. Certainly less shock. They stood, with the empty crib between them.
“He didn’t let the monsters in.” Emma stood in the doorway, her books dangling from their strap, her eyes dark against her white skin. “Da didn’t let the monsters in.” Before Brian could speak, she was rushing down the hall, her sobs trailing behind her.
“Good job,” Brian managed to say while his jaw clenched and unclenched. “Since you want to be alone, I’ll take Emma and go.”

She wanted to call after him, but couldn’t. Tired, much too tired, she sank into the rocker again.

I T TOOK HIM AN HOUR to calm Emma. When her tears had put her to sleep, he began his calls. His decision made, he ended with Pete.
“We’re leaving for New York tomorrow,” he said shortly. “Emma and I. We’ll hook up with Johnno, take a few days. I need to find her a good school and arrange security. Once she’s settled, and safe, we’ll go to California and begin rehearsals. Fix up the tour, Pete, and make it a long one.” He took a hard pull of whiskey. “We’re ready to rock.”

Chapter Twelve

S HE DOESN’T WANT to go back.” Brian watched Emma wander around the rehearsal hall with her new camera. He’d given it to her during their tearful goodbye at Saint Catherine’s Academy for Girls in upstate New York.
“She’d barely been there a month before this spring-break thing,” Johnno reminded him. But he felt a twinge for the little girl as she snapped a picture of Stevie’s Martin on its stand in the corner. “Give her a bit of time to adjust.”
“It seems all we do is adjust.” It had been eight weeks since he’d walked out on Bev, and he still ached for her. The women he’d taken since were like a drug, the drugs like women. Both only eased the pain for moments at a time.
“You could call her,” Johnno suggested, reading his partner’s thoughts with the ease of a long relationship.
“No.” He’d considered it, more than once. But the papers had been full of their separation, and his appetite since. He doubted if he and Bev would have anything to say to each other that wouldn’t make things worse. “My concern now’s for Emma. And the tour.”
“Both’ll be smashing.” Johnno glanced over, giving a pointed look toward Angie. “With a few exceptions.”
Brian merely shrugged and began to noodle on the piano. “If she clinches that movie deal, she’ll be out of our hair.”
“Smarmy little bitch. Did you see that rock she had P.M. spring for?” Johnno tilted his head and affected an upper-class accent. “Too, too tacky, dearie.”

“Draw the claws. As long as P.M.’s bonkers over her, we’re stuck. And we’ve more to worry about than our little Angie.” He watched Stevie come back into the hall.
He was spending more and more time in the bathroom, Brian noted. And it didn’t have anything to do with his bladder. Whatever Stevie had jabbed or swallowed or snorted this time had him flying. He stopped by Emma to give her a quick swing, then picked up his guitar. As the amp was off, his frantic riff was soundless.
“Best to wait until he’s down to talk to him about it,” Johnno suggested. “If you can catch him when he is.” He started to add something, then decided that Brian had enough on his mind. It would hardly do any good to tell him what he’d heard before they’d left New York.
Imagine Jane Palmer writing a book. Of course someone else would do the work, like putting sentences together. Still, he imagined Jane would get a princely sum for it. And whatever she said in her little public diary wasn’t likely to please Brian. Best to let Pete handle it, he decided, and not hit Brian with what was already going on until after the tour.
Emma paid little attention to the rehearsal when it got back into swing. She’d heard all the songs before, dozens of times. Most of them were from the album her da and the others had made when they’d been in California before. She’d been allowed to go to the studio a few times. Once Bev had brought Darren.
She didn’t want to think of Darren because it hurt too much. Then she was struck with a miserable wave of guilt because she tried to block him out.
She missed Charlie, too. She’d left him behind in London in Darren’s crib. She hoped Bev would take care of him. And maybe one day, when they went back home, Bev would talk to her again, and laugh, as she once had.
She didn’t