Snap!
“That’s the fucking money shot!” Astrid declared, yanking me out of my daydream and back to reality with such a jolt I almost fell off the stool.
There in front of me stood Astrid, fanning herself with my phone, while the photographer muttered in a somewhat stunned voice, “I think that’s a wrap. And I think I need a cold shower.”
* * *
In the limo from my house in Malibu to the airport, Astrid managed to down two Grey Goose vodkas on ice and inhale three cigarettes—yes, she had found one of the few limousine companies left in LA that turned a blind eye to smoking—before escorting me to the gate in the first-class lounge, the towering Bogdan trailing close behind, my guitar case in one of his gigantic fists and his black suit two sizes too small for his Hulk-like shoulders.
Astrid waggled a finger at me as she saw me off at the gate. “Keep your sunglasses and headphones on for the flight. Don’t eat the fish and do not drink the coffee; airplane coffee will kill the joy of caffeine for you for the rest of your life. The flight crew will stop anyone from harassing you, that’s their job, unless a kid with a rare disease approaches you and asks for your autograph. If that happens, give her one of your signed publicity photos, you know, the ones we give away to all your VIP fans.”
“But I didn’t bring any with me.”
“Yes you did. There’s a dozen of them in your backpack.”
“I didn’t put them there.”
“I know. And for fuck’s sake, if the sick kid thing happens, make sure someone gets a photo and posts it online. Money can’t buy that kind of publicity.” The gate attendant tried to take my boarding pass, but Astrid held me back a moment longer. “My darling boy, I know there’s a lot going on in your world with those nasty letters. I know you’re feeling on edge. So take this time to find yourself again, recharge that beautiful soul of yours, and perhaps even write a hit song or two. I promise that when you return, that stalker of yours will have found somebody else to torment and your star will shine brighter than ever before!”
She kissed me on the lips then thumbed her lipstick off me.
Bogdan handed me my guitar.
“I’ll call you,” I told Astrid, then gave my boarding pass to the gate attendant.
After one final wave to Astrid and Bogdan—who stood waving back at me like they were playing my parents in some arthouse horror movie version of my life—I turned and boarded the plane…
On my way home to Mulligan’s Mill.
* * *
Dad looked dusty.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face was unshaven and his bed hair—or was it sofa hair?—hadn’t quite been tamed. It didn’t matter. I was just glad to see him as he pushed his way through the crowd at Eau Claire airport to greet me.
“Hey pal! Come here! Give your old man a big hug!”
He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing hard, almost knocking the sunglasses off my face and breaking the headphones that were now around my neck.
“Hey Dad,” I grinned, knowing I could always buy a new set of headphones.
But that hug from Dad?
That was priceless.
He broke the hug and held me at arm’s length to get a good look at me. “You look taller. Your hair’s longer. Have you been working out? Your shoulders look bigger. Have you been eating? You look kinda thin around the waist. You need some fattening up. I know just the thing. How about I cook you up a batch of my famous fried chicken with some ranch dressing on the side, huh?”
“Oh God, that soundssogood. But Astrid my manager wouldkillme!”
“Then we won’t tell her,” was Dad’s swift, decisive response. “Maybe we’ll even invite a friend or two? I’m not talking about a party or nothing. Just a coupla people to say welcome home. You feel like company?”
“Not really. I’m kinda tired.”
“What about Harry? You remember Harry?”
“Dad, of course I remember Harry. I didn’t leave town and forget everyone I’ve ever known my entire life.” I shrugged to make my next comment sound as casual as possible. “Yeah, I guess you can invite Harry over.” I gulped. “He’s cool.”
“He’s a good guy. He’s easy. Why don’t we see if he wants to come over for a few beers. Just to make an occasion of it. You don’t come back home every day, you know.”
