Authors: Bryan Murray
In his early days with his group ‘Flirtations’, boy was that a word that came back to haunt her, he had made reasonable money and even though he had not been the ideal choice of Yvette and Carl for their daughter, they recognized that Francine was deeply in love and so they reluctantly gave their blessing.
However, as Francine reflected sadly, those were the days before drugs and alcohol entered the life of her ex-husband. Even when Alison was still a toddler, Steve’s philandering and mood swings were a constant source of anguish and desperate cover-up by Francine who didn’t want Alison exposed in any way to the weaknesses of her father.
The other women, since Steve had been a handsome man, she could put up with, but to have an impressionable child see a role model the worse for drugs and drink was more than she could stand.
She had pleaded with Steve to get him to go into re-hab but he had consistently resisted until it had finally reached the point where he had returned from a gig after being on a three-day drunk, arriving back at the house right in the middle of a birthday party that Francine was giving for Alison’s eighth birthday.
She saw the horror and embarrassment on the child’s face in front of her friends when Steve staggered into the house, unshaven, bleary-eyed, a bottle still in his hand and as far as Francine was concerned, that was the last straw.
Within two days, with help from Carl and his attorney, she had filed for divorce, a divorce that had been uncontested by Steve and in which he had stated his desire to have no further part in the life of his daughter.
At eight years of age, Alison had shown surprising maturity and she had been an unexpected tower of strength in helping Francine cope with the situation at a time when she was in the final stages of getting her degree in fashion design.
Not being a vindictive person, Francine felt a deep sorrow at the fact that Steve had been unable to control his demons, but that didn’t in any way excuse his recent behavior and she was determined that he would not bring back into their lives a repetition of the out of control anger she had unavoidably witnessed the previous night.
It was about five minutes before nine when she entered the club and, as on the previous occasion, there was a scattering of patrons at tables and at the dimly-lit bar, waiting for the group to begin, She had timed it so that she could perhaps catch Steve before his spot and at least try and talk some sense into him.
She sat at a table at the back and ordered her customary Perrier water. In the darkened area near the stage, members of the group were starting to hook up their electronics, or whatever it was that groups always seemed to do before starting up.
She spotted Steve arrive to one side and he started to unpack his guitar and start hooking up his amplifiers. Taking a deep breath she stood up and walked over to him. He had still not noticed her as she approached.
“Steve,” she started as he looked up in surprise. “We need to talk!”
He looked more lucid than he did the previous night. “Francine! Er, yes, sure.” he led her over to a corner table near the bar.
“What’s up?” he asked sheepishly.
“I was hoping you’d tell me,” she said acidly. “What the hell were you thinking of calling up and trying to talk to Alison?”
He was still under control, but defensively brooding. “She’s my daughter as well, for Christ sakes!”
“Yes, and a daughter you stated quite clearly that you didn’t want any further involvement with, if I remember correctly!”
“Well, after seeing you, I got to thinking.” he began, but she cut him short.
“I don’t care what you got to thinking,” and she added somewhat sarcastically. “In fact, the state you were in last night, I’m amazed that you could think at all!”
“What the hell do you mean?” his voice was rising.
“You were stoned, that’s what I mean! Do you think I don’t recognize it. And as for your disgraceful antics in front of my friends.”
He rubbed his arms as if remembering the manhandling he got from Gerard. “Yeah, me and that macho man of yours aren’t finished, believe me!”
Suddenly, she felt no fear from this man, no intimidation, only a sad kind of scorn for the futility of his lifestyle.
“Don’t be ridiculous! He was being gentle last night. Don’t even think what he would be like if you really got him mad.”
“So, who the hell is he anyway? And what’s with this new name nonsense?”
“If you must know, he’s just a business acquaintance, and as for the name, I decided to go back to my own name. Any objection?” “I guess I’ve no choice!”
“You’re damned right you’ve no choice and you’ve also no choice but to stay away from Alison or you’ll wish you’d never been born!”
She couldn’t believe the courage she was showing. But suddenly, Steve changed, he seemed to visibly crumble in front of her, tears forming in his eyes.
“It’s just,” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s just that seeing you brought back all the memories. Things seemed perfect once - I guess I just, just wanted to taste what it was like one more time!”
An unprecedented wave of sadness suddenly swept over Francine, sadness and a kind of lost sympathy to see the man in front of her reduced to tears. He put his head in his hands in anguish and Francine looked around nervously to see if their little altercation was causing a scene, but thankfully, nobody in the club seemed to be remotely interested.
“I’m lost, Francie,” he choked out. “I, I just can’t kick this habit! It’s
killing
me!”
‘You need to be cruel to be kind, girl
,’
she told herself as she found herself irresistibly reaching out to touch his thin fleshless shoulder. “Well, you know and I know that there are people who can help you, Steve. But first, you’ve got to make the commitment to help yourself.”
“I know, I know,” he sighed, pulling himself together. “Look, I’m sorry I embarrassed you last night and I wouldn’t hurt Alison for the world. I guess I just wanted to hear her voice, that’s all.”
Francine’s heartstrings were being pulled in all different kinds of directions. While she no longer had any romantic feelings for the man in front of her, compassion and consideration that he was still the father of her child, still held sway in her heart.
Against all her best instincts, she suddenly found herself fishing into her purse to find one of the many photographs of Alison that she always carried with her. She took one out and offered it to Steve. He took it, looked at it and then back at Francine, tears reforming in his eyes.
“She’s
beautiful
, Francie!”
‘Hang in there, girl
.’
she told herself as she offered him her ultimatum.
“Well, Steve, it looks as if you need some incentive to get your life back on track, so here’s the deal I’m prepared to offer you.”
He looked at her with new interest in his pale, watery eyes.
“I’m listening?”
“First you decide to get help, next you make sure you get it and if you can stay the course to get yourself clean, then you and I will meet again at a place and time that I decide.”
He looked interested. “And?”
“And when you deliver me proof that you made it, and I don’t mean just your word of mouth, then I’ll consider letting you see your daughter!”
“And after that?”
She was improvising as she went along. “If after three months you can show that you are holding on, then I’ll consider some form of visitation rights.”
He reached out and touched her arm. “Thanks, Francie!”
“One thing though,” she continued, “This changes nothing between me and you and you stop these phone calls immediately. Do we have a deal?”
He thought for a moment before giving a huge sigh of resolve. “We have a deal!”
She managed a half smile. “Fine, well, I’ve got to go, oh, and by the way - you still play a mean guitar!” she shook hands formally before leaving.
“Thanks.” he managed a thin smile as she moved away towards the exit.
When Francine finally made it outside into the chill of the night, she sucked in a huge breath of air, noticing that she was trembling all over. Had she made a mistake in giving Steve the opportunity to get back into their lives? One thing was for certain, she could not sleep at nights thinking of the man’s anguish without feeling that she had at least given him a reason to try and get his life back on track.
She was elated that he had finally reached the conclusion that his life was going down the tubes and that he needed help. That in itself was a breakthrough.
She then consoled herself to a degree with the realization that if she knew the Steve of old, he would be too weak to kick the habit and thus would not be re-entering their lives, but somehow, she was hoping that he would. After all, when all was said and done, he
was
still Alison’s father.
As she walked back towards the Hotel to get ready to meet with Roger, she heaved a sigh of relief that Steve had been in a lucid frame of mind earlier and not as belligerent as the night before. She was not sure how she would have handled such a situation.
However, she would have felt much easier, had she realized that during her entire time in the bar, she was being observed from a dark corner by one of the patrons, sitting quietly, a beer in his hand, watching Francine and Steve through the mirror behind the bar. This particular patron, had the lights been a little brighter, would probably have really stood out against the rest of the customers. At least, he was the only one wearing a dark green silk dinner jacket! Once Francine had left, Gerard waited a couple of minutes to make sure Steve didn’t follow her before paying his tab and leaving.
Back in the peace and tranquility of her hotel room, before getting ready to meet Roger for dinner, Francine kicked off her shoes, flopped on the bed and let the stress and strain of the day slowly start to ebb away.
She placed a quick call to Dallas, relieved to hear from Mrs.‘T’ that everything was calm and under control back home. She missed Alison desperately and couldn’t wait for the return flight the next morning.
Vince had slipped a note under the door to say he was visiting his family, the slightly wobbly script indicating that he was still perhaps a little tipsy after the incredible highs of the show. She wondered what in the world she would do if ever Vince decided to leave ‘Classique’. His flair and attention to detail far outweighed his occasional tantrums and underlying it all she sensed a deep devotion and commitment to what they were both trying to achieve.
She ran a warm bath, fixed a brandy and ginger ale from the mini-bar and sat back to soak, letting her mind wander over the incredible events of the day.
On reflection, the show itself had probably been the single most gratifying event of her entire career, perhaps even in her life, second only to the birth of Alison. Now that had been an event to remember and her heart suddenly saddened at the comparison between the love that had existed between her and Steve in those days, and the pitiful scene she had just left behind in the night club.
She was already a little apprehensive at having made such a commitment to Steve, one that would open a chink in the door to the lives of herself and Alison, letting him back in. However, being the kind of person that she was, this was not the first time that pity had led her heart to make concessions that she may later regret. She had always been the first to put herself in the position of those less fortunate, with less resolve or willpower than herself and seeing their point of view and trying to help was what made her the kind, gentle person that she was.
She still felt that she owed Steve at least the opportunity to have access to his daughter, if only he could get rid of his demons. She had never been in doubt that being in the music business had increased many fold the potential exposure of hack musicians like Steve, to the dangers of drug and alcohol abuse, but every time she had suggested to him in the past to simply get out of the business, it had never even been an option that he would consider.
She consoled herself once again, that in all probability he would not be able to kick the habit and consequently stay out of their lives. Little did she know what the future held in store.
She then lay back, eyes closed, finally mellowing out to savor in slow motion replay in her mind, the kaleidoscope of the events at the show.
She was ecstatic, perhaps above all things, about the fact that she had read the fashion trends correctly in line with all the other World names that she had brushed shoulders with earlier. To have actually been on the same catwalk as Verucci and Iliac, still gave her goose bumps.
She also wondered if her designs would ever be chosen to grace the elegant curves of the delightfully friendly super model Serena, making a mental note not to forget the little gift she had promised to send to the elegant model.
She realized with relief that her successful, if not spectacular showing, should now result in at least some orders coming in to fill the sadly depleted coffers so that she could finally place some reasonable business with her good friend Stella. But somehow, overshadowing the glitz, glamour and euphoria of the day, she could not get her mind off the one prospective customer who still showed no apparent interest in her creations.
Even if Gerard Cinclare had decided not to buy from her, she felt somehow deflated that he had not even passed comment on her much improved showing after the disaster in Dallas.
She wondered if the message she had received from the outwardly kind-hearted Jeri, to the effect that although Gerard had enjoyed her line, he was apparently not interested enough to place an order with her, may perhaps have been Jeri’s subtle way of telling her to stay away from her special man. Not that she was even interested, or was she?
Her mind went back to the fleeting glance of Gerard as he watched her walk back down the catwalk with her models. There was a certain something different in that look on his face, and the fact that she couldn’t put her finger on what it meant, was for some reason eating away at her.
Once again, she was about to give herself a stiff talking to along the lines that it didn’t really matter what Cinclare felt about her line, when the phone on the wall by the tub rang, jolting her from her reverie. Pulling herself together, she managed a quick “Hello?”