February Or Forever (6 page)

‘I'll see you tomorrow, if your son's okay for school, that is.' Drew smiled.

I bloody hope so.
‘Of course. Thanks for your understanding, Drew.'

She scurried down the stairs and into Helena's office, who although agreed that she had to go and collect her child, also suggested she start searching for a short-notice babysitter to call on when needed.

Chrissie dashed to the car and drove towards the school.

Perfect timing son, perfect timing.

* * *

Bad timing, but Chrissie had to go and be with her son. It didn't faze Drew, he only felt sorry for her feeling so bad.

That's parenthood, I guess. Lots of unexpected twists and turns.

Not that he'd know. At thirty-seven he hadn't even come close to settling down. When his career skyrocketed in the early days it was the furthest thing from his mind, of course, but now, almost twenty years later, it was starting to feel like every day was
Groundhog Day
. He needed a change, some sort of life reinvention, but first, he needed peace and quiet. Time to think, to rejuvenate, and to work out what to do next in the journey of Drew Williams' life and career. Away from the prying eyes of the media.

It must be hard, having to think about someone else all the time, putting them ahead of everything. Hopefully her son was okay. Drew was looking forward to seeing his niece and nephew on the weekend; it'd been a good year since they'd met up at Disneyland when the family had flown over to the States — his shout of course. Money was no issue, and he'd rather spread it around. The charity he'd set up to provide instruments and teach music free of charge to sick and underprivileged kids was a success. So many kids never got to learn an instrument because their parents couldn't afford lessons or the instruments themselves, but the work of Star Sounds was putting an end to all that. It was great to give back when the public had given him so much.

Drew took another swig of water and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, the rewarding pull on his muscles lengthening his spine. He sat on the floor mat and crossed one foot over his bent knee, swivelling his torso sideways and relaxing into the spinal twist. He took five deep breaths and twisted further with each one, then repeated the stretch on the other side. As he stood, he thought he could smell a hint of Chrissie's perfume, or maybe it was something she used in her hair. Either way, it was fresh, sweet, and he breathed in deep to try to get another whiff of it. Funny how it was easy to miss things like the scent of a person when they're in front of you, but the moment they leave, it becomes noticeable. Maybe because his other senses had been hogging the spotlight; his ears listening to her concerned voice as she spoke on the phone, his gaze gliding over her petite frame and the way her clothing moulded effortlessly to her body.

He walked over to the window and glanced outside into the V.I.P. garden. Sunlight speckled the grass and leaves wafted gently in the breeze. He'd never really stopped to notice such things before. His life was all about getting to the next event or meeting, always moving forward. Now, the only way he'd be able to move forward was to back up a little and press the pause button. If only he could press stop on the scandal he'd run away from.

Yawning, Drew returned to his yoga mat and lay on his back, shifting his body into the correct alignment for
Shavasana
; legs slightly apart, arms relaxed by his side with palms facing upwards, and eyes closed. A yoga class always finished with this relaxing pose, and he often found when the time was up he didn't want to move. Sometimes it would take a while to switch his mind off to relax, but once he did, it was like he'd entered a whole new world, a new realm he didn't want to leave. Peace. Stillness. Calm. When he was younger those things were plain boring, but now he craved them.

Refreshing breath filtered into Drew's lungs as he inhaled deeply, and he imagined each breath curling and swirling inside and nourishing his body with a boost of oxygen. Colours formed in his mind, swirls of blue and purple, with a tinge of pink, like the sunset picture in his room. A melting sensation warmed and softened his muscles until he could barely feel his body against the mat, as though he was floating, and with a few more deep breaths he succumbed to the delicious, enticing invitation of sleep.

Drew's eyelids snapped open, sunlight streaming into his eyes. Instinctively he checked his watch. Almost one o'clock. He'd slept for an hour, damn. So much for trying to settle into a new time zone. Bloody jet lag. He eased himself up and yawned, stretching his mouth wide and his body high as his arms reached up. A subtle recollection of a dream narrowed his eyes.
What the?
Dreams were weird things. He sculled some water as he remembered what he'd dreamt — his own goddamn funeral. What kind of morbid thing was that to dream about? He'd heard a voice conducting the ceremony at the gravesite, but there was nobody around, nobody at all. Geez, he wasn't exactly Scrooge and this was no
Christmas Carol
, but the only attendant at his funeral was his beloved guitar. It was resting against his grave, although weakened and unable to stand tall and proud without its owner. Would that be all he had at the end of his life, a freaking guitar? Of course he had family, but his parents wouldn't last forever, and as for friends, well they were all back in L.A. If you could call them true friends; they'd only got to know each other by being in the industry and who knows what they'd be if they didn't have music to bond them. Would they still be mates if he wasn't a singer? He'd left his good mates behind at age eighteen when he'd won Australia's
Search for a Star
contest on television: they'd all gone their separate ways.

Drew pushed out a heavy breath and swivelled side to side, uncertain what to do next. He was so used to being on the move he'd forgotten how to just be. Lunch? He probably should eat, but he didn't have much of an appetite. Nah, he needed to get out in the fresh air, wake himself up, get moving. As long as he didn't get close enough for anyone to recognise him, it'd be okay.

He closed the door behind him to the yoga studio and went to his room, grabbing his sunglasses from the bedside drawer and plonking a baseball cap on his head. The usual celebrity camouflage. At least the weather was warm and the sun was strong, he'd need them anyway. Winter's camouflage was a beanie and scarf, and growing a bit more stubble than usual.

He jogged down the stairs, his feet barely touching the floor, and exited through the private entrance that led out to the side of the building. He walked quickly along the pebbled pathway that curved around a row of trees, his bare feet dimpling with hundreds of tiny round stones, until it opened up into a grassy area. He jogged along to the left until the grass merged with sand, and he traipsed across the sand dunes and onto the flat sand below. A handful of people were on the beach further south, gradually minimising as he went in the opposite direction.

The north end was more rugged a landscape; long stems of sand grass shot up from the ground, twigs and shells scattered themselves around, and jagged rocks traced the back of the beach, curving into a huge mound as the shore narrowed to mark the end of the beach. He jogged up to this point, then dropped to the ground and did as many push-ups as he could until his muscles urged him to stop.
One more,
he told them silently. He liked to push himself a little further each time, that was how he kept his body in top condition, never letting his muscles adapt or get out of a challenge. Spontaneous, organic exercise outdoors was his favourite, though he often only had time and opportunity for sessions at the gym. Drew stepped onto a low rock, lumpy but not hard enough to cut his feet, and rapidly stepped on and off it like he was in a step class. Up, down, up, down, his thighs burning with each step.
Ah, that's what I'm talking about
. Yoga was great, but nothing beat a bit of hardcore working out. He knelt down and placed his toes on the rock, pushing his arms into a push-up position again, and went in for another set. His raised feet put extra weight on his upper body, and he pumped up and down, sweat trickling off his face and forming tiny blobs on the sand.

He stood, hands on hips, panting, and glanced at the rock formation next to him.
Yep, I can do that
. He grabbed hold of some protruding rocks and pulled himself up, placing his foot on a concave part, then his other foot higher up, gripping and grabbing and pulling. He reached the top and scanned the magnificent stretch of horizon from his vantage point. Man, he missed this. Missed getting out in nature and going with the flow. He turned to the left, his focus resting on the old double-storey beach house that'd stood the test of time. Its white weatherboard exterior, faded and peeling from the salty air, like an elderly person whose wrinkly skin had seen many summers. The house was in a prime secluded location, with its own backyard pocket of beach as the rocky hill gave way and opened up to let the sandy shore spread up towards the house.

He glanced at the ocean, its rippling waves hypnotising him for a moment, then turned back to face the house where someone sat on the verandah. A woman. Her head was buried in her hands, and a long blonde ponytail dangled over her shoulder.

Chrissie? She lives there?

Drew felt suddenly self-conscious, like he was intruding, even though technically he was standing on public property.
Is she okay?
He hesitated on the rocky ledge, unsure whether to go over and talk to her or leave before she noticed him. Before he could decide, she turned to the left and picked up a phone, bringing it to her ear. She got up and tucked a strand of hair behind her other ear, and walked around the side of the house, obscuring his view.

Intrigue wound its way around Drew's spine as he climbed back down the rocks.

What's her story?

He had twenty-six days to find out.

* * *

Chrissie wandered around the other side of the house, careful not to let Kai hear her speaking. ‘Thanks for calling me back, I know you're busy.'

‘Are you kidding? Talking to my best friend takes precedence over research any day. I'm neck deep in work here and my brain was starting to fry, your call was just what I needed to give me a break from the daily grind,' said Melinda. ‘So, what's up? Your voice message sounded…strained.'

Chrissie had been close to tears, but as usual, held them back in front of Kai. ‘Oh, it's just Kai.' Chrissie glanced through the side window at her supposedly sick but totally faking it son as he lay on the couch and listened to an audio book. ‘I don't know what to do. He hates going to school, every morning here is like PMS on steroids, and today he pretended to have a tummy ache so I'd pick him up early from school.' She rubbed her palm against her forehead as a headache formed. ‘I had to leave work early, and there's no way I can keep doing that. He's so grumpy when he has to do anything he doesn't want to do.'

‘That's kids for ya.' Melinda chuckled. ‘But Kai has been through a bit of stress lately, he's probably just feeling insecure.'

‘He's not the only one.'

‘Have you talked to his teacher?'

‘Only briefly at school drop off and pick up. She says he's quiet but goes along with everything okay. I wish they'd watch him better at lunch though, he hardly eats anything.'

‘Let me guess, you pack apples, healthy sandwiches and raisins?'

‘Of course.'

‘Sometimes you've just gotta chuck a packet of chips in there, hun, if only to make sure he eats something.'

‘I don't want to get him used to eating junk, I can't bribe him with treats all the time.'

‘What about once a week? Tell him if he goes happily to school every day he'll get chips in his lunch box on Fridays.'

Ever practical, Melinda. She had to be, working from home as a freelance journalist with a four-year-old and a two-year-old as office colleagues.

‘I guess that's not a bad idea.' Chrissie nibbled on her bottom lip. ‘So rewards, not punishment works best, huh?'

‘I think so. Give them something to look forward to.'

Something to look forward to…Chrissie knew what she looked forward to; the day when Kai smiled and waved at her at school drop off, the day when she could leave the beach house and move somewhere not so close to the ocean, and of course, tomorrow, when she'd see Drew Williams again.

‘Also, tell him how grown up he is when he does something good. Give him a bit of extra responsibility — that'll raise his self-esteem.'

‘Have you turned into Dr Phil?'

‘I wrote an article on it last month. Haven't you read it?'

Chrissie hadn't had the time or concentration to read lately, her mind provided enough drama as she lay in bed mulling over things. ‘No, but I'll have to. Send me the link.'

‘Already did, last month. Don't worry, I'll send it again in case it drowned in the deluge of emails that is your inbox.'

‘So, rewards
and
responsibility. Should I have him cook dinner once a week?' Chrissie added a hint of sarcasm to her voice.

‘Worth a try! Nah, seriously, it doesn't have to be big, just something new. What about…does he catch the bus to school?'

‘Nope. It comes by the far corner of our street, but he won't do it. I have to drive him, and even that's a struggle.'

‘Try and build up to it. Take him to the bus stop and let him see the other kids get on, then get in the car and follow the bus so he can see where it goes and the kids arriving at school. Do that a few times until he's used to it and then see if he'll get on. Tell him it's what big kids do.'

‘I think he's quite happy to be a little kid at the moment. But I'll try.'

‘That's the spirit.'

Thank God for Melinda. She was so go-with-the-flow and down to earth. She was like the sister she…the sister she…well, the sister she
once
had. At least, that's what Chrissie imagined her sister would have turned out like had Danielle lived beyond the age of eleven. Would they have stayed close? Maybe she would have had her own kids by now, and Kai would have cousins. But it wasn't to be. Kai would never know his aunt, nor his grandparents. There were Victor's parents of course, but they weren't the grandparenty types. They were all ‘don't touch that' and ‘keep your voice down' and ‘don't interrupt the adults when they're talking' kind of people. They were about as warm as a winter's morning.