Snapshot (26 page)

She put the framed picture in her suitcase and zipped it shut. “Enough about me; tell me something happy.”

Chapter 15

The next night, Marti stepped off the plane at LAX worried she might not recognize her dad. Six years had passed since she left LA, and other than an occasional paparazzi shot in a magazine, she hadn’t seen or spoken to him.
 

After waiting an hour for him to arrive, and taking a few cursory loops around Baggage Claim, Marti knew he wasn’t coming. Why did this surprise her? Her parents always left her high and dry when she needed them most.
 

When her dad didn’t answer the phone number Ruth provided, Marti had no other choice than to blow a huge chunk of her limited cash on a cab.
 

Now she stood before her dad’s Hollywood mansion with a pile of luggage, and a cat carrier imprisoning a very unhappy Kahlua. A dozen cars ranging from shiny sports cars to beat up compacts crowded the large circular drive.

Marti felt transported back to her ten-year-old self as she looked at the chrome and glass front door. What if her dad didn’t want her? What if Ruth made up the whole story just to get rid of her? Ruth wouldn’t be that cruel, would she? And what a turn of events to want her dad’s attention when she had wanted nothing to do with him for so long.

Loud music carried to the front of the house. Marti didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to go in, but she couldn’t stand outside all day either. Should she ring the doorbell? This wasn’t her house, but it was now her home. If she did ring, would anyone even hear? Probably not.

Kahlua meowed in annoyance, and Marti knew the cat needed out. She wrung her hands and scanned the area, wishing for an escape, but there was no escape. This was her new reality.

She blinked back her worry and readjusted her purse strap. She stepped up to the massive glass door and gazed through the cut glass. A kaleidoscope of color appeared on the other side. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The music blared louder. She stepped inside the air-conditioned entryway and scanned the area for occupants. No one. She all but tiptoed to the enormous great room. The cream-colored furniture and glass-topped chrome coffee tables were all new since she’d last been here. They were arranged in cozy clusters for maximum socializing. A giant, flat screen TV anchored one wall and a fireplace, another. One side of the room featured floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a massive pool area, complete with a waterfall and a small army of guests. The mansion perched at the top of a steep hill and overlooked the city and the less fortunate residents below.

Marti tried to spot her dad in the crowd, but only saw strangers in various modes of dress, from bathing suits, shorts and shirts, to dresses and business suits. She dreaded the idea of going out there to find him, but she didn’t want to move in unannounced either.

Marti crossed the great room to the open veranda doors. The California sun blasted warmth. In addition to the partygoers outside, she saw a long bar with a bartender and plenty of soft seating areas filled by the many guests. Off to the side, in the shade, a marble table held a buffet of silver chafing dishes. As Marti gawked at the crowd and tried to locate her father, a woman with silky black hair and a tiny fire engine red bikini top and thong approached.

“You’re late! The caterer is already set up in the kitchen. It’s off through those doors.” The petite woman, with breasts so huge they threatened to bust out of her top, pointed a long, fake fingernail in the direction of the kitchen.

Marti stared. Was she in the wrong house? Had her dad moved?

“Hello!” The woman snapped her fingers in Marti’s face, any shred of patience gone. “Are you deaf? It’s that way!”

“I’m not with the caterer,” Marti mumbled, looking down at her unfashionable jeans and t-shirt.

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“I’m here to see my dad. He lives here.” Marti tried to spot him before this lunatic went postal.

“Your dad lives here?” She looked unconvinced. “Honey, I think you’ve got the wrong house.”

Marti looked at the room inside and saw one of her dad’s Grammys on the same pillar it had rested on since she left. “No, this is his house. That’s his Grammy over there.” She pointed her chipped fingernail at the award.

The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes. “Is that so? Honey, I don’t know who you think you are, but you can pack up your gold digging ass and find the door.”

“No! He’s expecting me. Where is he?” Marti craned her neck to see if her dad was poolside.

“If he were expecting you, I’d be the first to know.” She looked Marti up and down her lip curled in a snarl. “Fine, I’ll play your game.” She spun on her stilettos and sauntered away, swinging her tiny, tanned, thong-covered ass.

Marti raised her eyebrows. Not in Kansas any more. The woman strutted across the pool area to a group seated near the pool. She placed her hands on each arm of a low, padded chair and spoke to someone, her behind thrust deliberately in the air. Marti looked away.
 

When Marti glanced back, she saw a man stand and nudge the half-naked woman out of the way. With a bong in one hand and a lighter in the other, he spied Marti and called out.
 

“Martini! You’re here!”

Not much had changed with Dad.

The woman frowned, creasing her perfectly made up face.

Steven Hunter pushed the bong into the hands of the guy next to him and ambled over, his smile bright and genuine. A mix of panic, dread, and even a little hope passed through Marti, as her father crossed the terrace. Maybe she wasn’t all alone in this world after all.

He still wore his rocker hair long and straggled. Grey blended in with his blonde, belying his fifty-four years. He wore swim trunks low on his hips, and his tattooed chest and arms were bronzed from the southern California sun. His aging skin sagged on his thin frame. He still looked every bit the rocker with diamond studs in his ears and numerous gold chains and leather necklaces around his neck. Despite his dilated eyes, he seemed happy to see her.

Marti’s heart leapt, and for a moment she forgot about all his wrong doings. She became the little girl whose daddy sang her back to sleep after a bad dream.

“Look at my baby! She’s all grown up.”
 

Marti smiled. She had worried that her dad wouldn’t want her. He engulfed her in a hug. His long hair brushed her shoulder. She didn’t quite know what to do. She hugged back a little. He smelled the same, like aftershave, scotch and pot.

“Steven, you never mentioned you had another daughter.” The woman in the red bikini droned with annoyance. “Or that she was stopping by today.”

He released Marti. “Didn’t I, Courtney? I thought I did.” He looked at Marti and smiled then confusion clouded his eyes. “How’d you get here?”

“I took a cab,” she said, wondering how he’d respond.

“Shit. I was supposed to send someone, wasn’t I? Damn, I’m sorry.” He rubbed his weary eyes.
 

At least he had the decency to act remorseful.
 

“Well you’re here now!” He put his arm around her. “Hey everyone, this is this is my daughter, Martini, and she’s come home to stay.” He sounded every bit the proud father. Marti blushed at the sound of her given name and nodded to the nearby guests who acted all happy, but probably couldn’t care less.

Courtney stepped closer. “What! You never told me she existed, let alone that she was moving in!” The woman lowered her voice to a whisper and spoke between clenched teeth. She was a force to be reckoned with, despite her waif-like frame planted in five-inch heels. The other guests watched as if hoping for a show.

“Of course she’s moving in. My kids are always welcome here.” He looked back at Marti. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up. Isn’t she beautiful?” he said to some nearby friends including a guy with stringy hair and eyes that looked her up and down. They all nodded their agreement. Marti guessed they were part of her dad’s current entourage of people who hung around to build him up and tell him how great he was in exchange for free booze, drugs and a good time.

Courtney pinched her collagen-filled lips together, and her eyes aimed daggers at Marti.

“Let’s celebrate! I think there’s some champagne around here somewhere. Courtney, where’s the champagne?” he said.

Courtney stomped off in a huff. The partygoers cheered in approval, and her dad joined them to accept his false accolades. They went back to their clusters and conversations as if she’d never arrived.

Marti glanced around. No one even seemed to notice her anymore. How quickly she’d been forgotten. She slowly backed away and reentered the house. She had no interest in the champagne or celebrating. She’d been up since six a.m., and all she wanted was to change into more comfortable clothes and be alone.
 

She lugged her bags and the annoyed Kahlua into the entryway. She didn’t know how her dad would feel about having a cat in the place, so she hustled her upstairs and out of sight before it became an issue for him or the bitchy Courtney.
 

Marti wondered exactly who Courtney was. The woman seemed to think she was in charge of the place, but that wasn’t true, based on the fact that Courtney knew nothing about Marti. No doubt the woman was sleeping with her dad. She looked like a wanna-be actress who hoped her dad’s tarnished celebrity status would launch her career.
Good luck with that!

After climbing the long staircase that wound the perimeter of the great room, Marti took the hallway to the north wing bedrooms. The south wing featured a music room, a library, a den, couple offices and an enormous meeting room. More rooms existed on the third level, but were rarely used, because heck, how many rooms did one past-his-prime rocker need?

Memories washed over her as she carried Kahlua down the wide, marble-floored hall. The same strange picture of a naked woman with three breasts hung on the wall.
 

She passed the bedroom door of her half-sister, Brandy. She’d be in her mid-twenties now. Did she still live here? Marti remembered Brandy’s numerous nose piercings and pitch-black dyed hair.

Next came her half-brother Jack’s room. He had been a mighty terror. If her dad’s past drug use had affected any of his kids, Jack was the one. All her memories of Jack involved him getting into trouble, like climbing on the roof or taking their dad’s car out when he was thirteen.

Then she came to the door of her old room. Further down were guest bedrooms and at the very end, her dad’s master suite.
 

Was any of her stuff still there? Was her Barbie bedspread still on the bed, or her rock collection? She’d been pulled out of there so fast, she took very few of her childhood items.

Marti turned the knob, pushed the door open and took a step back.

Her little girl bedroom had been turned into some sort of African voodoo torture room. Wooden masks lined the walls along with spears and shields. All her furniture had been replaced with heavy, dark pieces. The light pink walls were now the color of dried blood. One shelf held necklaces made from some sort of animal teeth. Another featured skulls. She hoped to God they weren’t human.

No way could she stay in this room! She backed away and pulled the door shut. She shuddered at the violation of her childhood space.

She crossed the hall and checked a couple other rooms, settling on a tidy, spacious room with a queen-size bed, light beige walls, and a balcony overlooking the pool.

Marti set Kahlua’s crate on the floor and fetched the rest of her bags. After hauling her four suitcases up the steps, she let Kahlua out of the carrier and brought her a glass of water from the attached bathroom. But the little shit ignored the water; obviously her cat wasn’t happy about their cross-country trek either.
 

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” she told the arrogant cat. Marti searched the room and found a washtub stashed in the cupboard under the bathroom sink. She opened her bags and searched until she found the small bag of kitty litter. She knew she might not get to a store for a while, so she came as prepared as possible. She poured the gritty litter into the tub and placed it in the bathroom in the far corner near the state-of-the-art shower.
 

Marti rifled around a little more in her luggage and found the framed picture of her and Grandma at their favorite restaurant after Marti’s eighth grade graduation. She placed it on the bed stand, then sat on the floor and leaned against the bed as the cat nosed around the room, checking out her new digs.
 

The party outside grew louder. She hugged her legs and listened to the strangers having a good time in her new home.
 

Oh Adam, what am I going to do?
She wished desperately she could call him but knew he was in route to New York.
 

She was on her own.

*
 
*
 
*

The two-hour time difference caused Marti to wake early to a sunny California day. Kahlua, still mad at being carted across the country, slept inside one of Marti’s open suitcases. After throwing on a t-shirt and shorts, Marti wandered downstairs to get the lay of the land.