Free The Girl On The Half Shell by Susan Ward Page A

self-effacing at all. I’m generally considered arrogant, flamboyant, obnoxious and completely self-absorbed. At least in the American press. They are less kind in the UK.”
    That comment made him sound tired and annoyed with himself. I study his face, not sure how to respond.
    “I’ve had a tough year,” he adds.
    “Why tough?”
    “I’m very good at fucking up. In fact, I excel at it.”
    “It can’t be that bad,” I say.
    “Oh, yes. That bad. Hardly anyone is speaking to me. The label is pissed. The promoters won’t touch me. I’m being sued by everyone.”
    Wow, I never expected to hear that. There was something in the papers about him walking out on his US tour, but nothing that suggested it was as bad as all that.
    “If not for Jack I’d probably be in a cell in the Chicago area,” he mutters, exasperated and shaking his head.
    Jack? What does Daddy have to do with this? All this is news to me so my surprise is genuine and I can feel inside of Alan a strange pressure, a sort of not completely contained internal need to talk. But why is he here with me when Jack is only a patio away?
    Now that I’m over the shock of finding him, I see details that I missed. He looks emotionally beat up. Under the theatrics, confidence and charm, he seems a very troubled guy, soulful and tired. Troubled, soulful, and tired at twenty-six. In real life he seems younger, nearer to his age. What the hell has happened to this guy?
    A little lightness seems like it would be a good thing. “Jack puts me in a cell and keeps you out. That doesn’t seem fair since I’m his daughter,” I tease.
    He laughs and pushes his hair from his face. “Well, you’re out of your cell tonight, but I’m still working free of mine. Forgiveness is a tough road.”
    “Do you want to go for a walk? I like to take advantage of freedom and fresh air every chance I get. Or do you have to get back to the geriatric ward?”
    “Sacrilege. Some of the greatest musicians in the world are sitting on your dad’s back patio.”
    “But for some reason you’re here sitting in a studio with me. Why?”
    “Feeling a little shaky tonight and even when I’m not I usually prefer solitude when I’m not working.”
    “Is that how you ruined your career? You’re one of the twelvers?”
    I wait. I already know the answer. I can see it. But that is another shock tonight. I hadn’t read anything about this . How did they keep it from the press?
    “Twelvers?”
    “Twelve step buddies of Jack. What’s your poison? Booze, pills or coke?”
    He eases back on his heels as his eyes comb my face in a searching way that is uncomfortable. He shakes his head. “God, do you have any idea how strange that sounds coming from you?”
    I flush. “Why is that strange from me?”
    “Because it’s like being questioned about my substance abuse by a Disney character. When I look at you I half expect animated, chirruping birds to appear.”
    That was insulting. I feel my temper stir. “Well, if you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to be rude.”
    He looks puzzled for a moment. “Ah, the Disney character comment pissed you off. I didn’t mean it as a pejorative.”
    I roll my eyes. “I’m sure from you it’s a compliment.”
    I stand up.
    “You’re not leaving are you?” He cocks his head to one side as though he doesn’t want me to.
    I feel the color in my cheeks rising again.
    “Are you going to stay pissed at me all night for that?”
    All night? How did this turn into all night? He rubs his chin with his long index fingers as he waits for my answer.
    “No,” I say with false sweetness, “I’m going to go to bed and forget all about you.”
    I start for the door.
    “Heroin,” he says from behind me. “I didn’t mean to be rude earlier. You know, with the Disney comment. I’m still learning how to have normal conversations with real people.”
    I stop. It’s the first thing he’s said not packed with confusing theatrics. An honest