The Girl of Sand & Fog (28 page)

I’m crouched close up next to Alan, hoping for
some semblance of privacy but, fuck, I can feel more than a few of them
watching me. Crap, is the entire tour going to be this way?

“Can I take pictures and film if I promise not to
post it?”

My dad jerks awake and stares at me. His eyes
slowly widen. I can tell my talking to him surprises him, and oddly, he sort of
looks happy about it.

“Why do you want to film?” he asks cautiously.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Because that’s what I do. I film everything.
Bobby said that this is the last tour. You haven’t got a film crew. There’s no
photographer. I film everything. That’s what I do. Can I film?”

“Did you really get into USC film school?”

Fuck, how does he know that? My eyes narrow on my
sister. Damn it, Krystal.

“Why do you want to know?” I hold back my anger,
not wanting to blow this now that I’ve started it.

His brows lift. “If you want to film, you’ll
answer my questions.”

Jeez, why does he have to be such a control
freak? It’s a yes or no question, Alan.

I let out a long, rattling breath. “Fine. Yes. I
got in. My ambition in life is a three hundred thousand dollar education so I
can strive to underachieve by making low budget documentary films that will
make me no money at all. Happy now?”

He stares at me as if he doesn’t know whether I’m
joking or trying to piss him off.

“You can film anything you want under two
conditions,” he says patiently. “The first is you don’t send it viral. No
posting online. And before you do anything with the film, I get to see it and
approve.”

My cheeks go crimson. “I already told you I
wouldn’t post it. What’s the second condition?”

“When we land you get online, accept your
admission to USC, tell your mother you got in, and then show me how to pay for
it.”

Well, that I didn’t expect.

I look away. “What’s it to you if I go?”

“I think I’ll enjoy watching you evolve into
being a capitalist.”

“I’m already a capitalist. The problem is I’m
also a realist. Hardly anyone gets rich on documentaries. I want to do what I
want to do and fuck them if they don’t get it.”

He starts to laugh and my temper explodes, but I
wrestle it into check because I’ve gotten what I want and I don’t want him to
take it away.

“Look on the bright side, Kaley. You’ll probably
be more successful than Michael Moore in this. You come by your talent and your
attitude naturally.”

“I hate it when you laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you, Kaley. I’m laughing at
me.”

What does that mean?

“Right, so anyway, can I start filming now?”

“Film away.”

I almost go back to my seat, but I stop. “We’re
different, you and me. Do you get that?”

“Yes, I get that,” my dad replies heavily.

“Then don’t think you know me because we share
some obscure genetic link. You don’t know me at all. And you paying for USC
doesn’t make us even. Not even close. It’s not that easy. We’re not a fucking
Maury Povich show. We don’t live happily ever after once the DNA results are
shared. No one does. They just don’t show the ‘after’ on camera.”

Those great black eyes fix on me, shrewd and
probing. “Is that why you want to film? To show the ‘after’?”

No, because Graham Carson said I don’t know you
and the camera never lies. And in all fairness, I’m not sure he’s wrong.

My jaw tightens. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I hope you’ll explain it to me once you know.”

“Fuck, it’s your job to explain things to me,” I
hiss, springing to my feet and hurrying back to my seat.

I’ve gotten what I want.

If I verbally fence with Alan any more today, he
might take it away and, fuck, I don’t want that.

*  *  *

Landing
gear touches earth. The plane stops. And everything around me gets too busy,
moves too fast for me to film anything.

I climb from my seat, put my cross-body strap
over my head, and hold out my hands for my brothers. The cabin doors open. The
steps are fixed to the plane. Security moves in front of me toward the door.

I hold Ethan on one side of me and Eric on the
other. “Come on, guys. I’ll walk with you to the car. There’s nothing to get
freaked out about. It’s just like with Mom. OK?”

They nod and we move together toward the door.

Graham stops me. “Kaley, you’ve got to wait.
Security first. Then your dad. Then you kids. That’s going to be the order from
now on. It’s how we’re going to roll for the rest of the tour.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’ve done this before a thousand times. Will you
just let me get my brothers into the car? They hate this crap. It’s too much
for them. They’re only six. Mom sends me ahead with the boys. That’s my job.
It’s how
we
roll.”

“In Mumbai?”

“No.”

His eyes burn into me. “Then you listen to what
we say when we say it. My job is to keep you safe.”

He turns away from me, and I can hear the
security team chatter back and forth through their headsets.

I smile down at Ethan and Eric. “It’s OK. We just
have to wait for Alan.”

I exhale and face the people moving toward the
front of the plane. Where are Alan and Krystal? Fuck, I see everyone but them.
Who the hell is that hideous old prune closing in on me?

She stops next to me, giving me a cool glance
from head to toe, then crosses her arms looking centurion-like and official.
“I’m Mrs. Barton. Are you one of the children?”

Internally, I shudder.

Really, Alan?

A nanny?

I’ve spent most of my life taking care of my
brothers and sisters. Mom has never had more than Lourdes except for brief
moments of necessity. You’ve got us for four months, Alan, and you hire help—
ghastly
help, at that.

I ignore her and wait for my dad.

Finally.

Alan stops in front of me with Krystal.

Prune Face extends her hand to my dad. “Hello,
I’m Mrs. Barton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a big fan.”

What a suck-up. Like hell you’re a fan. Your
music died with the dinosaurs.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, but even I can
tell that fails the sincerity test. “These are my daughters, Kaley and Krystal.
Those are my sons, Ethan and Eric. Eric is the one with the tiny birthmark
beneath his left ear. It’s the only way I can tell them apart for sure. Collect
the boys. The girls can manage on their own.”

She stares like there’s something wrong with us.
Hell no, I’m turning my brothers over to her. I’ve had enough. I start moving
toward the metal steps with Eric and Ethan.

“Stop,” Alan orders.

Crap. I turn back from the open door.

“Same routine as last time,” he says. “We walk
off the plane. Say nothing to anyone and climb into the car they direct you
to.”

OK, this shit has got to stop.

Everyone is telling us different shit.

“We already know this,” I snap. “You don’t have
to repeat everything a thousand times. This is nothing new. We’ve traveled with
Mom. You keep telling us exactly what she makes us do.”

Alan’s eyes go wide. “Good. I won’t do it again.”

Krystal nods.  

Way to suck up, baby girl.

I step off the plane with my brothers. Cameras
explode in every direction. Ethan’s fingers tighten around mine, but Eric looks
like he’s enjoying it.

I spot Graham on the tarmac waiting and a row of
microphones lined with press. And fuck, why are they calling my name? That’s
never happened with Mom before.

When my feet touch earth we’re surrounded by
security.

“This way,” Graham instructs.

I shut out the flashing cameras, the shouting
voices and the screaming by focusing on getting my brothers into the waiting
SUV.

I hang back after they’re in the car, watching my
dad sprint down to the tarmac with Krystal in his arms. He’s smiling and waving
and moves quickly past the rest of the band already at the microphones. Good,
he’s not making the press stop. Maybe we’ll get to the hotel before Ethan and
Eric melt down.

Oh shit, who’s that?

Why is she stopping in front of Alan?

Fuck, I don’t like the way she stares at my dad
while she talks to him.

“Kaley, climb into the car,” Graham orders.

I shift my gaze to him. “Who is that with my
dad?”

Graham looks over his shoulder. “Jen. Our
resident courtesan.”

Courtesan?

My lids fly wide. “You mean my dad travels with a
girlfriend? Is that what you mean by courtesan?”

Grahams grimaces. “Oh crap, I shouldn’t have said
that. And no, she’s works for your dad. She’s PR with the promotion team and a
giant pain in the ass. I just don’t like Jen. She gets in the way. Makes it
hard to do my job.”

My gaze narrows on her.

In the way, huh?

Oh, I bet she gets in the way.

I shake my head. “Don’t be like the rest of them,
lying about everything to me to cover his ass.”

Graham’s eyes flash with surprise. “I wouldn’t do
that. And I’m not now. The cornerstone of a good security team is trust. You
have to trust me if I’m going to do my job well.”

I lift my brows. “Then don’t ever lie to me and
we’ll get along just fine.”

He grins and I feel something stir in my veins.

“Who says I want to get along with you?” he
murmurs. “Something tells me you’re trouble. I should keep us adversarial.”

A little tingle comes out of nowhere.

Did Graham Carson just flirt with me?

I bite my lip. “If you want me to believe that
you need to stop looking at me the way you do.”

He steps back and smiles. “And you, Kaley, need
to get into the car.”

Nice change of direction.

OK, he’s sort of cool.

And definitely good-looking.

I climb in, scan the already crowded SUV, and
decide to sit in the second row, I’m guessing behind where Alan will sit since
there’s no one on the bench seat in front of me.

I look at my brothers. “You guys OK?”

They nod.

I put in my earbuds, blast the music, close my
eyes and try to will myself not to think.

* * *

The
screaming is so loud it’s deafening. I jerk awake and quickly try to orientate
myself. The SUV has stopped. We’re parked in front of what I can only assume is
the hotel. My dad’s gone. Krystal and the boys are staring out the windows,
anxious and nervous. The security team is talking fast back and forth on their
headsets. Graham Carson is crouched by the open door, alertly scanning the
crowd.

Holy moly, what a profile and physique. He
definitely deserves to be a Kodak moment. I slyly pull my camera from my bag
and start snapping pictures.

“Not now, Kaley,” Graham barks. “I’m working.”

“I’m working, too. I’m the only photographer on
this tour.”

He smile, but doesn’t look at me. “Nice. Very
nice. You talked to your dad while I was napping. But stop screwing around and pack
up your stuff. Change of SOP. We are now in this order of movement until
further notice. Your dad. You. And then the rest of the kids with Mrs. Barton.”

Frowning, I put my stuff away. “Why is that? It’s
a stupid change and I’m not doing it. I’m not going anywhere without my
brothers. They need me with them.”

“You’d know if you hadn’t slept though the drive
into Mumbai. Never seen anything like it on any tour. I’m now lead of your
private security team.”

I tense and wonder if he’s messing with me.

“What? I don’t need security.”

“Your dad thinks otherwise and so do I. Look out
the window. Damn, girl. You’re a global sensation. When you want people to
listen to you, they listen. You might want to rethink how you channel that in
the future.”

I turn to stare out the window.

Oh fuck.

There are people out there holding signs for me.

Bring back Kaley’s World
?

Speak truth to power
?

My picture?

Are they really screaming
my
name?

“All the way from the airport they’ve lined the
roads for you,” Graham explains. “And whether you like it or not, you’re in the
bubble just like your dad until you get back to California. There are a whole
lot of places in this world it’s not safe for people to know your face and that
you’re a rich American. Mumbai is one of them.”