problems then. Right now, spinning the point of view might help everyone. “Molly Forrester, Zeitgeist magazine. I’m doing an article on Olivia’s perspective on growing up around the band now that her father’s gone.”
Olivia threw me a grateful glance, while Claire regarded me with suspicion. “Won’t that be entertaining,” she said flatly.
“I’d like to speak with you when it’s convenient, Mrs. Crowley. For background, context.”
Claire looked back at Olivia, and I could almost see Olivia melting into a small child under the heat of the gaze. “Excellent idea.”
“Do you keep your own calendar?”
“Now that Dad’s dead,” Olivia said quietly but with an unmistakable bite.
“You want to understand her in context?” Claire asked. “Come to the show tonight. Everyone will be there.”
Olivia sucked in a sharp breath, then plastered on a smile. “That’s a terrific idea.”
Surprise flickered over Claire’s face. Had she expected Olivia to protest or just not expected Olivia would be able to smile after the harshness of their exchange? Whichever it was, it didn’t linger. “Jordan’s playing at Mars Hall tonight. We’d like you to be our guest.”
Jordan Crowley live? Me a guest? I tried to remain the cool professional and not shiver into the ardent fan. “I didn’t think Jordan played clubs anymore.”
“He doesn’t usually, but he’s struggling a bit with the new album,” Claire said. “We thought getting in front of a live audience might inspire him.”
“‘We’?” I asked.
“Russell and I. We planned this date before Russell died.”
“Are you managing Jordan now?”
“No, no, nothing so formal. Advising more, trying to help fill the void now that Russell’s gone.”
Olivia’s smile tightened. “It takes a village to raise a rock star.”
It also took guts or class or both to raise a rock star whom your dead husband fathered with another woman while you were still married to him. Claire Crowley certainly wasn’t coming across as a warm and nurturing woman—though perhaps I wasn’t meeting her under the most flattering of circumstances—but she’d found a way to include her husband’s illegitimate child and the child’s mother into her innermost circle. It might have been a stunt, but it was an impressive, long-lived one. When Bonnie and Jordan first surfaced, Claire issued an elegant statement about forgiveness and understanding and wanting to strengthen the family, not break it apart. In her position, I think I might have been issuing a statement about castration and smacking faces and yanking hair out by the roots.
Even after Micah’s death, Claire, Bonnie, and the boys were reported to stay close. Things may have been—must have been—rocky behind closed doors, but in public, Micah’s clan was one big happy family, with Russell as the wise uncle who oversaw their problems and their musical careers. Could something have tipped the idyllic balance and, as Olivia suggested, driven Claire to the breaking point?
“I’ve never seen Jordan live,” I said, struck by how odd the term sounded when standing in a room where a man had died. Maybe been murdered. “I’d love to come,” I said, making sure to direct the response to both of them.
“That pleases me,” Claire said politely. “We’ll leave your name at the door. What was it again?” She knew, but if she needed to mark her territory, I could play along. I repeated it for her, and she nodded, her arm sweeping in the direction of the front door, like a Realtor who had decided I couldn’t afford the property she was showing and it was better to move along before anyone’s time was wasted any further.
Olivia frowned at her. “We’re not ready to leave.”
Claire bounced her key ring in her hand. “What else are you going to do?”
Olivia made a high, unhappy sound in her throat. “This is my home,” she managed.
“You couldn’t be here when your father needed you, but you can
Olivia threw me a grateful glance, while Claire regarded me with suspicion. “Won’t that be entertaining,” she said flatly.
“I’d like to speak with you when it’s convenient, Mrs. Crowley. For background, context.”
Claire looked back at Olivia, and I could almost see Olivia melting into a small child under the heat of the gaze. “Excellent idea.”
“Do you keep your own calendar?”
“Now that Dad’s dead,” Olivia said quietly but with an unmistakable bite.
“You want to understand her in context?” Claire asked. “Come to the show tonight. Everyone will be there.”
Olivia sucked in a sharp breath, then plastered on a smile. “That’s a terrific idea.”
Surprise flickered over Claire’s face. Had she expected Olivia to protest or just not expected Olivia would be able to smile after the harshness of their exchange? Whichever it was, it didn’t linger. “Jordan’s playing at Mars Hall tonight. We’d like you to be our guest.”
Jordan Crowley live? Me a guest? I tried to remain the cool professional and not shiver into the ardent fan. “I didn’t think Jordan played clubs anymore.”
“He doesn’t usually, but he’s struggling a bit with the new album,” Claire said. “We thought getting in front of a live audience might inspire him.”
“‘We’?” I asked.
“Russell and I. We planned this date before Russell died.”
“Are you managing Jordan now?”
“No, no, nothing so formal. Advising more, trying to help fill the void now that Russell’s gone.”
Olivia’s smile tightened. “It takes a village to raise a rock star.”
It also took guts or class or both to raise a rock star whom your dead husband fathered with another woman while you were still married to him. Claire Crowley certainly wasn’t coming across as a warm and nurturing woman—though perhaps I wasn’t meeting her under the most flattering of circumstances—but she’d found a way to include her husband’s illegitimate child and the child’s mother into her innermost circle. It might have been a stunt, but it was an impressive, long-lived one. When Bonnie and Jordan first surfaced, Claire issued an elegant statement about forgiveness and understanding and wanting to strengthen the family, not break it apart. In her position, I think I might have been issuing a statement about castration and smacking faces and yanking hair out by the roots.
Even after Micah’s death, Claire, Bonnie, and the boys were reported to stay close. Things may have been—must have been—rocky behind closed doors, but in public, Micah’s clan was one big happy family, with Russell as the wise uncle who oversaw their problems and their musical careers. Could something have tipped the idyllic balance and, as Olivia suggested, driven Claire to the breaking point?
“I’ve never seen Jordan live,” I said, struck by how odd the term sounded when standing in a room where a man had died. Maybe been murdered. “I’d love to come,” I said, making sure to direct the response to both of them.
“That pleases me,” Claire said politely. “We’ll leave your name at the door. What was it again?” She knew, but if she needed to mark her territory, I could play along. I repeated it for her, and she nodded, her arm sweeping in the direction of the front door, like a Realtor who had decided I couldn’t afford the property she was showing and it was better to move along before anyone’s time was wasted any further.
Olivia frowned at her. “We’re not ready to leave.”
Claire bounced her key ring in her hand. “What else are you going to do?”
Olivia made a high, unhappy sound in her throat. “This is my home,” she managed.
“You couldn’t be here when your father needed you, but you can
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