Chapter 4: In Limbo

It was a little after two o'clock when Kylie and her mother finally drove up to their house, and there was a white Mercedes coupe with California plates standing in front of it. Kylie swore softly.

"Oh shit! That's my producer, Chas Corning."

"Well, if that's the case why don't you ask him in while I prepare a late lunch?"

"I guess I have to. He's actually a decent guy."

They got out of the car and the driver side door of the Mercedes opened emitting a tanned man in his forties, dressed immaculately in a light grey suit. He approached them and Kylie turned to face him.

"Hi, Chas. What brings you here?"

The man smirked. "Duh! What do you think? One of my performers goes on a weekend trip to attend a high school reunion, finds herself into a high speed pursuit with the local law, gets beat up by her actor-wannabe and – I hope – ex-boyfriend and doesn't return any calls. I'm worried, kiddo. I need you to sing to finance my expensive life style."

Mabel McAdam snorted at that looking at the man with amusement.

"Oh, Chas, this is my Mom, Mabel McAdam."

"Enchanted, Ma'am."

Mabel nodded. "This is no place to discuss things. My daughter is her usual rude self but why don't you follow my invitation to come in?"

"Glad to, Ma'am. May I help with those bags?"

Kylie laughed ruefully. "That would be nice. We're not exactly bursting with health."

Chas Corning loaded himself up with shopping bags. "Yeah, I was thinking what's wrong with you. You look sick, Kylie."

They were inside now and Kylie faced her producer as he placed the bags on the kitchen counter.

"Chas, I'm an alcoholic. I'm on withdrawal and I'm malnourished. Worst, I've got a messed up head,, and I'm trying to find out who the fuck I am." Mabel left them alone in the kitchen. "Chas, I won't be back for a while. My Mom had cancer. She's been fighting it but they discovered a new one this morning. I fucked up so badly, I didn't even know until two weeks ago. I can't leave her alone now."

"Are you getting treatment, therapy, you know?"

"Yes, three times a week. For the alcoholism and other things. I discovered a few ugly truths about myself. I have hurt and driven away every single person I ever truly loved."

"That high school sweetheart of yours?"

Kylie stared at him. "How do you know about him?"

"He was on the show the weekend of the semis and then, wham, you climbed out of Don's limo looking fucked."

She nodded, staring at the floor. "He's back in Clearwater. He's..."

"I know. He pulled you from Hugh's Porsche. Deputy Clifford Henson, Bachelor of Law. He seemed like one hell of a guy. Articulate, too, in that press conference. Marcie wanted to come along so she could meet him."

Marcie was Chas's assistant. For a moment, Kylie flared up. "Well, you better tell her ... Oh, fuck, what's it of my business?"

"He's the one you let slip back into the pond, huh?"

"Yeah, and he's still carrying my hook where it hurts."

"Can't help you there, kiddo. One word of advice, though. You want that guy back, you must come to terms with yourself. Now let's talk business. I'm writing this up as business expense so I need to talk about your next album."

"Chas, I really can't leave."

"That's okay, I can see that. But why not use the time and find out what sort of music you want to make. Obviously you're not cut out for R&B. I guess that's what we learned from your last album. You know, when I went through the tapes of the regionals, before you came to L.A., you were really rocking. It suited your voice."

"You want to reinvent Kylie McAdam as a wannabe rocker? I'll lose whatever fan base I may still have."

"Nope. I want Kylie to return to what she really likes. Think about it. Think about a few songs, maybe two or three, you would really like to cover and I can go from there and find some original compositions for you."

"Can you send me a guitar and some recording device? I'd have to do this here."

Chas shrugged. "No problem."

Mabel McAdam returned to the kitchen, changed into the blue jeans she usually wore around the house. While Chas sat at the kitchen table the two women whipped up omelets filled with tomato slices and mozzarella cheese. That was one thing Kylie loved to do again, to cook and prepare fresh food.

During the lunch Chas was charming to Mabel and complimentary of Kylie. He also brought some gossip from LA but Kylie felt detached from the scene after just three weeks. A strong, hand-filtered coffee closed the lunch and Chas bid his farewell promising to send some equipment for Kylie.

Cliff had ended his shift at two p.m. but he spent another half hour with Janet talking about Kylie. When he finally left the station he found a silver grey Mercedes Coupe parked beside his own car, a former cruiser with painted over decals.

"Mr. Henson?" an elegantly dressed man asked.

Cliff nodded. "That's me."

"My name is Chas Corning. Could I have a word with you, maybe over a coffee?"

He pointed at the diner behind them and Cliff nodded. His eyes took in the California plates of the Mercedes, the leather interior of the car, and he suspected the man to be a lawyer working for Hugh Dumont. He'd pay for his own coffee he decided. They sat down at a table.

"Well, Mr. Corning, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Henson, I am a music producer. To be more precise, I am Kylie McAdam's producer and agent, for the last three years or so. First, I'd like to thank you for getting her out of that car. I'd also like to thank you for breaking Hugh Dumont's ribs."

Cliff shrugged. "I didn't even know it was her when I tried to stop the car. I should as well tell you that Kylie McAdam and I have a history."

"I know. That's why I want to talk with you. I think I know most of the facts. Believe me, I can feel with you."

"Why? Ever been cheated on publicly?"

Chas made a grimace and nodded. "Even on prime time. Remember Sylvie Lindenbacher?"

Cliff nodded, asking himself where Corning was heading. "Singer, mostly pop ballads, a couple of years back. Never my type of music. Why?"

"My wife. My late wife."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"How could you? I was her producer first, and we fell in love and married. We produced two albums and the second one went gold already. It was great. She wanted to branch out into acting and so I went and got her a few guest spots on sitcoms. She was good and soon she picked up a leading role in a planned soap. To make it short, on the day the pilot was broadcast, she and the producer went on Letterman and the smug shit told the world that Sylvie was getting a divorce to marry him. Talk about exposure."

"What did you do?" Cliff asked.

"Switched channels to Leno and never went back," Chas Corning answered with grim humor. "That and I tried to call her, tried to find out why, what, and when, but she'd switched off her cell. The next morning, I was served. The dazed feeling went away over the next days and anger set in. Hell, everybody told me I shouldn't let her get away with it. I'd be a laughing stock if I did. I should 'burn the bitch', should devise some serious payback. I listened to them.

"I didn't even have to do much. I was a producer and she was talent. All the important people in the business and in the networks sided with me. The soap was canned after the first six episodes. The label released her for breach of contract and she couldn't find a new one right away. A nationwide tour that had been planned was my baby and I killed it off. Hell, I owned the rights to all her original songs and she could not even give concerts without that material. In short, I destroyed her. Then her producer boyfriend dumped her.

"Two weeks later, seven months after she left me, I got a visit from an LAPD officer. She'd driven off a cliff, full with coke and booze. Divorce wasn't yet final and I was still next of kin. I had to make the funeral arrangements and I had to sit there listening to the eulogy. Most of my friends just patted my back telling me I'd done nothing wrong. Still, to this day I wish I hadn't listened to them in the first place. I had loved her once and now I had destroyed her, even killed her. I still feel like shit about it, especially when I heard from one of her friends how he had hoodwinked her into the relationship."

"What of him?"

"He developed a new casting show format the next year. You know him. Don Brentano. That's why I took Kylie under my wings after he cut her loose. She's really a good girl and talented."

"And you're telling me all this, why?"

"So that you know where I come from when I give you advice. Don't let the people around you tell you what to do. Getting back at Sylvie has not eased my hurt. Try to give Kylie a break. You may be the one who profits the most."

"Again, why? What is she to you?"

"A bread winner. A talented singer and a rather nice girl who has fallen on bad times." Corning smirked. "I have no romantic interest in her, if that's what you're asking."

Cliff felt his face heat up. "That's none of my business," he said defensively.

"Kylie has been with two men, if my memory serves me, three including you. Only Brentano and Dumont since your break-up. Both are egotistic jerks. I hope that Kylie will find another guy like you one day, somebody who'll bring out her good side."

"Maybe she doesn't want guys like me," Cliff answered bitterly. "Believe me, I've seen enough women who pick jerk after jerk and find excuses for them like you wouldn't believe."

"Been there, seen it," Chas Corning answered knowingly. "Music business is full of girls who have been conditioned from puberty to go for domineering assholes. You know, first their daddy, then their first manager, then the first boyfriend. At twenty-five they're already twice divorced and burnt out."

"Like Kylie," Cliff said darkly.

"Yes, but she's got advantages. She's got a family that is grounded. She can retreat to this town which is as shielded from showbiz as possible. I also hope she may still have friends."

"She's got Janet, Janet Running Elk," Cliff agreed. "They were best friends back in school. Janet is a deputy like me. She would be better suited for your plans."

Chas Corning nodded his head. "Thanks, I'll try to contact her, too. Was she in that high school band too, the Clearwater Revival Band?"

"Drummer," Cliff answered.

"And who else was on it?"

"Luke Patterson, bass, and Peter Loring, second guitar."

"You played lead?"

Cliff nodded uncomfortably. "I was gone to college for three years. I jammed a bit, now and then. But since, no."

"Kylie, huh?"

"Exactly. Me being in the band had been for her sake. I much rather play for myself but she dragged me into the thing. I guess she always wanted to be a musician, more than anything else. Only, I didn't realize it or maybe she never spoke out."

"A bit of both I guess. Listen, Deputy, thanks for your time. Please consider being a bit conciliatory if you can. Can you give me a cell phone number for Deputy, what's her name, Running Elk?"

Cliff jotted the Janet's cell number on a napkin and stood up himself. After shaking Corning's hand he left the diner and drove home.

Kylie was not allowed to stay with her mother during the tomography and she sat like on hot coals for the entire hour Mabel was gone. They had driven to Missoula early in the morning, carrying overnight bags should that prove necessary. Kylie had brought a book to read but her nervous tension made it impossible for her to concentrate. Finally, Mabel McAdam emerged from the changing room and Kylie looked at her expectantly. Mabel shook her head.

"It'll take an hour before they can give me any news," she said. "Let's have some coffee downstairs. The cafeteria here is not bad."

They spent the time sipping coffee. Mabel insisted that Kylie ate a cheese cake and to her surprise Kylie was able to finish it with appetite. She could see that her mother was anxious and nervous and she did her best to distract her, relating events from the last years in L.A. At last it was time to find the oncologist's office. They only had to wait ten more minutes before Dr. Clement asked them in. Mabel introduced Kylie and the Doctor asked them to sit.

"Mrs. McAdam, the tomographic imaging has corroborated the initial suspicion. There is a lesion in your small intestine. It is still small but nevertheless I would have it excised tomorrow. Do you think you can stay here?"

Swallowing heavily and with a cracking voice, Mabel McAdam answered. "I ... We brought overnight bags, just in case. How long will I have to stay?"

"It will only be a minuscule cut; the excision will be done with an endoscope. You can probably leave on the day after tomorrow. The histological report will take a week."

"If it's ... cancer again, what are the options?" Mabel asked.

"If, and I say if, this is a malign lesion we will have to go for radiation therapy. I'm afraid chemotherapy will not be an option. Let us be optimistic though. We could not see any spreading and it may just be a benign cyst. Your tumor markers are not raised which would argue against a cancer."

Kylie spent the entire afternoon with her mother who underwent a series of tests for the planned endoscopic procedure. Even when Mabel McAdam was sedated for the night Kylie stayed. James McAdam had arrived earlier and he forced his daughter to join him for a late dinner after they had been kicked out by the nurses. They drove home afterwards arriving a little after ten and Kylie just fell into her bed, dead tired and wrung out emotionally.

She woke at eight and her father had left a message telling her that he had driven to Missoula already, but that she should be ready for a pick up at ten. Taking a shower and cleaning up the kitchen Kylie passed the time until ten. Her worst apprehensions seemed to materialize when a former Sheriff Department cruiser drove up, but it was Janet who had borrowed Cliff's car to drive Kylie to Missoula. The two former friends hugged each other and Kylie became acutely aware that she did not have any friends as close and trustworthy as Janet had been. Another fence to mend.

They talked during the drive, and Kylie unloaded a few of the things that weighed her down. Janet mostly listened but she patted her arm from time to time and gave her encouraging smiles. Only after Kylie had talked herself empty, Janet said anything of her own.