Safari Song // Greta Van Fleet

Clinton – present day

"Katie, are your bags ready? Your mom will be here soon."

I look up from the kitchen counter where I'm slicing apples and pears for dinner. Katie's got earbuds plugged in, bouncing in her seat at the table with no clue I was just talking to her. She's only 10. I can't imagine what the teenage years are going to bring.

I walk over and tap her shoulder. Katie looks up and pulls a bud out of her ear. "Bags? Are they ready?" I ask again.

"Yes, Dad. Over by the door." She points in that direction. Sure enough, her bags are ready to go.

I release a pent-up breath. Mara and I do our best to coparent amicably, but I don't need her standing in my living room longer than necessary. I return to the fruit and finish making dinner. Katie and I eat once I get her to remove the earbuds and engage with me over the meal. I don't get enough time with her as it is, I'm not sharing it with her playlist.

As soon as the table is cleared, Mara's knock sounds at the door.

"Katie, wash up. Mom's here." I call to her. But when I swing the door open, it's not Mara standing on the doorstep.

"Michael," I say. I can't help the clipped tone that my daughter's stepdad elicits from me. He's not a bad guy, other than the fact he slept with his wife while she was still married to me. As soon as I had the guy's name, I looked into him. Background checks are a day to day occurrance in my business, but I made sure not to leave any stone unturned on Michael Palmer.

"Clinton. Is Katie ready to go? We have plans early tomorrow morning. Don't want her up too late."

"It's six o'clock." My tone is flat.

"Just don't want her keyed up past bedtime." He rocks back onto his heels and shoves his hands in his coat pockets.

I don't appreciate the parenting tips. And I don't ask about their plans. It's hard enough to remain neutral around the guy. Doesn't matter that he's squeaky clean, not a blemish on his record or in his business. A dentist of all things.

I call Katie to hurry up as I take note of Michael's brow, now covered in a light sheen of sweat. Good. I'm making him nervous. It's the least I can do for the cheater.

Michael is more than seven inches shorter than I am. I outweigh him by at least eighty pounds, probably more. Looking at his wiry build, I don't think he could throw a punch to save his life, let alone his wife's or my daughter's. If he'd been any kind of threat to Katie's happiness, I'd end him. But he's a decent guy, other than being willing to sleep with a married woman. So, I swallow my bitterness, slap a smile on my face and send my beautiful, happy, well-adjusted daughter back to her mother.

It isn't until I'm settled on my couch with a file detailing Brianna's upcoming tour that the post-visit depression hits me. I'll be on the road for months soon. Away from Katie for too long. The last tour just about did me in. My focus wasn't where it needed to be. The people I'm meant to protect are still dealing with the aftermath.

There's a friendly knock on my door which I recognize instantly. It never fails to get my heart rate racing at the same time as it brings a sense of peace. A reaction I'll fucking never understand.

"Door's open."

Colleen breezes in, a smile on her face that brightens my dark mood.

"Hey. I wanted to give Katie something before she leaves."

I shake my head. "Too late."

"Shoot! I made her a friendship bracelet. She went on and on about them after we saw that concert movie a few weeks ago." Colleen plops down in the chair across from me. She easily crosses her legs in the yoga pants she paired with a loose tank top in bright blue. Not my favorite color on her. Thankfully. When she's in red I can hardly look at her. Red makes the line fuzzy.

"Michael came by to get her twenty minutes ago," I say to get my brain onto less tempting topics.

Colleen makes a face. "Michael." She doesn't say more. Doesn't need to. Colleen knows the whole story. She's the only person who does. I made sure to lay out every single one of my flaws to her over the past year. We've become good friends. The fact that she loves my daughter as much as she does is more than just a bonus. It's the biggest pull to cross the line I fight to ignore.

"What's wrong? I see that vein in your forehead about to burst."

I look away. Colleen reads me too well. "I hate leaving Katie for so long when Brianna goes on tour. Last time didn't go too well."

Another situation that Colleen knows far too much about. I told her all about how Brianna's manager, Char, got tangled up with the drummer from the opening act. And how that ended up blowing up in everyone's face when Char's brother beat the crap out of the guy on stage. In the middle of a live show.

I missed all the signs pointing to that shit show. There's a lawsuit we're still dealing with. Among other things.

"Can you fly home between shows?"

"No. Not with Brianna's history of crazy stalkers and this lawsuit bullshit. The risk is too great."

Colleen hums as she nods her head, curling into the chair and looking far too young to be best friends with a 32-year-old divorced single dad. I avert my eyes.

"We need to bring her to you, then."

Colleen says it like it's no big deal.

"I don't want to deal with Mara and Michael while I'm on tour." Seeing them on my days off is one thing. Having them invade my mental space while I'm guarding lives is another. No fucking way. "And I'm not putting her on a plane alone."

"I'll bring her."

My eyes shoot to hers. "What are you talking about?"

"Clinton, I work from home. I can bring my job with me, no problem there. I can travel with Katie and take care of her while you're on the clock. Then you can spend time with her for a couple days here and there until the tour is over and normal life resumes."

My mouth drops open, but no words come out. I don't know what to say.

"What's the tour line up? We can pick the key stops with the most time between travel days. I'll figure out plane tickets and grab us a room at a hotel close by. We don't even need tickets to the show. I'll take her to the park or to the movies or something."

"But..."

It's the only word I get out. Colleen leans forward, dropping her hand onto my knee.

"I can do this. Let me help you."

My eyes dart to the spot on my jeans where she's touching me. She's not even making direct contact with my skin, but I feel her body heat as though she is. She must sense my weird reaction because she leans back, away from the danger zone.

"Um, I'll buy your plane tickets. And make sure you have a room next to mine." I clear my throat. "So I can be near Katie."

Colleen nods, a smile building on her face.

"Sounds good. But I'm not sure if I helped or made things worse. That vein on your forehead looks angry."

I touch said vein, one I'm quite familiar with. Mara used to roll her eyes when it made an appearance. Too high strung, she used to tell me. Before I realize what's happening, Colleen has reached out to press her fingers to the vein. I stay still as stone while she examines it.

"I don't think eruption is immanent but maybe you should get that looked at." She pats my head before sitting back in her chair. Casual and relaxed as though nothing Earth shattering just happened.

She has no idea what her touch does to me.

I clear my throat. "Right."

All these months, nearly a year, and we barely ever touch. On rare occasions, Colleen will brush against my arm or my shoulder. Once or twice she's reached out to hold onto my arm when she's lost her footing. But today she's crossed all kinds of unspoken boundaries and it's got me tied up in knots. Hence the bulging vein in my forehead. I'm overwhelmed by her touch so damn much I'm losing control.

"Do you have an itinerary we can check out?" she asks, casual as hell.

I nod while opening the file in front of me. All of the tour information is in a locked and coded digital file shared between those of us in the 'need to know' circle. But I prefer hard copies of some key factors while I'm creating a security plan. I annotate sections and organize details by hand before entering it into the coded file and shredding the documents.

"This is the basic schedule. A few big breaks about halfway through the tour, plus extended stays in a couple of big cities."

Colleen takes the page from my hands to look it over. I'm only showing her the schedule which is already online for the public, although this version has my notes for each venue which I wouldn't show to just anyone.

I trust Colleen more than practically any other human alive. This past year we've spent time getting to know each other through Katie. Colleen made a point to introduce herself to my daughter as soon as she had the chance and the two of them bonded over pop music and getting their nails done. If it had been up to me, I would have kept my distance from my perky neighbor and her bubbly personality. But little by little, Colleen fit herself into my life. Before I knew it, I considered her my best friend. I told her things I didn't tell another living soul about my worries for Katie being in a split family and my lack of confidence as a father. Colleen listened. She shared her own vulnerabilities about her career and her future. She took the safe pathway into business, but her dream is to be a writer, something she does in her free time and plans to try publishing.

"Okay, I think there's a plan forming. Week three you have a four day stop, then again during week eight. A month after the mid tour break you have a three day stop and then another four day a month before tour wraps." Colleen looks up at me. Our eyes meet, hers with a twinkle of excitement. I have no idea what registers in mine but it certainly isn't joy.

"Talk to me," she demands. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head. "Nothing's wrong. I hate knowing that I'll be apart from Katie for such large chunks of time." The softness in Colleen's gaze slays me. I have to look away.

"There's always video chats. And she can send you voice notes." The woman in front of me taps her chin. "Oh!" She bounces in her seat. "You can write her letters! She'd love getting mail from you." Colleen presses her fists under her chin. "What an amazing keepsake from her dad."

I rub a hand over my mouth, back and forth to cover the grimace. "I'm no writer. You've already seen me fail miserably at letter writing."

"Clinton James Wilson, you did not fail."

"My middle name isn't James."

She shrugs. "I was winging it. You haven't told me your middle name, yet." She pauses her rant, but I don't fill in the blank space of my middle name. She rolls her eyes and continues.

"You wrote a beautiful, heartfelt letter that I was beyond privileged to read. What happened after had nothing to do with the words you wrote."

I suck in a deep breath, holding it for a count before releasing it. Then I lean back against the couch. Colleen's right. My letter to Mara had nothing to do with the disaster that was our marriage. But it didn't create an opening for us to repair it either.

"I guess I'm not trying to fix something that's broken between Katie and me."

"No. Not at all. That girl loves you. She'll be missing you as much as you'll miss her. But if you write to her here and there along the way, she'll have something tangible to hold onto that tells her you miss her, you love her and you're thinking about her. It's the sweetest thing ever."

I let her words settle between us before I agree. It would be nice to give Katie my words in writing.

"And my original offer is still in effect," Colleen says. I glance at her with a brow raised. "If you'd like my help, I'm only a phone call away."

"A full circle friendship." I shake my head. Back to the beginning, when I let Colleen see how pathetic I was. Still am. "Yeah, that might be helpful. We'll see."

I look over at Colleen to find a full wattage smile on her face. It's a good fucking look.

"I'll send the dates to Mara for her approval then I'll buy the plane tickets."

"I can take care of the room situation."

"No, no. I'll handle this in an official capacity. Talk to management and Brianna so everyone understands the drill."

"Okay. Let me know when and where and I'll be ready."

I allow myself the next minute to look at Colleen. Really, truly look in her eyes and thank her for what she's willing to do for us.

"I don't think I'd make it through this tour without you helping out like this."

Colleen holds my gaze before doing something that shocks the hell out of me. She gets up from her seat and comes over to me. Then she leans down and throws her arms around my neck.

"I'm so happy to do this for you, and for Katie." Her voice is soft, quiet. I feel like she's saying more than her words are telling me. Before I can filter through her nonverbals, she backs up and thumbs over to the door.

"Well, I've got some data reports to finish up."

I nod but say nothing else. Once again I'm struck silent by this woman.

When will I pull myself together around her?

As I watch her leave, the long legs and short shorts, I have a sinking feeling the answer is, never.

Oh, Clinton...he feels such responsibility over the people in his life. If you read Not Another Player, you know about the drama from the last tour. Clinton is bearing the burden of it as you've seen in this chapter.

I'm so excited for this plot! I've got TONS of little crossovers to Jacob's story planned that will answer some of the lingering questions you might have. Plus Clinton is going to MELT YOUR HEART! I just know we'll all fall madly for him ❤️❤️❤️

I might default to the method I used for Diva's playlist-a song every few chapters as the mood changes. But maybe not... We're back to Greta Van Fleet with Safari Song. It's a little chaotic, kinda of like Clinton's mind at the moment. And mine lol

https://youtu.be/1lfBC6S9qVM

Thanks so much for reading!! See you next week ❤️