This story is part of a continuation of my
Road Trip
series (see the end of 'Road Trip – California' for a list of the chapters of that series, in order to be read). You need not read that series to enjoy this series. Although real places and celebrity names are used for realism, this story is fiction. Please 'read, enjoy, vote, and comment.'
This chapter will be dramatically enhanced for you if you read my story "Road Trip – Ohio." This story can be found at the author's web page by clicking on the name Romantic1 above.
That said, this is a stand alone story.
Synopsis of This Story Up to This Point
: After a cross-country road trip laced with grief, love, incest, and sex, Jim now lives with Crystal Lee and her sister Ellen in Tennessee. Jim has joined Crystal as a top star in country music, a major change in life for Jim. Crystal posed for Playboy in a sex-filled weekend photo shoot. After a busy six months, a New Years orgy on a Caribbean isle, and three busy winter months, Crystal and Jim went to different parts of the world to make two different movies. Just before leaving Jim, Ellen, and Nadia, their Russian housekeeper, had a series of sexual romps. When on the west coast for his movie, Jim reconnected with a love interest from his road trip – Tina Devoe, participated in an orgy with his leading lady Jill Danes, and found a new and additional love interest in Claire. The film crew moved to Nicaragua to film on location, and Jim's leading lady was kidnapped. Jim did a bold and risky rescue, using his skills as a Green Beret from decades earlier. Shooting finished on Jim's movie. He returned to Nashville with Ellen and Claire, they had a passionate week and included Nadia in their sex-filled romp. Crystal arrived home from Europe and joined Jim at well-attended news conference at the airport shortly after she disembarked from her plane. Things went well up until the last question to Jim by the press.
Crystal Clear Ch 09
Recovery from an awkward moment. Crystal at play
I thought the press conference at Nashville Airport that Crystal, Terry, and I were conducting had gone pretty well, at least until a young brunette woman I didn't recognize waved her hand near the middle of the pack of reporters. Terry called on her, "Edith, what's your question?"
The pretty woman stood and turned to me, almost with a bow. She spoke slowly, commanding by her quiet voice others in the room to be silent. Her voice was not confrontational and spoke only out of curiosity in a polite way, "Mr. Mellon ... err, this is delicate ... I don't know how to put this ... but, well, do you have a child ... by a woman who lives in Greenville, Ohio?"
I practically choked out loud. I did indeed have a child in Greenville, Ohio. Crystal knew too, but other than the baby's 'parents' no one else should have figured out the lineage of that child. Crystal squeezed my hand to show her support, and continued to hold on to me; she instinctively knew that I needed her support on this one.
A long silence ensued, broken only by the fusillade of camera shutters that captured the moment and my apparently shocked expression.
I thought of my dear friend George and his beautiful and loving wife Summer in Ohio – the wife he had me impregnate with my seed because he'd had an injury on a Special Forces mission we were on that rendered him infertile. He wanted me, his best friend, to do that for him. Summer wanted it too, and she and I fell in love in the time we spent together, joining, and baby making. I thought how they lived such simple, serene, and quiet lives in that small town, and somehow, depending on what I said in the next minute their entire life could come completely unraveled.
I also thought about what a lousy liar I am. I would never make it as an unfaithful husband, because everything about me is written on my face. Moreover, I can't keep a secret in response to a direct question; I amazed myself that I'd never exposed the network of sexual relationships I shared with Crystal, Ellen, Claire, Nadia, and many more. I expected my answer to this woman's awkward question was already written on my face; did I really need to say anything.
Whether I remained silent or spoke I was cooked either way. I decided to speak.
"Edith, and members of the media, we each have private lives that I hope you might respect. Sometimes, the extent of that part of our lives involve situations and people that are not in the limelight, and that ... that could bring harm to others if they were widely publicized or criticized or analyzed. You see yourselves as trying to bring truth to the public – news, but do you also see that sometimes what you do brings harm where it shouldn't occur. This is one of those situations. A simple answer wouldn't even begin to explain the complexity of the situation that you hint at in your question. I don't want to duck your question ... but I also don't want to answer it, because some people I love that aren't in this room are involved in the answer, and I wouldn't presume to reply to a question like that without them."
The room had hung on every word I said with an eerie silence ... and then, after I made it clear that was all I planned to say, the room erupted into a hundred people shouting follow-up questions and hypotheticals at me from all directions. "What if ...? Did you? Who was ...? Where's Greenville? How long ago? Could you ...?"
I turned and nodded to Terry. He understood; the press conference was over. We stood, and as we did the half-dozen security men in black suits surrounded us and led us off to a door on the side of the room – an exit door that would take us away from the riot that resulted from the question and my response. Reporters were falling all over themselves trying to get to me – microphones and pocket recorders in hand – questions shouted over and over. My name shouted out a thousand times to try to get my attention to their specific question. The reporters all surged towards the door we exited.
Two of the security men, the largest two of the lot – a pair of mean looking men in black suits with black shirts and black ties, black sunglasses, plus large bulged in their pockets where they carried obvious weapons - stayed behind in the room to secure the door and keep anyone from following us. The remaining four security men hustled us down several corridors almost at a run. There was no conversation other than instructions on how to follow them to curb side.
Suddenly, we exited a door into the area where the luggage carousels were. We crossed the nearly empty concourse, exited, and there was the white limousine. No one was right behind us, so I made sure Crystal saw the license plates with her name. She gave me a big grin.
The six of us piled into the car, and were whisked away to the airport exit.
* * * * *
Inside the limo, Crystal burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" I asked glumly.
"The look on your face when that woman asked the question about your baby. It was priceless. You may as well have screamed 'YES.'"
"Gee, thanks. I'm still trying to figure out how she knew enough to ask that question. I'm sure George and Summer wouldn't mention it to anyone, and neither you nor I did." I looked at Ellen and Claire.
Ellen said, "I didn't even know until her question. From the look on your face, it was pretty obvious what the answer is."
Claire shrugged; she wouldn't have known unless I talked in my sleep.
I brooded about the situation for a few moments, and noticed the limousine had headed downtown to the area near Terry's office and the recording studio.
