by Kylie Scott
I cautiously stepped down, feeling my way across the concrete. All of the flashes from the cameras were dazzling my eyes.
Crap.
The crowd surged forward, closing in, and the line of security struggled to hold them back. People were yelling shit, none of it decipherable over the sound of my heartbeat pounding behind my ears. They were chanting a name, and from the shape of their lips, I'm pretty sure it was Mal's.
I stood frozen, gaping, totally immobile. Fuck. Nope. Couldn't do it. What if I somehow tripped or got trod on or misstepped and accidentally hurt Bean?
Before I could turn tail and run back to the car, however, a strong arm wrapped around me, pulling my body in against the safety of his.
"I've gotcha," he said, his breath warming my ear.
I wasn't up to speaking.
Ben hustled me down the narrow corridor formed by security and into the building. Both of his arms were around me, holding me tight until he had to remove one to punch the button for the elevator. Cool air soothed my hot face while I concentrated on getting back my breath. God, what an idiot I was, losing it like that. Some great mother or psychologist I'd make.
Behind us, Mal and Anne were still out there, barely visible among the crowd.
"Let's go." Ben's hand slid down to mine, grabbing hold to tow me into the elevator.
"Aren't they coming? What are they doing?"
The elevator doors slid closed.
"With Mal, it could be anything. Don't worry, they're fine."
I craned my neck, necessary for viewing him at close range. His hair was a little longer, tied back in a tiny man bun, his beard neatly trimmed. Still beautiful, damn it. His T-shirt, plain black with an Arizona postcard printed on the front, fit just right, being neither too big nor too small. The tang of salty sweat lingered in the air around him. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and breathe deep, over and over again, despite the scent of booze. I just wanted to get as close to him as physically possible. One day those feelings would fade. Hopefully one day soon.
He looked down at me with a tight smile, still holding on to my hand. The smile definitely didn't make it to his eyes. If anything, I'd say the man looked nervous.
"Sorry about wigging out," I said.
With a low digital tone, the doors slid open.
"Don't worry about it," he said, and let go of my hand, instead applying gentle pressure low on my back to guide me forward. His motions were sure, his steps steady. However much he'd had to drink, he was clearly still coherent. "C'mon."
Cream carpet shushed our steps, baby chandeliers lighting our way. It wasn't very different from Vegas, with the same pricey, luxurious appearance. Another couple of security guys prowled about up here, keeping an eye on things.
"Doesn't that bother other customers?" I asked, nodding in their direction.
"Band's got this floor. You're two doors down in Mal and Anne's suite." Ben held up a card to the swipe thing. The little light turned green and he pushed the door open. "Might as well come on in for a minute."
"Okay." Not exactly a warm welcome. Man, this was all so hatefully awkward.
Inside, his suite was big, with a nice view and lots of comfy-looking couches in shades of beige. Quite a collection of liquor bottles covered the side table, the only visible trace of any rock 'n' roll lifestyle in the otherwise pristine room.
None of my business what he'd been up to the night before. None at all.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yes." We sat down opposite each other. "The morning sickness has eased up."
"Great."
"Yeah."
A nod.
"Thanks for the texts," I said. "That was good of you."
"No big deal."
Morning and night, he'd sent me the same brief almost impersonal question: U ok? I'd responded in kind: Fine! Great! Terrific! A smiley face now and then. It wasn't as if I could tell him I'd spent the morning hurling, feeling three days dead, with my emotions all over the place, my breasts aching, and my brain slowly being pickled by hormones. Things were too weird between us for such brutal honesty. Besides, he had a lot on his mind, with the concert and all. So instead I'd whined to Anne, and she'd been good enough not to tell me it was my own damn fault. The look lingered in her eyes now and then, but I could ignore it. No point feeling sorry for myself. Onward and upward--or outward as the case with my womb might be.
My hand strayed to my tiny baby bump, barely visible beneath my blue tank top, and Ben's gaze followed. He rubbed the side of his hand against his lips, eyes stark. The look he gave my abdomen was one of great fear. I couldn't take it.
"Do you have a juice?" I asked.
"Sure." The man leapt out of his seat, obviously eager to be gone. He moved to the side cabinet where the bar fridge was cunningly concealed. The room was so silent. When he opened the small juice bottle, the pop of the air seal being broken made me jump.
"Maybe I should get going," I said, rising to my feet. "Leave you to it."
"But your juice..."
All of a sudden, the front door crashed open and a party walked in. There could be no other description. Laughter, beer, men and women, they all poured into the expensive suite until the room was close to capacity.
"Epic show," yelled a lanky guy with long black hair and a woman attached to his hip.
He and Ben smacked palms. "It was good."
Their talk got drowned out by Metallica. A tall guy covered in tats broke a beer off from his six-pack and thrust it into my hand. I took it out of sheer instinct, the wet can chilling my skin.
"Hey," he said, giving me a grin. Pale red hair sat spiked up, and you really had to give it to him, he had a nice face. "I'm Vaughan."
"Lizzy. Hi."
"Didn't see you here last night. I'd have definitely remembered you."
What a flirt. Must have been the boobs. I'd done okay in the past, but I wouldn't call myself a man magnet. Especially not in a room where half the women looked and dressed like lingerie models.
"Ah, no," I said. "I only got in this evening."
Vaughan opened a beer for himself, setting down the six-pack on the coffee table. "A fan, or attached to the band somehow?"
"Both, I guess."
"Both?" His eyes lit with interest. "Well, you're in Ben's room, so I'll assume you're a friend of his."
I just smiled. "How about you? How do you fit in here?"
"I play bass for the warm-up band, Down Fourth."
"Hey, wow! I've heard of you guys. You're great," I said, clapping my hands all enthused. You'd think I'd never met a famous musician before.
His grin grew broader. Way to be cool, me.
"I really love that song you do ... Shit..."
He laughed while my face slowly started to burn.
"No, I know the name." How embarrassing and frustrating. "I do. I had it on repeat just the other day."
"It's fine."
"Don't tell me." I closed my eyes, searching for the information inside my head. To have my own body rebelling against me, turning me into one big giant, idiotic walking baby-making machine. It wasn't fair. "Just give me a minute."
He laughed at me some more.
"Gah. Stupid pregnancy hormones." I stopped dead.
The whites of Vaughan's eyes suddenly seemed huge and glaringly bright. Yet again I faced down man fear. I don't know why. It's not like there could be any possible chance it was his kid I carried. The irony of a guy who got down to death metal being scared of a pregnant girl was not lost on me.
Way to keep a secret. The minute I said it, I wanted to slap myself silly. Either that or buy myself a muzzle. My pregnancy had been kept under the general populace's radar, and I really wanted to keep it that way.
"I'd prefer that information didn't get repeated," I said, dropping my voice and moving a little closer to the man. "It's just that it's early days, and--"
"Vaughan." Ben stuck his hand out to the man with an excessive amount of male zest. "How you doing?"
"Yeah, good, Ben."
"See you met Liz." He pushed the long since requested juice into my spare hand, liberating the beer from my other. Then he cracked the ale open and drank deep.
"Yeah, we were just talking," said Vaughan, the fear of babies happily gone from his face, replaced once more with his friendly smile. Thank goodness. Maybe he wouldn't say anything. "Turns out she's a fan."
"She is?"
"I am," I confirmed. "I had 'Stop' on repeat all last week."
Nailed it.
"How about that." Ben's smile looked about as natural, and as comfortable, as a polyester pantsuit in June. Whatever he was up to, it wasn't good. Then, just to confirm my thoughts, he slid his arm around my neck, pulling me in close. Only not as you would a girlfriend or a lover. Nope, nothing like that at all. "Liz is Mal's new sister-in-law. Aren't you, sweetheart?"
"Yep." Funny, I'd always loved it when he called me that. This time, however, was different. I took a sip of the apple juice to try to cool myself down.
Brows drawn in, Vaughan looked back and forth between the two of us, obviously confused. "Didn't realize."
"Yeah. Sorry to put the fear of Mal into you, but she's out of bounds. Okay, man?" Ben planted a kiss on top of my head, then went that last irrevocable step too far and actually ruffled my hair like I was snotty-nosed kid. "Word with you in the bedroom, Liz?"
"Sure thing, Ben," I said through gritted teeth.
He ushered me through the crowd, with a hand to the small of my back once more. The door to the main bedroom was closed--probably the only reason it too hadn't filled up with people.
I didn't say a word until he'd closed us in. Then I still didn't say a word.
Instead, I threw my drink in his face.
"What the fuck?!" he roared, wiping apple juice out of his eyes.
"How dare you ruffle my hair like I'm your kid sister or something." I dropped my empty glass onto the carpet. "How dare you?"
"I was doing you a favor."
"Like hell you were."
The man set aside his beer aside and stormed forward, towering over me. "The guy is a fucking man-whore, Liz. Nearly every night on tour he's had a different woman."
"What utter crap."
"I'm not lying to you. He was flirting with you, trying to get into your pants. It's what he does."
"I'm not talking about him."
Ben blinked.
"You and I, we are not together, remember? If I want to flirt with a guy, I will. It is none of your business."
"You're pregnant with my child." The anger in his eyes--a smarter woman would have stepped back. Screw that. I went nose to nose with him. Well, as close as I could get to it, with the height difference. Next time we fought I was definitely bringing a ladder.
"That's right, Ben, I'm carrying our child," I said, breathing hard. "And I'm on tour to help us to figure out how to get along and be parents. Something that involves us having mutual respect for one another."
"I got respect for you, Liz. What I haven't got is the ability to stand by while some player tries to chat you up."
"Oh yeah? Tell me you haven't had sex with one of those wonderfully liberated, barely dressed ladies out there. Let me know this isn't just some messed-up double standard you're trying on me."
He couldn't do it. His lips slammed shut and he shifted, edging back, putting room between us. It shouldn't have hurt, but it did. Hearts are dumb like that. At least he didn't try to give me excuses.
"No?" I asked.
Still nothing.
"We're not together. You have no right to try and warn a guy off me. And treating me like you did--like a child, ruffling my hair, calling me 'sweetheart' that way...." My eyes were itchy, turning liquid. Like hell. "How fucking dare you."
I should have stormed out. I wanted to. The thought of losing it in front of the cool party crowd, however, stopped me cold. There had to be an alternative. Just a few minutes and I could pull myself together, go find my room. "I need to use the bathroom."
My dignity was small, about the same size as my bladder since the invention of Bean. I pretty much had to pee constantly, so it wasn't a complete lie, despite the sudden rising damp in my eyes. Dumb hormones. Idiot men and their god damn sperm. I strode into the grandiose bathroom and slammed the door shut. A tear trickled down my cheek, followed fast by another.
And the girl in the mirror, she still wasn't glowing. How fucking unfair.
I went and did my business in the toilet, scrubbed my hands and then my face. All of the emotions inside of me kept building up, threatening to leak out again. This situation with Ben was doing my head in. So I did what any sensible knocked-up twenty-one-year-old college dropout would do and climbed into the massive, empty sunken tub to cool down and reassess my life. It was actually quite comfortable. In the distance I could hear the party carrying on with chatter and music. You'd think an upmarket hotel such as this would have thicker walls.
For a good five, ten minutes I sat in there, calming myself, coming to grips with the situation. Perhaps Ben and I shouldn't talk for a while. We didn't have to be friends to raise a child together, if indeed that's what was going to happen. Him changing his mind on being involved would surprise approximately no one. Harsh but true.
Whatever. Come what may, I'd manage.
"Where's Lizzy?" asked a muffled voice in the next room, male and abrupt. Jimmy Ferris. Why he'd be interested in me I had no idea.
"In the john," said Ben. "What do you want with her?"
"Take it Mal and Anne are busy making up for lost time. Lena thought she might like to come hang with her."
"We're in the middle of something right now. I'll ask her in a few."
Jimmy snorted. "You're having a nice chat, huh? That why you're dripping wet and there's an empty glass on the floor? Try again, Ben."
"None of your fucking business."
"You're right about that. It's not. But oh well..."
For a moment there was nothing, during which I strained to hear something, anything.
"Man, you are fucking shit up with her so damn bad," said Jimmy, breaking the silence. "One way or another, this girl's going to be in your life from now on. Way you're playing it, won't be in a good way."
"What do you know about it?" growled Ben.
"What do I know about fucking up things with girls? You serious?"
No reply.
"How many times you talk to Lizzy in the last month?"
"We talk."
"Not face-to-face or I'd have heard about it from Mal. Another fucking mess you've failed to fix."
"I'm working on it," said Ben, his voice full of anger. "I'll smooth shit over with him."
"Believe it when I see it."
"Don't lecture me on messing with the band. Where the fuck were you that last practice session before Seattle, huh?"
Jimmy scoffed. "Taking Lena to see her obstetrician. Do you even know what the hell one of them is?"
"Of course I fucking do."
"Yeah? You taking Liz to her visits? Looking after her? 'Course not. Because if you were, every other member of this band would have a shitload more respect for you than they got right now."
"We were heading on tour," said Ben.
"Some things are more important, man. Take looking after the woman carrying your child, for example."
"Jim--"
"How many times have you even called that girl since we've been on tour?"
"What the fuck? You a relationship counselor now?"
Jimmy laughed. "My woman isn't throwing drinks in my face, so as far as you're concerned, I might as well be."
"She's not my woman."
"She's the girl you put a baby in, asshole. And if she's been going through half the shit Lena's been dealing with, then you are just about the lowest cunt I've come across in a long time for making her do it alone."
Guess Ben had no answer to that.
Have to admit, I felt bad for him. He loved these guys like brot
hers, and I'd been coping okay on my own, give or take. And yes, I did feel a little guilty for listening in on the conversation. Given that I was the topic, however ...
"The baby's got her moods bouncing all over the place. One minute she's depressed as hell, worrying how we'll deal with this, sure things are gonna go to shit and I'll leave her. As if. Then the next, everything's great and she's excited again about becoming a mom."
A pause.
"It's hard on her, man, all the changes. And it's scary as hell to be facing, I know."
"Jim--"
"No. Just shut up and listen. I'm nearly finished." Jimmy exhaled roughly. "None of us planned this. But you need to drop out of the running for dickhead of the year and get yourself sorted out before it's too late."
"Okay. I'll talk to her."
"Think, Ben. Just think. How the hell are you going to explain this to your kid in five or ten years' time, hmm? That your baby momma doesn't talk to you because you spent her entire pregnancy hiding behind a bottle and getting blown by groupies?"
My stomach contracted sharply. There we go. I knew he'd been with other women, of course. It still hurt, however.
"It's not like that," yelled Ben.
"It's exactly like that. Give me a fucking break, dude. Just because I don't come to your nightly soirees doesn't mean I don't know what's going on here. Hell, anyone can see it."
Silence again from Ben.
"I don't know if you want her or not. But I'm telling you now, you're gonna lose her, and you're gonna lose your kid, and any shred of self-respect you might still have along with them. Your parents were useless, same as mine, so you know what it's like. Get your shit together."
The bedroom door opened, the noise from the party coming in clearer.
"Lizzy wants to hang with Lena, just bring her on over. She's welcome any time."
Ben didn't reply.
Noise from the party dropped in volume once again as the bedroom door closed. Then there came the boom. Once, twice, three times. I stared at the bathroom door in surprise, with just a small dash of fear. It'd been damn loud.
Might be time for me to go.
"Liz, can I come in?"
"It's not locked," I told the door.
Ever so slowly the handle turned. Then Ben stuck his head in as if he was expecting more projectiles, liquid or otherwise, to be lobbed his way.