by Nicole Casey
“I can watch them today,” she assured me. “Don’t worry.”
I looked at her gratefully and then at the time on the microwave. My sister-in-law was right. If I wasted one more minute fighting with them, I was going to lose my audition and I couldn’t afford it.
“Are you sure?” I asked her but there was no real concern in my voice. I knew my brother’s wife was a saint, one who loved my unruly children for some reason I could not entirely fathom.
I mean, I adored them, despite the daily reminder of the man I’d lost, their resemblance uncanny to their father. But they were mine, and I loved them.
Sara’s patience with the three-year-old twins was beyond anything I’d ever seen. She was wasting her talents as a housewife, no matter how much money my brother made in real estate. She would be the most sought-after daycare worker in the world if she ventured into childcare.
“No, wait, mama!” Cheyenne shrieked as I grabbed my purse from the counter. “I ain’t gonna be long! I come with you!”
I smiled affectionately down at the blonde imp who was my bossy, impossible daughter. Her face was contorted in worry.
“Not today, baby. Mama’s got an important interview today. This could change a lot for us if it goes well.”
She stared at me with green eyes exactly like Jude’s, as if she didn’t believe a word that was coming out of my mouth.
“Like what?” she demanded.
“Like we can get our own house,” I offered, casting Sara a wry smile.
“Why? We live with Auntie Sara and Uncle Marc,” Wyatt piped in, poking his head out from beneath the kitchen table where he was playing with his action figures.
“And we love having you here!” Sara added, looking at me meaningfully. I smiled wryly at them ganging up on me but I knew what needed to be done.
It had been a rocky four years, the moving the trailer from Elizabeth to Lafayette so I could give birth near the only family I had; a brother who was furious with me for being an unwed mother.
“It’s a new millennium, Marc,” I’d told him. “Having a husband isn’t a prerequisite for having babies.”
“Babies! Twins! How the hell are you going to sustain yourself?”
“She can stay with us when the twins are born,” Sara interjected in her calm way. “It will be nice to have little ones running around.”
There had been a wistfulness in her tone and it only fueled my guilt, knowing that Sara was unable to have children of her own.
“Just until I get on my feet again,” I promised.
“Who is this bastard who knocked you up?” my brother insisted but I never told him. Jude existed a lifetime ago. He was Judas Crowe now, the lead singer in a hot, multi-platinum band. The country boy I’d known, the man I’d shared those forbidden passions with was not the same person.
But then again, I wasn’t the same girl either, was I?
According to Elsa, he had not returned to Oakdale once since signing to the label. I’d long since gotten rid of my old phone so I had no way of knowing if he’d ever reached out to me but I didn’t care.
He was a distant memory, not the father of my kids. He’d made his choice and I’d made mine.
I’d stayed in the trailer until I was in my eighth month, my pregnancy going surprisingly well and the twins were born full term at thirty-eight weeks although everyone else believed them early because of the lie I’d told.
If Jude ever did come back and my name was brought up, he’d have no reason to suspect that Chey and Wyatt were his.
Not that he would ask about me. Why should he? He had everything he wanted now. A washed-out singer with babies didn’t fit into his life.
“Hurry up, sweetie!” Sara urged. “You’re gonna be late!”
I snapped out of my reverie and grinned at them, trying to shove away the shadow of melancholy seizing my heart.
Sara was right; I needed this. We needed this. I couldn’t live with my brother forever and motherhood had changed me.
It didn’t matter what I wanted anymore. I had been granted a second chance now, one which I knew not everyone could claim. I would not screw it up this time.
“Mama, please!” Cheyenne called. “Can I come with you?”
Shame swelled in my heart as I opened my arms to allow her and her brother into my embrace.
If this audition panned out, it would open a lot of doors for me, ones which I’d known before, ones which would monopolize my time and take me away from these tiny keepers of my heart.
“Not this time, Chey-Chey,” I told her softly, stroking her blonde tresses. “But can you wish mama luck?”
“Good luck!” the twins chorused, pulling back to stare at me with identical green eyes.
“I love you both. Be good for your auntie.”
“Okay mama,” they agreed and I smiled.
“Thanks, Sara. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“Take your time,” she said, ushering me gently out the door to walk me to the Range Rover parked in the triple driveway. “You’ve earned a day away from the kids.”
I paused to look at her, a slight frown touching my lips.
“If this happens,” I told her in a low voice. “It will mean a lot of changes for all of us.”
“I know. But if this what you feel you need to do, Gen, you should do it.”
I chewed on my lower lip and nodded, unlocking my brother’s car with the fob. I had a bit of a drive ahead of me, over two hours to ponder the choice I was about to make.
“Drive safe, ya hear?”
“I hear,” I laughed, hopping into the car. “And drop the twins off at Emma’s if you have things to do. She doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t mind either,” Sara reminded me, waving as I backed out of the driveway. “Y’all make sure you text when you get to Nola!”
“I will,” I promised.
I guided the vehicle toward the interstate, turning on the Sirius radio and settling on an alternative rock station as I drove.
I flipped my head back slightly, catching a flash of my face in the rear-view and I grimaced slightly.
My make-up was perfect, the cat-like curve of my eyeliner accenting my dark eyes exotically beneath a layer of pink eyeshadow. The shade matched my lipstick perfectly and seemed almost offensive against the gleaming dark of my new bob that ended just at my mouth.
I hated my new look. It was not me in the least but that was the point.
The email had been specific – as if spelling it out for an idiot. The colors, the wardrobe, the way I was to wear my hair – all in bullet points.
It had taken me two years to get this interview and I had no intention of messing it up, even though it went against everything in me.
Almost five years ago, I ran screaming from all this. And now I was back. After all, I was a mother now, one who had a way to provide for her children so that they would never want for anything again. What was standing in my way?
I’d been living off my brother for years. I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. I had no job experience, not when I’d hightailed it to Nashville on my twentieth birthday to follow my calling.
I was an uneducated single mom with one talent, a talent I had stupidly walked away from.
“…new single from No Excuse. Here’s ‘Leaving to Stay’,” the announcer intoned and the twang of an electric guitar filled the car.
A familiar, almost forgotten rash of gooseflesh exploded over my arms as the sound of Jude’s voice met my ears.
“I made a mistake,” he sang. “It’s been all I can take but you’re gone again…”
Son of a bitch!
My knuckles tightened.
“You begged me to go, but now I know that you wanted me near…”
“You bastard!” I yelled, thumping my fist against the steering wheel. It was one of our songs, one we had performed together, w
ritten together in between bouts of hot sex and cold pizza. I was livid but I couldn’t deny that he sang it so well, the hardening of the chords making me feel deeper than I had when we’d sang it.
It wasn’t the first time he’d used our songs but usually they had been so massacred, so bastardized, it wasn’t the same tune by the time it had been mastered and aired for public consumption.
Not this one. I knew this one. I loved this song. I had poured so much of myself into it and now my part was gone, replaced by a drum solo and spun into a ballad about a bitch who had walked out on him.
Furiously, I poked off the stereo and pressed my foot to the gas as if I could leave the memory of what I’d heard in the distance but of course it was stuck in my head now, a combination of how it had been and what it had been turned into melding together in my mind.
Why does the past keep sneaking up on me when I least expect it?
Isn’t it enough that I see him in my kids every single day?
I ground my teeth so hard, I heard a crunch.
But I won’t let him resurface now. I was moving forward and doing fine. Jude LaCroix doesn’t exist anymore.
Just like Geneva Rousseau was about to disappear. If I played my cards right.
Chapter 12
Jude
“Here, baby. That one’s for you.”
The redheaded girl sat back, rubbing her nose as she snorted back the line, handing me the hundred-dollar bill with her other hand.
I accepted it and leaned forward to take my turn, catching a look at my reflection in the tray where the white powder lay.
I was looking rough and even in the wavering lines of the sterling silver image, I could see the red of my eyes and gauntness in my cheeks.
Hal was going to flip if he saw me like that but I intended to have myself cleaned up before he returned from Japan.
If the rest of the band kept their mouths shut, I’d be fine.
I followed the redhead’s lead, inhaling the coke through the bill and flopped back on the oxblood sofa as the sensation of invincibility swept over me.
“I’m gonna order room service,” the girl announced, reaching over to grab the menu from an end table but I stopped her.
“No,” I told her. “I’ve got a better idea.”
She turned to me, her blue eyes huge as she grinned.
“Oh yeah?” she purred. “Like what?”
“Well,” I replied suggestively, lowering her head gently into my lap. “If you open my pants, you might get inspired.”
She giggled and fumbled to unzip the faded jeans from around my taut stomach, pausing to trace her fingers over the tiger tattoo, baring its teeth in a ferocious growl.
It had been one of my first and I remembered how strong I’d felt sitting on that chair all those years ago, pretending not to flinch as the needles struck the tender flesh of my abdomen.
“You are so sexy,” she sighed, pressing her lips against the image of the tiger. “How are you single?”
Unexpectedly, the question made me defensive and I sat up, pushing her off.
“What?” she asked, her face twisting in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m tired,” I snapped irritably. “Time for you to go.”
She pouted and righted herself, reaching for the bill to do another line before rising to her feet.
I gazed at her as she collected her purse, watching as she stuffed random belongings into the pouch, a scowl on her face.
“Trevor said you were fun,” she muttered and I bristled. “Tell him I said he was wrong.”
“Just get out,” I snarled and she sashayed around the room deliberately, casting me a baleful look before storming from the suite.
I didn’t even know her name but that wasn’t uncommon – there were so many groupies coming and going. This one had been hanging around the band ever since we landed in Toronto. Apparently, our drummer had found her and she hadn’t left since our first show.
Suddenly I realized what annoyed me about her.
She reminded me of Kristy.
My buzz was effectively ruined and I rose from the couch, pulling open the double French doors to the balcony overlooking the city, rolling my shoulders and trying to unhinge my locked jaw.
I was just feeling sketchy, not invincible. Now I was consumed with a bitter taste in my mouth which had nothing to do with the drugs I had just ingested.
Thinking about Kristy always left a sour taste in my mouth though, that was no surprise. No matter how much time had passed or how many miles were between us, I was filled with an insurmountable anger which wouldn’t quit.
Really, I had absolutely nothing to complain about. My life was what I had always wanted, at least on paper.
I was a millionaire, many times over with a fanbase and security. Women threw themselves at me in every country of the world and my songs were being heard all over the planet.
People screamed my name. Well, they screamed my stage name, Judas Crowe but it was still me whom they loved.
I had it all.
So why did the emptiness seem to smack me in the face like a sucker punch at the most bizarre times?
Like when I’m about to get a blowjob?
Kristy had damaged me more than I ever imagined she could.
I had never been able to tell Geneva the truth about why I’d taken the contract so quickly and without consulting her. The opportunity to provide for my baby had knocked and I had seized it, knowing that I would never again get a chance like that. What choice had I had?
How the fuck was I supposed to know that Kristy was a lying bitch and that she’d never been pregnant?
But by the time I’d learned the truth, Geneva was gone and no one would tell me where she was. I could have killed everyone at that point but my career swept me away from the recording studio to the world tour and by the time the smoke cleared, two years had passed.
I knew that Elsa had to know where Gen had gone but Jake wasn’t taking my calls anymore and the idea of going back to Oakdale to confront everyone face-to-face was more than I could stomach.
I was worried what would happen if I saw Kristy, what I would do or say to her.
So I stayed away. And moved on with my life as if Jude LaCroix never really existed, even though I thought of Gen all the time, especially when we were recording.
I wondered if she heard our songs on the radio and thought of me. I don’t know if I hoped she did or that she didn’t.
Wherever she was, I hoped she was happy. I knew I owed my success to her. If it weren’t for her pushing me, I would never have been signed.
Someone was pounding on the door to the suite and I turned back toward the room, debating whether to answer the door.
It was probably the groupie again, looking for another line.
I decided not to answer it but I began to clean up evidence of our all-night party, lest it was housekeeping.
“Jude?”
Ah shit. It was Hal.
I stood stalk still, hoping he would go away but the knocking persisted.
“Jude, I just saw the twinkie leave. I know you’re in there!” my agent called in a singsong voice.
Double shit.
I sauntered toward the door, propping it open a crack.
“Hey,” I said unenthusiastically. “You’re back.”
“I am and you look like hell,” he greeted me, pushing his way inside the suite. His grey eyes instantly fell on the coffee table and his mouth twisted into a sardonic smirk.
“Again?” he growled, striding toward the silver tray. In one move, he scooped it up and disappeared. I could hear the water running in the kitchen as the rest of the eight ball was swept down the drain.
I didn’t care – not really. I could buy more any time the mood struck which seemed to be with more and more frequency lately.
“You’re on a slippery slope,” Hal told me grimly. “You think this is all fun and games but the next thing you know, you’re lying in rehab – ”
>
“Okay! Okay!” I snapped. “Did you come here to lecture me or just say hi?”
“Neither,” he retorted. “I came to get you idiots dressed. You and Trevor in particular.”
“Dressed for what? We had the day before we leave,” I groaned but I didn’t know why I was arguing. The schedule was made to be upset, especially when there was downtime.
“There’s a party tonight. Drake is hosting and you jackasses ended up on the guest list when he heard you were in town.”
“Why don’t we just move the party here?” I leered, motioning around the three-storey suite. “I think we have enough room.”
“Just get your asses in gear. When music royalty snaps, you jump. The limo will be downstairs at 8.”
I blinked and glanced at my Rolex.
It was five thirty.
“You came here three hours early to tell me to get ready?” I laughed. “I’m not a chick.”
“You’re worse than a fucking chick,” Hal snarled. “Go have a sauna and a shower. Get that shit out of your system and don’t touch any more if you have it kicking around in here. I’m serious, Jude. Between you and that goddamned drummer, I’m at my wits’ end with you.”
“I’m not as bad as Trevor,” I muttered, casting my eyes downward.
Hal scoffed.
“Once upon a time, Trevor said that about another bandmate. Guess where Louis is now?”
I didn’t have to guess.
“When we’re finished the tour at the end of the month, Trev is going to Aton in San Diego to dry out,” Hal warned me. “Don’t make me make a double reservation.”
I didn’t reply as Hal turned to leave.
“I know you think you’re infallible,” he added, staring at me with cold eyes. “But even the public had its limits, Jude. Manwhoring and coking are frowned upon now. This isn’t the nineties.”
He was gone before I could even come up with a snappy reply but he had given me some food for thought.
Besides the money and fame, had I really changed all that much since Oakland? I liked to think I had but staring around the shambles of my hotel suite, I wondered if that was true.
I reached for a half-drunk beer on the coffee table and took a sip, grimacing as the warm liquid touched my lips.