by T Gephart
I was officially a dumbass.
And yet, I needed the break.
“Yeah, just for a bit. I mean if there is something important, then of course call, but I just need some space.” And to gain some of my sanity back. Shit had been skating close to crazy for more days than I cared to remember and after the last few hours, I was even more confused. It was for the best.
“Is this about me in the bathroom?” Joey’s lips edged into a smile. “Because I already told you I was sorry about that.”
“No, it’s nothing to do with that.”
Although seriously, who jerks off in a public bathroom? He could barely handle himself, how in the hell was he going to deal with our child? “But I really wish you would listen to me next time.” And possibly keep the self-pleasuring to the confines of your own house. Just the bedroom would be better, but maybe that would be asking too much.
“Fine, next time I try and be helpful, I’ll ask.” He threw his hands up in defeat, hopefully meaning what he said.
“That’s great, but I’m still going to need a few days.” At the very least, even that was a stretch. The hope of a few days to give me the clarity I needed seemed like a tough task. Still, I didn’t have a lot of options.
“Okay, so I can’t call you for few days. I can handle that.” He offered with little rebuttal, agreeing to give me my space. Not that he had much choice, it was either that or he was going to be spending some quality time with my voicemail.
“Thank you.”
“Hey, whatever. It’s cool.” He shrugged, unable to hide his confusion about why I needed the distance. “You want me to walk you in?”
“No, I’ve got it from here. Thanks for the ride.” My hand popped open the passenger side door as my ass slid off the seat. “Talk soon.” The off-handed goodbye automatically leaving my mouth before I’d had a chance to stop it.
“Yep.” He nodded watching me jump out of the truck, my feet hitting the sidewalk.
“Bye.” The wave I offered was lame, much like the reasoning I had offered for the radio silence. Yeah, I seriously needed to get my shit together.
“Bye.”
He waited until I’d pulled open the security door before starting his Ford and driving away, the noise of his truck heading up the road making my body sag in relief.
It was good to be alone.
It was what I needed.
My feet trudged inside through the now-opened doorway, my plans for the day including nothing more than yoga pants and possibly a couch. Hopefully no vomiting—but I wasn’t about to be too crazy, it was still early and lunch could still throw me a curve ball.
Lunch.
Just the thought made me want to throw up.
Well, at least I wasn’t thinking about Joey. Well I hadn’t been . . .
I fumbled with my keys, barely pulling them out of the lock in my door when I heard my cell buzzing from my purse. The ringer still silenced from earlier.
“Ugh.” I groaned both internally and verbally, wondering why I couldn’t at least get into my apartment and out of my pants before I had to deal with the world. My free hand pulled the vibrating culprit from the depths of my bag, the illuminating screen displaying the name of the caller.
Joey.
It had been five minutes tops.
He really sucked with directions.
“Yes?” I answered, my mind hadn’t decided if it was happy or agitated.
“Does the no calling thing start from now or from tomorrow?” I was almost positive I heard the smile in his voice.
“You called me to ask me when not to call me?” Surely he could see how ridiculous it sounded.
“Sure, how else was I going to know?” He answered like I was the one who was being stupid.
“To clarify, it’s from now.” My fingertips squeezed the bridge of my nose, having a conversation with Joey was like herding cats, and I didn’t have the brainpower or the energy right now. Although, if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t entirely pissed off.
“Cool. Just so I know.” I imagined him grinning, pleased with himself.
“Great, glad we got that sorted out.” I stepped into my living room and tossed the keys onto the side table by the door. My feet toed off my Cons as I worked toward my goal of getting into yoga pants and comfortable regardless of the interruption.
“Hey, Kenz.” Joey hesitated, his breath drawing in sharply as he waited for me to answer.
“Yeah?” My mouth responded before my brain could signal that it might not be the wisest choice.
“I’m glad it’s you.”
I waited for the rest of the sentence, maybe the part where it made sense, but it didn’t come.
The line hummed with silence.
Nope, he was leaving it at that.
“What do you mean?” It was obvious the only way I was going to get an elaboration was to ask for one.
“Like if I was going to accidentally get someone pregnant, I’m glad it was you.”
A lump formed in my throat.
God, I was the worst person in the world.
Unlike Joey, I had wished the paternity of my unborn child had fallen at someone else’s feet. Well, at least I had when I first found out. Someone more stable, more responsible and possibly someone who knew pizza wasn’t the most efficient way to cover all five food groups in one hit.
But those doubts hadn’t entered into his mind, and he really had been incredibly sweet. Even though deep down he was probably just as worried as I was. Maybe he was right about this. Maybe I should have been glad it was him.
“Anything else, Joey?” I couldn’t help but smile. No matter how much he pushed my buttons, I could never be mad at him for long. He was just too adorable, even if he could sometimes act like a dumbass.
“Nah, I’m good. Take care of yourself, and if you need anything you can call me. I promise I’ll answer.”
My head nodded silently even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll promise I’ll call if I need anything.”
And with that we said our second goodbye, my emotions all over the place as I hung up the phone.
Yoga pants.
My mind reminded me as I pushed away the urge to call him back and talk to him a little longer. My jeans shimmied down my hips as I undressed on my way to the bedroom, the denim falling to the floor as I shoved them down past my knees. So much better.
The yoga pants could wait, my plan derailed as soon as my butt sat on my mattress. Maybe I could crawl under the covers and just not deal with pants at all for a few hours. The internal battle lasted mere seconds as I crawled under my comforter and snuggled onto my side.
I was glad it was him.
The question I had tried to push aside got answered anyway. The smile crept on my lips as I imagined if he or she would have his amazing dark-brown eyes. Yeah, I’d like that, for our baby to look like him. His sense of humor too maybe, just toned down a little. And his laugh. Oh, and definitely his smile. But most of all, his kindness—he was way kinder than I could ever be.
Yeah, I was glad.
Glad it was him.
When I eventually made it back to my house, my only plans were to get reacquainted with my mattress. It’s not like there was any good reason for me to continue to be awake. And my brain was already pushed to the limit with information overload. So my head on my pillow was exactly the kind of reset I was going to need. Sleep, the main objective. Getting rid of the current headache an added bonus.
“Hey, how was it?” my roommate and best friend asked as soon as my boots hit the kitchen. Seemed early mornings didn’t serve up the same kind of misery for him, the dude looking pretty freaking refreshed sipping a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, let’s just say shit got jacked up to eleven.” My ass sunk on the barstool parked against the breakfast bar. “You got any more of that coffee? I’m going to either tap a vein with that shit or head to bed for the next five-to-six hours.”
More likely ten, and even then I didn’t think the
shuteye was going to be enough. Hell, I could sleep for a week and it wouldn’t make a difference.
“And why the hell are you up so early?” I asked as a cup of steaming hot Joe was placed on the counter in front of me like magic. Max was awesome like that. One day he was going to make someone an awesome wife.
“It’s eleven-thirty.” He shot me a look like the statement in itself should mean something significant. “Besides, Rus and Ange had some stuff they wanted to go over. I assumed you got the message?”
Firstly, just because those two had decided to ball-and-chain it, didn’t mean we needed to start acting like different people i.e. get up early to work. I didn’t bitch when we were recording—okay so maybe I bitched a little—but for the most part I played nice because my eye was on the prize. Now? There was no need for it. The album was done so there wasn’t any reason we couldn’t dial down the let’s-get-shit-done till at least three. It just seemed like cruel and unusual punishment to have a meeting any earlier. Surely there was a Geneva Convention against this shit, and if there wasn’t there damn well should be.
“Everyone knows I’m no good to anyone before noon, and even that’s a stretch. So why we are all of a sudden starting with fucking early mornings is beyond me.” I fished out my phone to see that I had in fact missed the all-important summons from Angie. The unread message spelling out we had business today.
“Do I need to remind you that you are already awake?” Max smirked from behind his coffee cup, the bastard giving me zero sympathy. “Or am I sitting here talking to myself?”
Wise-ass.
I needed new friends. And I was just about to tell him about my disappointment in my current circle when Rusty and Angie—both without their significant others—arrived before I’d had the chance. The door I’d forgotten to lock making their entrance happen without the need for a knock.
“Holy shit. It must be an apparition.” Rusty clutched at his chest as he mock stumbled into the living room. “It looks like Joey, but it’s before noon so I know it can’t be. Can someone go check his pulse and make sure he didn’t die in his sleep?”
“Very funny, Rus. I had shit to do this morning. Besides, I’ve already heard it from Max.” My chin tipped toward the direction of the big guy grabbing a few extra cups of java. Total wife material.
“Did you even go to bed? You’re dressed and everything. And—” Angie moved closer, her nose sniffing the air around me. “You showered. Wow. I think Rus might be right. We should definitely check his pulse.” Our feisty lead singer smiled.
“I went to bed.” I rolled my eyes, the heat I was catching not unusual. We liked to talk shit to each other; it was like terms of endearment. “So, what’s so important?”
“Okay, well it’s good you’re up.” Rus took the lead, Angie shooting him an appreciative nod. “Angie and I were fully prepared for having to hang around until you woke from your usual coma but this saves us a lot of time.”
“Sounds serious.” Max echoed my exact thoughts, the words shooting out of his mouth before they’d gotten a chance to leave mine.
“We convinced the label to do another launch.” Angie smiled, the we in the conversation obviously meaning her and Rus; the label, Metamorphous AKA Power Station also happened to include her husband. “One where we play.” The smile got a little wider. “Last weekend was sort of lame. When Jase and the guys first suggested the party it seemed like the right way to go, but I felt like a moron sitting around while they piped our stuff through speakers. That’s not us.”
It was good to know that it hadn’t been just me. Sure, it had been nice to get the attention. Have people scream your name and want a piece of you, but I’d rather be sitting behind a kit than standing on stage with my dick in my hand. Not that I’d had much time to enjoy the last launch, the whole loving the attention being shelved pretty quickly after Kenzie’s arrival. So I was definitely up for a redo.
“Sweet.” My head nodded, the excitement freaking real as I waited for the details. I’d been itching to play, and with what had been going down in my personal life, hitting the crap out of a drum or two sure sounded like a good idea. In truth, I could use the distraction.
“You just give me the time and place.” Max grinned, the bastard beside me also having a tough time with the hiatus. It had been months since we’d played live, and we were more than ready.
“Oh, you’re going to love this.” Rus grinned; the smug douchebag paused for effect before continuing. “I got us a gig at CJ’s.”
Fuck me.
Maybe I did die?
Or this was a way for the big guy upstairs to repay me for man-ing up when it came to Kenzie. Not that I’d expected a reward, but I sure as hell wasn’t turning it down. It almost seemed too good to be true.
CJ’s was a hybrid bar/club that went beyond being just an establishment. It was an institution. It had been the breeding ground for the punk rock movement and then had followed the progression into rock, with every band worth its salt vying for the chance to play there. There were urban legends of bands begging the owner to play. Blowjobs, money, trips to Bermuda—whatever it took. The Ramones had graced the stage too many times to count, where they likened the experience to spiritual.
While the building itself looking like a complete shithole, it wasn’t the dive bar it was disguised as. Those diehard twenty-one-year-olds from the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s had all grown up and we’re packing money clips bigger than my bank account. And while those kids were now drinking overpriced boutique beer and Dom Pérignon, they still had rock deep in their roots—those rich bastards knew how to have a good time.
“Holy shit.” Max once again stole my line, the shock making my words get stuck in my throat. “Dude, bands kill to play there. The crowd is intense.”
“Uh-huh.” Angie nodded, she couldn’t have wiped the smile off her face if she tried. “And any band who plays there usually either has a spike in album sales or is decimated, never to be heard from again.”
We’d played big arenas on the support docket with Power Station, but this was different. This was getting the nod all on our own. Kneeling down, kissing the ring and being accepted into the famiglia.
“It’s time to sink or swim, boys.” Max weighed in, the grin slipping from his face. “Not for the press, not for the suits—I’m talking old school. We play and get them on our side—”
“Platinum, baby.” My pulse started to hammer just at the thought.
Yeah, I was over simplifying it, but getting a nod from the crowd at CJ’s was one hell of an endorsement. Not to mention half of them were in the industry, which meant exposure to radio, interviews, and stadium tours—this time our own.
“Let’s not get too excited,” Angie played devil’s advocate. “Even if they love us, the album still has to sell. There are no guarantees.”
“Fuck guarantees.” My fist pumped in the air, unable to keep the excitement that had been bubbling, locked down. “This is exactly how we do this.”
“All right.” Rusty gave me a nod. Even though he was trying to play it cool, I could see he was just as excited as I was. “So, let’s meet later at Angie’s; we’ll go through the set. We’re not getting up there and playing half cocked. We get one shot at this, we’re going to make it count.”
“Considering we haven’t played for the public since the night before I had Zack, we’re going to need the practice to work out the kinks.” Angie was being practical but deep down we knew we could play those songs in our sleep.
“Yeah, that’s the gig I’d sooner forget.” Rusty’s recall slightly different from that of our front woman. While it had been the night before she brought her little dude into the world, it had also been the gig that Max’s brother had chosen to do his hey-you’re-my-kid to Alison.
“Let’s hope no one else shows up claiming to be someone’s dad.” Angie laughed, her joke earning me a sharp look from Max. Neither of us laughing.
“Uh-hum. Yep.” The sidestep wasn’t as smooth a
s I hoped; I really hadn’t counted on the topic coming up so soon. What were the chances? It’s not as if topic of kids and dads came up often.
“And what was that?” Rusty’s eyebrow rose in question, the dude not missing a beat. I hated that he was so smart. And observant. He needed to keep that Mentalist bullshit for the ladies, not direct it at me.
“What?” I scoffed, trying to think of something convincing to say. Yep, completely blank. “It was nothing.”
“Like hell, nothing.” Rusty not satisfied pushed a little further. “If Phil is back in town and we’re going to have problems then you need to disclose that shit now. No more surprises.”
Thankfully Max’s piece of shit brother wasn’t the problem. Like we’d all predicted, his need to have a Hallmark-moment with his kid had lasted about twenty seconds before he’d decided he didn’t want to wait around. Because giving his kid a few months to adjust to the shock of having a father was obviously unreasonable. No, the surprise was something totally different this time around.
“Phil is a ghost. He took off a few months ago, and last I heard of him he was in California. Besides, you know there is no way I’d let him ever come to one of our gigs. If I could cut all ties with him I would.” Max cleared his throat, the love for his dumbass sibling dwindling to non-existent.
“Then who else is missing a dad, because last time I checked, all our family trees were decked out.” Rus looked around the room, demanding answers.
“I guess that would be me.” The words not coming out exactly how I’d meant them. I wasn’t great with improv, so it was the best I could manage without preparation.
“Dude, seriously.” Rus shot me a raised eyebrow, the added head shake thrown in for good measure. “You look exactly like your dad. Don’t even try and tell me you’re adopted.”
“No, not my dad,” I clarified. “As in, I’m going to be one.”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Angie’s hands shoved me in the chest, her mouth dropping open to match the wide-eyed expression she had going on. Yeah, not what she was expecting I’m sure.