The Reckoning

by S. L. Scott

  “You know what’s funny, Holli?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t know if he even cares about awards or gold records. He gets to do what he loves. He lives his dream every day, but what I do know is at the end of the day, this baby boy will be his greatest achievement.”

  Feeling the love, I smile at him. “Thanks, Tommy. That means a lot to me.”

  A guy turns around and asks, “Johnny Outlaw’s having a boy?” Then he snaps my picture.

  Tommy shoves him away from me, and then grabs my arm, tucking me behind him. “Go Holli.”

  Coming back and madder than ever, the guy keeps snapping photos as I duck to get out of there. He shouts loudly, above the crowd, above Dalton singing, “Or is it Sebastian Lassiter’s ki—”

  Tommy punches him. I gasp, but hurry toward the door for safety. When I look back, he’s gone down from the hit. The crowd encircles him as the bouncers rush past me. Tommy’s right behind me, his hands on my back guiding me. Holding my arms around my stomach, I say, “I think that was one of the paps from the other day.”

  The music comes to an abrupt halt. Before I walk out the front door, I look back over my shoulder and see Dalton hopping off the stage. Shit. As soon as we’re free from the crowd, I tell Tommy, “Stop him. He’ll kill them.”

  When we get outside, he directs me behind two bouncers. “Stay here. Right here, Holli. Don’t leave this guy’s side.” He taps the doorman, shoves a fifty in his hands, and says, “Don’t take your eyes off her and don’t let anyone near her.”

  “Sure, pal.”

  I push Tommy toward the door. “I’ll be fine. Go!”

  Holding my belly, I peek up at the very large doorman. “Hi.”

  He nods slowly, and replies, “Hi. So you’re with Johnny Outlaw?”

  Nodding, I answer silently.

  “Cool.”

  And it is. It’s pretty damn cool, though times like these I worry about Dalton’s temper and the trouble it can get him into. Peeking inside the open door, I see Tommy pushing Dalton backwards by the chest. Dalton is shouting at the paparazzo, “I will beat the fuck out of you if you ever come near my wife again.”

  Tommy is yelling at him, the crowd is moving out of the way as he passes. Their phones are in the air. I’m sure capturing it all. The doorman says, “Guess the show is over.”

  “Looks that way.” Standing there a few more minutes, I start to feel awkward, so I shift around to his other side. That’s when I see him. Dalton is standing on the corner looking around. When he sees me, he jogs over. No words. Just kisses. With his arms enveloping me, he asks, “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I touch his cheek, relieved to see he isn’t hurt. “How are you?”

  He laughs humorlessly. “I don’t even know. I just know I’m glad you’re okay. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  I tap the doorman. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. You guys have a safe night.”

  I can tell he’s a little awestruck seeing Dalton. I understand the feeling. I still get awestruck by him too, but for different reasons entirely.

  Stopping Dalton before we leave, I say, “This guy was nice to me. Maybe you want to take a photo or something.”

  He nods, turning to the guy. “Hey, thanks for helping her out.”

  He gets his wallet out, but the guy stops him and says, “The other guy already took care of me.”

  Dalton seems impressed. “You want an autograph or photo or anything?”

  “A photo would be cool.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it out in front of them. After he takes the pic, he shakes Dalton’s hand, and says, “Thanks.”

  “Thank you.”

  The bar manager comes out with Tommy and they both escort us to the car. Tommy’s in the driver’s seat, the equipment already loaded in the trunk. When he pulls away, he says, “Always an adventure.”

  “That’s for sure,” I add.

  Dalton laughs, nothing seeming to bother him. With his arm over my shoulder as we sit in the backseat together, he looks out the window. “It’s good to be back.”

  Tommy thought it best to cut the impromptu tour short for several safety reasons. Dalton agreed, saying it was getting out of hand. That means we’re heading back to LA and going home. I’m ready to be home. I miss our house. I miss my friends. I miss working in my office and seeing Tracy almost every day. I want to finish the baby’s room and have a mountain of things to do before the baby arrives including my next doctor’s appointment.

  Once we’re back in LA, everything looks good and the baby sounds healthy. We are blessed in so many ways that I hate thinking about the bad, but we’ve had a major obstacle trying to block our happiness and I have every intention of ridding the negative from our lives once and for all.

  Four days later, we walk hand in hand into the lawyer’s office. “Keep your eyes down,” Dalton says, gripping my hand tighter. “Don’t give them anything.”

  I exhale, remembering this is part of our lives and probably always will be, especially since we fired back at Ashley, using the media the same way she has. The lawsuit has blown up, all the outlets carrying every crumb of information they can get their hands on. They’re salivating from the salacious story.

  Ashley and her lawyer are due in the office today to hear the results of the paternity test we got court ordered. I’m still shocked she went through with it considering they didn’t have sex. That she took the test, knowing it would be false, troubles me. I’m not sure what kind of crazy I’m dealing with anymore.

  We’re seated in the conference room, her lawyer is already there. Our lawyers sit across from him and we sit further down. We’re there to listen, not participate. Surprisingly, Ashley does not show. Our lawyer, Ron Jacoby, says, “We received the envelope. We have, per our agreement, not read the results.”

  “There’s no need,” her lawyer says. “Ms. Dellacord has withdrawn her suit.”

  I huff in annoyance and roll my eyes. Everyone looks my way. “Oops,” I whisper, “Sorry.”

  Dalton whispers, “It’s good she’s withdrawn.”

  Ron asks, “Did she give a reason?”

  “She feels,” he says, stacking the papers in front of him, “that the heavy involvement of public opinion has tainted her pregnancy and caused concerns. She does not want to further jeopardize the health of her baby.”

  “Bullshit,” Dalton spews. “She sold the story for thirty grand and now she’s about to be busted in her lie.”

  Ron puts his hand out, telling us to hold on. My fingers entwine with Dalton’s, hoping to calm us both. We’ve been on edge all morning. Ron adds, “We’ll be opening the results whether she’s withdrawn the suit or not.” He pulls the envelope from a file and starts to rip it open. The other lawyer looks uncomfortable as he watches, shifting in his chair. I think my heart stops altogether waiting for these results.

  Ron announces, “No test was taken, so there are no results.”

  Dalton and I collectively release a breath. “She lied for money and the fifteen minutes of fame she thinks she’s owed,” Dalton says. He looks at Ron and says, “We’re moving forward with our suit.”

  Ron turns to Ashley’s lawyer and says, “On behalf of Mr. and Mrs. Dalton, we will be suing Ms. Dellacord for full legal fees of her withdrawn suit as well as $3.2 million for damages and distress. In addition, they are requesting a public admittance that she lied to not only extort money from my clients, but to deliberately damage the reputation of Mr. Dalton and the band, The Resistance. ”

  The other lawyer tries to hide his shock, but the dismay is read loud and clear across his crinkled forehead. “As a representative of Ms. Dellacord, she has granted me the right to settle for a reasonable fee for this not to play out any longer. She’s requested 1.2 million to end this today.”

  “Us pay her?” Dalton scoffs. “She can fuck herself.”

  Ron asks us to remain quiet as he handles the rest. “We will not be paying her anything and as I just
mentioned, we will be moving forward with our suit against her. She brought the media into this, but we will use them to end it. Just in case I wasn’t clear about what my clients feel is fair to settle, if she does not comply with the terms I’ve spoken of, we’ll turn this case over to the FBI to further investigate the possibility of Ms. Dellacord using tactics of extortion.” He stands. “Good day.”

  We follow Ron out of the room, leaving the other lawyer gobsmacked. Back in Ron’s office, he calls in his assistant and asks, “Stacy, is there a way to verify Ms. Dellacord is actually pregnant?”

  “We can pull records though not her medical file without a court order.”

  “Can we get one?” he asks.

  “I’ll start working on that now.”

  When Stacy leaves the room, I say, “We don’t even know if she’s pregnant?”

  Ron shakes his head. “Unfortunately not. We’ve had a PI on her tail, but she’s not been seen in public at all since the lawsuit broke.”

  “That’s what it is,” I say, everything so crystal clear. “She’s not pregnant. That’s why she didn’t take the test.”

  Dalton stands at the window looking out. His arms are crossed and his shoulders tense. “She’s disturbed, but she started this war. I almost lost everything because of her. I have to see this through or this could happen again with the next psychopath.”

  Ron says, “It’s setting a precedence not to fuck with you in the future. I think it’s wise to follow through with the suit even if she’s not pregnant.”

  Five days later, we get a call from Ron. We’re sitting at our kitchen table with a stack of baby clothes to fold in front of us, when he confirms my suspicion. “She’s not pregnant. She’s claiming she lost the baby, but she has not sought any medical attention in the last year related to a pregnancy. It was a con.”

  Relief washes over me, though when I decided to trust Dalton, I had decided then it wasn’t his baby she was carrying. Now to find out she wasn’t carrying a baby at all mystifies me to how she thought she would get away with this. I rub over my stomach, finding it easier to breathe knowing there won’t be a question in the public’s eye now. Dalton remains silent, ingesting the news. I suggest, “What if we lower the money to one million and demand the apology within ten days?”

  Ron replies, “That sounds reasonable. Generous actually, but you know you can win more.”

  “I don’t want to destroy anyone, but she does need to pay where it hurts and since she’s a gold digger, her wallet is where it hurts. Her pride second. I want the public apology.”

  With one raised eyebrow, and a shit-eating grin on his face, he says, “No one messes with my family.”

  On the advice of her lawyer, three days later, a formal apology is published and shared all over the gossip shows, the tabloids, and radio. Payments started to the children’s hospital where we decided any money from this would be donated.

  We’re finally vindicated, but more so, we’re happy that no one will question Dalton’s fidelity anymore. As for my pregnancy, Sebastian constantly denies having relations with me in interviews, but the media likes the juicy tales, so we have to just move on from it. We know the truth and once this baby is born, everyone else will too.

  “Life continues and if we’re fortunate enough, so do we.” ~ Johnny Outlaw

  On May 15th, James Dean Hughes Dalton is born, weighing in at seven pounds, seven ounces. He has blue eyes and a little tuft of blond hair right on top. He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. “He looks just like you,” I tell Dalton.

  Dalton is speechless as he holds our baby. “How can the world shift on its axis in the blink of an eye?”

  I know exactly what he means. That happened the first time I ever laid eyes on my future husband. “It happens,” I reply with a tired smile. “It happened with us.”

  “Yes, it did.” He kisses the baby on the head and says, “We’re parents, Holliday.”

  “We are.” My eyelids dip closed. “I’m gonna rest. Will you lie here with me?”

  He nods, kicking off his shoes and gently climbing into bed with me. The baby is tucked safely in his arms and I rest my head on his shoulder.

  Watching this little guy in his arms gives me peace like I’ve never felt before. My body is exhausted, but my heart beats strong, security encompassing us. The baby yawns and I watch in awe. “We made him,” I whisper.

  “We did good,” he chuckles lightly, not disturbing the baby. “You did very good. Are you okay?”

  “Better than ever.” I turn and kiss his cheek and then kiss my baby’s nose before closing my eyes and falling asleep.

  When I wake up two hours later, Dalton is asleep. The baby is not, and I smile, touching his cheek.

  Our first visitors come into the room after a soft knock on the door. Rochelle walks in with CJ and Neil. They stay for awhile until the boys start going stir crazy after being told not to be loud around the baby. They bring us gifts—homemade pictures the boys drew and Rochelle made us a baby blanket. She hands us an extra gift. “It’s from Dex. He’s dealing with some family stuff and couldn’t come today, but said he’ll stop by the house soon.”

  “That was very nice of him to send this,” I say, taking the box. When I open it, I start laughing. “Guess what it is, Dalton.”

  He looks up from the chair by the window, baby in his arms, and says, “He’s not gonna be a fuc—” he stops, and clears his throat, correcting himself. “Drummer if that’s what he sent over.”

  Rochelle and I giggle as the boys stare at James, touching his tiny toes. I say, “He did send over drumsticks, but look.” I hold up a tiny leather jacket. “It’s a must-have for a future rock star.”

  I see Dalton’s smile, but he forces it down. “Maybe my son will be a doctor.”

  Rochelle and I stare at him, surprised by this announcement. Then Dalton says, “Just kidding. He’s gonna be the greatest guitarist that ever lived. He’ll be a legend in my lifetime.”

  Snickering, I add, “I have no doubt.”

  Rochelle says, “Dex gave Neil and CJ their first set of drumsticks. He’s given them a few lessons too.”

  “Really?” I ask, amazed.

  She nods and admires the jacket. “This is the cutest thing ever.”

  The visitors continue with Tommy and my mom. Dalton’s parents arrive late, but in good spirits and with tears in their eyes. Tracy and Adam come the next day, wanting to give us a break from all the early visitors and sneak some food in for us.

  After we’ve eaten, Tracy continues to hold the baby, rocking him in her arms. “The media is swarming the place. Everyone wants to meet the offspring of the beautiful Holliday Hughes, successful entrepreneur, and the infamous Johnny Outlaw,” Tracy says with a laugh. “I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s so cute, Hols.”

  “He takes after his dad.”

  Dalton smiles. “Again, for all of our sakes, let’s hope he takes after his mother.”

  Rubbing his back, I say, “Awww, Babe, you’re a great man. You’ll be an even better father.”

  Leaning back, he kisses me, but then turns serious. “Be honest. How bad is it outside?”

  Adam says, “Bad. No lie. There are at least fifty or more photographers. The hospital has roped the area off and hired security.”

  Tracy hands the baby back to me and asks, “Are you going to do a formal introduction and let them get the pic or maybe a magazine spread? We’ve gotten a ton of calls at Limelight.”

  Dalton speaks before I do, “I won’t sell my son to them. No way.” He looks at me. “What do you think?”

  “I agree.”

  Tracy says, “Rory called me. He’s worried what the first photo will go for if you don’t do a spread.”

  “I’m worried,” I add, admiring my son. “I’m worried about safety too. Will this ever end? If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I just want to go home and cuddle with my family.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out of here and get you both
home safely,” Dalton says, and kisses James’ head.

  Avoiding the paps outside the hospital has become a game that makes us laugh while we plot. But when it comes time to actually leave, the fun is sucked out of the room. Situations such as these can be dangerous, even more so with a baby on board. This is LA though, so we use the secret exit in the garage. We trust Tommy in his Expedition to get us out. Dalton has his arm over the baby’s car seat that he spent twenty minutes securing. After he helps me into the backseat, he pulls my seatbelt over and buckles me in as well. “This is a whole new side to you, Mr. Safety,” I tease.

  “Not taking any chances.”

  I kiss him on the cheek. “You’re so sweet.”

  He angles toward me and kisses me on the lips. I missed these kisses that felt like they could turn into more. Tommy threatens, “No making out in the car. I’ll pull it right over if you start that up.”

  Dalton jokes by grabbing me quickly and kissing me harder, making a scene in the backseat.

  “Stop it, Outlaw, or I’ll dump your asses off at the closest hotel.”

  “Don’t swear,” Dalton and I say in unison, then burst out laughing.

  I add, “The baby can hear.” In the rearview mirror, I see Tommy roll his eyes.

  Dalton is smiling and I laugh again. It feels good to be silly together.

  Later that afternoon, after my shower, I walk to the kitchen, but stop in my tracks in the living room when I find Dalton asleep on the couch with James cradled in his arms. James wiggles as he wakes. Dalton didn’t get much rest at the hospital, so I’m glad to see him getting some now. But to see him with James, so protective and caring… makes me want to make another baby with him right now.

  James closes his eyes again and falls asleep. I run for the camera wanting to capture every moment of this kids’ life.

  Between our parents visiting and friends coming over to meet our son, a month goes by before we are alone, just the three of us. I cherish every second of it.