Hung

by Holly Hart

  I'd always found something truly cathartic about boxing, which is probably related to the fact that it was the only sport that ever truly exhausted me. As usual, beating the bag within an inch of its life left me clinging for my own, hunched over and wheezing into the floor.

  The room smelt acrid, it stank of the sweat that was falling off me and leaving puddles everywhere. I sank onto my haunches, panting.

  "Clay?"

  I spun around on exhausted legs. "Alicia! I didn't know you were home…"

  "What are you doing?"

  I looked at myself in one of the mirrors that lined the walls. I was a mess – how could I possibly explain this to her? My face was strained red, half from anger, the other half sheer exhaustion. I was still in the clothes I'd put on this morning, but the white T-shirt was soaked in sweat, and I looked like a wounded, hunted animal.

  "You okay?" she asked again, her voice full of worry.

  "I'm fine," I growled, turning away from her so that she couldn't see my face. I felt ashamed – ashamed of what she must think of me, and ashamed for failing her. I didn't look away fast enough to avoid seeing the look of hurt cross her face at my curt reply, and that hurt me even more.

  "You're not fine, Clay. I've seen you fine, and this isn't that." She crossed the distance between us and put her hands on my shoulders. "Tell me what's going on, Clay. Don't you dare hold it inside."

  I couldn't if I had wanted to. It burst out of me like a gathering storm – all my failure, all my inadequacy, all of my worries.

  "I've fucked up, Liss. I've failed you, Mike, hell – everyone who's ever relied on me."

  "What are you talking about?" she asked, a curious smile lurking on her lips. "You've been nothing but exceptional these past few weeks. You've beat every expectation I have had of what this could be."

  "I've ruined your chance of ever having a music career," I burst out. "You'll never forgive me."

  "What are you talking about, Clay?" Alicia smiled. "You've given me more of a shot at a career in this business then I'd ever have had without you…"

  "And I've also taken it away," I replied morosely. "I should never have blown up in the Atlantic meeting like that. Mike warned me not to, and I ignored him."

  Alicia put her hand on my chin, raising it up and moving my gaze up off the floor where I'd anchored it in my depression.

  "You know," she said softly, "you doing what you did in that meeting was what convinced me to give this a shot."

  I looked up in surprise. "You're not mad?"

  "Mad?" She laughed gently, stroking my cheek. "How could I be mad? You've given me everything I ever imagined."

  I hugged her tightly, so relieved to hear that she wasn't about to leave me, the thing I'd feared most, that I didn't parse the deeper meaning of what she'd just said.

  "Clay," she said in a warning, queasy voice. "You stink!"

  I looked up and saw that she had her jaw clenched shut. "Alicia, are you okay?" I asked, worriedly. She looked drawn and ill – pale even, nothing like the gorgeous chocolate beauty I normally saw prowling the halls of the mansion.

  "I need to sit down," she said sharply, "quickly." I didn't need asking twice. I picked her up as though she weighed less than a feather, even as exhausted as I was, and carried her to a chair on the edge of the room.

  I hovered over her worriedly. "Can I get you some water? Should I call a doctor?"

  "It'll pass," she said in a strange, strained voice as though she was biting down waves of nausea. Two whole minutes did pass as she fought off the affliction, and I was just about to dial the emergency number when she finally lifted her head out of her hands.

  "Are you okay?" I asked desperately. "Do I need to get you to a hospital?"

  "No, Clay" she smiled, "I'm fine – more than fine, in fact."

  I still didn't get it. "You don't look fine. I think you should go get checked out—"

  "Clay, it's morning sickness…" She smiled radiantly.

  That shut me up.

  "It's—"

  "Yup, morning sickness!"

  "But it's half past three," I exclaimed, my brain still processing what she'd just told me. Was I actually going to be a father? "How irrational."

  "You can get it all day," Alicia babbled excitedly. "It's not just morning sickness. I'm sure I'll be, well, sick of it soon enough – but right now, it feels incredible! Well," she amended, "not incredible. But, Clay, I'm pregnant!"

  I'd never heard anything as incredible as those final four words. I immediately reached over and gripped Alicia in a huge bear hug.

  "Clay!" she yelped.

  I let go in a heartbeat, terrified that I might have done damage to the kid – my kid. No, our kid. "My God, I'm sorry – are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" A horrible thought tore through me and a shiver ran up my spine. "Is the baby okay?"

  "Clay, chill – the baby's fine. Hell, it's only a bundle of cells at the moment, probably no bigger than a hair. I just couldn't breathe, that's all."

  I kissed her, relieved and happy and excited all at once.

  "How do you know? About the pregnancy, I mean – have you checked?"

  She nodded. "I had my head deep in a basket of roses at the florist and I'd never smelled anything more disgusting in my life! I felt queasy as hell and had to sit down. The old woman who ran the place gave me one look and told me I was pregnant!"

  "We need to get a test; we need to check, make sure," I said in a hurry.

  "Slow down, Clay – I didn't just believe some old lady like she was some kind of old-school witch doctor." Alicia giggled. "I did go get a test, you know…"

  "Just one?"

  I shot him an amused look. The truth was, I’d practically swept the entire shelf into my cart. "Well..." I joked, "to be honest, I did the first two at the same time. I couldn’t bear the thought of a false positive. "

  He wrinkled his nose. "Wasn’t that…messy?"

  I laughed and hit him on the arm. "Get a grip, Clay – if you think that’s bad, I’d stay the hell away from the birthing room…"

  He gripped my hand tightly, and stared into my eyes. "Trust me, Liss, there’s no place I’d rather be."

  22

  Alicia

  I gratefully accepted a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice from Clay. I'd done plenty of reading over the years when I thought I'd never be able to bear a child – mainly to find out what I was missing out on, and now that I was miraculously pregnant, that instinct had kicked into overdrive. Medical professionals seemed split on whether or not caffeine was or wasn't okay – but there was no way I was going to risk the health of my baby just because I wasn't a morning person.

  "Thanks."

  I took a big gulp, desperate to moisten my mouth after a much-needed night's sleep, but no sooner had the cold liquid hit my tongue than I made a face and rushed to the sink to spit it out.

  "Liss, what's wrong?" Clay asked worriedly. "More morning sickness?"

  "No," I gasped, washing my tongue clean with a refreshing stream of tap water, "but that orange juice is well past its date… Clay, you have to be careful with these things now!"

  Clay picked the glass up from the sparkling granite surface and lifted it to his nose. He took an experimental sniff, then raised the glass to his lips and took a long gulp.

  "You sure you're okay? It tastes fine to me, and I squeezed the oranges this morning myself."

  The draining area near the sink was, indeed, covered with now-drying parts of Clay's high-end fruit juicer, which must have cost thousands of dollars but barely looked used.

  "Give me that," I said, looking at the glass in his hands suspiciously. I raised it to my nose and gave it a sniff.

  "Oh, for god's sake!" I muttered irritably. "This is the last thing I need."

  "Seriously, Liss – talk to me. Do you want me to take you to a doctor?"

  I stared at him, my mood softening as I saw the worried lines on his face. I set the glass down to rest on the counter and close the
space between us, linking my arms around my lover's waist. "No. I'm sorry I snapped at you – I know you've done all this specially, and I really appreciate it."

  "What's wrong?" he asked, still clearly worried about my well-being.

  "The juice tastes…" I cast around for a word to describe the foul taste that had just invaded my mouth, "metallic. Like I was chewing on a coin or something."

  "Gross," he interjected. "Is that—"

  "Normal?" I interrupted. "Unfortunately, yeah. Not all women get it, and it's pretty unusual to have it this early, but I guess I'm just one of the lucky ones!" The annoyed expression on my face made it perfectly clear how I actually felt about the fact that I could no longer have either my first or second favorite drinks…

  I looked at Clay, marveling at how much he'd changed from the man who'd strolled in to my life, topless and bleeding from the lip. I had no idea what I'd been thinking when I first hitched my wagon to his in the hope of kick-starting a career in music, but now that I was with him, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Or for that matter, being with anyone else.

  "Is there anything else I can get you?" he asked. "Should you be, I dunno, eating for two or something?"

  "What are you trying to say?" I laughed, prodding his chest lightly. I laughed even more when I saw the rabbit in the headlights expression on his face – as though he was worried that he'd mortally offended me.

  "Nothing, I mean…" Clay said, stumbling over his words as his eyes widened, and I saw him gain a full appreciation of what it was going to be like living with a pregnant woman for the next eight months.

  "I already told you, silly, the baby's only a little bundle of cells right now. But don't get me wrong, I'm going to have you out there all times of the night buying ice cream."

  "Whatever you need, I'm your man," he said confidently.

  "Let's see if you're anywhere near as happy about it when I'm turfing you out of bed at three in the morning." I giggled, twisting the knife a little bit just for fun. I knew how much Clay valued his time under the covers – even when he wasn't buried between my legs.

  "Trust me, whatever you need," he said, undeterred. I sat down, taking the weight off my feet. "Listen, Liss – we need to talk."

  My blood ran cold, the offhand remark suddenly awakening an instinctual, primal fear within me that Clay was going to leave me, and by extension, leave our child defenseless.

  "What do you mean?" I squeaked, irrationally fearful that he was about to end things.

  He shot me a funny look, but the concern that underwrote the glance immediately reassured me that this wasn't some spur of the moment breakup. "You still feeling bad?"

  "It's nothing," I replied, my mind spinning in circles as I tried to work out whether my reaction had been hormone-driven, and if so – whether I'd be on a hair trigger for the entirety of my pregnancy. I sure as hell hoped that wouldn't be the case… "What were you saying?"

  Clay looked embarrassed, as though whatever he was about to say would be difficult. All I could think was that if he knew about half the crazy shit going on in my head, he wouldn't find it nearly as hard. "It's about," he paused, clenching his jaw as if to steel himself to keep going, "the way you saw me yesterday. I was pretty worked up…"

  "Don't worry about it," I replied, impressed that he was bringing it up at all. As far as I was concerned, it took a hell of a lot of emotional maturity to be able to broach difficult topics like this in a relationship, and most of the men I'd dated had never managed it – no matter how long we'd been going out.

  "I do," he replied simply. "Listen, Liss – I've been speaking to Mike, and I don't think that Atlantic is going to release this record. At least not without butchering it and paying us way less than we deserve."

  "What do you mean butchering it?" I said, shaken by Clay's certainty that the record wasn't going ahead. Even after I'd seen him punching his troubles away the day before, I'd secretly assumed that everything would be okay – that this was just a negotiating tactic. Judging by Clay's miserable expression, it wasn't.

  "I spoke to Mike again this morning on the phone, and he thinks that Atlantic won't release the EP like it is – they don't think it's commercial enough—"

  "Not commercial enough?" I burst out. "It's incredible. Just because it's vocal, just because it might not be played in some Vegas super club doesn't mean it's not commercial!"

  "Hey, Liss, I know, I'm with you – I think it's perfect the way it is. I'm not one who wants to butcher it with auto-tune and backing singers, so don't jump down my throat, okay?"

  "Sorry, Clay," I said, biting down on the anger surging through my body. "I just wanted it to come out so desperately, you know?"

  "I know, believe me. I feel terrible about it. It's all my fault, Liss – I shouldn't have reacted like I did in that meeting."

  I let my head sink forward and groaned. "Clay! Is your head made of clay or something? How many times do I have to tell you, what happened in that room wasn't your fault. That bastard of a CEO came in there looking to pick a fight just as much as you did. I'm just glad you weren't weak. I'm glad you stood up to him."

  I couldn't help but notice that after that, Clay stood a little straighter, and I concealed a little smile, just glad that what I said clearly meant so much to him.

  "Clay…" I said, an idea striking me like a bolt from the blue.

  "Liss…" He smiled, mimicking my singsong tone of voice.

  "Do you need the money – from this record, I mean?" I asked slowly.

  "It'd be nice," he said, looking slightly nonplussed. "I've had my eye on a Ferrari…" He smiled. "But not really, no."

  "Why don't we just do what worked last time?" I asked more excitedly, eyes lighting up the more I considered my plan.

  "Last time…?"

  "You know, with that video from the bar – the night we met. Couldn't we just release the record anyway and put pressure on Atlantic that way? Do we really need a label?"

  Clay stroked his chin thoughtfully, tending to an imaginary beard. "I like it," he said, a broad smile beginning to erupt on his face. "I like it a lot. We'd be able to get it onto the digital platforms like iTunes and Spotify, that's for sure. I can't see how we'd make physical CDs without having a label on board, and there's definitely no way we'd be able to get them to stores, anyway, but I think it could actually work! But…"

  "But what?" I asked anxiously.

  "I'm pretty sure Atlantic would take us to court the same day we tried a stunt like this, and now that I've put all that money in the trust fund, we might not have enough to fight them off…"

  I frowned and massaged my temples, trying to work my way through the problem. My brain had another solution, I just knew it did, but trying to get to it through the waves of nausea that were now assailing me was another matter entirely.

  "Remind me to get a gyno appointment booked in, will you?" I said offhandedly to Clay. I was pretty sure that my mom never had morning sickness this early, and I wanted to be entirely certain that there was no chance it was a symptom of anything more serious.

  "Sure… You okay?" Clay asked solicitously.

  "Don't worry about it," I said, forgetting about the topic entirely as my brain landed on the solution it had been working on. "I've got it. What if we publicly announced that we were going to donate all the proceeds from the record to charity? I know a hospice that could do with some donations…"

  Clay smiled broadly. "You serious? You know you won't get any of the money either, right? I'll do it in a heartbeat, but," he gestured around at the mansion, "I've got all of this. And until we actually get married – for real, I mean—"

  I interrupted him. "I know, Clay. I've got everything I need right here," I said, looking around and patting my belly.

  "Then I say hell yeah! Even Fred Peters isn't crazy enough to sue the freaking children's charity. I don't think he is, anyway…" Clay smiled. "You know something, Liss?"

  I cocked my head inquisitively.

  "
You're a goddamn genius, you know? I've sat in hundreds of record company marketing meetings, and in all of them, I never heard even one idea as good as either of the two you just had. If you didn't have such an incredible voice, you'd make a damn good CEO for Atlantic…"

  I smiled sweetly back at him. "Why not both?"

  Clay laughed gustily at that. "Funny, too. How did I ever luck out with a broad like you?"

  I laughed back. "You sure as hell don't deserve me, that's for sure." I winked, just to soften the blow, but Clay was more than man enough to take the jibe. "When do you reckon we'll be able to get the record out? I guess it's better for us to do it sooner rather than later – the less Atlantic sees this coming, the better…"

  "You're right. I'll call Mike today." He fixed me with a steely glare. "You better watch yourself, Liss – this ride could get all kinds of bumpy before it gets better."

  23

  Clay

  I know it's hard. I loved her too. Stay strong.

  The screen of the iPhone in my hand was blurry through my tears, and it took me a few moments before I was able to read Mike's text.

  Launch day had swung around faster than I could have imagined – two weeks gone in a flash, and somehow, like destiny had beef to pick with me, it had fallen on September twenty-third. The day Sarah had died.

  Christ, I needed a drink. I looked over the chocolate beauty still sleeping next to me, even as the clock slowly reached eleven in the morning, her hand unconsciously resting on her belly. I didn't want to wake her – knew she and my baby needed every moment of rest they could get. In a few months, after all, none of us would get much rest.

  I stared at my lover through teary eyes, trying to discern the faintest outline of a bump on her belly. Sometimes I saw it, sometimes I didn't. Right now, I felt like a glass half empty kind of guy, and I couldn't see it at all.