by Scott, D. D.
“Son of a bitch. Right again. There’s one. And another asshole right next to him,” Roxy said, lifting her colada glass in a mock toast to all the crazies who would for sure be calling the weeklies offering their smart phone photos for a handsome fee.
Too bad for them, Alexandra had them beat.
Soon the paparazzo vultures would be there taking their own photographs for substantially larger bounties.
Alexandra couldn’t help thinking how her mother used to caution her to be gracious to the paps, saying they were their biggest supporters.
Bet she wasn’t sayin’ that now.
But Alexandra sure was as the first weasel popped his head out from behind the cyprus they’d just walked past only moments before.
Soon the pool area would be swimming with them, normally something the hotel wouldn’t allow, but she’d taken care of those arrangements and permissions too.
Everything was in place.
By tonight’s In Access Hollywood and Hollywood Extra, and then the weeklies lucky enough to be scheduled to hit stands in a day or two, Alexandra McCall would officially be back in business.
A business that now would include much more than Roxy’s fabulous belt buckles mania or Jules’ gourmet cupcakes.
And now, it wouldn’t be just her handlers gone rogue, or she supposed double agents in their speak, that had first access to her photos and could then wheel and deal.
She’d commissioned her own ops and would be trading on a brand new commodity…herself…and all the baggage that came with that persona.
Ironically, Alexandra had been forced to introduce herself — her real self - to the world, in a very public way, if she ever hoped to escape who that real her was.
No one liked the Alexandra McCall of her name, but that was because they didn’t know the real her. At least that’s what Alexandra was now banking on for herself and the future of her new family.
“How can you stand to be judged by all these people?” Jules asked, covering her face from the blinding bulbs snapping all around them.
Shouting over the ‘Over her, Alexandra’ pleas that ricocheted off every marble statue dotting the pool’s Italian fresco design, Audrey answered Jules the best way she knew how.
“I’m already being judged. Now, I’m just giving them the real facts. My true story,” she said, looking right into the next shouting vulture’s camera and smiling, not her winning confident smile, but one tethered by the bit of fear she was doing her best to suppress via her best bravado.
“But, Alex, you can’t ever be that normal girl next door, that wigged out mother of twins,” Roxy said, ever the voice of unfettered realism in their bunch.
“I know that. I do. I know that’s a dream I can never attain. But I’m going to get as close as I can. In the mean time, I’m tired of being lounge joke material. And false material at that,” she said, appreciating Roxy’s hard call at truth, and certainly unable to shed its cold reality.
People would always try to be normal to her, just as she would try to be normal to them. She would always, forever be the damn-big elephant in the room, always the talk of the neighborhood.
Although that thought kind of made her regain her sense of humor.
With the seclusion of she and Damian’s property, there would be no neighborhood. Hell, they didn’t have a neighbor for miles. Cool. That worked for her. No block parties. No nosy Nellies pretending to water the flowers while waiting on their next move.
All they had to worry about were the paparazzos and the other media outlets. But they could worry about them on their own time. Their own way. And under their own rules and boundaries, the latter of which, she hadn’t a doubt Damian would see to the enforcement of. And she’d take care of the rest.
Feeling the twins either (a) giving her a high-five for her bravado or (b) reminding her she wasn’t quite that alone, she rubbed their belly roof for extra reassurance…reassurance for both them and her.
Her isolation was a bit of a concern, and something, that even Roxy and Jules couldn’t help her with.
“One thing I am worried about, though,” she said, biting in on her lip, not liking to ever have to admit as much, but knowing she needed help figuring this one out, “I don’t have any other moms to connect with. Just the virtual ones I read about on my Kindle.
“Do you think people will ever be able to get past the me they’ve seen on their TV screens and weeklies to the real me I’m about to give ‘em? And then there is the real, real me. The Nashville, new-mom-to-twins and new to a forever relationship too,” she said, briefly hiding her head from the latest round of flash bulbs, not wanting the cameras to pick-up on her doubts.
Who knew having multiple me’s would be more difficult than multiple births? She felt like a pregnant Sybil.
“I’ve been thinking about that very thing,” Zoey said, leaning-in to shield Alexandra from the bright lights damn near blinding them now.
Alexandra was glad to hear her speak. She’d been so quiet today, kind of lost in her own world.
“I think we need to find you a baby nurse. You know, a nanny of sorts. Just to help you out. I mean you are going to be a working mom. A very busy and very public working mom. And beyond needing the help because of you and Damian’s demanding jobs, as first time parents, you could also use the experience a baby nurse would bring,” Zoey reasoned, then looked at Jules and Roxy, obviously to get them to speak up and support her idea.
“God knows my nannies made me who I am today,” Roxy said, finishing off her first colada and going right into round two.
“Yeah, that’s a sound example to follow,” Jules said, not able to keep from laughing out loud.
“Bite me,” Roxy retorted.
“Knock it off you two,” Alexandra said, biting her lip this time out of amusement instead of fear.
Zoey was right. She could no longer live with not being herself. But she also really didn’t have a clue how to live with her new self either.
She didn’t have to just be Alexandra McCall. She had to become a mom. She didn’t know how to be a mom. Let alone a good one. And she’d certainly had no role model in hers.
“Zoey’s got a point. A major point,” Alexandra conceded, laughing at herself, because if she didn’t laugh, she’d bawl her eyes out. “Do y’all know Damian went out and bought these amazing car seats called Orbit or something like that? I mean these things are aaaa-mazing. They come with 360-degree rotation and these super cool sunshades called, and I’m not joking, paparazzi shields. Yeah, I know,” she said, enjoying the ooo’s and ahhh’s all three of her friends chimed-in with.
“But I can’t even figure out how the damn rotation system works! And even if I get past the Orbits, if you saw the mechanics of the double stroller he wants, you’ll totally know how screwed I am,” she added, knowing they were each well-aware of her mechanical abilities or lack there of.
“I can’t even get the hardware of being a mom worked out, let alone all the emotional, soft stuff,” she said, really starting to panic now. “I’ve never had a close, loving, accepting, interested in the children, sit together at the table, pass the food kinda family.”
The more she thought of all her deficiencies, the more the panic took hold of her.
Fuck the cameras. Now she was really freaking out.
But thankfully, the girls moved their chairs in a protective circle around her while she vented then fell apart.
“I mean, I’ve read that what’s on your nightstand says a lot about who you are as a person. You know what’s on Damian and I’s nightstands? How-To Plumbing Guides on his side, and SECRETS OF SIX FIGURE WOMEN and Perez Hilton’s RED CARPET SUICIDE on mine. And you know the latter isn’t even remotely humorous to me now,” she said, about to cry, but not about to succumb to a dramatic emotional outburst with a gazillion paparazzo waiting for the thrill.
“What am I gonna do?”
“Well, the first thing you’re doin, is hiring that baby nurse,” Roxy said, “and
you’d best make sure she’s got some mechanical skills too.”
Alexandra swatted the tip of Roxy’s ball cap, knowing her friend was right, even though she hated to admit it yet again.
But if the paparazzo didn’t do her in first, car seats gone wild and stroller hell would.
“Next, you’re going to relax,” Jules said, always the rich source of calming Zen energy they needed. “For the first time in your life, other than from your fabulous BFFs, you’ve got a guy in your life who really loves you, who really cares about all your fears and joys, who makes sure you’re safe and looked after every day.”
Alexandra sniffed back her emotions, letting Jules’ words strengthen her doubts.
“I know you haven’t been taken care of, by your family at least, the way people who love each other take care of each other. But you’re breaking that pattern now. You’re making that kind of a family your reality soon. You’re getting the closest shot at normal you’ll ever have,” Jules said, sipping on her mojito.
“And it’s normal,” Zoey continued the argument, “for the mom not to know all the gadget junk. Plus, it will make Damian feel like he’s in charge of that part of the babies’ lives.”
“Good one, Zoey. Smooth move,” Roxy said, high-fiving her then tipping her hat.
“So you think it’s okay if I’m not a totally domestic, self-sufficient mom at first?” Alexandra hoped that’s what she was hearing because all at once everything ahead of her in the baby department just seemed to become way, way out of her league of talents.
“Of course, it’s okay,” Jules came back into the round. “You’ve got Damian. You’ve got all of us. And we all know you, the real you, one hundred percent you, and love you, despite your family, and despite your lack of anything remotely resembling anything mechanical in nature.”
“You don’t know how much that means. Now stop it, all of you, or else we’re going to be a bunch of bawling twits on every newsstand in the world by tomorrow morning,” Alexandra said, lifting her juice glass then clinking it against their cocktail glasses.
And with trimester number three now here, belt buckle mania just around the corner, and the new book deal and reality TV show she was busy negotiating for, not to mention a personal appearance schedule to rival the best she’d ever landed for any of her clients, Alexandra McCall needed these fabulous women’s love and support.
Being Alexandra McCall was now big, big business.
But the only option she had if she wanted to secure their future.
Chapter Nineteen
Standing along the side recesses of the In Access Hollywood’s sound-stage studios, Damian couldn’t help but to be in total awe of the new Alexandra McCall.
Hell, he might just be falling in love all over again.
Wow, she’d been so right to come out of hiding, once and for all.
There was this unfaltering confidence building within her. A spark he saw not just in her eyes, but in the way she walked. Well, who was he kidding, at this point, it was in the cuter-than-cute way she waddled.
He’d never seen that same self-assuredness in the Audrey Holtz he’d fallen head over his boots in love with. Maybe when she talked ad speak, but not when she was dealing with her own life or at that time, the lack thereof.
The Audrey — okay, Alexandra — sitting on the not so comfy looking couch in the living room set of the show, casually talking to Willy Bush and Kate Hoover, was a new enigma Damian was completely taken by.
Once she’d started this crazy ass touring schedule, which both he and their doctor were still having a fit over, she’d become a real tiger.
Appearing on talk show after talk show, doing radio interview after interview, Damian watched and listened as she grew into her new, sexy, sassy, smart bravado. A confidence she used so she could now talk about her family and field questions regarding her involvement with her father’s downfall.
She’d gotten good, damn good, with a terrific sarcastic wit about reliving for the cameras what she’d been trying so hard to escape.
Describing what she’d been through, witness protection and all, she was strong and so full of a gutsiness Damian now thrived on.
Hell, she’d even come up with these super smart quips and sound bites that even the late show writers were picking up and using for their own fodder.
Damian rocked back on his heels, laughing at one of her newer punch lines, something about her father indeed running with the bulls as in bullshit! Brilliant.
His heart strings tugged every time she scored with her interviewers and the show’s producers.
She was a genius at this stuff.
He had so much to learn from her about their new life in front of the cameras. And he had to admit, it sure beat running and hiding from them.
He’d always been a stand your ground kinda guy. Never dodging the truth. Always living it to the max. And despite his initial misgivings, he now knew for sure that Alexandra was perfect in her approach.
Just like she was perfect for him. And their children.
He watched as she gently massaged her belly while she was being interviewed, loving the warm, maternal instincts that simple gesture always showed. He just hoped he was that natural as a father.
He’d been reading everything he possibly could find on being a dad, but he was still way beyond scared shitless.
‘Course he hadn’t shared any of this with Alexandra, not because he didn’t want her support or opinion, but she just had too much to worry about all ready, on top of their pregnancy, to suffer from his doubts too.
Here they were at the start of their third trimester. And with twins, you didn’t normally go the whole nine month, forty weeks thing. Both the pregnancy bible and their doctor had told them to be prepared to go at something around the 35 ½ week point.
Oh boy. Boys plural or girls plural or one of each. Whichever it was, that left them with only about seven and a half weeks ‘til due date.
Damian rubbed his own stomach, attempting to simmer down the nerves rattling his guts.
He was so excited for the twins actual birth, but man he was thinking that reading about it and video quick-guides weren’t gonna be nothin’ compared to the real she-bang.
Once he’d read that few fathers enter the birthing room without a little trepidation — or a lot - it sort of made him feel better. And yeah, he was the “a lot” part of that pool.
But what if he just froze up, forgetting everything he’d learned how to do to help Alexandra and their babies?
Worse yet, what if he totally lost it, fell apart, fainted or got sick?
Shit, man, talk about humiliating and failing miserably, right when Alexandra and his children needed him most.
Okay. So yeah. The books said that most dads handle the whole birth thing with ease. They’re calm, cool, and manage to keep down their breakfast.
Let’s hope that was his experience too.
The books also suggested he talk to his family and friends who’ve had kids.
Well, scratch that. Zayne and Cody were no help there.
And as for family, biologically he knew he had parents, but he’d sure as hell never met ‘em.
After his elderly grandma passed away without ever telling him anything about his parents — ‘cause she’d simply refused, saying he was better off not knowing anything, he’d gone to live with Zayne and his parents.
So between Zayne’s family and Cody’s, who he could really say also helped raise him, since he and Zayne spent much of their time hanging at the Weiss’ diner too, he’d been raised by The Mom Squad, and the idea of going to them with his parenting fears, scared him worse than parenting itself.
Those crazy bats would really have him stressed out, plus not taking things nearly as serious as he needed to be.
The last thing he needed was some damn aphrodisiac element to childbirth. It was those kinda tricks that had gotten he and Alexandra into the delivery room.
Although, thinking about The Mom Squad as
back-up for his pregnancy bible info did relieve the tension he felt with a strong dose of humor.
But not for long.
Let’s say he got through the whole birth thing. Then what?
What about after the twins were born?
Then what was he supposed to do to actually father them?
He’d never had a real dad, so talk about beyond clueless there. And Zayne and Cody’s dads weren’t so hot at that either. They came around later on in their lives, but yeah, not so much warm and fuzzy good stuff when they were young and probably needed it most.
So, Damian was really drawing a big ‘ole blank there.
Thank God the girls had talked Alexandra, then him too, into the whole baby nurse deal. That would definitely help them with all the how-to stuff like handling the care and feeding of the babies.
Check there. So okay, let’s see his work situation. They were pretty good there too.
He’d spent thirty-five years plus now owning and working his butt off to build his construction company. He’d been very successful and made a great living alongside the really talented carpenters who worked for him. So he was lucky he really could be a hands-on, always there for ‘em dad.
But that was the problem.
How do you be a hands-on, always there for ‘em dad? And a damn great one at that?
He was a smart guy. He could learn this one on the job, right?
Just like being a good carpenter and builder takes showing up for work every day, he figured that was true for being a dad too. And just like his hands-on profession, he’d be totally hands-on at home with Alexandra and their babies too.
He’d definitely do diaper changes, bath-time, all that rocking chair cuddle and weird noises stuff, bottles and story-time too.
And he’d always make sure Alexandra felt his love for her and knew he was right there to do — well, pretty much whatever she and the baby nurse said to do.
Oh yeah. He was whipped.
And as soon as he held his children in his arms for the first time, he’d be whipped again. And wow, he’d have both arms full at once.