So I Married a Rockstar

by Marina Maddix

  Breaking away, he looks at me in a daze. "Again? I had no idea you were such an animal."

  "Shut up and fuck me."

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  My phone buzzes on the tiny nightstand, drawing me out of my nearly-catatonic, post-sex drowse. I fumble for it and almost drop it before punching the right glowy thing on the screen.

  "Hmm?" I'm too drained to care how unprofessional it sounds.

  It's Savory, and he doesn't sound happy. "Jake's been arrested."

  That sure as hell wakes me up. "What?!"

  "I guess he got trashed and made a mess of some bar after I left him last night. The cops were called and he's in the drunk tank now. They said he'd be ready to pick up about now."

  "Shit! How much damage?"

  Drax stirs next to me.

  "I've already talked to the bar owner. He agreed to not press charges or send us the repair bill if we comp him a show."

  I let out a sigh of relief. The band doesn't have much in the coffers and we'll need every penny to get the new tour rolling.

  "But, Lauren, this has become a problem. Something needs to be done."

  He's right, of course. Jake is out of control. He's a nice guy, but I've always been a bit disgusted by his drinking. I guess it just hits too close to home.

  Savory tells me where to collect Jake and rings off. Drax is fully awake by now so I give him all the dirty details and we come up with a plan. Three hours later, we're all on the boat, poor Jake looking like death and smelling even worse.

  "We can't have it, Jake," Savory is saying. "We need to be able to rely on you and, right now, we can't."

  "I'm fine, guys," he insists but it's easy to see that even he doesn't believe his own words.

  "Jake, I've found a good place that we can take you today."

  The look he gives me breaks my heart and disgusts me at the same time. It's sort of a 'Don't do this to me, I want to keep killing myself slowly' look. I've never understood how someone could destroy themselves so completely and do it so willingly.

  "But..."

  "Jake," Drax interrupts. His expression is hard but his tone is gentle. "It's either rehab or you're gone. Your choice, bro."

  Jake gapes at him. "You'd really fire me? What the fuck, man? We're fuckin' musicians! You know, rock n' roll and all that? It's not like you have a reputation for acting like Mary-fucking-Poppins!"

  Drax shakes his head. "And it's about time we all grow up and start acting like professionals."

  "What about the tour?" Jake asks, grasping at straws.

  "We'll wait for you, dude." Savory pats him on the shoulder.

  "But who's gonna pay for it?" His arguments are getting weaker and weaker. "I don't got that kinda money."

  "Don't worry, bro, it's taken care of," Drax says.

  Contrary to my previous assumption, Drax is no starving artist made good. He had family money, and a lot of it. Not only did he pre-pay Jake's 28-day stay at the exclusive in-patient rehab, but he also paid for Frank's, as well as a gigantic diamond wedding ring. When I asked him this morning why he didn't just pay off Marco, he pointed out that bookies don't usually take credit cards.

  "But..." Jake mumbles.

  "Dude, you woke up in jail this morning, ferchrissakes," Frank says, wrapping a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. "You have a problem. You gotta admit that, at least."

  Jake sniffs and ducks his head. "Yeah."

  "That's the first step, right there, bud! Now Drax and Lauren are gonna drive you up to the place, m'kay? We'll see you in a month, and you better be ready to rock, you got it?"

  Jake smiles weakly. "Okay."

  The poor guy sobs quietly in the back seat the whole way up to the rehab center my dad recommended. Drax tries to give him encouragement but Jake's too wrapped up and wiped out to hear much of anything. It's touching to see how much Drax cares for his bandmate. A lot of guys would have just fired the kid, but Drax is putting him through a pricey rehab.

  My stomach knots up as we get closer to the facility. I've never been to this one but I've seen enough to know they're all pretty much the same. Some are fancier than others but they all serve the same noble, if often futile, purpose. Growing up, I learned to hate them all for their failure in curing my mother. It was a heckuva lot easier to hate the institution than to hate the patient.

  Although that came, too.

  I shake away the painful memories as we pull up to the facility's main entrance. It's a beautiful Greek revival building, complete with ivy growing halfway up the brick walls. The landscaping is perfect and the overall tone is serene.

  Stepping out of the car, I catch quiet snippets of classical music outside. If I didn't know any better, I might be lulled into thinking everything was going to be okay. It seems to work on Jake because he's stopped sobbing and seems almost eager to get inside.

  I'm itchy with bad memories. Drax senses my mood and entwines his fingers in mine. I draw strength from them, from him, and we follow Jake inside. The lightest hint of lavender is in the air, no doubt pumped into every room to help calm the patients. It does little to calm me, but I'll be out of here very soon anyway.

  The reception area is decorated entirely in shades of white, even the employees waiting to check in Jake. I'm too busy taking in the surroundings to pay much attention to them though.

  "Good morning," soothes a woman. "You must be Jake Ward. Welcome to Serenity House."

  Something about her voice tickles a memory bank. I glance over but don't recognize her. She's plump like me, and her dark brown hair flows over her shoulders in a way that I envy. I've always longed for hair that doesn't sproing every time I move my head.

  I step closer, hoping she'll say something that will hint at how I know her. When she laughs, Drax looks at me in surprise.

  "She's got your laugh, Lola."

  My head feels as if it's about to crumple in on itself and I have to lean against Drax for support. I can't believe what I'm seeing and hearing and feeling. It can't be her. The last time I saw her, maybe ten years ago, she was wasting away from the drugs. I begged Dad to stop making me go see her. It was killing me to see her killing herself. I thought she died years ago.

  The woman behind the counter glances up at me, then does a double-take. Tears well in her gentle, brown eyes -- eyes that I inherited from her -- and she smiles tenderly.

  "Lauren," she whispers.

  I hear it now. It's been so long since I've heard her voice, it's not surprising I didn't catch it at first. Especially since I assumed she was long-dead. But now I can't unhear it.

  I want to run. I want to scream, cry, fall to the floor and throw a tantrum. But I manage to control myself and say the only thing that comes to mind.

  "Hi Mom."

  I watch as Grace Barnett, my mother, if you could call her that, leads Jake back to a conference room. As his personal intake counselor, she'll oversee his rehab and be his go-to gal for the next month. Which is hilarious to me.

  Grace was never someone a person could count on for support -- well, not me, anyway. She was too busy getting wasted or trying to figure out a way to get wasted to worry about other people, much less her own daughter.

  Thank God our little reunion was brief. She didn't even try to hug me, which is a giant relief. I'm pretty sure I would have throat-punched her if she'd tried. All she did was smile and turn her attention back to Jake, which is exactly where it should have been.

  "I thought your mom was..." Drax doesn't say 'dead' as we head out to the car, but I know what he's asking.

  "Guess not."

  "You okay?"

  "Sure. Why wouldn't I be? Just found out my mom's alive. Yay."

  "Oookaaay."

  We might not know every quirk about each other, but he knows enough to keep his mouth shut as we drive back toward the marina. My brain is swirling. I have no idea what to think or even how to think.

  "I mean...like, what the....how did she...." Apparently words are beyond me, too.
/>   "Babe, deep breaths."

  I take a few breaths and it actually helps. "I'm just...surprised."

  "No doubt. Why did you think she was dead?"

  I shrug nonchalantly but I'm a mess of so many emotions inside that I couldn't name them all if I tried. Shock, anger, love, hate, fear. It's too much to take, but as she always did, she's left me with no choice but to deal with it all on my own. Except now I'm not on my own. I have Drax.

  "She was a drunk and addict my entire life. Dad somehow managed to keep her sober during the pregnancy, but after that, she was a goner. Last time I saw her, she was in the hospital from yet another overdose. They suspected that time it was on purpose. She looks nothing like I remember, which I suppose is a good thing."

  "Your Dad didn't know?"

  Shame and anger push all the other emotions out of the way. "Maybe. He did his best to keep her in my life, but after that visit, I told him I never wanted to see or talk about her again. I overheard the doc telling Dad she probably wouldn't pull through, and I wouldn't have been able to handle going to her funeral. He tried to bring her up a few times over the years but I always shut him down. He finally gave up."

  "Looks like she made it."

  "Looks that way."

  I spent years building a wall up against the pain Grace had caused me, only to have it crumble the second I saw her. I need to get it back up fast if my psyche is going to survive.

  "You going to call her, now that you know?"

  "Why should I? It's not like she tried to get in touch with me."

  I slap more bricks on the wall, but not fast enough. Tears prickle at my eyes, and I'm just grateful I don't have to hide them from the man sitting next to me.

  "Lola..."

  "Just leave it, Drax. I'll be fine but I need to talk to my dads. Mind if I drop you off? "

  Thirty minutes later, I'm bursting into Raines Records, ready to yell at Dad for not telling me about Grace, or maybe for trying to keep her in my life, or maybe for partying just a little too hard with her on the night I was conceived. I'm not entirely sure what all I'm mad about but, by God, he's going to hear about it!

  Papi whirls away from a customer when I enter and runs to me, gathering me in his arms. I'm mad as hell and don't really want a hug but, I have to admit, his embrace soothes me.

  "Oh, pobrecita, you see your madre today, yes? She was muy feo, very ugly, yes?"

  For whatever reason, Papi has always been insanely jealous of my mother. It seems silly to me because Dad met him when I was one and hasn't had eyes for anyone else ever since.

  I suspect part of it is that he worries she'll take his place in our little family, which could never happen, of course. But mostly, I think he just hates that Dad was ever with a woman in the first place.

  "Luis, stop that," Dad scolds. "We agreed to never speak ill of Grace in front of Lauren, no matter how old she gets."

  "Ay, I forget. Lola-mami, you okay?"

  "I'm fine." I pull away from Papi's bear-hug, though he doesn't want to let me. "I just...wait, how did you know?"

  "Grace called a few minutes ago."

  My skin tingles with fury and hate and misery and fear. Everything I ever felt as a kid -- not knowing if she'd be straight or sober when I visited, wondering if the next phone call would be to tell us she was dead, resentment over her miserable attempts at being a mother -- bubbles up to the surface.

  "You've been in touch with her?! You knew where she was all this time and you never... What kind of father are you?!"

  It's a low blow, I know, because Dad has never been anything but devoted to me. He's not Ward Cleaver, by any means, but he always had my best interests at heart.

  "Lauren Anne Raines!"

  I'm stunned by Papi's use of my full name. I can't remember the last time he said it, but I'm sure I was a kid doing something naughty.

  "You no speak to your padre like dat!"

  "No, it's okay, Luis. Lauren has every right to be angry."

  Papi relents but arches a finely plucked eyebrow at me as a warning to watch my tone. I guess you never grow too old to be reprimanded by your parents, and it smarts just as much.

  "I'm sorry, honeybear, but you've made it very clear over the years that you had no interest in hearing about Grace. I tried to tell you that she got her life together but you refused to listen."

  "Why did you stay in contact with her in the first place? It's not like you had to. There was no court order for visitation or custody. She signed away her parental rights the day I was born, for godsakes!"

  I hate the stab of rejection I feel at that, but I can no longer deny that I've always felt abandoned by my mother. There's no question she did what was best for me by letting Dad raise me, but still...I've always wondered if raising me herself would have helped her clean up faster. Probably I would have ended up in foster care and had a horrible childhood, but the thought's still there.

  "She's your mother, Lauren. I didn't need a court order to tell me what was right. As messed up as she was, I felt it was important to keep her in the loop on what you were doing. Oh, boy, you should have seen her grin the day you graduated college. Seeing you walk across that stage--"

  "What? She was there?!"

  "Of course, she was. High school, too."

  I don't understand what's happening but I know I need to sit down. I manage to make it to a seat behind the counter and gape up at Dad.

  "Lauren, are you ready to listen now?"

  At my nod, he tells me how Grace barely survived the last OD -- the last time I saw her -- and that he paid for her to go into Serenity House, where she finally got clean and sober. She'd spent the last decade working menial jobs and attending night school to earn her Master's degree in rehab counseling. To complete the circle, Serenity House hired her as a counselor the day of her graduation two years ago.

  "Sweetie, she understood why you didn't want to see her, and she wasn't willing to push you. Not because she didn't want you in her life, but because she knew she'd caused you too much pain. But she always believed that the day would come when you'd eventually seek her out. Guess today was that day."

  Did he really just say that? But of course it all makes sense now.

  "I didn't seek her out!" I jump up, brushing away Papi's hand, and pace the floor. I've never been so angry with my Dad, ever. "You sent me there! You knew all along that Grace worked there and that's why you recommended it when I told you about Jake. Do you have any idea how earth-shattering it is to just bump into the mother you thought had popped fifty too many pills?"

  "Honeybear, it was the only way I could think of to get you talking about her."

  I jab a finger in his face, a part of me noticing how raw my nails are. I don't even remember chewing them, that's how upset I am.

  "Don't you dare call me 'honeybear'! I honestly don't know how I can forgive you for this, Dad. Not only do I feel rejected by my own crackhead mother, but now my father has betrayed me. What a great day this has turned out to be!"

  I run out of the store in tears, Papi shouting after me to come back. I have no idea where I'm going but I'm doing something I never did as a child. I'm running away from home.

  I used to think there was no safer place in the world than in the arms of my dads, but sitting here on the Sandra Jean snuggled into Drax's embrace, I know differently.

  "I just can't believe they'd betray me like that," I repeat for what must be the tenth time. He's let me prattle on and on, all the while holding me to his muscled chest and not saying a word.

  "What do you think?" I look up at him, expecting total agreement. I should know by now to always expect the unexpected from Drax.

  "You really want to know?"

  No! "Of course."

  "I think you're being too hard on them, especially Papi...er, Luis. Let's get real. He couldn't go against Malcolm, so let's exclude him from the hate parade. Now from what you've told me, Malcolm tried to tell you about your mom several times over the years. So I'm trying t
o figure out how this is all his fault."

  Ooh, the dude's just poked a hornets' nest. I shove back from him, fire practically spitting from my eyes. "So it's all my fault?!"

  "What? No, that's not what I said!" He takes a deep breath and captures me with those damn eyes. He knows I'm powerless now. "Lauren, how old were you the last time you saw your mom?"

  "Fifteen." I grind out through clenched teeth.

  "I know you've always been a good girl...well, mostly--" he gives me a wink and I blush furiously "--but in my experience, even good girls rebel. Especially when they're that age. My father deals with teenagers every day and he'll tell you that's when kids practice asserting their independence. It prepares them for adulthood. So there are times when adults need to let the kids make their own choices. I'd lay good money down that Malcolm didn't try to talk to you about her just once, did he? I bet he tried a bunch but you shut him down every time, am I right?"

  At my defiant expression he continues. "So? What would you have wanted him to do differently? Force you to discuss your mother, as he'd been doing for years, or respect your wishes and hope that one day you'd come around?"

  He's right, dammit. I want to be angry -- no, I need to be angry. I need someone to direct all this turmoil onto.

  "Fine. Whatever. But what the hell am I supposed to do now? Go running to Mommy Dearest and live happily ever after?"

  I slump into him again, defeated and frustrated and still more than a little confused. I love the way he strokes my arm. It's so much more comforting than being petted like a grumpy puppy, the way Papi was doing it.

  "Why not?"

  "Um, because she's a pill-popping drunk? Because she always chose booze over me? Because she ruined my life?"

  Drax's hand stops mid-stroke. "I know it feels that way, Lauren, but maybe there's another way to look at it. Your mother is an alcoholic and addict. Call it a disease, an allergy or whatever you want, it all boils down to power. As in, she has no power over any of it. Her addictions completely controlled her every move, every decision. She never loved the booze or the pills. In fact, I have no doubt she hated them. But they were the puppet masters and she was the doll dancing around to please them."