by Jessa Eden
He didn’t call me mama very often these days. I knew he was telling me he loved me. “I can’t help it. That showdown in the salon did not go how I had planned.”
“Wow, Mom, that was heavy.”
“Yes, it was. Thank you for coming to my defense, even though it wasn’t necessary. I’m sorry you had to meet your father that way. My goal was always to protect you and keep you safe.”
“I know that, Mom.”
“I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“You didn’t know how to tell me I descend from a rich, ex-hockey playing, real-estate tycoon, who owns the Baltimore Gators?”
I came out from behind his back and faced him. “I see you did some research.”
“It’s not every day I meet my dad. I thought I should look him up.”
“I didn’t know how to bring it up. I couldn’t tell you when you were younger and then I didn’t want to throw your life into a tailspin as you got older.”
“Well, my life is thrown, Mom. Big time.”
“What do you want me to do? How can I help?” I asked, standing next to him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“How do you feel about knowing who your dad is?”
He scrunched up his mouth. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. It’s cool. It’s a disaster.”
I smiled sympathetically. “I understand. There is no right way to feel about it and chances are you’ve got a lot of feelings to work through.”
His brown eyes grew worried. “I gotta know something. Did he hurt you, Mom? Physically? He was more than in your face back there and I swear if he touched you...”
“No…no! He was just upset he found out he was a father. There’s always been a lot of passion between Beau and me. It was a shock to him and he didn’t handle things very well. I know he would never hurt me.”
“Good. ‘Cause I was gonna have to throw down with him if he was gonna hurt my mama,” he said, holding his arms out as if he was going to do a Karate chop.
I did my best to remain serious, even though I was amused. “I can see that. I’m glad you didn’t have to unleash your mad skills on your father.” I wasn’t about tell him Beau was a pretty fierce MMA style fighter. I didn’t want to burst his bubble.
“So what can you tell me about him?”
“I’ll tell you everything. Let me fix a cup of tea and I’ll explain it all.”
We sat at the table that night for a good long time as I filled him in on every detail he wanted to know: how we met, how we got together, what I liked best about him. I didn’t tell him about Beau’s father; that horrible story would be saved for another time.
When I was done spilling the beans, Charlie had only one question for me. “You want me to put him through a quest?”
I burst out laughing; knowing Charlie would pull out all the stops to test Beau. “That would be awesome, but let’s hold back just yet. Your father and I have a long history.”
“All right.” He smiled sleepily and yawned big. “I’m so jet lagged, Mom. I gotta get some sleep.”
“Okay, honey. Go on up to bed.” He stood up and kissed me on the cheek as he made his way to his room.
I sat there for a second and realized I was tired, too.
Soul tired from carrying this burden for so long.
It was such a relief to have part of the secret out in the open. Yet, I sensed there might be more trouble ahead. No matter, that worry would be saved for another day.
I was done analyzing for the night. I headed up to bed, hoping Charlie would want to talk more after he had a chance to rest.
Late the next morning, our conversation continued as we sat down to a big spread of pancakes, bacon, and eggs for breakfast.
“Yum, Mom. You make the best pancakes,” Charlie praised as he dug into his overfilled plate.
I sipped my coffee. “Thanks. I thought you might appreciate a home-cooked meal after being on the road so long.”
“You have no idea,” he said, after swallowing a mouthful of pancake. “I’m starving. I didn’t eat much after last night.”
I put my hand over his. “That was quite a shock, wasn’t it?”
He took a big gulp of orange juice. “Yep.”
“So have you thought about what you want to do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Mom. It’s weird to know who my dad is. I kind of feel he should come to me if he’s interested in figuring this out.”
“What if I talk to Beau?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“There isn’t a way to do this that won’t involve some kind of awkward weirdness. I’m just willing to do it for you. I don’t want you to miss out on a chance to know your dad.”
He shot me a wary glance. “I don’t know, Mom...”
I smiled. “Come on, it can’t hurt.”
He shot me another guarded look. “Okay, but feel him out and see where he’s at with all this.”
I ran my hand along the back of his neck. “I can do that. I think it would be really good for the two of you to spend some time together.”
“Yeah, that would be cool.”
CHAPTER THREE
Beau:
Time blurred as I disappeared into a haze of drugs and alcohol. I was only aware of my next hit, as my penthouse turned into party central. A crew of hardcore partiers showed up and brought all kinds of goodies with them.
I had anything I desired to neutralize the pain—lines of cocaine to snort, weed to smoke, ecstasy to swallow, and any kind of liquor I wanted to drink. So, I snorted, smoked, and swallowed my way to oblivion.
I was only vaguely aware of what was happening around me. House music blared through the penthouse. The heavy bass thumped continuously, numbing me even more. People were everywhere, getting wasted as they partied the night away.
A group of giggling women surrounded me as I smoked a bowl on a cream colored couch in the great room.
“Beau...” one girl called out in a short skirt barely covering her upper thighs.
I turned toward her, trying to focus on her flawless face. “Hey, pretty girl,” I slurred, smiling stupidly. “This is how it should be. Beau Shepard surrounded by beautiful ladies.”
They giggled again.
“Ooh, Beau...” a brunette cooed.
They were so fucking young. Probably my son’s age.
Shit.
I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that.
“Did you know I have a kid?” I blurted out.
“You do?” the brunette asked.
I nodded drunkenly. “Yep, I do. His name is Charlie.”
“How old is he?”
I held up two fingers. “Twenty-two.”
“Why is he so old?” she asked.
I let out a snickering laugh. “I don’t know. I didn’t know I had him until today.”
“That’s sad,” she said with a frown.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed, taking another drag on the bowl I was smoking.
That was enough of that conversation. It was getting too close to a shitty reality I was trying to forget.
I staggered to my feet, my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. I grabbed the phone, angry at whoever was bothering me.
It was someone from the office. “Hello?” I asked, super annoyed.
“Beau?” It sounded like Donna, but I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t even really hear her over the music blasting through the speakers.
I didn’t need responsibility interfering with my bender. “Just handle it!” I yelled into the phone and immediately turned it off. I didn’t want to be bothered anymore.
I didn’t care about anything as I staggered around in a stupor.
The party continued into the next day and the day after that one and so on. It got to the point I wasn’t even sure what day it was. People started trashing my place. Shit was broken, valuables stolen...I just didn’t care.
Finally, it ended when the police showed up and kicked everyone out after the neighbors compla
ined about five consecutive days of non-stop, mind-numbing partying.
It didn’t matter at that point. I was ready for everyone to be gone. Eventually, I collapsed into a bottomless sleep, where I couldn’t think or feel anymore.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I came to as a relentless banging woke me out of a dead sleep. Disoriented, I could only tell the noise came from the front of the penthouse. I got up to investigate, pissed off someone was disturbing my sleep.
*****
The unbelievable racket coming from the front door made my brain hurt. Why the hell had the doorman let anyone up?
I had no fuckin’ wish to see another living soul.
I stumbled to the door, my head pounding as I grabbed a pair of random sunglasses off the back of the couch, trying to block out the light, which insisted on streaming through the windows of the penthouse.
The place was a mess. I hadn’t let the staff do anything in days.
I looked through the peephole as I arrived at the door.
Oh, shit, Marla.
What the hell was she doing here?
“I can hear you breathing in there,” she announced as she eyed the peephole.
“Me no speak English,” I let out in a horribly high voice.
“Beau, I know it’s you. Just open the door.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I’m not going away. You might as well let me in.”
I knew she could be stubborn.
Reluctantly, I opened the door, but I wasn’t about to make this easier on her. “Are you here to clean?” I asked flippantly.
She rolled her pretty brown eyes. “No, I’m here to talk to you about Charlie.”
“You mean my grandfather or the twenty-two year old kid you never told me about?”
“Yes, Beau. The kid. Can I come in?” she asked as she ducked under my arm.
“Sure, why not?”
“Nice place,” she said, taking in the shithole I had created in the last week.
“Just think, all of this could have been yours,” I let out bitterly.
“Yeah, I know,” she said quietly. “But that’s not why I’m here.” She turned toward me. “There’s so much you don’t understand, Beau.”
I crossed my arms over my bare chest. “Well, here’s your chance. Explain away how you deliberately kept my son away from me. Twenty-two years, Marla. Twenty-two fucking years.”
She cringed. “I can’t explain it away and I won’t try to. Circumstances forced me to keep you from knowing about him.”
“I don’t get it. You couldn’t call, email...hell, text?”
“No, I couldn’t. I had to protect our son.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Marla.”
*****
Marla:
A week went by after Beau confronted me about Charlie. At first, I thought he would contact me once he’d cooled down. Then, as the days wore on, I realized he wasn’t going to reach out.
I couldn’t stand his silence.
I had too much to say and I wanted to make sure he was okay. This was big, life-changing news and I had a feeling he wasn’t handling it well.
So I tracked down his address and made my way to his penthouse after talking the sympathetic doorman into letting me up to Beau’s place.
“Oh yeah, that’s definitely Mr. Shepard’s kid,” Eddie, the doorman said as I showed him a picture of Charlie posing in front of fountain in Europe somewhere.
“I know. They look so much alike, don’t they?”
Eddie gave me a sweet smile. “Yes, they do, but Mr. Shepard left instructions to not let anyone up. He didn’t look too good, though, the last time I saw him.”
“Come on, Eddie. I’m the reason he’s in such bad shape. I gotta make this better.”
He glanced back and forth across the lobby. “Tell you what, I’ll let you up, but you can’t tell anyone.”
I buttoned my lips and threw away the key. “I promise, Eddie. No one will know.”
He turned a blind-eye as I made my way over to the elevator. I took it up to the penthouse level and approached the one door I found on the top floor. Beau’s life was unreal. Must be nice to own the nicest, most expensive floor of a skyscraper.
I knocked several times, but it took a while for anyone to come to the door.
Once I heard heavy footsteps, I sensed it was Beau standing on the other side of the door, but he wasn’t saying anything.
That wasn’t going to cut it.
I let him know I knew it was him, but he didn’t want to let me in.
I got that, but I wasn’t going away.
After acting like he was a Spanish-speaking maid, he finally opened the door as the overpowering stench of booze and weed washed over me.
He definitely wasn’t handling the news about Charlie very well.
He filled the doorway, looking pale and haggard. That didn’t mean he still wasn’t gorgeous. He was wearing a pair of dark sweats, hugging his hips. His V cut was still firm, his hardcore abs ripped and chiseled, and yummiest of all, was the five-day-old stubble gracing his jaw.
How could he look so delicious and yet so sad?
“Can I come in?” I asked brusquely after he challenged me about why I was there.
“Sure. Why not?” he asked, his eyes hidden behind a dark pair of women’s sunglasses.
So this was where Beau lived.
What a disaster.
Beer and wine bottles were scattered across his impeccably decorated penthouse.
I tried not to be distracted. I had rehearsed what I was going to say as I sat in the parking lot, trying to get up the nerve to come in. Three things came to mind:
Be civilized.
Lay it out.
Just tell him what happened.
But, before I could say anything, he was at my heel, looking for a simple answer to a complex issue.
“If you’re not going to share why you didn’t tell me about the kid we had, then why are you here?” he asked.
“I already told you. We need to talk about Charlie. I know this is hard on you. Shocking. Crazy. I know you need time to adjust.”
“Adjust to what?”
“Getting used to the idea that you’re a dad.”
His glance grew super cold. “I’m not a dad. I’m a sperm donor.”
That hurt.
I closed my eyes, trying to swallow the blow. “I understand you feel that way. But I’m coming to you as a mother, Beau. Charlie wants to get to know you. He’s open to it and I think it would be good for both of you to spend some time together.”
He whipped off the sunglasses, giving me a glimpse of his pain. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Just pick up and have a great little relationship with my kid?” His gaze went fiery. “What in the hell makes you think I’d want to talk about this with you?”
I sighed, trying to keep my cool. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But the cat’s out of the bag. Here’s your chance to get to know your son.”
“I don’t think I can do anything until you tell me why you didn’t let me know you were having my child.”
I studied him again. He was hollowed out and hanging on by a thin emotional thread that could snap at any minute. If I told him the truth now, he might break and never recover. I couldn’t bear that.
I glanced around again, taking in the sheer chaos he had created in his penthouse. Windows were cracked and broken, art was missing off the walls and my shoes were sticking to the floor.
The signs were obvious.
He had given up.
“Why are you living like this?” I asked bluntly.
“Like what?” His glance dared me to say it.
I pointed to all the discarded empty bottles and cans. “Like you don’t care about your life anymore.”
“What do you care if I destroy myself?”
I met his pain-filled gaze. “I do care. More than you know.”
“Don’t tell me that! You don’t get to walk in here, looking like an angel and tell
me that! The only reason I feel this bad is because of you. I can’t believe you betrayed me and didn’t tell me about my son.” His glance was desperate and broken.
I sighed because I hated seeing him like this. “I’m sorry, Beau. You didn’t deserve any of this and I’m sorry for my part in all this.”
“Your part?”
“Yes, there is a lot more to the story if you—“
His gaze turned ice cold again. “I don’t want to hear your excuses and lies, where you spin this story to make you look innocent.”
“I wasn’t going to offer you either—“
“Just get out!” he said flatly, turning away from me.
I wanted to groan in frustration. He was hurting so bad and I was the last person he would let help him through it.
“Before I leave, here’s Charlie’s number if you would like to get together.” I stuck a yellow post-it note onto the end table crowded with empty liquor bottles.
“Whatever. Just leave,” he growled.
“I know you’re angry with me, but if you want to talk, I’m here.”
He snorted, but didn’t turn around.
CHAPTER FOUR
Beau:
Damn lady. With her big, brown eyes.
I was barely hanging on and she was pushing the knife in deeper.
She was killing me.
Absolutely fuckin’ killing me.
I wanted to scoop her up into my arms and throttle her all in the same breath.
Everything was so fucked up.
I didn’t want to think about Charlie.
It hurt too much.
To say I was confused and heartbroken was an understatement. A giant pressure was bearing down on my chest and the more I struggled, the worse it got. I didn’t know if I should embrace it or run away from its scary depths.
Life had been so clear before I moved back to Baltimore.
All my compartments had boundaries and nothing was grey or fuzzy.
Now, I was a jumble of feelings I was uncomfortable identifying.
Why did I still want Marla?
I didn’t know. I was raw and exposed, too messed up to deal with her shit.
After she left, I sat on the couch, too tired to do much else. Marla made me want to give in and believe this, “I’m here as a mother,” load of shit she was shoveling. She should have told me about Charlie from the moment she knew she was pregnant. Now, I had no history with the kid, nothing to build on.