A Carol for Kent

by Hallee Bridgeman

  The truth was more interesting. Bobby and Melody were friends. They had a great deal of respect for each other professionally and they shared a love for Christ and a common interest in supporting charity, especially with their annual Christmas albums, but neither of them had ever seriously considered a relationship that went beyond that respectful friendship even before she married James Montgomery.

  “I actually called to talk to James. Is he free?”

  “I think so.” Melody dropped the teasing tone. “You okay, Bobby? Everything all right?”

  “Not really, Darlin’. But I hope I can handle it. I just need some advice and James is the smartest guy I know.”

  Melody said, “I can’t argue with that. Hang on, hon.”

  Bobby took a few deep breaths while he held the line, then he heard James Montgomery pick up. “This is James.”

  “Hey, it’s Bobby.”

  “Bobby! How are you? What’s up?” James Montgomery was the M in M & L Electronics, an undisputed genius, and Melody’s adoring husband. When he and Melody were newlyweds, James might have perceived Bobby as a threat until he met him backstage at a concert in Jacksonville. At that moment, James had realized the kind of close relationship Bobby shared with his wife and, since that day, he had called Bobby Kent his brother in Christ.

  “Well, I think I just did something stupid,” Bobby admitted.

  “If that’s true, I would find it astonishing. What happened?” James asked.

  Bobby Kent then told James about how his parents, family, and friends of the family, had deceived him for the last eight years or more. He told him about his beautiful daughter. He told him about Carol Mabry. Then he told him about the confrontation he had with his parents.

  James said, “Well, Bobby, some of that sounds amazing and wonderful and some of it sounds just awful.”

  “Uh, I’m not quite done. After I left my parent’s house I did something really stupid.”

  “Go on,” James urged.

  “Well, I sat here in this park in my rental car and polished off the better part of a six pack of beer.”

  The line was silent and then James said, “Okay. You got me. I find that astonishing.”

  “Pretty stupid, huh?” Bobby confessed.

  James sighed. “Well, yes, but let’s not focus on that. To tell the truth, after my first wife was murdered, I could have become a raging alcoholic, myself. Let’s talk a little bit about something else. You said you did something stupid, but, really, I think you didn’t do one stupid thing. Not one.”

  “Really?” Bobby asked. “Now I’m astonished.”

  “Nope. I counted. I think you did about five stupid things.”

  “Oh.”

  “That I know of,” James clarified.

  “I appreciate your candor.” Bobby asserted, his tone droll.

  “I think the first thing you need to do is throw away any remaining beer or alcohol you have access to because God knows drinking is not going to solve anything. Would you agree?”

  “Already done.”

  He could almost hear James nodding. “Good. Now, do you have a safe place to stay to sleep it off? Can you get a cab?”

  “I have a place in mind.”

  “Good,” James said in an analytical tone. “Now, tomorrow morning you need to get down on your knees or all the way down on your face and you need to talk to God, Bobby. You told your father you were going to be a better dad than he ever was? I don’t think getting drunk and keeping your child from her grandparents is starting off right. Do you?”

  “I was so angry, man.”

  He could hear the understanding in James’ voice. “You know what, Bobby? Even though I’ve never once seen you lose your temper, you should know that I understand. And you should know that you had every right to be angry. But they’re your parents, Bobby. You have to honor them. You have to. Even when they mess up. It’s the first earthly commandment and the first commandment with a promise.”

  That got him in the gut. The verse echoed in his mind, Honor your father and your mother. “I really do, don’t I?”

  James rhetorically elaborated, “At least you have your parents here on earth to honor. That’s more than either Melody or I can say.”

  “I knew calling you was a bad idea.”

  James chuckled. “I love you, brother. Can we pray?”

  “Oh, heavens yes. Please pray with me.”

  “Let me get Melody.”

  James briefly brought Melody up to date on the current situation and the three of them prayed together. Melody disconnected and James said, “I want you to promise to call me tomorrow. I’ll leave word with my office to put your call through. Promise?”

  Bobby nodded, then remembered to speak. “I promise. Thanks, James.”

  “Don’t mention it. Just call me tomorrow.”

  “Okay, bye for now.”

  “Good night, Bobby.” James hung up.

  CAROL walked into Lisa’s room and looked down at her sleeping child. She untangled the covers from her legs and pulled them up over her prone daughter, smoothing them down. In the dim light, Lisa looked a lot like her father, but softer somehow. Carol leaned over and kissed the tiny freshly scrubbed cheek, then left the room.

  She massaged the tense muscles in the back of her neck on the way down the stairs, picking up pieces of dress up and baby doll paraphernalia as she went. She had court at nine in the morning and she’d planned to work the night before. She had a lot she needed to do to finish preparing, so she went into her office and powered up her laptop.

  The doorbell startled her an hour later. She looked through the peephole and saw Bobby Kent, so she opened the door for him. As soon as she saw him, she could guess he’d been drinking. Then she smelled him and knew it.

  “What’s wrong, Bobby?”

  He stumbled into the house and leaned against the wall. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I’ve been at a park down the street, and I realized I really shouldn’t drive anywhere. I tried to call a cab from the payphone but I didn’t have any cash. Can I use your phone?”

  “Ever heard of a cell phone, Bobby?”

  He blinked. “I’ve had seven. The tabloids always get the number and then somehow it gets published. Got tired of buying new phones and suing the carriers.”

  “Come with me.” She took his arm and steered him to the kitchen. “What happened at your parents’?”

  He sat down at the table and rested his head in his arms. “Money. They wanted me to stay in Nashville so they could have my money.”

  She was on her way to make coffee, but, at his words, sat down with him. “I’m sorry. I think I guessed as much.”

  “I shouldn’t be here in this condition.” He raised his head and rubbed his face. “I don’t like to get drunk, normally. I don’t even drink, really. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “I remember in college you didn’t drink at all except that one time when we, uh, celebrated.” She felt her cheeks fuse with heat. “Champagne as I recall.”

  “Very funny.” Bobby grinned. His sleepy eyes and crooked grin did funny things to the rhythm of her heart.

  “Why don’t you go to the spare room upstairs and sleep it off?” she suggested, taking his hand to help him up. He stood, a bit unsteadily, and let her lead him up the staircase. She stopped at the door at the very end of the upstairs hallway and opened it. “This is the farthest from the noise that will explode around here about six in the morning,” she said.

  Bobby leaned against the door and looked at her with hooded eyes. “You should hate me, Carol,” he observed quietly.

  “For many, many years, you were my least favorite person. Yesterday afternoon, I let it all go,” she told him. “Sleep well, Bobby. We’ll try to be as quiet as possible in the morning.” She moved to go past him.

  “Carol,” he said, taking her arm and pulling her against him. He held her like that for several seconds, his eyes on hers, then he started to lower his head,
but she put her index finger on the dimple in his chin to stop him.

  “Bobby, you’ve been drinking and I have court in about ten hours.” She pushed against him, knocking him a little off balance, enough for him to release her. “Go to sleep.”

  She turned from him and went back downstairs, wondering why she had a silly grin on her face.

  CHAPTER 8

  Personal journal entry

  April 23

  I wish she could have been alive to see how beautiful I made her. She had done herself no justice with her choice of clothes and with her hair pulled back so carelessly. Brushing her hair, cutting it to the proper length, and styling it gave me such momentary joy. If she hadn’t been so physically weak when it came to the drugs she would have agreed with me.

  I remember the smell of her hair. I can still smell the shampoo I used to wash it. The scent engulfs my every thought and torments me with thoughts of her. The real her, not the imitation.

  This need in me is unsatiated. Try as I might to dilute it, it’s growing. I want her. I want to watch her die. I need to watch her die. I need her to breathe her very last breath and then suck that air into my lungs. I do not want anymore cheap, sorry substitutes. She doesn’t want to lose her. She keeps threatening to hurt herself if I kill her but I will only tolerate that for so long before I do the hurting for her.

  She will continue to feed me any way she can. Just trying to assuage me. I’ll bide my time for now.

  Monday, April 23rd

  BELLS rang in Bobby’s head and his mouth felt like someone had lined it with felt and steel wool. It took all the willpower his body possessed to open his eyes and, as soon as the sunlight streaming through the white curtains hit his pupils, he groaned and wished he hadn’t wasted the energy.

  He hadn’t gotten drunk in years. When he went on his first tour, he’d caught himself drinking after the concerts to help wind down, and as soon as he realized what he was doing, he flat out quit. It was during that time that he recommitted himself to following Christ, and to ministry for Him, and never again felt a desire to drink. Until last night.

  Last night he felt the pang of guilt and regret with every drink he swallowed, but for some reason just kept on. Now he felt shame. To come here, to his daughter’s home in that state…

  He rolled out of the bed and stayed on his knees, burying his face in the mattress. His prayer was almost wordless, wrenched from his gut and coming out in inaudible sounds. He begged for forgiveness, for grace, and for wisdom in how to go forward from here.

  When he felt spent, he forced himself to stand up, holding onto his head with one hand and the bedpost with the other. Fully dressed except for his boots, he still wore the clothes he’d worn to church the day before. He realized he slept in his clothes for two nights straight now. Rectifying his living arrangements just shot up to near the top of his to-do list, following a handful of aspirin, two tall glasses of water, a cup of coffee, and a shower. Preferably in that order.

  The house was quiet as he moved through it and, judging by the brightness of the sunlight penetrating all the way to his brain at every window he passed, it was late morning. That meant Carol and Lisa were already gone. Good. He didn’t want either one of them to see him in this condition. The last two days had been bad enough.

  He was a confident person, something that had helped him rise through the ranks in the music business with such ease. He knew what he wanted from life, had succeeded in achieving most of it, and now ran an empire that operated under his name and existed because of his talent with all the skills he learned in college. The last two days had thrown him for a loop and had set him a little off kilter. High time to find his balance again and regain some control over his life.

  The time spent on his knees that morning was a good beginning.

  He went into Carol’s bathroom and searched her medicine cabinet until he found a nearly empty bottle of aspirin. He dumped what was left in it into his hand, then swallowed them down with water from the faucet. Knowing the drug was in his system and would do some good already made him feel better, so he went down to the kitchen to find the second and third items on his list. Water and coffee.

  He pushed open the door to the kitchen. Carol Mabry was a beautiful woman. If he hadn’t already thought that before this moment, the full pot of coffee on the counter would definitely have convinced him. There was even a cup sitting on the counter for him, along with a note telling him where to find the aspirin he’d already swallowed, and where to find clean towels.

  Bobby opened a few cupboard doors until he found drinking glasses and downed two tall glasses of water before he poured his first cup of coffee. He drank his second cup of the life saving brew while standing under a massaging shower head in the guest bathroom that delivered a steady stream of steaming hot water. It seemed to further ease the ache in his head.

  After his shower, as he dressed, his mind started clicking full force. He remembered his priorities and began to make plans. The first item on his agenda was to buy a house in this very neighborhood. He would prefer it to be on this street, but he would settle for something within a one-block radius. The house itself didn’t matter as much as the location. He’d tear down what was there and build a new one if he had to.

  This morning he had to find a hotel room so he had a place to stay while he searched for a house, and he needed to call his offices in Nashville and get his secretary and accountant working on a few things. He also needed to brief his attorney. Then there was the matter of what to say to the press once word got out.

  Because word would get out. It always did.

  He’d caught more than a few smart phones in the hands of teenage girls at church yesterday, cameras quite obviously pointed in his direction. If there wasn’t already buzz, it would start happening very soon. The paparazzo were going to have a field day over Bobby Kent’s long-lost love child. As chilling as that thought was, he knew he needed to make sure everyone was prepared for that, too.

  He left the house, turning in the direction of the park where he’d left his rental car. As he walked down the driveway, he saw an elderly man watering a flower bed next door. The man nodded to him and stuck an unlit pipe in his mouth, and Bobby decided to amble on over to speak with the man. He would know about any houses for sale in the area.

  “Howdy,” he greeted.

  The old man nodded, removed his pipe and asked, “Howdy yourself. Anyone ever tell you you are the spittin’ image of that singer, Bobby Kent?”

  Wearing his best album cover smile, Bobby nodded and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “My parents do all the time.”

  RHONDA knocked once on Carol’s door, opened it, and stuck her head through. “Carol, are you free after lunch today?”

  Carol nodded and saved the work on her computer. “I am now. Just got word the jury’s on their way back in on the Latsbaugh trial.”

  Rhonda carefully wedged herself all the way inside carrying a stack of poster-sized white foam boards with pictures of a gruesome drug related slaying printed on them. “Timothy asked me to bring these to you. Where do you want them?”

  Carol’s small office housed her desk and two credenzas full of books. Along various portions of the wall and credenza space, she stored the photo boards she used for presentations in court. She walked toward Rhonda and held out her hands. “I’ll take them. Thanks.” She found the appropriate stack and set them against it.

  From under the window, she grabbed up her briefcase and purse and started walking around her desk. Rhonda said, “I’ll walk up with you. I have court in ten.”

  The two walked along the corridor, offices on one side, a sea of cubicles manned by paralegals and clerks on the other. “Did you get the exhibits finished on the Kennedy case?” Carol asked.

  Rhonda stuck a strand of black hair back into the bun at the base of her neck and pushed her black framed glasses further up her nose. She looked at her watch as they left the office of the Commonwealth Attorney and entered th
e lobby of the building. While they waited for the elevator, the two attorneys watched in apathy as a woman with a really bad dye job over by the metal detectors at the entrance to the building argued with the security guard about some contraband item in her purse.

  “Timothy printed some pictures for me today. I’ll finish getting the exhibits ready this evening.”

  “As complicated as this case looks on the outside, I think in the end, it’s going to be cut and dry.” Most of the time, attorneys tried cases alone. Whenever big cases came, they would pair up so there would be help in the courtroom to ensure a conviction.

  They stepped into the elevator. Carol looked at their reflections and noticed how different they looked. Rhonda, medium height with a dancer’s body in her perpetual black and gray, and Carol, tall, red-haired, in a light green pantsuit and bright gold jewelry.

  Rhonda’s lips thinned. “I hope it’s cut and dry. I’d hate to see defense pull some magic rabbit out of a hat.”

  “Nothing to pull. You and I both know how solid this case is.”

  Rhonda nodded as they stepped off the elevator onto the third floor and looked up at the big monitor that displayed the day’s docket. It always reminded Carol of an airport flight status monitor. Rhonda glanced at her phone and fielded an incoming text. Almost absently, she said to Carol, “Let me know where you want to eat lunch.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Tuesday, April 24th

  GARY Lindin sat perfectly still while Bobby spoke. When the star finished, he stayed silent for about thirty seconds, clearly letting it all digest before he whistled through his teeth. “Unbelievable, man.” He stood and paced in front of the couch upon which Bobby sat, his mind working in a thousand different directions. “So what do you plan to do now?”