I open the book and find that it’s been personalized to me.
Dear Josephine,
To all the ones before, during and after.
Calista Jones
Who the hell is Calista Jones? Is she trying to tell me in not so many words that my husband is cheating on me? That thought alone sends me back to praying to the porcelain gods, but nothing is coming out except sobs. I cry out from the pain destroying my stomach and the sharp knife being jabbed into my heart. Everything in me is yelling that Sam did this, but she’s gone. The only way she could’ve done this is if she wrote it before she died. Unless the crazy bitch isn’t dead and everyone has been lying.
I sit back on my legs, realizing I never let go of the book when I was trying to throw up. As much as I don’t want to read it, I have to. I have lingering questions and this may provide me with the answers.
It may also destroy my marriage, my life and everything that I hold close to my heart. He didn’t tell me not to read it.
My brain is saying burn it but my heart is telling me to turn the page...
So I do.
Layla Richards looks around the club, probably recalling similar memories as I had when we played here. I follow her to one of the high top tables and sit down across from her. She is nothing like I remember with her red hair, wild make-up and questionable clothing all gone. In their place is chin-length hair, which is now dark and considerably toned down make-up. The barely there clothes she used to wear have been replaced with what I consider normal attire. The one thing that hasn’t changed is the color of her eyes, which are in complete contrast to her hair. Looking at her now, you wouldn’t believe she was the lead singer of a rock group.
“It’s so good to see you,” she says as she grabs for my hands. I let her because it’s harmless and Layla is just a friend.
“You, too. I hate that we didn’t keep in touch. What have you been up to?”
“Oh gosh,” she says as she falls back into her chair. “When was the last time I saw you?”
The last time I saw Layla is a night I wish I could forget. I’d love to go back and make sure it never happened¸ make it so I never crossed the line with Sam. I was lonely and for a brief moment thought that Layla and I could revisit things and even though Harrison had warned me, I still liked Layla.
I rub my chin and drag my thumb over my lip. “The last time I saw you some fucker popped me in the face.”
Layla’s eyes go wide as she covers her mouth in shock. “Oh my god,” she says, but it sounds more like ohmygob because her hand is covering her mouth. “Holy shit, I remember that.”
“Your husband, if I remember correctly?”
She waves her hands as if to dismiss what I’m saying.
“What a nightmare he was.”
“Was?” I ask, inviting more conversation. I’ll take her whole damn story if it gets me out of cleaning the club. I’m sure Layla isn’t here to clean either.
“Let’s get something to drink first,” she says as she heads toward the bar. I watch as she moves around with ease, making herself a drink. “Do you want something?”
“Sure, why not?” The why not should be because it’s before noon, and I shouldn’t be drinking. The sure is because I’m here and what else am I going to do? It’s pretty much all a lame excuse on my part.
After a few minutes she returns with two glasses of some orange and pink looking drink. I’m either a hard liquor or beer type of guy. Fruity shit and I do not get along. When she places it down in front of me, I try not to roll my eyes. I hesitantly pick it up and take a sip and surprisingly don’t gag, but am wondering what the hell it is that I’m drinking.
“I think you forgot the Vodka.”
She shakes her head and takes a long drink of her concoction. “I don’t drink, smoke or do any of the stupid shit I used to do.”
It takes me a moment realize she’s talking about drugs. The first night we met, she offered me something, and I took it, no questions asked. I had just been told via voicemail that I had ruined Josie’s life and I needed to feel numb. I needed to forget about the lives that I had ruined when I left mine behind and Layla was the answer to that – in more ways than one.
“Good for you. What made you change?”
“Took some ecstasy, had a one night stand and ended up pregnant.”
I swallow hard, knowing that’s what we did minus the pregnancy part… I hope.
“So you have a kid?”
“Yep, she’s almost twelve.”
Layla finishes her drink as if nothing is amiss. I’ve barely touched mine and have suddenly found that I’m not very thirsty, though my mouth is parched and my tongue feels numb. I can’t even begin to describe what I’m thinking or feeling. I do the math quickly, using Noah’s age when I found out about him. They’re about a year apart and as I mentally tick off the months in my mind all I can see is Josie’s face as she hears the words that I may have another child. This will kill her and end us. We have been unable to conceive another child and to hear that a fling – one that I went to days after breaking up with her – could have possibly had my baby because I was stupid will kill her. She’ll leave me and I’ll deserve to be alone.
Maybe if I don’t ask if I’m the father, she’ll never bring it up and I’ll never have to tell Josie. Of course, that will never work because the guilt will eat away at me and I’ll end up caving. My life, as I know it, may be over. She will maim me, stringing me up by my toes in the basement.
No that would be too easy. I can see my wife looking me in the eyes and telling me to get to the fuck out. She won’t even bat an eyelash. It won’t even matter that this happened while we were broken up.
“Liam?” Fingers are snapped in my face, breaking me from my train of thought.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I adjust myself in the chair, seeking some sort of comfort, but finding none.
“My husband… he didn’t want to be the father to another man’s child and the night he punched you in the club, he said he was done with my ‘ways’.” She waves her hands dismissively in the air as if it’s no big deal. My life is falling apart, tearing away at the seams and she’s acting like this is just another day for her.
“Do you have a picture of your daughter?”
“Yeah, sure,” she says, as she digs through her purse, pulling out her phone. My palms are sweating as she swipes through her photos looking for the one that is going to seal my fate. Fuck, I need a shot... or fifty... to get me through this.
Layla slides her phone over for me to look. I wish I was the observant type and could tell if this child is mine or not, but I can’t. She has brown hair, hazel eyes and could look like Noah… maybe. I’m not sure. Hell, I stood next to my son in the bathroom and saw him in the mirror, but never fully looked at him until he told me he’d seen me kissing his mom on TV. Staring at the girl now, she looks like Layla, and that’s probably because she’s standing next to her. She takes her phone back and locks the screen, ending my viewing session. Part of me doesn’t want to know if this is my child and would rather go back to Beaumont in the dark, but the other part of me needs to find out. As much as it would hurt Noah, he’d have a right to know that he has a sister.
“What’s her name?” My voice is low, broken and barely above a whisper. My life is fucked. There’s no fixing this unless I lie, and I’m not about to do that. Layla doesn’t answer, nor seem to even acknowledge that I asked a question. I want her phone back. I want to look again, to study the photo or maybe multiple ones so I can compare. Put her daughter and Noah side-by-side and see if they match.
At this rate I’m Dad of the fucking year. I’ve missed both my children growing up, coming in after most of the hard stuff is done, but being there for the ever so lovely teenage years.
“Are you feeling okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I stammer. “Why didn’t you… keep in touch?” I wanted to ask her why she didn’t tell me, but chang
ed my mind at the last second. This answer will be easier to hear rather than a meaningless excuse.
I hate to think of where I’d be in life right now had she told me. I know I would’ve gone home for Mason’s funeral and developed a relationship with Noah, but it’s unlikely Josie would’ve given me the time of day. She’d be married to Nick now and probably pregnant with their child because he has no problem getting his wife pregnant. I, on the other hand, can only conceive children when I’m eighteen fucking years old. Sterling is going to be so proud of me when he hears I fathered another child.
“This business makes it hard, and you didn’t exactly have a likeable manager. What happened to her anyway? Better yet, where the hell have you been? I heard you went all rogue and moved out of LA.”
Right now I want a strong, stiff drink that’s going to knock me on my ass and make me forget about how screwed up my life is. I need to numb my brain and keep it from over thinking.
“My best friend died, and I went home for the funeral. Going home changed a lot of things for me. As for Sam…” I run my hand over my hair and sigh. There was a time in my life when I liked Sam. It wasn’t anything like what I felt for Josie, but the feelings were still there. What I couldn’t deal with were the lies and how controlling she was. She just couldn’t let things happen organically between us. My biggest mistake was leading her on and telling her that we’d try right before Mason died.
“When you go home after being gone for ten years without keeping in contact with anyone, you learn a lot about yourself and the people you left behind. I had a high school sweetheart who I had broken up with days before I met you.” Layla’s eyes go wide with understanding at what I’m telling her. “Anyway, I was home and shit started falling into place. We have a son that Sam knew about but hid from me. Once I found out, I terminated my contract with Moreno Entertainment and put down permanent roots back home - bought a house and all that grown-up shit we’re supposed to do.” I sigh, thinking about how everything changed after that. “Sam, she grew desperate and sabotaged our tour. We lost a lot of money, sued Moreno Entertainment and are still waiting for payment. Two years ago, I married my girl and a couple days after, Sam killed herself.”
Layla covers her mouth in shock. I would, too, if I were hearing this for the first time, but the shock of hearing about it doesn’t even come close what it was like actually living it. Sam harassing Josie was a nightmare – telling her that I was going to take Noah away from her, showing up at our house with nothing but lingerie on. Her destruction of our tour was the last straw. Something had to be done.
“Anyway, shit’s crazy right now. The band isn’t making any money. We all have families to support. We’re out here to help Trixie, but I’m hoping I can work a few deals and get us some headliners or something.”
“Do you guys still want to tour?”
Nodding, I finally take a drink of whatever it is that Layla made. “I miss it. I miss being on the road and performing. Right now we do a few sets at the local bar and my wife’s café, but it’s not the same.”
“I know what you mean. After I had Naomi, shit got hard. Touring with a baby was stressful, but I didn’t want to leave her. I also didn’t want to quit partying, but something had to give. So now I write music. My songs are selling to artists bigger than I ever would’ve gotten, so I still feel successful.”
All thoughts have turned back to her daughter when she says her name. It’s fitting that her name is similar to Noah’s. It’s showing me how much of a fuck up I am and makes me wonder what the fuck Josie is even doing with me. I put the glass down and take a deep breath.
“When I can meet her, Layla?”
“Who?” she asks. I hate that she’s playing dumb. It’s the most annoying thing when women do this. She knows exactly what I’m referring to and still won’t come out and say what I don’t want to hear.
“Naomi.”
“Why would you want to meet her?”
I put my drink down and fold my hands together. “I’ve lost enough time with one child; I don’t want to lose anymore. I can understand if you don’t want me to be a part of her life but I’d at least like to meet her. She has a brother just a bit older than her. They should at least know each other.”
Layla’s eyes go wide, and she starts shaking her head. “Naomi isn’t your daughter, Liam.”
I take her words in, repeating them over and over again in my head. Relief washes over me, yet I’m still confused. “But you said –”
“What I said was that I got pregnant after a one night stand, which yes, you and I had and yes, we had done ecstasy, but it wasn’t you who knocked me up.”
“Are you sure?”
Layla smiles. “Positive. Naomi’s dad is actually in her life. They have a good relationship. You have nothing to worry about. No need to start writing me checks.”
“It wasn’t the checks I was worried about.”
“What was it then?”
I pull out my phone and bring up a picture of Josie and Noah. “It’s them. That’s my wife, Josie, and our son, Noah. I left her, eighteen and pregnant. I found out about him when I went home for my buddy’s funeral.”
“She’s gorgeous. How come she never called you?”
“She did.” I lock my screen and put my phone away. “Sam hid the messages from me. Anyway, we’re about to adopt and once again, I’ve up and left before the baby is due to arrive. I’ve been sitting here thinking about how she’s going to kill me. So don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really happy your daughter isn’t mine.”
“But Liam you’d make such a great baby daddy.”
Before I can respond, she’s off the stool and behind the bar, making more of her juice. “I’ll take mine with some rum!” I yell out to her, earning a loud chuckle. One crisis averted for the day... and right now, I think that’s about all I can handle.
I’m in Beaumont - Liam’s hometown. I can see why he left. There’s absolutely nothing here. I’d be so bored and am thankful that he’d never invited me back before. I saw her today, the one he mumbles about. I know the baby she carries is his, but Liam doesn’t need to know. He’s a rising star and this would derail everything I’ve worked so hard for. Daddy was right. We’re his family now.
Nothing... and I mean absolutely nothing... could’ve prepared me for this. Each page is getting harder and harder to read. The questions I once had have been answered, and not in a good way, and I find myself questioning everything that is written in black and white before my eyes. I know Liam. I know him better than the person writing this book, and for the life of me I can’t see him like this.
I am not naïve. I know he changed when he went to college. Noah having to grow up without him is evident by that, albeit not by Liam’s choice. But to read that my son was purposely hidden from his life is heartbreaking. These people didn’t do anything for my husband except create a puppet that they wanted to control. I hate… hate to think about where we’d be today if it hadn’t been for Mason.
I loathe typing B-E-A-U-M-O-N-T into my computer, but Liam is insistent. Why he’s going to the funeral for a guy that he hasn’t seen in ten years is baffling. These people mean nothing to him, and yet he’s leaving me again. I wonder if I should tell him that his friend came looking for him all those years ago. That he pounded his fists on the desk in reception demanding that he see him. He even waited in the lobby for two days for Liam to come in, but I made sure to keep him away. NOTHING was going to take my Liam from me, and yet here is the same man, taking him back to that wretched place.
Tears rush from my eyes, wetting the pages of this garbage. I remember when Mason disappeared for a few days, never telling me where he went. I’m not sure if he ever told Katelyn. When he came back though, you could tell he wasn’t the same person. Katelyn thought he had cheated on her, but he didn’t. She knew that in her heart, but couldn’t help and second-guess why he was being so secretive. Now we know.
I throw the book to the ground and let
the tears fall freely, hoping to expel the negative energy from my mind and body. Reading this was a mistake and when they say curiosity killed the cat, they weren’t joking. I feel dead inside. My heart feels as if it weighs a hundred pounds or more and is barely beating. I need Liam to hold me, reassure me that Sam is dead and will never come back to interfere in our lives. And if she isn’t dead, she’ll wish she were after I’m finished with her.
Glancing around, I realize I’m still in the bathroom, having never moved once I turned the first page. My stomach growls, but the thought of food is nauseating. I’m not sure I could eat anything and if I did I’m not sure it’d stay down.
My legs are stiff as I start to stand, using the wall for guidance and leverage. Never, have I been so consumed with something that I’ve let so much time pass. Even after Liam left I had to function. The baby growing inside of me needed me to survive.
Darkness filters through the blinds in my kitchen. Glancing at the illuminated clock on the microwave tells me that I’ve been in the bathroom for about six hours. That’s far too many hours wasted on something that means so little to my life. It’s the journal excerpts that gave me pause. Reading and re-reading them over and over to let the tales of Sam and the other women soak in is what took me so long to process the garbage that has been written in that stupid book. It’s like a car crash on the highway. You know you shouldn’t look because it’s disrespectful to stare, but you turn your head anyway as you drive at a snail’s pace, only to mutter an “Oh God” and say a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn’t you in that accident.
When I saw the mangled truck that Mason drove the night he was killed, the sentiment of “Oh God” had an entirely different meaning. The officers were slow to release the wreckage to the towing company and something deep inside made me drive by the scene the next morning. His truck, one that I had been in so many times, was a shell of what it used to be. It was easy to see how he didn’t survive even as his words echoed through my mind, “Nothing can break this baby.” He was wrong. An eighteen-wheeler with failing breaks coming down a hill did. That semi didn’t just destroy Mason’s truck, but all of our lives as well. However, with that destruction came hope and something new. Because of Mason, I was given another chance with Liam and I’m a fool to let some unauthorized biography based mostly on his psycho manager mess that up for me.
My Kind of Forever Page 9