My Kind of Forever

by Heidi McLaughlin

  When we catch up with JD, he’s body surfing with a few little kids. They’re all laughing and keep asking him to say different words. Little kids are easily fascinated by his accent. As soon as he sees us, he tells them he has to go and maybe he’ll see them around.

  “New friends?” I ask, handing him the wetsuit.

  “Hilarious. You’re just jealous that I have that universal appeal to everyone, mate.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m not.”

  We step into our wetsuits and strap our ankles. The three of us, with our boards under our arms, look out into the ocean. We’ve been here before – same beach, same pose – right before shit started changing for us. Actually, it’s me who initiated the change and sometimes I wonder if I’ve steered them in the wrong direction. I know neither of them would give up Katelyn or Jenna, and the lives their leading, but sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone home to say goodbye to Mason.

  Where would I be right now? Dead? I don’t know why death is my first option, maybe because I felt like I was dying a little each day. Then I saw Josie again for the first time in ten years and everything changed.

  “Let’s go,” Harrison says, walking out to the water. JD and I follow, dropping onto our boards and paddling out. I’m not great on the board, but I try my hardest and it’s a lot of fun. Harrison and Quinn, on the other hand, are great and put JD and me to shame.

  We ride the waves until Tess hollers for us to come in for lunch. JD runs up to the house, picking Tess up and getting her all wet. She squeals in pure delight and pinches his cheeks when he puts her down.

  Tess joins us for grilled chicken, corn on the cob and salad. Apparently Harrison told her we’re not eating very healthy.

  “This looks delicious, Tess. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Liam.”

  Small talk is made, and it’s mostly about her grandchildren – all five of them. Tess has always doted on Quinn, we all have, but when she met Noah, Peyton and Elle, she immediately took them in as her own. Eden has just been the icing on the cake for her. I know she’s going to be in heaven when the new baby arrives.

  “Has Anthony been by?”

  JD, Harrison and I all drop our forks at the same time, but Tess keeps eating. It’s like she doesn’t know that she’s asked about the devil himself.

  “Sometimes I forget you know the same people as my grandmother,” I say to Tess, who smiles softly. I look at Harrison and ask, “Do you remember that party? The one where Anthony was talking to Ness Cacco?” I’ll do anything to change the subject from Anthony Moreno.

  He nods. “Yvie was trying to hit on you.”

  “Oh my,” Tess says, covering her mouth. “I swear, that girl. I’m waiting for her to tell me its okay to let people know she’s engaged.”

  “WHAT?” the three of us say at the same time, shock and surprise evident all over our faces. Clearly Yvie has been hiding this little bit of information from all of us.

  Tess turns red and covers her mouth. Harrison pulls on her hand, but she shakes her head.

  “Please tell me it isn’t that scumbag director?” I ask.

  Another head shake.

  “Xander?” Harrison asks.

  Tess’s eyes go wide as she stuns us into silence.

  “Spill now, Mom.” Harrison demands.

  Her hand drops from her mouth and she starts filling us in on the details. “Xander proposed about a month ago, but Yvie has asked me to keep it quiet until she could give notice at the ballet and get moved.”

  “She’s moving to Beaumont?” JD asks.

  “Yes, by the end of the summer. She’s going to teach ballet above the gym.”

  “So that’s why Xander has been remodeling,” I add, causing Tess to nod. She looks so upset that she gave away Yvie’s secret, but we’re all family, we won’t tell anyone. “You okay, Harrison?” I kick his shin to get his attention.

  “Yeah, it’s just weird thinking she’s old enough to get married.”

  “Um, you do realize that she and I are about the same age.”

  He looks at me with squinted eyes. “Yeah, but you’re a dude and shit.”

  Confusing explanations brought to you by Harrison James... and that is one of the many reasons why I love him.

  After lunch, we have to say our goodbyes. Tess tells us she’ll be up for one of the five shows we’re going to play at Metro and asks us to come back and see her. Harrison promises, of course.

  As soon as we pull into the hotel to shower and change, I spot Moreno waiting in the lobby. We bypass him on purpose, and he knows it judging by the smirk that’s on his face. We ride the elevator in silence, the only noise coming from our beating hearts. We know why he’s here, but the thing is, JD and Harrison get to escape him. I don’t. He’ll be knocking on my door any minute now.

  “I think we should go to your room.” It’s JD who suggests this and if it wasn’t socially unacceptable, I’d handcuff both of them to me so they had to come in.

  “I agree,” Harrison adds. “He’s been coming after you, alone, when it’s a band decision. Unless he just wants you... ”

  I shake my head. “Even if that was the case, he knows I won’t go anywhere without you guys.”

  The elevator dings and the door opens. Each step to my penthouse seems to take forever. And it seems like another eternity before the knock comes. Harrison answers the door, holding it open for Moreno to enter.

  “Gentlemen,” he says, as if he’s welcome here. He sits in the same chair as he did last time, setting his fedora on the edge. Hospitality indicates I should offer him a drink, but after the meltdown I had the other night, I asked that all liquor be removed from my room.

  “Page, can’t pay your bill I see?” he motions to the empty liquor tray.

  “Nah, I just have a problem with people who show up to my room, uninvited, and help themselves to my booze.”

  Moreno chuckles and pulls out a flask. Seriously, can’t this man go one day without a drink?

  “Let’s talk business, boys.”

  “Let’s talk restraining order,” Harrison fires back.

  Moreno waves it off as if it’s nothing important. We could call the cops, but the likelihood that they’ll care is slim. They’re busy dealing with drug deals and dead prostitutes. Our gripe is a waste of time and Moreno knows it.

  He brings his leg up, resting his ankle on his knee. “I’m going to cut to the chase. You need me. After the media frenzy the other day, you need strong representation.”

  “You caused that frenzy,” I point out.

  “Eh, it was purely to show you what you’ll be dealing with if someone like me isn’t around.”

  “This sounds like a threat, Moreno,” Harrison states.

  “Just stating the facts.” He shrugs and stares at JD. “You’re young. Make sure these guys make the right decision. If they don’t, you know where to find me.”

  “Nah, I think I’ll pass. I’m happy with my mates, ta.”

  “I don’t understand why you want us,” I say, as I sit in front of him. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “What can we even offer you?”

  Moreno mirrors my position and chuckles. “Sex appeal, fan following, original music, instruments… the list goes on and on. I’m not interested in that pop rock computer shit. I want real music. I’ve told you before; your stage presence alone makes women wet themselves. Sam was right when she signed you.”

  “I’m glad you think so, but I’m not sure we’re interested.”

  He looks from me, to Harrison and finally to JD. “I think you need to ask your friends what they think.” Moreno doesn’t wait for a response as he gets up and leaves.

  “What do you guys think?” I don’t wait, asking them right off.

  “I think we have a gig to get to,” Harrison states before standing up and walking out of the room, JD following him. Neither of them says anything else, leaving me to wonder if I’m the only one who feels this way. If I am
, I can easily be replaced.

  “I think Harrison is going to be beat for our show.” JD is pacing backstage, glancing every now and again at Harrison as he plays for Layla. JD wasn’t around when I first met Harrison. I used to watch him play for multiple bands, night after night. He awed me, which is one of the reasons I needed him with me when I signed with Sam. The other reason is because he was my friend, and I couldn’t see walking this path without him.

  “He’ll be fine,” I say, trying to calm JD down. “He’s used to this.” He may not be used to surfing all morning and then coming in to play multiple sets, but I don’t say that to JD.

  “No, he used to be. He’s old now.”

  I crack a smile and fight off a laugh, but to no avail. I’m buckled over, holding my sides as I laugh at JD. Harrison may be older than him, but he’s not old by any means.

  “Stop worrying, we’ll be fine.”

  JD shakes his head, throwing his arms up in the air.

  “Hey, why don’t you tweet or whatever it is you do. We could use some more people out there.” I point through a small opening and show him the crowd. It’s not what I thought, but better than nothing. I spot Moreno in the back corner. I’m not sure why he’s here – there’s no new talent playing tonight and the one band that could be interested in him is already signed. He’s likely here to get under my skin, which he’s very good at doing.

  “I did tweet, but all the birds in LA know I’m married so they don’t want to come see me… us.”

  “That’s great, JD. So, because you’re off the market and they can’t hook-up, they’re not our fans anymore?”

  He shrugs and offers me a slight “I’m sorry” smile. I grin back, letting him know that I’m just bullshitting him.

  “Are you ready for your duets?” Trixie appears next to me with a smug look on her face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s trying to hook Layla and me up.

  “Not interested,” I tell her.

  “It’ll be fun, sexy. The women will go nuts and they’ll buy a ticket again for tomorrow night.” Trixie walks way, effectively ending our limited conversation.

  “I need some liquid courage,” I say to JD, who is glued to his phone. He’s probably sexting Jenna and I want to get out of here before he drops his drawers and starts taking pics of himself. I send the same shit to Josie, but from the privacy of my hotel room.

  The greenroom is fully stocked with booze and food. I make myself a sandwich, eat it quickly and follow it up with a beer and two shots. I’m going to need more if I have to get through performing with Layla. I also need to tell Josie before the pictures hit mainstream. I need to be a better husband in that regard.

  Pulling out my phone, I press her name and listen to the ringing on the other end. After four rings, her phone goes to voicemail. I hang up and try again. In between each call I’m taking a shot, numbing myself for having to sing with Layla. It’s not that I don’t like her; it’s the song choices. Each one is sexy and has me saying words I only want to say to my wife. After the third time with no answer, I leave a message.

  “I’m about to go on stage. Trixie has asked for some duets with…” I can’t bring myself to say her name. “Remember wh… I love you, Jojo.”

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say the words “remember what you see isn’t real” because it sounds like I’m trying to cover something up and I’m not. I’m a performer – it’s my job. Josie knows this and accepts it.

  Tonight – Liam Page is back.

  I haven’t told anyone about this pregnancy. It’s out of fear that I keep the news to myself. How could I, or my body, not have known that I’m pregnant? Yes, I’m one of the lucky ones who didn’t suffer from morning sickness but, as a mother, I should’ve known I have a child growing inside of me. The thought of not knowing and, therefore, not having cared properly for this baby sickens me. I’m afraid to go to the appointment. I’m afraid to hear the words that my pregnancy isn’t viable. I don’t want to see the look on Liam’s face when the doctor says those words.

  I close my eyes and mentally chide myself for thinking the worst. Everything could actually be fine and I could be overreacting. Tomorrow holds the answers, and I have to hang on to every positive thought I can until I’m told otherwise.

  Liam will be overjoyed when I tell him that I’m pregnant. We’ve been trying for so long, while not as long as some, to me it feels like years. Knowing how he is with Eden, I’m confident Liam will excel with a newborn. I have so many thoughts of him rocking our baby to sleep or singing him, or her, a lullaby that he writes especially for them... although I may have to censor his lyrics.

  The airline attendant walks by, asking if I need anything. It’s late, but drinking orange juice seems like the right thing to do. Flying First Class has its perks: More legroom and hip room, more choice on the menu and constant service. Not to mention the fact that the bathroom is closer.

  After my appointment this afternoon, I went to Nick’s office. He knows I’ve been under stress and knows that I’m missing Liam. I had to take him up on his offer to look after Noah so that I can see Liam, even if it ends up only being for a few hours. I joked that Nick has all the benefits of a divorced dad, but without the financial obligation. Only he proved me wrong in that respect because he and Aubrey do their fair share of providing for Noah, even without being asked. Nick and I breaking up was probably the best thing to happen to either of us.

  When you have time to kill, like when waiting for your flight, you tend to let your mind wander or, in my case, you take advantage of the stores in the terminal. This is what I did, and I’ve made a mistake with my purchase. The tell-all book about Liam sits in my lap. Something told me I needed to finish it and having left mine at home, I bought another copy. I haven’t opened it yet, though. It sits in my lap, weighing me down and taunting me.

  The flight attendant returns with my juice, nodding toward the book and asks, “Are you reading that?”

  How do I answer? Yes, I’ve read some, but not sure if I want to read anymore? Do I tell her Liam’s my husband and I’m trying to fill in the missing ten years from his life because we don’t talk about the time he was away?

  “I’ve read some,” I tell her.

  She crouches down next to me. “I read it. I had to. I have the biggest crush on Liam Page, but I have to tell you, I find most of this book as complete garbage.”

  I like her. I want to tell her who I am, but she won’t believe me. Living in Beaumont has kept me sheltered from the media, and they don’t dare take our pictures in town. I think I’ve been in the press maybe three or four times and, at best, they’re grainy images.

  “I’m finding it a little hard to read myself.”

  “I’m waiting for his press release about Layla Richards’ daughter. I’m sure now that the book is out, he won’t be able to deny her anymore.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth. She shakes her head. “It’s such a shame, too. I mean, he has a son as well, and now a daughter. He’s such a Hollywood cliché.”

  I feel my skin becoming clammy as I listen to her words. “Excuse me,” I say, as I stand. “I need to use the restroom.” I drop the book in my seat and sidestep her. The stupid smile that’s plastered all over her face makes me want to kick something. Right now I’d like to kick Liam.

  Once I’m inside the tiny stall, I slide the latch and the light comes on overhead. I wish I could shut it off because I don’t want to see myself in the mirror. The ugliness of Liam’s career is starting to eat away at me. Every time I turn around someone has a bomb to drop or a secret to expose, and those bombs and secrets are turning out be deadly.

  I don’t know how long I’m in the restroom, but a knock tells me my time is up. The flight attendant is standing there with a cup of Ginger Ale in her hand. I want to hate her, but she didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not her fault that my former boyfriend turned husband did some crap that’s coming back to bite him in the ass.

  If Liam and Layla ha
ve a child, I can’t be mad... we weren’t together. He moved on, and so did I. He didn’t know about Noah. If he had, he would’ve come back. He would’ve been there for Noah, even if he couldn’t be there for me.

  Opening the book, I scan the table of contents for Layla’s name and flip to her chapter. She has a whole freaking chapter when all I have is mentions of a woman who blackmailed him into marriage. I can only bring myself to skim the sentences until I find “daughter”.

  In my reporting, I uncovered that Liam Page entered into a romantic relationship with Layla Richards shortly after arriving (we’re talking days, people) in Los Angeles. The pair met at the famed Metro club after being introduced by his best friend and drummer, Harrison James.

  I was unable to track down Layla Richards, but did speak to her former husband who had this to say about Liam Page: “I hated that fucker. He knew Layla and I were married and he still chased after her. Their drug induced affair produced a child that I wanted nothing to do with.”

  At the time of print, Layla Richards’ daughter is eleven years old.

  I close the book and lean my head back, shutting my eyes. I don’t know how much more I can take. Even if he tells me everything, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay. This girl is either the same age or close to the same age as Noah. Liam left me in October and days later he was with someone else. If that doesn’t tell me how he felt about me, I don’t know what will.

  The cabin lights come on in preparation for our arrival at LAX and the flight attendant comes by to pick up any trash. I’m tempted to put the book in there, but I’ll need it for later. I need him to read the same words that I have and deny each and every one of them. He needs to tell me in his own words that this book is full of lies – that he’s not the person Calista Jones is making him out to be.

  This is my second time at LAX, and both times I’ve been beyond nervous. Finding a taxicab is easy - the driver tells me he knows the club and we’ll be there in about a half hour. My mind is traveling a thousand miles a minute as we drive down the freeway. I stare out my window, trying to catch as much of the city life that I can. I hate this place for what’s it’s done to me.