Rocked Up

by Karina Halle

  “Looking for the guys?” my father asks. “I sent them on their way. I need to talk to you about something in private.”

  My heart thuds against my chest.

  Shit.

  He knows. Oh, he has to know.

  I don’t know how but he knows I’m pregnant.

  He knows Brad and I have been a thing.

  He knows all.

  That’s why I don’t trust that smile.

  It’s the cat that swallowed the canary.

  “Whatever you have to talk to me about, we can talk about it here,” I gesture to the lobby.

  “I’m afraid not. You might make a scene.”

  Oh, god.

  “I can tell you’re already getting riled up,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  I shrug him off. “You tell me here. Whether I make a scene or not, that’s up to me.”

  I know it bothers him that so many guests are mingling in the lobby, trying to soak up the free booze. So many guests that probably recognize him. But I don’t care. He wants to control me? He can’t control me now.

  “Fine,” he says, eyes turning hard. “You want it this way, fine. I don’t care. It’s you who will suffer, not me.” He lowers his voice. “I know you disobeyed my orders. I know you’re sleeping with Brad.”

  “And how would you know that?” I ask him, wondering what else he knows.

  “I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “Who told you that? How do you know you can trust him?”

  “Because I can,” he says. “And it’s Marc Calvi. He’s seen you with him on more than one occasion so don’t even pretend.”

  Calvi. I knew it. I’m going to fucking murder him. Then Brad’s going to want to murder him right after. A double-murder and no regrets.

  “Look, Calvi is just looking out for the band. As am I. Your dalliances with Brad have been disrupting everything.”

  “No they haven’t!” I cry out, attracting the attention of a few people nearby. I lower my voice, knowing I’m completely hormonal lately. “The band has been just fine, we’re performing better than ever. I mean, the tour is almost over, dad. Just let it be.”

  “So you don’t deny it.”

  “No, I don’t deny it.”

  “Then you’re not the smart girl I thought you were.”

  “I beg your pardon? Not smart? For the last couple of months I’ve been navigating the dirty, two-faced scene of live music. I’ve been dealing with the media, I’ve been dealing with expectations, I’ve been dealing with everything in order to ensure that every night I give it my all and give it my best. And I do. I’m consistent. I work hard and it pays off. And the only person I don’t have to deal with, who gets me, who understands me and helps me, is Brad.”

  My father shakes his head, looking ever so disappointed. “You’re young, Lael. Young and confused. Too young to be a musician, too easily corrupted to be with this band. I should have known but I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

  “I am doing what’s best for me,” I tell him, jabbing my thumb into my chest. “This was never up to you. I have control over my life, you don’t.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong Lael. I have control over everything you do. And I can make it end for everyone in a second. For you. And for Brad.”

  My heart starts to speed up, my face feeling hot. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that it’s over.”

  “Over?”

  He raises his palm dismissively. “I’m not going to even give you a second chance because I gave you that already and you let me down. You let me down, kid. And that hurts. It hurts. You’ll never know a father’s pain, what I’m feeling.”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  “It’s over. Either you leave this band and make tonight your last show or Brad does. There’s no way both of you will be part of this band ever again. So make your choice.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I can. I own Brad. You know this. And he owes me. I’ll pull him from the band.”

  “He is the band!”

  He shrugs. “Then there are no more shows. I’ve made enough money from this tour, it doesn’t really matter if you do the last shows or not. Who cares? If it all ends, who cares? I’ll build up another band with someone who respects me.”

  “You’re a monster,” I seethe. “You’re not a father at all.”

  It has no effect on him. “You’re not a parent, you’ll never understand the sacrifices.”

  I can’t control what I say next. It just roars out of me, like a volcano. “I will be a parent!”

  “Yeah, one day.”

  “No,” I tell him, gathering my courage. “Now. In nine months. Dad. I’m pregnant.”

  He stares at me completely calm and cool. He doesn’t even blink.

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m pregnant,” I tell him. “I’m going to have the baby. And Brad is the father.”

  Everything happens in slow motion. My father goes pale, his skin almost matching his blonde hair, and he starts to sway a bit like he’s going to faint. His mouth drops open. He’s in shock.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t want you to find out this way but it’s true. I’m going to have Brad’s baby, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  I have to admit, I’m totally expecting my father to blow up right there and then but he manages to hold it together. I’m pretty sure he’s having a stroke on the inside but on the outside he looks as blank-faced and impassive as ever.

  “You really know how to hurt me, don’t you Lael.”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “I’ll be like whatever I want. Obviously I can’t stop you. But I can stop this band from going forward. What I said earlier sticks. Either Brad leaves the band or you do. Make tonight your last show, you hear me? You or him, make up your mind.”

  “Who the hell is going to play bass?”

  “I have Bruce Ross on call,” he says, giving me a satisfied smirk. “I had a feeling something like this would happen. He auditioned for them and will make a great fit. Better than you did.”

  “No one will do a better job than me,” I say, shoving my finger in his face.

  He just stares down at me with cold eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, Lael. I let you do this as a favor. The fantasy is over. Back to reality with you. You and your baby. Good luck trying to get Brad to be a part of it.”

  Then he turns, grabs a glass of wine off the table and strolls out of the hotel with it in hand, as if he owns the place.

  I’m left simmering in the lobby, my heart thumping, my limbs feeling numb.

  How dare he?

  I mean, I wasn’t expecting hugs and kisses when I told him I was pregnant, but I also wasn’t expecting him to just walk away like that, like he didn’t care at all.

  And I certainly didn’t think tonight would be my last show.

  Shit.

  I mean, it’s the right thing to do. I can walk, it’s harder for Brad. I am just a replacement in the end, Brad is everything to do with the band. And I know that if I tell Brad what just happened, everything that just went down, that he’ll be the one to quit.

  This is his life. I can’t let him do that.

  I’ll just have to lie to him.

  It won’t be easy though.

  I’ll have to make something up. Tell him that I’m just not feeling it anymore, that I want to go home and start being a mom. I’ve been feeling great, maybe a bit tired lately, but I can always use the pregnancy as an excuse. He can’t question that.

  But of course, no matter how I swing it, this is going to be my last show.

  The end.

  How on earth am I going to come to terms with that? How am I going to say goodbye to the band? How am I going to say goodbye to the beauty and joy it brings me? The sense of purpose?

  I guess in some ways I would have to anyway. After tonight, there’s only three more shows. My father was right, th
e fantasy would be over and soon. But even so, I needed time to prepare, time to grieve. I didn’t want it to be like this, being given the boot because everything good that happens to me comes with a mountain of complications.

  I feel bereft. I want to go into my room, crawl into bed, and cry. Maybe it’s the altitude here, but I feel like I could sleep forever and then maybe wake up and have it be a bad dream.

  But I won’t do that.

  I can’t.

  If this is my last show, then it’s my last show.

  I’m going to pull up my big girl panties and give it everything I have.

  Every last inch of my heart and soul.

  I’m going to rock, pregnant and all, like I’ve never rocked before.

  But first…

  I’m going to find Calvi and punch him right in his god damn face.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brad

  I never watch the opening band. I know I should, out of respect, but I can’t. The moments before the show are mine, I go to that other place I need to be to be able to perform in front of a sold-out arena of screaming fans.

  I hate the trend of music these days, it’s too casual. It’s fashionable to walk on stage eating an apple, dressed like it’s laundry day. I’m not like them. I take it very seriously. When I told Lael to show the crowd no respect, I hope she knew what I meant. I have immense respect for the audience, but I do not fear them. What I was talking about is that bad energy in the room that can happen sometimes. You shouldn’t respect that.

  I never concern myself whether I look humble and modest, I don’t overthink. When I step on to the stage I demand respect. People want to be led, when the energy in the room turns into a confused sea, don’t jump into the water. Show up with a pirate ship and make them beg to come aboard.

  There’s still plenty of time before the show, but I feel it’s one of those damn nights. I can feel it from my dressing room, the rumbles from the opening band, and the reaction of the crowd rumbles through the walls and into the room where I sit, alone. I need to be alone today, busy building a pirate ship in my mind.

  Calvi and Switch always watch the opening bands. I think they do it not because they are down to earth good guys, but more because they want to be seen that way. I’m happy they take that role, it takes the pressure off me. Lael usually finds a quiet place to play her bass, and dolls herself up. She has been scarce today. I know Ronald showed up unexpectedly and I haven’t seen her since. I wouldn’t usually think anything of it but emotions are running high for various reasons.

  I’ve had some time to processes the fact that Lael and I are going to have a child. I think I’ve felt every emotion on the spectrum of emotions. I’ve been full of life since she told me the news; it’s given me perspective. I wonder if in some deep way I wanted Lael to get pregnant. I’ve always been so careful in the past, all these years and I’ve never slipped one past the goalie.

  When she told me the news, I felt fear, but there was a deep immediate acceptance. I can’t imagine what I would have felt if someone from my past told me the same news. I probably would have felt an instant dread when I consider being tied to some woman for the rest of my life.

  But with Lael, that couldn’t be further from the truth. When Lael told me, I almost felt…relieved. She’s a ray of sunshine; I am creating life with the sun.

  I’m lucid and letting my mind wander. I let it go anywhere it wants as long as it doesn’t go into the confused sea just outside these walls.

  Time passes and the opening act is done. The walls are no longer rumbling; the volume of the crowd turns down and sounds like a busy night-time freeway.

  Lael walks in, she doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look at me. I’ve noticed she has an impeccable tuning fork. I’ve never spoken to her about my pre-show rituals, she’s just picked up on things and finds a space for herself to fill. She has that ability musically, too.

  Lael also lets herself go to another place before the show like I do. I like how she takes it so seriously. So when she says my name, I am surprised she’s talking at all.

  “Brad,” Lael says.

  I take a moment, turn my head to her. She’s sitting on the couch, slumped over in defeat. She looks nothing like she usually does before show time. Something is terribly wrong.

  “This can’t be good,” I say.

  “It’s not,” she says.

  I get off the chair in front of the vanity mirror where I sit and join her on the couch.

  “Lay it on me,” I tell her.

  Arnie pokes his head in. “Five minutes,” he says quickly, then disappears.

  “Sorry, I don’t want talk before the show, but I thought you might want to know,” Lael says pushing her hair back behind her ears.

  “Lael. It’s okay, I know it’s scary stuff, but everything is going to be fine,” I assure her.

  I’m not bothered by her preshow chat in the least. The pirate ship in my mind is built, it is fierce, and I am ready. I’m ready for whatever she has to say to me, and I’m ready to have an amazing show.

  But Lael is struggling to find the words.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry but I can’t finish the tour with you. I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid this will be my last show.”

  I hear her words but they’re not sinking in. I have a good tuning fork too, and it’s vibrating out of control.

  “What? Why? There are only a couple show left. Are you okay?” I ask. “Is…is the baby?”

  “I’m fine,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “The baby too.”

  “Are we okay?” I ask with concern.

  “Yes, baby, yes, we are better than okay.” She finally meets my eyes. “It’s a girl thing. It’s a pregnant thing. I need to be at home right now. I should be seeing a doctor, I need to shift gears a little.” She holds my hand as she speaks emotionally.

  When I consider that I have no idea about pregnancy, I begin to feel selfish. I haven’t considered maybe she should be under the care of a doctor, maybe she should be in the hospital right now. Is she in pain? I’m overwhelmed by the sudden awareness of my own ignorance.

  “Are you in pain? You don’t have to play tonight; I don’t care about that. I care about you. I will take you home right now.” I’m speaking nervously and quickly, concerned I have put her in danger.

  Lael’s body language tells me to turn down my intensity. I realize I’m on my knees in front of her and holding her hands like she’s dying soldier.

  I get myself together and sit beside her again.

  “Relax, I’m fine. The baby is fine. We are fine. I just need to do this, and I need you to be understanding,” she says this with so much conviction.

  I feel guilty that she’s now the one calming me down.

  Outside, the volume of the crowd spikes up, I imagine the house lights went down. Our five minutes are up. This has been the best tour of my life. I know there will be other tours but this one is special.

  And the reason it’s so special is leaving.

  I take a moment to let this reality sink in.

  The crowd starts chanting. They sound like an angry mob but at least they are unified, that makes my job easier.

  And Then… And Then… And Then…

  “I want you to sing the first song,” I say to her.

  “Fuzzface? Why?” she asks, seeming embarrassed by the idea.

  “It’s yours, you’ve made it your own. I want this memory, please, for me,” I say.

  The crowd begin to stamp their feet on each syllable, the light fixtures above us begin to rattle and swing.

  And I can see on her face that she’s willing and ready.

  Calvi walks into the room, his nose looking bruised and puffy.

  “What happened to you?” I ask pointing to his wounded face.

  “It’s getting crazy out there, we have to go on stage now,” He says ignoring my question. I notice he doesn’t look at Lael at all and she’s glaring at him like I’ve nev
er seen her glare before. There’s also a touch of smugness in her face.

  “Okay man, sounds good, we’re not far behind,” I answer.

  Calvi disappears. My attention is back on her. If this is the last show with Lael on this tour, I want to remember every moment. I want her to have an amazing experience that she can draw upon for years to come.

  We stand up. I don’t say a word, we hold eye contact and let the energy rise. Every cell in my body is vibrating and I know she feels the same.

  “I am going to miss you,” I say.

  “I am not gone yet.”

  “Then let’s do this thing,” I tell her.

  We walk to the wing of the stage. We look at each other one last time before we both disappear to the place we need to be.

  Lael walks on stage and the crowd stops it’s chanting and roars instead. She struts to her bass and I know there is not a woman in the room that doesn’t wish they had a fraction of her confidence.

  I try not to think about what the men are thinking.

  I wait from the wing of the stage and watch for a few moments.

  A single spot light shines on her.

  She takes a few steps to the edge of the stage and just stands there in the spotlight and lets a tension build.

  Every eye in the room is on her.

  As if she’s in slow motion she hits her bass with the side of her fist. The whole area shakes. The note rings out and echoes. Her eyes stay up and I imagine every single person in the arena feels like she’s looking them dead in the eye. She hits her bass again, still her eyes are up, stoic and in control.

  Beautiful.

  On the third hit she hits her famous pedal. It was loud before but it’s now violent. She’s on her knees, her technicolor hair over her face.

  On the fourth hit the light man makes the entire stage glow teal.

  I walk out and the entire band begin the slow, heavy, seductive riff. She whips her hair around and commands the stage, commands everything.

  I stay back, beside the drums and watch her as if I were her biggest fan.