“Why didn’t you tell me Camille was pregnant?”
Joe’s pupils dilate in shock. If I was still harboring any doubts, they’re completely gone now. My bandmates have all gone very quiet.
“Camille’s pregnant?” John inquires.
“Not now,” I explain. “She was pregnant when we were about to leave for our tour abroad. She was pregnant with my child and left Joe a message about it. But Joe didn’t seem to think it was important enough to let me know, so he told Camille I wanted nothing to do with her and the baby.”
Max has my back, as always. He turns to Joe. “Is that true?”
Joe remains quiet for a while, his hands still resting on my fists to keep them from beating his face to a pulp. I force him against the wall once more. “Answer him!” I demand.
“Yes,” he quietly replies.
Finally it all makes sense, and my world collapses with the realization. That’s why he was always breathing down my neck. That’s why he insisted us not going back to Belgium for so many years. He never gave me the opportunity to be here for too long, and now I understand why – he was afraid I’d find out. This dickwad has made me miss out on the first few years of my son’s life – years I will never be able to get back.
Before I know what I’m doing, I let go of him and slam my fist into his jaw. He crashes to the floor and it gives me a sick sense of pleasure to see blood running from his mouth. He stays down for a moment, shell-shocked, then scrambles to his feet.
I want to attack him again, but Max and John are holding me back. They have to put all their strength into it, because I’m not cooperating. A good thing they’re stopping me, because right now I’m so fired up I could kill Joe for this.
Max gives Joe an icy glare. “I think it’s better if you leave,” he says coldly.
Joe glances from Max to the rest of the band. It’s heartwarming how they all back me up. “You guys can’t be serious,” he gasps incredulously.
“If you seriously think you can play a dirty trick like that on one of us, you’re not the manager we need.”
Joe realizes he’s going to lose this battle – that none of the band members are willing to step up for him.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he howls. “I made you famous, you bunch of idiots!”
At that precise moment, Mike and Steven come in. Max doesn’t waste any words. “Guys, could you escort this gentleman outside? And make sure he never comes back. We’ll send him his things later.”
Joe kicks and screams, making it difficult for Mike and Steven to take him out. Only after they have left and the door is closed do John and Max let go of me.
I flop down in a seat and run my hands through my hair. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t believe my life has been turned upside down like this in a matter of days.
Max sits down in the chair next to mine. “What’s going on, buddy?”
I tell them the whole story, about Camille leaving several messages with Joe and her thinking I wanted nothing to do with her and my son. I tell them I have a son, Maxim, and that I’ve met him in the meantime.
They’re all quiet for a while after I stop talking.
“What’s your next move?” John then asks.
“I have no fucking clue.”
Present day
Camille
After sitting in the grass for another half hour, I have enough control of my emotions to pull myself together and go back to my apartment. Fortunately the rubberneckers followed Jonathan, leaving me alone in the process. With leaden step, I climb the three flights of stairs. The door of the apartment flies open even before I can put the key in the lock.
“Camille...” Karen only needs one look at me to know that I need a hug. “I’m so sorry. “Jonathan dropped by and I opened the door thinking it was you. And then Maxim came out of his room. It wasn’t my fault.”
The look in Karen’s eyes is one of genuine distress.
“Of course it’s not your fault,” I calm her down. “It was only a matter of time before he’d show up here. Now, where is Maxim?”
“Playing in his room.”
I shoot a glance at the closed door of his small bedroom. “Did he ask you who the man who came to visit him was?”
Karen shakes her head. “I don’t think he knows who Jonathan is.”
All the way back here I’ve been mulling over how to tell Maxim who Jonathan is. I still remember the day he came home from school and asked me who his daddy was for the first time. The other children at school made him wonder why he didn’t have a father, of course. After debating with myself for a while, I decided to tell him the truth – that his father and I were no longer together. And until today he never asked me anything else about the situation. I also told him that his daddy didn’t know he was growing in my belly; that he wouldn’t have chosen to leave me otherwise. Which wasn’t what I thought at the time. After all, I did reach out to Jonathan and Joe made it sound as though Jonathan didn’t care. Now I’m beginning to believe that Jonathan honestly didn’t have a clue. On the other hand: why would Joe choose to keep the news from him? What ulterior motive could he have had?
The longer I think it over, the more I’m convinced that Jonathan wasn’t aware of my pregnancy. I know the painful relationship he had with his own father, growing up. Surely Jonathan would have chosen to be there for his son in the light of his own history. I would have hated it if he’d had to give up his music because of it, but it’s not like I got pregnant all by myself and planned the whole thing this way. Whatever the case, I wouldn’t change things for the world. I now look at Maxim and can’t imagine a life without him.
Why was I stupid enough to believe Joe?
“I’m going to check on Maxim.” I walk over to the door of his bedroom. When I open it, Maxim is sitting behind his drums. He’s like Jonathan in so many ways. He, too, has music flowing through his veins. You wouldn’t believe how long he nagged for me to buy him this drumkit. At long last I caved and bought him one. And looking at him now playing on his drums, I feel a pang of longing in my heart – the joy radiating off his little face is the same joy I always saw when Jonathan was on stage.
He’s drumming with such concentration that he doesn’t even notice me standing here. When he finally does, he throws his sticks on the floor and runs toward me.
“Mommyyyy!” He jumps into my arms. “You know, a giant came to visit us just now. He says he’s going to teach me how to drum properly. He’s got a real drumkit at home and I’m allowed to play it. Can I, Mommy? Pleeease?”
That’s what I was afraid of. Maxim looks up at me with pleading eyes. I don’t want to break his heart, but I need to have a heart-to-heart with Jonathan first before I’ll allow our son to visit him.
“I’ll see what I can do. I have to talk to the giant first.”
Maxim glares at me, crossing his arms. “I knew it. I told the gentleman you wouldn’t let me.”
“I didn’t say that. I just need to discuss it with him first,” I say, while caressing his head. “Mommy’s going to cook spaghetti now, okay? And then we’ll go to the park together.”
“I don’t want to go to the park. I want to go to Sticks.”
Hearing my son saying that name feels weird. I never called him Sticks myself. All courage abandons me. I’ve never had to take Jonathan’s wishes into consideration in the past few years. I raised Maxim by myself. And I did a good job, if I may say so.
“I’ll visit Jonathan tomorrow and we’ll arrange a playdate,” I promise. “But you have to come to the park with me today.”
“Okay, Mommy. Can I play on my drumkit a little more now?”
“Of course, honey.”
I close the door behind me and walk back to the kitchen. Karen’s busy unpacking the last few things from the grocery bag – all the goods that haven’t been damaged.
“So, what did he say?”
“He clearly doesn’t understand that Jonathan’s his dad. But of course he wants to
visit him. Jonathan promised to teach him how to play the drums. You know what he’s like.”
Karen shoots me a worried glance. “What are you going to do about it?”
I shrug. “The only thing I can do. Have a talk with Jonathan. I hope we can settle for a solution between the two of us. I don’t want Maxim to suffer because of what happened.”
“What about Vincent’s opinion?”
Oh shit – I totally forgot about him because of all the commotion. How am I going to break the news to him that Jonathan is back and wants to get to know his son?
Present day
Jonathan
This morning I woke up with the serious realization: I am a father. I have a son. And not just my son – Camille is his mother. A little boy who doesn’t know I’m his father. Thoughts are running through my mind like a runaway train. I’m still beyond pissed about what Joe did. How could he have kept this from me? We’ve worked together for years and I never would have pegged him as the type to deceive me.
He knows about my past – about the history between me and my father. I have always sworn I’d be there for my kids once I had them. But I couldn’t be there for Maxim during the first five years because I didn’t even know he existed.
I’m really curious to find out whether Camille will make good on her promise and drop by. I hope we’ll find a solution together. She has to understand that I was completely ignorant about the whole thing. We may not have split up on the best of terms, but she knows me – she has to know that I’d never have done this to her if I knew.
I saunter past the breakfast buffet that the hotel has on offer and choose scrambled eggs and bacon. A hearty breakfast will do me good. I find a seat at the table reserved for the band. Fortunately, no one else is up and running yet. I’m sure they’d have a lot of questions if they were, but I don’t have any definite answers yet. To be honest: I never would have thought the first one to become a dad would be me.
Alone, lost in thought, I try to come up with all the questions I have for Camille. So many things – what was her pregnancy like? Does Maxim know I’m his dad? All the questions stop me from properly enjoying my meal. I push the plate aside and start when a waitress shows up out of nowhere.
“Shall I take it away for you, sir?” she says in a seductive voice, her eyes never leaving my face.
“Sure.”
She makes quite a show of bending over to pick up the plate, her breasts brushing my upper arm. It’s pretty clear what she’d like from me.
“If there’s anything else I can help you with, anything at all, just ask for me. My name is Liz.”
She sashays away, but I don’t even bother looking. She might be interpreting it as interest from me, and I’m definitely not interested. I can think of just one woman right now. I don’t know what it will take, but now that I know we have a son together, I will do everything in my power to convince Camille to get back together again so we can be a family. The first thing to find out, therefore, is what the deal is between her and my brother. Maxim is my son, and even though I am grateful to Vincent that he has taken care of the two of them up til now, Maxim is my child and I will do whatever it takes to be close to him.
* * *
I walk back to my room. The temperature inside is stifling. My shirt is sticking to my back from just this little bit of walking. A quick glance at my watch tells me that I have time for a quick shower. I turn the tap, strip, and get under the waterjet. I set it to ‘cold’ and hold my head under the water. Hopefully this will cool me down a bit. Once I’m done washing up, I step onto the mat. That’s when someone knocks at my door. I quickly wrap the large, white towel around my hips before heading for the door.
When I open it, Camille turns out to be waiting for me. Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, but she quickly closes it again. Her eyes dart from my face to my naked chest before trailing down to the towel, where her gaze lingers. Judging from the expression on her face, she hasn’t forgotten what’s underneath. If she keeps staring at me like this, I’m sure the evidence of what she still does to me will show up in no time under that towel.
I clear my throat. Her gaze flies upward and meets mine. Camille’s cheeks turn crimson, because she knows I just caught her in the act of ogling my groin. I have to admit it that I like seeing her flustered like this. She may try to hide it, but I clearly still have an effect on her. I see the lust burning in her eyes. I take her in from top to bottom too. Already I feel something stirring down there – I haven’t forgotten about her either.
“Uhm... if this is a bad time, I could uhm... come back this afternoon?”
She’s about to turn away, but before she has the chance to disappear, I grab her arm and pull her inside. If she really thinks I’m just going to let her walk away after everything I did to get her here, she’s got another thing coming.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say firmly. “I’ll just get dressed and then we can talk.”
I point to the chair in the corner of the room. She sits down in it while looking around at anything but me. Clearly my half-naked presence is making her highly uncomfortable and she’s fighting the urge to stare at me.
I walk over to the closet and turn around. Then, with my back to her, I drop the towel. A small gasp betrays that I now have her full attention. Mission accomplished.
Without bothering to put on boxershorts, I step into my jeans. I like going commando – that sense of freedom. I then take a T-shirts from the pile on my shelf and pull it over my head. When I turn to face her again, Camille quickly looks away. She must think I’m an idiot to fall for that.
I take my time taking her in again myself. She’s wearing a short denim skirt and a red blouse, buttoned all the way up. It may be a long time ago, but I still remember what the breasts underneath that blouse felt like as I caressed and licked them. My memory hasn’t failed me – she still looks as glorious as ever.
I shouldn’t let myself be distracted by her, though. We’re here to discuss the situation of our son. My gaze trails upward and I catch Camille’s anxious facial expression.
“Why so nervous?” I ask.
“Did you have a chance to talk to Joe yesterday?”
“Yeah, we fired him on the spot. I’m really very sorry, Camille. I didn’t know, you have to believe me. If I did, I wouldn’t have left on our international tour.”
“I’m sorry too, Jonathan. Vincent always insisted something wasn’t right, but I didn’t want to listen. I was just... so angry.”
It’s strange, being here with Camille and talking about us after such a long time. I can hardly believe that she is back in my life. Sure, we have a truck load of things to discuss, but I’m sure we will get over all the obstacles between us. We have to.
“Can I ask you something, Camille?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Why do you live in that seedy apartment?” I inquire. “Why not at home, with your father? Or in a better apartment? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind paying for it.”
A frown settles between her eyebrows. Before I know what’s happening, she jumps up and angrily stalks over to me. The gall, to get angry with me! She jabs her right index finger into my chest.
“You have no idea how hard my life has been! So don’t you dare judge me.”
Her jabs are becoming painful. It feels as though she’s letting out all the pent-up frustration of the past five years. For a while, I let her – it sure seems like she needs to blow off steam – but then I grow tired of it and grab both of her hands, pulling her into me. Her breath is ragged, which makes her boobs lightly touch my chest. And despite her anger and my irritation I feel a surge of heat rushing through my body, concentrating itself between my legs. Her head shoots up and we stare at each other in silence.
The narrow space in between us seems to simmer with heat. My heart is beating like a triphammer. I no longer have the strength to control myself and forcefully capture her lips with mine. She resists, pre
ssing her lips down in a grim line. But that doesn’t stop me. One of my hands lets go of her arm and slides up into her hair. I pull her closer and slowly but surely, she relents. Her mouth gingerly opens up and my tongue explores her. Feeling her, tasting her – the familiar sensation of Camille. Her scent, and the hot desire racing through my veins. Her unique flavor envelops me and just for a second it seems like no time has passed. Five years melt away and it feels like yesterday that we last kissed each other.
My other hand lets go of her wrist and as soon as she’s free, her hands slide up, grabbing my neck, as she enthusiastically kisses me back. There’s no more room for thought – not for either of us. This is pure, blinding lust. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist at once. I no longer feel where her body ends and mine begins. We don’t pull away from the kiss for even a moment as I carry her backward. I only stop when we hit the table in the corner of the room. The perfect height.
I lower Camille onto the surface, flat on her back. Her eyes are hazy with lust, her lips red and swollen from the wild kiss we shared. Her breath is fast and she looks up at me pleadingly.
“Please, Jonathan.”
I slip both hands up her stomach, taking the blouse with me in the process. Bit by bit I reveal her naked skin. And no matter how much I want to kiss every single little bit of her that I missed, I can’t take the time for it now. It’ll have to wait. Now, I just want to be inside her, reclaim her as mine.
I pull down the cup of her bra and playfully lick her nipple. Camille arches her back and her pelvis bumps into my groin. Without thinking, I pull down the zipper of my pants and release myself. Her skirt is hithed up to her waistline and all that stands between her and me are red, lacey panties. I yank it down, tug at it until it rips and cast it carelessly aside. Then I grab my length and position myself in front of her opening.
“You’re so wet,” I tease her. “Is that for me?”
“Dream on,” she hisses. “Just do it. Now.”
Say You Need Me Page 7
