Sticks (Black Addiction #2)

by T Gephart

  Irrationality was the voice that shouted the loudest as I convinced myself that coming down to the club and announcing to him he was about to become a father was a good idea. Now I wasn’t so sold it was the best course of action. A little late to be having second thoughts—the baby in my belly further proof that I needed better forward planning.

  “Fuck, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do.” He looked around helplessly; the crowd around us oblivious to what was going on. His confusion and uncertainty were unable to be hidden, even if the color had started to come back into his face.

  “Well, I’m not exactly sure either,” I admitted, my game plan completely being fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants. “I freaked out earlier; the calm I’ve got going on at the moment is a complete ruse.” I neglected to mention how many times I’d thrown up as well. No point being completely vulnerable.

  “Are you going to keep it?” His face grimaced like he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to say. My hand had not so long ago slapped his face, so it was a very real possibility my palm would find its way back there. I’ll admit, I thought about it. My fingers twitching at things I really didn’t want to hear.

  “Yes. I’m going to keep it. I’m not having an abortion.” The words came out a lot terser than I’d intended. “I’m having this baby.”

  Sure it would be easier if the problem just went away. I’d even entertained the idea for about two seconds before I realized I could never actually follow through with it. No, even if it meant raising this baby alone, I was going to bring this baby into the world.

  “You guys cool?” Max interrupted our intimate conversation. Neither of us having noticed his return, the beer in his hand the only proof he’d left in the first place.

  “Yeah. All good. Everything’s fine.” Joey’s head nodded as random assurances were rapidly fired out of his mouth.

  “O-Kay.” He looked skeptical as he turned his attention to me. “Kenzie, you sticking around? You want a beer?”

  “No,” Joey shot back before I’d managed to respond. “She can’t drink beer. Are you crazy?” The crazy clearly coming from the man who was speaking rather than the dude offering me the beer.

  “Thanks, Max.” I didn’t even bother to explain Joey’s erratic behavior. “I’m driving tonight so no beer for me.” The only excuse I could think of made its way out of my mouth. “Better to be safe than sorry,” I lamely added, because I was one hundred percent sold no one would be convinced that operating a car would be a good reason to turn down one beer.

  “You guys are both acting strange.” Max’s eyes ping-ponged between us. The beer bottle in his hand lifted to his lips as he took a swallow. “Someone want to clue me in on what’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” We both answered in stereo, neither of us ready to share our news just yet.

  “Right.” Max smirked not even trying to hide how much he didn’t believe us. “Well, Joey, if you can tear yourself away from the nothing you have going on, we have some people you should meet.” His head jerked to where the rest of the band was hanging out. Men in suits smiled as Rusty and Angie signed some promotional posters while smart phones documented every second.

  “Ummm.” Joey looked between me and the group Max had urged him to join. Genuine fear flashed through his eyes. “Can you stay?” His hand reached for mine, his fingers gently moving up my arm making my skin tingle. “Please. I’ll get done as soon as I can and then we’ll talk. Don’t leave.”

  Well. Fuck.

  While I still had fantasies of ripping body parts off his still-breathing body—namely the parts that got us into this mess in the first place—I couldn’t deny how charming he was. It was that charm that had made him so unbelievably attractive in the first place. That, and his body looking like it was designed by God as my own personal playground. The button-down shirt he was wearing did little to hide the ripped torso that was housed underneath and his jeans were doing wonderful things for his ass.

  Ugh.

  This would have been easier on the phone when I didn’t have to look at all of that.

  “Maybe you can stop by my place after you’re done. It will be easier to talk there.” My mouth volunteered without proper consultation with my brain.

  See? Clearly I can’t be trusted when I’m around him because I make stupid decisions. The first being unprotected sex despite not being on the pill. Then asking him to come back to my place because it worked out so well for us the last time I invited him back. Did I even have an ounce of common sense left? Surely this had bad idea written all over it.

  “Thanks.” His hand made its way down my arm as the smile that always seemed to sucker me in spread across his lips. “I won’t be long.”

  While Max didn’t seem sold on the we’re-okay we’d tried to convince him of, he didn’t push it any further. A weary look was shot my way as he and Joey shuffled off in the direction where Angie and Rusty where standing. The crowd quickly engulfed them and they disappeared from sight, leaving me standing alone with a room full of people I had no interest in.

  God this sucked.

  Any other time this was exactly the kind of party I’d be into. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t my band whose success we were celebrating, just that someone we knew made it.

  Now, I stood in the crowded bar feeling like all of that had passed me by. A reminder that my life was going to take a detour.

  Fuck these emotions.

  I needed to go home before I either threw up or cried.

  ***

  “Hey.” Joey stood on my front stoop, the knock at the door happening a few moments earlier. “Sorry I’m late, I tried to get away earlier.” The wide-eyed surprise still being the most visible emotion he displayed.

  “It’s fine, I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything.” I motioned my head at him to come inside, sparing my neighbors from having to hear about my irresponsibility. It was the least I could do given I kept them up sometimes with late night guitar practice. The door closed noisily behind him as he walked into my hallway.

  “So . . .” Joey followed me into my living room. “I was thinking.” His restless hands tapped an unheard rhythm against his thigh as I turned to face him.

  Clearly the idea had had some time to marinate. My big announcement in the club had shaken his usual cocky demeanor, the guy in front of me not the same guy I’d slept with a month and a half ago. I fought the urge to smile; secretly glad he was just as rattled as I had been. Even if it showed me no indication of what it was that he was actually thinking.

  “Awesome. You want to share these genius thoughts?” My hands found their way onto my hips as I waited to be wowed by whatever bright idea he’d concocted.

  Joey had talent. What he could do in a bedroom was only surpassed by what he could make happen on a drum kit. And in those two areas, he really was the master of his domain. But that’s where those talents ended. Bright ideas weren’t really his thing.

  “Okay . . .” His face paled again as he dropped to one knee.

  “Oh God!” My eyes peeled back to maximum capacity as I tried to make sense of what was happening. “Please tell me you aren’t about to propose?” My hands automatically slammed down onto his arms, my urgent tugging trying to get him to stand. My mind hoped like hell I was wrong, but unless he was trying to tie his shoe or go down on me, he had very little reason to be down there. Considering both his boots were well laced and I was still wearing panties, I’d say . . . FUCK. No. He could not be serious.

  “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” Joey looked at me confused as he slowly rose to his feet. “I know I should have a ring, but I didn’t have time to shop.”

  “You can’t be serious right now. You’re just going to ask me to marry you? What the hell kind of idea is that?”

  Sure, he was freaking out. I was freaking out. But, holy mother of God. Marriage? Did he trip on the way over here? He must be concussed. That would be the only reason why he would think us getting hitched was a good p
lan.

  “Kenzie, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.” His hand raked through his hair in frustration. “Aren’t we supposed to get married? I mean, I knocked you up. I’m not going to bail on you like an asshole.”

  So maybe I’d had thoughts about dismembering him when I first found out. But that was just the shock. Well, at least I thought it was. But the urge to rip any appendage from his body had passed for now, at least for the short term. I mean, I could still inflict grievous bodily harm if he mentioned my boobs were bigger than they usually were, but for the most part, I’d prefer if the father of my unborn child remained whole.

  But as far as I was concerned there was only one reason to slip a ring on my finger, and having a baby wasn’t it.

  “Do you love me?” I asked as Joey nervously shifted on his feet, the bewilderment on his face sort of adorable. Ugh. These hormones really were going to be my undoing.

  “Um. Is this a trick question?” He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes met mine. “You know I confuse easily.”

  “No, it’s not a trick question.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Like I said, Joey was sexy; smart . . . not so much. “Just answer me, do you love me?”

  “Well, I like you a lot and the sex is ama—”

  “Yes or no.” I stopped his not-so-subtle dance around the question.

  “No, no I don’t love you.” The words leapt of his mouth; the oh-shit look on his face followed soon after. “I mean . . . not right now . . . maybe I could.”

  “Good.” I smiled, deciding to put the poor guy out of his misery. “Because I don’t love you either. And being in love is the only reason to get hitched. So given neither of us are in love with each other, getting married would be a really stupid idea.”

  “But you’re pregnant.” He leaned forward and whispered. Not sure why he’d lowered his voice; there were only two of us in the room. Both of us aware of my newfound status.

  “Yes, I am,” I said slightly louder than I needed, not feeling the same urgency to keep my voice down.

  “Kenz, you really need to help me out here.” He shook his head, his hands shoved into his pockets. “The last thing I want to do is piss you off, but I have no idea what you want me to do.”

  “Joey, I’m having this baby and I know it’s taken us both by surprise but I’m not asking you for anything.”

  At no point did I think that carrying Baby Shaw was going to be an opportunity to further my financial development. There would be no shake down, no asking him to put me up in a nice apartment on the Upper West Side. Fuck that. No way. My uterus and I were not going to be holding this guy ransom despite his increased cash flow. And if his album got even half the anticipated sales the industry heavyweights were predicting, green would be his new favorite color.

  But I also wasn’t going to be one of those girls who ignored the fact it took two of us to get me in this situation. Freezing him out and then have him find out when his kid turned sixteen and asked questions was not the kind of mother I wanted to be.

  “I couldn’t not tell you. You deserved to know.” My voice was quieter than I’d intended, those ugly emotions rearing their head.

  “But . . . It’s my baby too, right?” His head nodded as if to confirm the fact. “I don’t want him or her growing up without me. I need to be there too. I need to be a part of my kid’s life.”

  There were times in life that shocked the hell out of me.

  The positive sign on the pregnancy stick was one, and now this, this was another.

  I was half prepared for him to give me a pat on the back, tell me good luck and have a nice day. Thanks but no thanks, but I’m not geared to be a father. Perhaps even throw some money at me and ask me to sign some NDA in case it hurt his precious image. Of course the latter option would have induced a punch right in the kidney, so I’m glad he didn’t go that route.

  But him wanting to be involved? Like be an actual part of it?

  Maybe I was the one who was concussed.

  Does pregnancy induce psychosis? God, I hope not.

  “I would never stop that,” I said a little too quickly. “If you want to, you should be involved.” Before my mouth followed up with. “But we don’t have to be together for that to happen.”

  “So we raise our kid and not be together?” Joey eyes narrowed as he tested the waters, not convinced he wasn’t going to have to shack up with me, aka baby momma.

  “Sure, who says we can’t? Lots of people do it.”

  Where was the rule that said we couldn’t? And if he was climbing on board the crazy train with me, then I sure as hell wasn’t telling him no. The way I saw it was if this kid had two parents who loved and supported it then why did those two people have to be together? Fuck the establishment. We would do it our way. Conventions could kiss my ass.

  “I don’t know.” Joey shot me a weary sideways glance. Obviously needing more convincing. Or perhaps wondering if this was an elaborate test, I’ll admit even I was surprised at how calm I’d become.

  “Okay, let me put it to you this way.” I shifted on my feet, realizing I hadn’t even asked him to sit down. Hell, no point now. Besides I wasn’t convinced he wasn’t going to get down on one knee again, so standing was definitely preferred.

  “We like each other, and other than wanting to rip your balls off when I found out, I haven’t had any other murderous thoughts toward you.” Which was a plus. Some of Joey’s ex girlfriends didn’t share the same understanding I had; he wasn’t a great boyfriend and add to the fact he seemed to attract psychos . . . yeah, you do the math.

  “Some parents end up hating each other. Plotting each other’s demise. And let’s face it, you’re too pretty for jail.”

  “You seriously wanted to rip off my balls? I thought you were kidding.” His eyes got wide as he completely disregarded more than half of what I had said. Typical, mention of sexual organs and I’d lost him. It wasn’t an accident I was wearing the least-sexual outfit I owned.

  “Your dick too, but that’s ’cause I was in shock.” I couldn’t help but throw in. Might as well come entirely clean. It would have made a nice conversation piece on my mantle.

  “Jesus. How does that make it better?” Joey took the seat I hadn’t offered him and sat down on my couch. His eyes not leaving mine as he ran his hands through his hair.

  “It’s better because we’re being honest. We won’t disappoint each other trying to be something we aren’t. And it will be easier for us not to be forced together for the baby’s sake, only to end up hating each other.” I slid onto the seat beside him, my hand unconsciously moving to his thigh.

  It was surprisingly effortless to be around him. I saw through his ego crap and appreciated him for the fun guy he was underneath. There was captivating charm about him, and despite being incredibly cocky, he was surprisingly honest. What you saw was what you got, unfiltered. And those eyes and smile made you feel like you were the only woman in the room. Probably the reason why we’d ended up naked the last time. That and he made my insides tingle. Joey with his shirt off was pretty damn amazing. Mmmmm, sexy didn’t even come close.

  I shook my head trying to forget all about Joey naked and how good it had been. “And there is no way in hell I’m having a shotgun wedding.”

  The whole white dress and walking down the aisle was a whole other argument, as in probably would never happen—ever. In fact, the institution itself was on shaky ground. Not sure I’d ever want to be with one guy my whole life. He’d have to be pretty damn spectacular and I’d yet to find one who wasn’t intimidated by my lifestyle. Besides, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love, so being forced into it wasn’t happening.

  “Well, that kinda makes sense.” Joey agreed, hopefully shelving all talks of engagements and happily-ever-afters. “As long as ripping my balls off is no longer on the table.” A slow smile crept across his lips, some of the panic evaporating as he eased back into the couch.

  “Not at the moment,” I smiled, the tension in
my body slowly easing. “But I’m moody so I could go either way.”

  Finding out I was going to be a father was like a kick to the nuts. Like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs and the windbags had suddenly forgotten their purpose.

  I’d been careful most of the time; able to count on one hand the number of times I’d gone bare with a girl. Not that it mattered now. All the being careful in the world wasn’t going to un-knock up Kenzie.

  There was a baby in her.

  Mine.

  “Do we need to get you to a doctor? I know when Angie was pregnant they made her take vitamins. We should get those.” My mind kicked into gear as I tried to man-up. Or at least be fucking helpful. Right now I wasn’t doing much other than taking up room on her couch. The whole shocked vibe was still my main mood. It was probably going to be awhile, so I wasn’t going to be too hard on myself. After all, it’s not every day you find out you made a person.

  “I have an appointment with my OB/GYN on Monday morning. I guess I’ll find everything out then.” She crossed her legs as she leaned back into the couch, her blonde hair getting tossed off her shoulders.

  “I should go with you.” It came out of my mouth without thinking.

  “You don’t have to.”

  There weren’t many women in the world who’d have thrown out that line. You don’t have to. In fact, I’d beg to differ that almost any other chick would be holding a knife to my balls telling me exactly the kind of have to I needed to be doing. Heading to an appointment probably the least of it.

  “I want to.” I sucked in a breath and I repeated myself like a loser. “I want to go.”

  “We can ask about a paternity test while we’re there.” She did this weird thing to her hair and twisted it into a bun, the hand action almost distracting me as much as the words did.

  Paternity test? As in there was a possibility the kid wasn’t mine?

  It had been a stressful few hours. The album launch, being told I was going to be a dad—shit, I was still marveling that my brain hadn’t exploded. Patting myself on the back was not out of the question, and at the risk of getting another slap to the face—I needed to ask.