No Chance

by Lisa Suzanne

  I’m not myself anymore.

  Tyler and Dustin argued that these are good changes. Tommy begged to differ, and I think I tend to side with him on this.

  Who am I?

  I don’t know anymore.

  I was never the guy who gave a fuck about anything. I never made waves, and most especially not with Tommy. I’m laid back and I go with the flow and I don’t have a strong opinion about much of anything.

  But then a woman with a painful history walked into my life with a kid who has my eyes, and everything changed in an instant.

  Did I ever really have a choice besides stepping up to father my kid? I wanted to ignore him and her and move on with my life, but something pulled at my chest and told me I couldn’t.

  Instead, I went and fell for them.

  Both of them.

  I love that kid.

  He’s creative and funny. He’s smart and handsome. He’s only ten months old, but he’s about to start walking and he’s already flirting with the ladies with his killer smile.

  And Hannah...

  I sigh.

  She’s incredible. Smart, passionate, kind, gentle, innocent, simple, gorgeous, real.

  She’s all the things I never knew I wanted, and over the course of the last few weeks, I have fallen in love with her.

  And love is not part of my vocabulary. Not where either of them is concerned.

  They’re better off without me.

  That’s what my father taught me, anyway. Everyone must be better off since I’ll only be a disappointment.

  I knew who I was for the first thirty years of my life. It was simple. I was the kid whose parents never found him to be good enough, and I worked my ass off to prove myself that whole time. I grew into an adult who wanted to gain the kind of success that would blow them away, and they never gave a shit. Their personal belief was that I needed a job that would provide me a stable future.

  I guess a net worth in the neighborhood of fifty million isn’t stable enough.

  They wanted me to become a doctor like my father.

  I’ve never been one who liked to take care of other people. He never was, either, I suppose, but I didn’t want to be anything like him.

  I still don’t.

  And yet...I am.

  Lashing out at her for no reason.

  Making her feel like shit.

  Wanting to return to my old habits even though I’m probably better off without them.

  All shit that reminds me of the man I never wanted to be like, and the list goes on.

  And it wasn’t just Tommy’s reminders on my way home.

  There’s a little more that has turned my mood sour today.

  It’s not her fault the female deejay who spends her mornings hosting Miami’s most popular morning show is best friends with a girl I apparently fucked over a couple years ago.

  It’s not her fault the best friend holds grudges, and it’s not her fault that Mallory, the deejay, pulled me aside this morning to let me know her friend was planning to fuck me over right back. I don’t know why she told me, but I appreciated the warning. At least now Karl can work with our agent and publicist to get in front of the story.

  It’s not a big deal. Photos are released all the time, but these are apparently particularly incriminating. She claims she has pictures of me doing a line of coke and others of me naked lying in her bed. It wasn’t my finest moment, and obviously I’m usually smarter than to allow photos, but we were in the privacy of her bedroom and I didn’t know she was taking pictures.

  I’d asked her why she’s releasing them now, after years have passed, and her answer was simple. “Let’s see if you still hold a grudge after a couple more years pass.”

  So I’ve got that upcoming shitstorm to deal with. I’ll need to issue a statement talking about how we all make mistakes when we’re young but I’ve grown and yada yada.

  I haven’t touched coke in a couple years, so I have grown. Tommy and I watched a friend have a pretty bad trip on it once and it turned me off. But I’m always the guy who says never say never.

  Except now I have a kid.

  Now I need to be a good example.

  I don’t want to be a good example.

  I want to get high and I want to get drunk and I want to bang on my drums and I want to fuck wherever I want to fuck. I don’t want responsibilities and I don’t want to be tied down. I’m not tamable.

  Hannah gave it a good try, but as it turns out, it’s time for me to start backing away.

  Besides, this tour ends in a few more weeks. It’ll all be over then anyway.

  Right?

  When I finally emerge from my party for one because it’s time to get to soundcheck, Tommy’s already out of his bedroom. My hackles rise a bit at the thought of him alone with Hannah.

  It’s only then I wonder where Chance must have napped today. I was hogging the bedroom and probably scared her off from coming in with him, which will surely fuck up his whole schedule.

  It was a selfish move on my part, but it is what it is. It is who I am.

  And when I open the door from Tommy’s room into the front cabin, I can hardly believe my eyes.

  Hannah laughing.

  Tommy sitting across from her...laughing.

  Chance on the floor between them holding a gummy bear and—you guessed it—laughing.

  The scene before me should make me smile. My best friend and my girl are finally connecting. Tommy either tossed a gummy bear on the floor or gave one to the kid. This is progress all around.

  Except it doesn’t make me smile.

  Instead, it pushes an already volatile man over the edge.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I hiss.

  Hannah’s surprised eyes lift to mine at my language, her smile slipping. She’s never once scolded me for swearing in front of the kid, but she’s also never used such language in his presence. It’s clear from her look that she’s judging me. “Chance just stole one of Tommy’s gummy bears.” Her tone still holds that laughter in it, but it feels a little forced now as she takes in my clear accusation.

  Tommy’s eyes twinkle with that laughter. “The kid just up and took it right out of my hand.” He glances at my child with affection. Five minutes ago this asshole was going on and on about how I don’t need this in my life. He was so convincing that I actually agreed with him.

  And now, from where I stand, anyway, it appears that he’s trying to swoop in and make it his.

  “You two gonna go back to your bed and share a fuck next?” I ask, keeping my tone casual even though the words are sharp swords intended to cut.

  Hannah’s brows draw down as the smile finally falls off her face. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Oh, you know, just walking in on you two having foreplay in the front of my bus while I’ve been prepping for tonight’s gig.”

  “Dude, relax,” Tommy says, and my knuckles tighten into fists. “That’s not what this is.”

  He’s been asking for this for weeks now, and I don’t know how to stop myself. “That’s sure as hell how it looks.”

  “What difference does it make even if it is?” Hannah asks. “You made it perfectly clear earlier that I’m not yours anyway.”

  I stare at her a beat. I guess I did say some things in the heat of my anger earlier that I shouldn’t have. I should probably apologize.

  I don’t.

  Instead, I grab the bottle of Jack from the liquor cabinet along with a fat blunt I keep on the top shelf and I stalk off the bus to enjoy my vices in peace.

  CHAPTER 40: HANNAH

  It’s not his best performance.

  He does good enough, but even I can tell he’s off tonight. With every photo I take, I wonder how much of that bottle he drowned himself in. I wonder how much of that marijuana he smoked.

  I snap pictures anyway because it’s what the band is paying me to do, but tears heat behind my eyes the entire time.

  I don’t like fighting with him, and I wish it hel
ped that he admitted he’d sabotage what we have from the very beginning, but it doesn’t. Instead, I feel lonely and my chest aches and I think, as silly as this sounds, that my heart might be breaking.

  I didn’t think I was invested long enough to actually feel heartbreak, but I guess I was. I guess my heart got involved when I’d become dependent on those blue eyes meeting mine across the room, on him making Chance and me laugh, on waking up comfortable and warm in his arms, on cheese danish and his attempts to get me to become a coffee addict.

  I don’t know what to do. I want to fight for him, but how do you fight for a relationship when the person on the other side is so stubbornly against the idea of it? When he’s so sure he’ll ruin things that he’s creating his own self-fulfilling prophecy?

  I don’t have the answer.

  I zoom in on him and take a few pictures of his face, up close and personal. I want him to see what I see, especially tonight. I want him to see that he’s not giving any area of his life the full effort it deserves...and most of all that he’s letting down the rest of his band and their fans.

  He’ll see it in these photographs...eventually. Tomorrow, maybe, or at least when he’s sober again.

  I duck out as soon as the show is over. Sometimes I hang out in the green room after and snap more pictures, but I guess I just don’t feel like hanging out tonight. I also don’t feel super welcome with Brett’s earlier words to me still fresh in my mind...but it’s not just all that.

  I don’t really want to be around a drunk, possibly stoned Brett.

  And I certainly don’t want him around Chance in that condition...but that’s not really my choice.

  We’re at a hotel tonight, so I take the liberty of heading back to it and getting ready for bed. He stumbles in a little after two in the morning—not quietly, by the way—but luckily Chance sleeps through it. Brett passes out on the couch and I spend the night in a bed by myself tossing and turning.

  I’m afraid to leave the bedroom in the morning, so I lie in bed and scroll my phone. The pictures he mentioned have hit the media, and I study each of them.

  I know pictures, and I know photography. These have been photoshopped.

  It’s easy to see where they’ve been made to look far worse than they should. The ones of him naked...those I can’t do anything about. His stuff is out there for the world to see.

  But the one of him supposedly doing a line of cocaine? He’s leaning over a dresser, and the dresser in the picture isn’t the same style as the ones of him naked even though it’s clear it’s the same bedroom. Maybe cocaine is what he really was doing, but it’s obvious that someone doctored this photo to make it look worse than it was.

  I text Danielle.

  Me: Those photos of Brett are photoshopped.

  I send over the evidence by using my phone’s mark-up feature.

  Danielle: OMG, you’re right! Thank you, girl. You just saved his ass. I’ll get these into the right hands.

  Eventually I get up and shower, not sure he deserves the ass-saving after the way he’s treated me the last few days. Chance is just waking when I emerge, so I get his diaper changed along with his clothes. When I can’t stall any longer, I finally move out into the living area as Chance sits on my hip and clutches my arm.

  Brett is still passed out on the couch in the clothes he changed into last night after the show.

  I can smell him from five feet away.

  Smoke and stale alcohol hit my senses first, but those don’t bother me. He’s a grown man who can make his own decisions, and it’s not on me to judge his choices.

  The strong scent of a woman’s perfume, though? That bothers me.

  He told me we weren’t committed, but I’m sort of stuck here with him. It’s not like I can arrange for a date next Thursday night with some guy when we’re hitting a different city every couple days. On the other hand, women clamor on a nightly basis to get close to him. He has his pick, and clearly, at least from the smell of it, he chose someone last night who wasn’t me.

  And that hurts.

  I’m not quiet as I move around the room. I open the drapes and let the sun stream in. I grab the Cheerios for Chance and buckle him into his chair. I pull up an episode of Sesame Street on the tablet and set it in front of Chance to enjoy. Elmo’s high-pitched squeal welcomes us, and I turn the volume up still louder.

  Eventually it does the trick, and Brett stirs on the couch.

  He flips toward me, shielding his squinting eyes. “Turn that shit down,” he demands.

  I move slowly as I turn it down one little notch. “Oh, did we wake you?” I ask sweetly.

  He glares at me.

  “Just partaking in our typical morning routine,” I say. “You know, Cheerios and the Street.”

  He sits up gingerly and winces a little then rubs his eyes with his palms. “What time is it?”

  I glance at the clock across the room. “A little after eight.”

  “Close the drapes,” he demands.

  I shake my head. “If you want to sleep, go to the bedroom. We have a day to get started.”

  “This is some fucking bullshit,” he mutters under his breath as he stands, and he moves slowly across the room and into the bedroom. He slams the door behind him, and I give the finger to the closed door.

  “Sorry, Chance,” I say softly, and I feel like I’m apologizing for more than just the middle finger. I’m sorry he had to see any of that. I’m sorry his father is an asshole. I’m sorry he lost his mother. I’m sorry he’s stuck with me. I’m sorry I can’t seem to do anything right.

  I hated Brett Pitzer for a long time. It only took a few days for him to make me fall in love with him...and it only took one single conversation for that love to melt right back into hate.

  A knock on the door an hour later interrupts floor time with Chance. I get up to answer it, and it’s room service.

  There’s two plates with lids on them along with a carafe of coffee. I lift the lids, thankful he ordered me something even though we’ve been fighting, and I’m surprised to find that one plate has two sunny side up eggs on it with some toast, and the other is just a side of bacon.

  So he didn’t order me anything.

  No cheese danish as an olive branch. Not even a disgusting runny egg for me.

  Just breakfast for himself and the perfume of another woman.

  I pour myself a bowl of Cheerios and use a splash of Chance’s vitamin D milk that he’s just being introduced to, and I guess that’s breakfast.

  We have club appearances and private gigs along with sold-out arena shows through New Orleans and Atlanta and then we have a longer trip toward New York, where we stay nearly a week with lots of press and private performances along with two nights at Madison Square Garden. It’s kind of amazing to be backstage at these venues that I’ve only ever heard of or dreamed about, even if it was to see a different band...yet here I am, in the flesh. Snapping photos and trying to stay out of Brett’s path.

  At least Tommy’s been semi-decent to me since Chance stole his gummy bear, but I think that has more to do with the fact that it pushed Brett and me apart than it has to do with Tommy accepting me into the CK family.

  We move on to New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Connecticut and through it all, Brett remains frigid toward both Chance and myself. So when we have a longer than usual trip all the way to Oklahoma, I ask Danielle if Chance and I can ride on her and Tyler’s bus.

  I just can’t take over twenty-two hours of travel in tight quarters with someone who so clearly doesn’t want to be around me.

  And the added benefit is that I get some bonding time with Danielle while Chance gets a built-in playmate in Luna.

  I wish things could be different. I wish Brett could look inside and see what he’s doing. I wish I was strong enough to fight for what we had for a few glorious days.

  But I’m not. I can’t get even more involved with him only to have him run further down the road. I just don’t think my heart could take los
ing him all over again.

  CHAPTER 41: BRETT

  “What’s up your ass?” Tommy asks me.

  I just jumped off a bridge to my untimely demise.

  We’re on our way to Tulsa, and it’s just the two of us on our bus—just the way he wanted it. Just the way we both wanted it.

  And now...

  Fuck. It just feels like something’s missing because something is missing.

  But it’s better this way.

  We’re playing some shit on Xbox and I don’t even care if I win or lose, which is only serving to piss Tommy off.

  “You need some pussy or something?”

  I shrug as I toss my controller on the couch beside me. I’ve had the shot at some practically every night for the last few weeks, but I can’t seem to bring myself to partake in the spoils of our riches when I can’t get Hannah out of my mind.

  I want to be with her, but I can’t. I’ve already hurt her and we didn’t even get this thing off the ground.

  “Dude, it’s time to move on,” he says, correctly concluding that it’s this whole situation with Hannah that’s up my ass. “We both know there’s no chance it’ll work out.” He pauses then chuckles. “Ha. See what I did there? No Chance.”

  “Fuck off, Tommy.” My voice holds a clear warning. Bringing up the kid right now isn’t going to help this situation, but that’s the thing about Tommy. He doesn’t care. He’ll pick and pull at shit just to get a rise out of people, but usually I’m not his target.

  Today, though...I guess I am.

  “You think you can make it work? Remember who you are, dude. Remember who you were, anyway, just a few weeks ago. Then some chick comes along and suddenly you’re a new man?” He shakes his head. “I don’t buy it.”

  “It’s not like that. I don’t know...I guess things just sort of changed overnight when I found out I had a kid. Don’t you think it would affect you if you found that out?”

  He laughs. “Bitches tell me that shit all the time. You think even once it’s affected me?”