Voices Carry: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection)

by Diane Rinella

  Adoption may be a beautiful thing, but do they have to make the act of giving up your child so painful? Why couldn’t they give me even the briefest moment to welcome my daughter into the world? To grant me the ability to give her one tiny pearl of wisdom about how the world can be a tough place, but we are blessed with the ability to make choices. Telling her the choice I made was the one I felt was best for her was all I wanted, and I was robbed of the opportunity. I’m so grateful I thought to scream that I love her so she could carry the thought with her. That and hearing her cry were the only contact we had outside the womb.

  Reality creeps in, and I try to smack down knowing I gave away a precious gift for selfish reasons. Every day I tell myself I did what was best for her, but the truth is I did what was best for me. I gave away a person so I could take a crapshoot at a career that may crash and burn with a cheesy TV show. I have always felt that if I could take back signing those papers, I would in a heartbeat. When my miscarriage happened, it seemed God was punishing me for being selfish. I didn’t mean to do the wrong thing. I would never make that mistake again.

  Tears trickle down my face and onto the coffee table as I brave picking up the stick. My hand trembles so much that although the second pink line is as bold as the first, there appears to be only one. My stomach flips. The need to puke almost overcomes me, but the joy that brings a smile across my face makes me not care. This is incredible.

  The sobs come hard and fast. I didn’t let myself see it last time, but this time I do. I’ve been given a gift. This is why something inside me feels it is changing. Not only is a miracle happening, God is giving me a second chance. I can’t right my wrong, but I do feel forgiven by a greater power.

  God, I didn’t intend for this to happen, but I promise I won’t let you down.

  The overstuffed chairs in Jennifer’s living room are even more comfortable than they look. If that Fool card sitting on the tea table between us didn’t seem to be mocking me, I’d almost be relaxed.

  The guy from yesterday, again barefoot and shirtless, carries out a tray with a couple of glasses and two bottles of wine. “Red or white,” he asks.

  “Red, I guess?” Red is the color of blood. Does that make red wine the one of death and white the one of life?

  Jennifer touches my arm. “Relax, honey. This one is to drink. Pick what you enjoy.”

  “Red then. Definitely red.” Hell, I’m still not sure I said the right thing.

  The shirtless guy does the honors of pouring. Jennifer leans back in her chair, crosses her legs at the ankles, and takes a sip of her white wine. I follow suit. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks.

  Lord, I sure found something. Whatever it was still has me quaking.

  Sweat builds under my collar as I describe the dream. The impact of the images affects me nearly as much now as they did last night, causing me to gulp my wine.

  Shirtless guy returns with a plate of chocolates. “Thanks, honey,” Jennifer says before reaching for a piece, and I’m quick to join her. I need something to focus on other than what may have been a blast from the past.

  “Now, what would you like to know about Saleena?” she asks.

  “The girl who was in the car with me?” I ask hesitantly, seeking confirmation. Jennifer nods, and my insides shudder. I’d rather forget about Saleena for obvious reasons. “She’s not why I’m here. I keep hearing a voice. Sometimes it’s during the day, but it is mostly at night. It has kept me awake for so long I’m not really sure I am hearing it anymore.”

  “She’s the voice,” Jennifer says.

  Shaking my head shows her I disagree. This woman may have gotten me to flash back to a past life, but she is way off base now. “Sorry, but no. I know who the voice is.” I can’t believe I’m sharing this. Then again, what am I afraid of? A psychic thinking I’m crazy? That in itself is nuts. “I had a different vision before—one I am pretty sure is recent—and I saw the source of the voice.”

  “Trust me, it’s her.” Jennifer’s tone is insistent, yet she stays relaxed and takes another sip of wine.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. You see, not only does the voice from last night not match, I know who the source is. Wait, don’t you need cards or something for this?”

  Jennifer gives me a smile that politely says crutches are not something she finds necessary. “The voice you are hearing now belongs to the same soul you knew before. She’s been reaching out to you for a little over a week. Depending on your state of mind or how scattered your attention is, you may not always hear her, though it is possible you have noticed her in other ways.”

  “You mean, feeling as if someone is thinking of me?”

  “Yes, or via some other sensation, such as a buzz or an air of peace rolling over you.”

  I don’t know what is freaking me out more; hearing a voice and getting visions or how spot on Jennifer is.

  “I told you to think of yourself as Johnny because you and Saleena were once a couple, as you probably have been many times before.”

  “Before? You mean in other lives?” That would sure explain why Katherine looks so odd to me. It’s not that she doesn’t look like herself, it’s that she doesn’t look like the person I remember.

  “Most definitely. Have you considered that your guilt over what happened with Saleena explains how you unjustifiably harbor it for your ex? How long ago did she die?”

  “It was about—” My thought freezes so I can process what Jennifer is saying. I never told her about Amber, did I? So much is going on I am not sure of anything anymore. “How do you know about Amber?”

  “It is etched into your eyes.” Jennifer’s touch to my arm both grabs my attention and, much to my surprise, calms my nerves a tad. Her gentle tone reminds me more of a maternal figure than the rock star I keep thinking she is. Right now I wouldn’t mind crawling home to Mommy, but she’d probably tuck her little boy in his bed after giving him milk and cookies and tell him to sleep it off. Sleep and I are not friends. “Brandon, it is okay to accept there is someone else out there who is far better suited for you than Amber was and your souls have never let go.”

  What? This isn’t why I am here. “If Saleena is someone else now, how does she know to contact me? Also, what I saw took place in the seventies. That wasn’t very long ago. I thought reincarnation, if it even happens, took at least a few decades, if not hundreds of years.”

  “Oh, it happens. Keep in mind that humans are the only creatures who know the concept of time. To all other beings, as well as spirits, time is immaterial. Think about how your lives were cut short. If we come back when we are ready, all this tells me you two are eager to finish business.”

  Shirtless guy carries in a paper plate with two pieces of cheese. Great, I missed breakfast and am starved. Maybe eating lunch will make all of this magically seem logical. I reach for a piece, and Jennifer yanks the plate away and carries it off. “This isn’t for eating. Hold on.”

  Muttering seeps in from down the hall. When she returns, Jennifer hands me a stick of what I am pretty sure is dried sage. “Draw a circle on one piece and an x on the other.”

  I do as she says while wondering how I got myself into this madness. All this has to be wrong, yet it is so obviously right. The pieces fit—maybe even too well …

  Can this be a scam? How could she get this kind of information about me?

  “Take that home and leave it on your counter tonight. Whichever piece molds first will tell you what to do next. If it is the one with the circle, follow your heart—whatever that means to you. If it is the one with the x, leave the vision behind and never think of it again. Let the mold pave your path to happiness.”

  Is she serious?

  This has to be a set up. Dale and Darla must be in cahoots. They know just enough to make it happen, too.

  No, Darla may play pranks, but she would never take part in head games. Besides, I’ve never told anyone Amber’s devout passions and desire to plan everything to the let
ter repressed my spirit. That one has been tough to admit to myself.

  With the cheese plate in my hand, Jennifer sends me on my way.

  Destination Unknown

  How Jason went from relaxed to flopping around in bed like a fish out of water makes me wonder if my stress is contagious. Does he see through the claim that my queasy stomach is brought on by a bout of food poisoning? Actually, his tension is probably related to my not being responsive to his desires. What is it with men and their constant need for sex? He walked through the door after midnight, and we have to be up at four. You’d think he’d want some sleep.

  Then again …

  My eyes take in the beauty of how the sheet conceals just enough to make it look as if he is posing for the cover of Playgirl. Dear Lord, those sleek muscles. I wouldn’t exactly mind …

  But at the sight of his face, my interest dwindles. My inner voice nags that I’ve wound up with the wrong person—just as it did Monday in Bailey’s trailer. I want the comfort I found there again, yet I haven’t been able to bring myself to try to find it. I can’t face accepting there is someone else out there who is better suited for me.

  Ugh! Why do I keep slipping into odd thoughts? This pregnancy is doing a number on me. Between feeling sick while wanting to jump Jason’s bones, and the madness that keeps twisting my head into thinking Jason is all wrong for me, I’m practically straight-jacket bound. This is going to be one long, first trimester.

  Should I come out and tell Jason I am pregnant? Last time he freaked so much he made me feel like an idiot. It’s been months, yet I can still hear the panic in his voice. “You must have read the test wrong. You do know there are supposed to be two lines, right?” Jason went so far into denial over our plans getting derailed he even said if the baby weren’t his, he would understand. He may have been freaking out, but the wounds I got when he wielded those words continue to sting. Still, when it comes to pregnancies, my hurt runs much deeper than any pain Jason ever caused.

  I sniffle back the tears brought on by memories of the man who fathered my daughter and how he literally walked out the door after hearing the news. Three weeks later he came back long enough to let me think we would make a go of it before he turned around and bailed on us for good. I prayed he would have a change of heart. After all, how could he walk away without taking even the tiniest amount of responsibility? The magnitude of his betrayal continues to warp my mind. By the time I accepted he was gone it was too late for an abortion. Thank God it worked out the way it did. Considering how giving a baby up for adoption has torn at me, what kind of mess would I be if I had chosen that route?

  The tears slink down. I discreetly dab them, but sniffling back the pain grabs Jason’s attention. A tuff of his buttered toast-colored hair slips over his eyes as he settles in. “You okay?” The concern conveyed by the tension in his brow is sweet. This is one of the many things I love about him. “Maybe that upset stomach means you have the flu. Can I get you something?”

  I snuggle into his chest while keeping my head tilted down. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He pulls me in, and for as comforting as it is, somehow it all feels wrong. “It’s too bad we have to get up so early. The one thing I hate about this job is calling out sick is not an option.” As if on cue to Jason’s words, my head starts throbbing. “I hope you knock this thing out before you leave. I’ll miss you, you know?”

  My heart sags. I’ll miss him too—at least I think I will. The time I have spent physically alone while living in my head has been pretty enlightening—way more than I want to admit. How is it talking to a fabricated person is more satisfying than talking to Jason? The hormones must have something to do with it. “It’s only for a few days.”

  “Still … I hate you being gone. Every time it happens a part of me fears you won’t come back.”

  “Why would you feel that way?” This is encouraging. Maybe my miscarriage gave him a change of heart, and he will be cool with the news after all.

  “Because if my plan fails, now is the best time in my life. I wish there were a way to know I am on track and not about to stall out. Every move in this business is a crapshoot, but it’s the only way to get what I want.”

  Yeah, what he wants is why I am freaked out over my news. It’s only fair to tell him. “You know, there are other things we both want.”

  He laughs. “Yes, I am well aware. We’ve got to cross over into movies before this atrocity of a show is canned. Once producers have you locked in their minds as one character, you are screwed for at least five years while they forget about you. The second I get anywhere near the A-list I’m bailing out of here.”

  His unexpected words cause my mind to jump in an entirely different direction. “What? Are you kidding? You can’t do that! You’re the reason why women watch this crap. If you bail, we are all out of work.”

  He snickers. Not a drop of arrogance is anywhere near it, but there sure is a lot of ignorance. “Nah, this show has three stars. If one goes, the others pick up the pace until a younger, hotter replacement is brought in. Fans are not as fickle as you think. Look at Two and a Half Men. Charlie Sheen left, they nabbed Ashton Kutcher, and boom! Ratings gold. My leaving would probably lengthen the run of the show. That would give you more time to move up another rung or two on the proverbial ladder.”

  Is he crazy? What they pulled off with Two and a Half Men was a huge long shot. They also had Big Three Network money behind them, not to mention Charlie Sheen pissed off so many people the audience wanted to see the show thrive without him. Jason has to know that. Lastly, what star as big as Ashton Kutcher would jump onto this wonky ship?

  “In fact …” He cocks his eyebrows and gives me a wicked smile that has his hickory brown eyes gleaming. My stomach does a loop-de-loop, and a wave of heat smacks me. I’m pretty sure the hormones have nothing to do with it. “Looks as if our upcoming hiatus will have me busier than planned. Apparently I am a shoo-in for the lead in the next Christopher Nolan movie—provided I am willing to sign on for the sequels. Holding off on renewing my contract for next season was wise.”

  My eyes go to full circles while my voice goes as nuclear as the bomb he just dropped. I don’t know if I am more upset about how this will affect our child or how Jason is oblivious to his importance regarding the careers of everyone on this God-forsaken show. “What! You know the rest of us already signed. You made it sound like you just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

  Jason’s expression sinks. I swear I can sense the sagging of his gut. Does he really believe what he did was above board? “I had every intention of signing if the movie didn’t work out. Why cause unnecessary drama by saying something before I knew what was happening?”

  I get where he is coming from, but we are supposed to be a team—not just he and I, but all of us—cast and crew. No wonder why I am seeking comfort Jason can’t provide. God, my life is jacked!

  Maybe it is the stress. Maybe I can’t deal with not getting what I need from Jason, or maybe I am just plain crazy, but my heart craves the feeling of compassion I get when reaching out during my acting exercise. “You wouldn’t do this to me, would you? We would be partners, and even if our needs were different, we would talk this over as a team. Neither of us would ever make life-altering decisions without the other.”

  Oh God, what am I doing? Why is my brain talking to someone who isn’t here, especially when I am having a conversation with someone who is?

  Jason brushes the hair from my face, and those heart-stealing eyes lock on me in a way that has me feeling adored, despite the fact I also want to grab a spoon and scoop them out. The side of Jason I love to the end of the universe and back is dead in front of me. It’s also pissing me off for loving him the way I do.

  “Katherine, my only concern is for us. It may make the most sense to stay in a guest star capacity, since it will give me an excuse to come home more often. However, since I’ll be dealing with a movie franchise, it would be wise to nab another role as fast a
s possible, so I don’t get locked into yet another character. We need to keep spreading our wings. Then, in about five or six years, we can start the family we’ve always talked about.”

  “Five or six years? We agreed on three, which are about to expire. Jason, you do know no woman has forever, right? Things start getting risky when the mid-thirties are in sight.”

  “It’ll be fine. Women have babies well into their forties nowadays. Besides, there are other ways.”

  I bolt up and stare down at him. I also have to swallow the contents of my stomach. On second thought, let them come up! Let them spray all over him! This is unfair. “My desires have value too. I made a huge mistake once by choosing a career over a person. I owe it to her to be successful, but I also need to see my other dreams realized.” Desperation begins to ring in my voice. The doctor has told me time and again the occasional missed period means nothing, especially with my wonky schedule. Still, I can’t escape the fears that rattle my gut. Now they nearly choke me, causing my words to sound cracked. “You and I are supposed to be partners. We had an agreement. For all I know it may already be too late.”

  Jason swallows hard. I haven’t a doubt something I said hit a chord. “Heyyy,” he says with a tone aimed at soothing me. He sits to meet me eye-to-eye. Although my heart may soften, the pain it harbors refuses to fade. “There was beauty in what you did. Remember those people sent you a letter saying you had given them a miracle? We need you to get your head in a better space, and see the fortune you have.”

  For as hard as he is trying, he’s not helping matters. “So my fortune makes it okay to trash my feelings?”

  “No. Not at all. But, honey, I am not ready for a family. Someday we will have one, but not now.”

  Now how the hell am I supposed to tell him I am pregnant? “I could tell you, couldn’t I? You would be happy.”

  Why do I keep slipping like that? How different are my needs that I have to make up someone to satisfy me?