by Jesse Jordan
“Falling for her, huh?” Cora teases. I blush, and Cora smiles. “No way in the world am I letting you give up on her that easy then.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. “Okay, okay, point taken. Well, I guess then I'll just have to keep my eyes open. Still, I worry about the danger that Darren and Chad represent.”
“You know what Darren and Chad are?” Ian asks. I shake my head, and he picks up his drumsticks, twirling his wrists to loosen them up. “They're spoiled rich boy bullies. They've been born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and they think that by throwing around their country club money and the connections that they've got, they can get what they want. You break it off with Andrea, you're just giving those two assholes what they want. Let me ask you, is that the sort of life Andrea wants?”
“No, she hates having to live on her father's money. She's told me so many times, and she admitted to me, she feels like a hypocrite hating it and taking it at the same time. I told her not to worry about it, but still, she hates it.”
“Then don't let her stay in that situation,” Ian says. “Be the Joey Rivera that helped us all put together Bella's swings, the Joey that takes care of your sister and mother and nephew. Right now, though, I'd like the other Joey to get ready to go to work. Think we can get the guitar ass kicker to make an appearance?”
I grin, nodding. “Damn right. Cora, Rocky, you guys staying in here or going to the booth?”
“I think we'll go in the booth. That way Cora can sit down in my lap and keep wiggling and nobody's going to object,” Rocky jokes, but I can see that Cora's doing a pretty good job of getting him worked up early in the morning. I chuckle, she is his perfect partner, and as they go into the booth, I give Ian a shrug. He smirks and shrugs back.
“What are we working on?”
I think, then decide. “Here, I don't have a name for it, but listen and give me what you think will be a good drum beat for it.”
Things go great, after a little while Cora even throws the recording light on, and it feels awesome, there's nothing better than laying down fresh tracks knowing that you're making good music. By the time we're finished in the middle of the afternoon, I feel better, and I send Andrea a text message, just saying that when she gets off work, I'd like to talk. Nothing bad... I just wanted to hear your voice.
“Hey lover boy, if you've got the time... my garage says you're too soft to do a leg workout with me,” Rocky jokes. “They say women weaken the legs, and I know you gotta stop by at least once a week until you find a place for yourself in TO. Have you done that yet?”
I shake my head, grinning. “Nope, not yet. But I will. I can't let you go all soft on me if I go soft too. You're on, I don't need to be home until seven tonight. Hey, Ian, you want in on this action?”
Ian thinks about it, then nods. “Sure, why not? Doc said that some exercise could help too, and it gets damn lonely in that fucking Huntington apartment by myself nowadays. Let's see what Simi Valley has to offer.”
Chapter 9
Andrea
I feel refreshed and happy as I get off the I-10 and make my way through the maze of downtown streets towards the Coates Media building. Yesterday I was able to write up not just the assignment I had for Sunday, but also got nearly two thousand words done on the more in-depth story on Joey. I might be able to get it done today, and then vet it past James and Joey before submitting it to my editors. It's not normally something I'd do, even on an expose piece that's meant to give the sunny side and not dig up dirt, but with Joey and me... well, dating, I want to make sure that they get a chance to look it over.
Getting off the elevator, I'm shocked to see Dad standing at my desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a look of death on his face. Even before I can say anything or get my bag off my shoulder, he points. “Conference room. Now.”
“Okay, chill, just let me drop my bag,” I start, but Dad grabs me by the arm, literally dragging me towards the room despite my protests. “Dad! Dad! Let go!”
Shoving me into the conference room, Dad slams the door shut behind him, locking it before he turns to me, his face going even redder. “I was sitting at home yesterday, trying to enjoy some free time and a little bit of time off, when I find out that my daughter, who I've raised to be smarter than this, is out fucking some Puerto Rican rock singer? Who the fuck do you think you are, getting down in the mud with someone like that?”
Chad. That spoiled, psycho fuck. “First, Chad's got no right going to you about who I'm seeing. Second, I will not allow you to use that sort of language about Joey. I'm...”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Dad yells, his voice booming. “You dare tell me how to speak? You’re playing around with a ghetto, low-riding, bean eating...”
“You shut up!” I yell back, slamming my hands on the conference table, my bag luckily falling off my shoulder to plop on one of the conference chairs. “Joey is a good man! His father was a fucking Marine hero, and his son is just as honorable!”
Dad stops, shocked that I'd speak back to him. The last time I did was when I got my own place, threatening to move totally out of his life before he relented. At the time, he'd come back by offering me my current apartment, but I see that maybe I just encouraged him to try harder to keep his strings tied to me. I need to press my advantage. “Joey's worked hard, he's talented, and he's strong, Dad. Stronger than that fucking loser Chad, that's for sure. That creepy fuck's been stalking me for months, practically.”
“He's upset that you abandoned him when he needed help, but that's a conversation for another time,” Dad fumes. “I'll have a talk with his father later. But you, young lady, are my responsibility, and I will not let my daughter drag our family name through the mud!”
He's yelling again, and I am faced with the fact that, for my father, this goes beyond the casual disdain he's held for all people from the lower economic classes my entire life. I always thought that Dad made his jokes based on bank account size, not the color of skin, even though most of his taunts did have an ethnic slant to them. But Joey's climbed out of the bad neighborhoods, he's shown heart, guts, brains, and talent that's going to make him a legit millionaire within six months, a year at the outside. No, it's not Joey's bank account or even his old neighborhood that makes Dad this angry. Dad's laughed and hung out with people with poor backgrounds before. Pro athletes who came from places even poorer than Joey's background. No, I finally call it for what it is. It's racism, pure and simple.
“I have done nothing wrong, Dad. If you can't see it, that's your problem, not mine,” I reply, reaching for my bag. “Now, I have work to do.”
“You go out that door, and you won't have any work at all to do,” Dad hisses. “In case you've forgotten Andrea, I own your job. I own your car, I own your apartment, I practically own your sweet little ass. So sit down if you want any of those things tomorrow.”
I freeze, glaring in amazement as Dad points at the chair. “I said... sit. Down.”
I take a deep breath and pull the chair out, sitting down. It's not the Lexus or the apartment, but my job. I like writing for the Pulse, and I like doing what I do. Of all the things to threaten, he picked the one that works. “What do you want?”
“You're going to break up with the hoodlum, first,” Dad says, planting his hands on the table and giving me the power glare that he's semi-famous for. It's not as strong as it was a decade ago, Dad's booze habit's starting to make his eyes go a bit bloodshot and his comb-over's getting very evident, but it still carries a lot of weight. “You're going to find yourself a good boyfriend, from the right background and right places. You don't want to date Chad, I can understand that he's getting pretty tubby anyway. But you will stop this despicable behavior. Johnny Rivera!”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep calm in the face of this angry madness. “His name's Joey, Dad. Joey Rivera. You know, of the platinum-selling band where he's one of the best guitar players of the past decade?”
Dad shakes his head, his mood not improving. “I
don't care if his name is Johnny, Joey, Juan, or Julio. He's not acceptable for me or for my daughter. You will find a boyfriend I approve of, and stop this barrio boffing. And don't tell me you haven't, I can see it on your face. My only daughter, fucking a Puerto Rican? Inconceivable!”
“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means,” I taunt him, losing my temper. Darren Coates might be able to throw around his money, and he might be able to use his tongue to cut people to ribbons, but steel sharpens steel, and I've had more than my fair share of chances to use my own words to wound. “And by approve of, I assume you mean the son of one of your lily-white friends from Bel Air or Beverly Hills?”
“A decent fucking start,” Dad says, totally missing my point. “You're going to find an acceptable man from a good family, Andrea. If you don't...”
“What, Dad? Going to disown me?” I ask, angry. “Going to yank me around and order me around? Maybe stop calling me daily like you do now?”
Dad shakes his head. “You don't even have a clue how much I could fuck up your life. It's pretty simple, Andrea. You disobey me, and your job... gone. Your car... gone. That little bachelorette pad that I've paid for... gone. Your inheritance, your safety net, your trust fund that you're in line to get when you turn twenty-seven? All of it, gone. You want to hang out with barrio trash? Fine, you can go live like them. Go suck down burritos and pork rinds or some shit.”
“Fire me? You'll fire me over who I'm dating? You're being despicable!” I yell, standing up. “It's illegal!”
“California is an at-will employment state. And no, firing my daughter for who she dates is not covered under federal or state statutes. Besides, do you really think I'd be stupid enough to fire you and have that in writing? I fire you for any of a dozen different reasons. I've done it before, I'll do it again in the future,” Dad says, grinning triumphantly. “And don't think that you can just get fired from here and go tattle, or go get a job somewhere else. You won't be able to get a job writing up high school football scores in backwoods Kentucky by the time I finish with what I'll put out, Andrea. So, you have a very clear choice. Your boy... or your career?”
I get out of my chair, and Dad thinks he's won as I go around to him. He even holds his arms out like he wants a hug. “Honey, I know it hurts, and I don't like having to spank you to teach you a lesson, but...”
Dad's words are cut off as I slap him, hard, across the cheek. “Listen to me now, and listen to me well, Darren Coates,” I growl, stunning him into silence. Not Dad, not Daddy, but... Darren? I've never called him that before in my entire life. “The last thing I need is someone like you trying to control my life any longer. Listening to Chad? In case you forgot, Chad Bronson's facing rape charges, he's a slimy, lying sack of shit who cheated on me with so many other girls that... it doesn't matter. He's a liar and a scum that's been stalking me for months and would lie if he wanted to, just to make sure that I couldn't date anyone. That you even listened to a word out of his slimy mouth says something about you. It tells me that while we might be related by DNA, you're hardly deserving of being called my father.”
I'm enraged, my nostrils quivering as I keep going. “So, here's the truth. Yes, I'm dating Joey Rivera. In fact, I've slept with him, and I loved it! He's a man, a real fucking man, not some rich bitch trust fund boy who doesn't know what real strength is. He respects me, and he's shown me that I can make it on my own. I don't need you! You want to try and throw a tantrum, cut me off? Go ahead! It just proves my point, you're nothing but a spoiled man-child who wants to control my life like I'm one of your girlfriends. Well, get this through your head, Darren. I'm not your puppet, I'm not one of your Eastern Euro gold-digger models who let you order them around and play sugar daddy for them. So, go ahead, fire me!”
I turn to go, storming to the door, when Dad recovers, scoffing. “You're so much like your mother.”
I stop, turning. “What did you just say?”
He smirks, shaking his head. “I said you're so much like your mother. Fine, I obviously touched a nerve, and you're delusional, immature. Your mother was the same way. I'm going to give you a chance to think about what I've said. I expect your behavior to change, Andrea. If it doesn't, and that includes an apology to me, then I will take action.”
“Do whatever the fuck you want, Darren. This conversation is over,” I growl, grabbing my bag and going to my desk. Nobody even dares to look at me as I sit down, turning to my computer and pointedly ignoring everyone. I see out of the corner of my eye as Dad leaves, the air in the room feeling decidedly colder in his passing before the conversation starts to pick up again.
It's about fifteen minutes before Harry Bethlehem comes over, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Hey, 'Dre? Would you like a coffee?”
“Not right now, Harry. Gimme some time, okay?”
Harry nods, setting the cup down. “When you're ready, 'Dre. I only got a bit of what happened, soundproofing's good but not perfect, but I saw him grabbing you. That isn't cool.”
I nod, still staring at my computer monitor. “Thanks, Harry.”
Harry leaves, nobody else approaches me as I start typing on my longer story about Joey. I don't make a lot of progress, but still, it helps to distract me from the rage inside me as the minutes drag by. It's about eight thirty when Polly comes up, biting her lip. “Andrea?”
“Yeah, Polly?” I ask, calmed down enough that I can at least look at her. “What's wrong?”
Polly holds out a folded sheet of paper, her face turning red. “Sorry. I just got this on my desk, the guys upstairs didn't have the balls to bring this to you themselves.”
I unfold the paper and read it carefully. “Suspended without pay for a week. I see.”
“The company's policy is that you have to leave the building now, and turn over your access card,” Polly says softly, apologetically. “It's not right, Andrea. I heard a little of what people saw.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and stand up after closing my file on Joey, not saving it. It's not worth the effort, I've seen this happen to three other people. Dad covers his ass very carefully, normally suspending an employee before they are fired. It gives the company a chance to do spin things the way they want. After all, if I reach out, if I try to go on the offensive, I violate the confidentiality agreement that every employee signs and the legal team can jump on my ass.
One week. In media terms, it's both a short time and an eternity. My reputation can be ruined for years, maybe for the rest of my life, in such a short amount of time. On the other hand, if an employee wants any chance of having a long career, and at twenty two I've got a very long career in front of me still, they usually choose to resign, to not fight a battle they can't win.
All this flashes through my mind as Polly watches me log off and shut down my computer. “You walking me out, Polly?”
Polly nods. “I have to. Security's supposed to, but they said I could do it if you went quietly. I told them you would.”
I nod, giving her a tight little smile. She's just doing her job, and I can tell that she hates this as much as I do right now. “Thanks. Listen, can you tell the folks who aren't in... well, tell them I said good luck?”
Polly walks me all the way to my car, where I hand her my access card. She looks at it, then sighs. “Andrea, if you need anything....”
I shake my head, getting in my car. “No Polly, I think we both know, there are only two solutions to this. Either I apologize to my father and let him take control, or I lose my job. You don't need to be in this fight. Take care of yourself.”
The drive back to my apartment seems hollow like I'm going to purgatory. I take the stairs this time to go upstairs and sit on the sofa for hours, just staring at the wall across from me. I know what I should do, I should be packing. There's no reason for me to delay, I know what's going to happen.
I didn't tell Polly the full deal. If I apologize, I know that Dad's going to put pressure on me to move back onto the estate. I
know my old room is still there, untouched since I left to go to college other than being cleaned once weekly or the few times I stayed over. If I don't apologize... I'm homeless.
On a whim, I take out my phone, that I realize it is not in my name, and pull up my web browser. I really shouldn't, I should be doing this at a Starbucks or someplace else that has free Wi-Fi, but I just don't have the energy to get up and plug in my laptop, my battery's mostly dead right now. I open my online bank account to check my balance. One thousand, one hundred and ninety-seven dollars and thirty-eight cents. And a credit card in my name. Everything else is in his name. I'm not even sure if my clothes aren't owned by him.
I close my browser and take a deep breath, wondering what to do. No time like the present I guess, I get up and go into my bedroom, pulling out my luggage. Dad might own that too, I don't know, but I tell myself that he's not that petty. I have one suitcase packed with about ten percent of my closet (where the hell did I get all this shit?) when my phone rings, and I see that it's Joey. I answer it, hoping to keep my voice even. “Hello, Joey?”
“Hey, beautiful... what's wrong? Your voice sounds strained.”
He's amazing, he heard it in my voice in just two words. “I've had a bad day. My father... I've been suspended from work.”
“Oh, shit,” Joey says softly, his voice changing. “I was calling you to warn you, too. Chad came by the studio yesterday, punched James, our publicist. He made some threats, nothing against you. but... Andrea, I'm worried that this guy might turn on you.”
“Thank you, Joey, but I've handled him before. He knows that I'll call the cops on him in an instant. Is James okay?”
“Yes, just some wounded pride, but what happened at work? You got suspended?”
I sigh, nodding. “Yeah. When I came in, my father was there, and he dragged me, literally dragged me, into a conference room where he threatened me to try to get me to break up with you. He said if I don't, he'll have me fired, blackballed from media work, and then kick me out of my apartment, and take my car. Basically, he threatened everything but taking the clothes off my back.”
