How could I tell him that I was pregnant, especially after he had trusted me to keep the both of us safe?
Worse, how could I tell my mother? It was everything she ever warned would happen to me, verbatim.
And then there was Gaynell… who had promised to destroy anyone who threatened her family. She made no bones that trapping her son was pretty high on that list.
I researched places where I could take care of the issue quickly, but that Internet search left me feeling even worse than I did already. I ended up on the bathroom floor, hanging onto the toilet for dear life as I vomited everything I had eaten since I was five.
I was as white as a sheet when I faced Mama, who produced a bottle of ginger ale for my troubled tummy. “You’re not feeling any better?” she asked.
I shook my head. I spotted the broth on the stove. “Mama, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” she said softly. “The baby needs it.”
My eyes shot to hers. “You know?”
“Of course I know. You’re my baby. You think that bond ends at birth?” She sighed as she leaned on the table. “How far along?”
“Four weeks,” I mumbled as I sat down before my legs gave out from under me.
She nodded, before pouring herself a cup of coffee. The smell nearly sent me back to the bathroom. She sat across from me. “And what are we going to do about it?”
My chin trembled. “Clearly I can’t keep it.”
“Clearly,” she repeated before she sipped her coffee. “You’re not married. You’re eighteen. I assume that Hollis boy will take a powder the minute you name him as the responsible party. And forget staying employed at Southern Nights.”
I gulped. It was every nightmare scenario I had conjured when I started to suspect I was pregnant. Worse, Mama wasn’t done.
“We live in a two-room trailer in White-Trash-Ville, USA. We barely have any savings, certainly not enough to allow you to stay out of work for very long. There’s absolutely no reason at all for you to have this baby now if you don’t want to.”
A tear etched its way across my cheek. Her voice was soft as she continued.
“I guess what you need to figure out now is if you want to.”
With that, the dam broke. I began to sob softly and Mama walked around to hold me against her body as she rocked me like a child. That night I slept in her bed with her as she fussed over me. She rubbed my back and stroked my hair as I cried myself to sleep.
I thought about calling in that Thursday but I decided to go in anyway, even though I felt like shit. I must have looked even worse than I felt, because even Gay showed some compassion as I walked onto the stage.
“Hon, you look like something the cat dragged in. Are you sure you should be here?”
I nodded. If nothing else, I needed my check.
Besides, it wasn’t that much work to sit on a stool and pretend to sing.
Tony Paul showed up late, but his face lit up when he saw me. “Hey,” he grinned as he knelt to kiss my cheek, one of the Jasper-approved PDAs he could indulge. “How are you feeling?”
Pregnant. “A little better,” I lied.
“Good,” he said with a smile. “I missed you this week.”
“I missed you, too,” I managed to say without bursting into tears, but barely.
“I’m going to New York City on Monday. I wish I could take you,” he said softly where only I could hear. “But I’ll be back before you know it. And we’ll make up for lost time then.”
I nodded, but the thought of being alone with Tony Paul no longer filled me with breathless anticipation. Instead I was filled with dread. I just knew that he’d figure out my secret.
I spent the weekend alternating between wanting to tell him and wanting to just disappear so he’d never know. I watched the father of my unborn child play the crowd like a pro, acting like the walking dream of each and every girl in that audience.
By Monday I was glad he’d be out of town for the next two days.
I made my appointment to abort the unplanned and ill-advised pregnancy for the following week. I just had to make it through one more weekend, and that was the biggest challenge of all. I was shocked to learn that Gay had turned on our microphones, and for the first time I heard my voice reverberate from the massive speakers overhead. Tony pulled me out to center stage so we could sing together. The crowd in front of us ate it up, so Tony backed away so that I could sing a verse solo.
Afterwards I barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited. Tony Paul was quick to follow me to the dressing room.
“Hey, you did fine,” he assured, thinking nerves were the reason for my upset stomach. “In fact, more than fine. Mama even said she might consider you to lead the band once I head to New York for the next few weeks.”
“You’re going back?”
He nodded. “That’s where the magic happens. When it’s not in a hotel room with you, anyway.” He pulled me close. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. I needed him now more than ever. I needed those strong arms to hold me together now that I was coming completely apart. “Tighter,” I pleaded in a whisper.
“Babe, are you okay?”
I nodded, but tears poured down my face. It seemed I had been an emotional basket case ever since I found out I was pregnant.
He kissed me softly, which nearly broke me. “It’s only a few weeks, baby. Just think of all that hot sex we’ll have when I get back.”
Burning bile rose in my throat. I didn’t want to have sex in three weeks, three hours or three minutes. I was fairly certain that, after the procedure, I’d never want to have sex again.
And he would never even know.
I felt like pond scum. I pulled away.
“Okay, that’s it. What’s wrong? Are you still sick? Have you been to the doctor?”
I sighed as I sank into the makeup chair. “Yes, I’ve been to the doctor. No, I’m not sick.”
He spun me around, cupping my face in his hand. “Bullshit. Something’s wrong. Maybe you just need a second opinion.”
I glanced up into those eyes I had grown to love. I did need a second opinion. I needed his opinion. Maybe then he’d tell me something – anything – that would give me some kernel of hope to hang onto.
I sighed. “Something is wrong, but I’m not sick.” I met his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”
He straightened immediately as his eyes bore into mine. “What?”
“Four weeks. Five,” I amended with a grimace.
He rubbed his chin with one hand. “I thought you were using protection.”
“I was. I did. I guess it didn’t work. I mean, we were fucking like bunnies.”
“So what?” he snapped. “That’s the fucking point of birth control, isn’t it?” He stumbled away, raking his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!”
I stood to face him. “I’m sorry, Tony. I just thought you should know.”
“And you just decided to tell me before I head to New York City. Convenient.”
“It was either that or after you got back. After it was… done.”
“Yeah, right,” he sneered. “If that’s what you planned, that’s what you would have done. The only reason you’re telling me now is because you hope I’ll beg you not to do it.”
I sighed. He was right.
“So… what? What do you want? Marriage? Money?”
“None of the above,” I said softly. “I just thought that… after all we shared…,” I trailed off.
“You thought I’d race right out and buy some catcher’s mitt for our bouncing little bundle of joy?”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it matters quite a lot. Do you know how much money I stand to make over the next year? Oh, wait. I guess you do.”
I glared at him. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means? You think I can’t sniff out a grifter when I see one?”
My mouth fell open. “Wha
t did you just say to me?”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe it. Mama warned me and I didn’t listen. I honestly thought you were different.”
“Different from what? Some cheap slut giving you head in the parking lot?”
“At least with her, I knew what I was getting. There was no game. She didn’t come back after a few weeks with some sort of blackmail to cash in.”
I slapped him hard across the face. “As a matter of fucking fact, asshole, I’m not asking you for one goddamned thing. I just thought you should know that the night I caught you with some other girl, I got pregnant with your child. But I guess I was fooling myself that you’d even care. You obviously didn’t care then. Why should you care now?”
“Sorry I didn’t go along with your plan, Lacy.” He grabbed his keys from the table. “I told you from the beginning I didn’t want kids. I guess my mistake was thinking you’d care about your career as much as I care about mine.”
He slammed out of the dressing room.
I was sure every step it took me to reach Gay’s office that Tony Paul had beaten me there. But she was alone, sitting at her desk, when I knocked on her partially opened door. “Got a minute?” I asked.
She offered a rare smile as she waved me in. “Of course. You probably want to talk about the music you’ll be doing over the next few weeks. I’ve already got a list ready…,” she started, but I shook my head.
“Actually I came in here to tell you face to face that I quit.”
Her eyes opened wide. “What? Why?”
“This is not the place for me anymore. It never really was.”
She leaned on her forearms. “Is this because Jasper overlooked you for the contract?”
I shook my head. “I don’t care about that.”
“Bullshit,” she said.
I took a deep breath. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for the opportunity to perform. I learned a lot.” I turned to leave.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked and I turned back. “You have a contract. You quit now, and I can guarantee it’s going to get pretty damned ugly. You want to thank me for the chance I gave you, the chance you didn’t really deserve, then you stay here and earn it.”
“The contract is null and void, Gay. It has been for about five weeks.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure Tony Paul will fill you in. You can send my final check to my home address.”
With that, I left her office and I left Southern Nights.
I felt lower than I had ever felt in my life as I lay in bed that night. I didn’t know what I was going to do or where I was going to go. My life had absolutely no purpose anymore. I didn’t have the music. I didn’t have Tony Paul. And in a week, I wouldn’t have the baby I mistakenly thought was conceived in love.
I could take care of it and go back to the menial jobs that had supported me through high school.
The thought depressed me more than words could say.
I stayed in bed for a week solid, right up to – and right through – my appointment at the clinic.
Mama sat on my bed that afternoon. “So that’s your choice, then?”
I nodded as I cradled my flat stomach. I knew very little for certain at that moment, but one thing I knew beyond all doubt was that I already loved my baby more than I loved anything in my life… even the music.
I’d find a way to make it work. And that was that.
Part Three: Jonah
Chapter Eleven
Two metal doors clanged open to a smoky, dirty alley. A burly, 230-pound bouncer had me in one hand and Cobie in the other. He threw my prized guitar out onto the stained pavement first, where it nearly cracked right in half.
“Hey, be careful, you asshole!”
He tossed me onto the pavement next, right in front of my Mama’s car. I glanced up to see her pursed lips. I grabbed Cobie by the neck and headed to the passenger side, peeking in the back seat where my beautiful baby boy, Cody, slept soundly in his car seat. He was never awake when Mama came to get me from whatever dive bar I happened to be playing at the time. My sleepy little guy would barely wake up as we headed to the single bed we often shared.
I’d forfeit sleep in the morning just so that I could play with him and spend time with him. That was our quality time. And it was worth more than anything in the world.
Mama waited until I had fastened the seatbelt. “So what happened this time, Lacy?”
I shrugged. “Management and I had a slight disagreement.”
She just nodded. This wasn’t anything new.
In fact, it had been par for the course since Cody was about six months old.
As predicted, both Gay and Tony Paul wanted nothing to do with me once they realized I had decided to have the baby. I felt likewise. I would have been perfectly content never to see either of them ever again, but the state of Texas had other ideas. In order to get social services, I needed to file for child support. The taxpayers of the state really didn’t care to support a child who had a rich daddy.
But Tony Paul didn’t care to add that particular title to his resume. As he warned me from the beginning, his focus was being a rock star, leaving him little time, or interest, in anything else. Needless to say, both Cody and I came dead last in his priorities.
And wouldn’t you know it? Ty Hollis had just acquired some tropical island resort, offering Tony Paul and his three brothers a permanent job there as the talent, right around the time Tony Paul received paperwork for child support. He was out of the country within the week and hadn’t bothered to come back since.
I knew from experience that Tony Paul was a dead-end road, one that would only bring poor Cody the heartache and disappointment that comes from being abandoned. I didn’t want him to feel the same way I had always felt, so I decided then and there we didn’t need Tony Paul or his money. He wasn’t a father; he was merely a sperm donor. We’d find a way to make it without him. I dropped social services altogether and went schlepping for any job I could find. Bartending, backup vocals; if I could earn money at it, I signed up to do it.
It always ended the same way. Some sketchy bar owner would sexualize me either for profit or for his own perverse enjoyment, and I’d always end up taking either my guitar or my knee to whatever body part was posing me the most threat.
After three years, I was running out of bars.
Mama knew that, too. She took a deep breath. “Lacy, I think it’s time we talk.”
I held up my hand. “I know what you’re going to say, Mama. Save your breath.”
We’d had this argument every single day of every single month of every year that had followed my firm decision to get by without Hollis money. She wanted me to ditch the music and earn an “honest” living. “As long as you’re prowling around in clubs and bars, you’re never going to fully abandon this pipe dream.”
Maybe she was right. But I had tried working in retail shops or restaurants. I earned my minimum wage and scraped by with occasional tips that didn’t keep us more afloat than any of the jobs I took that involved music. Why would I work hard at something I hated, when I could make as much money, with more freedom to be who I wanted to be, being around what I loved?
It didn’t make sense to me.
So I held out as long as I could. I tatted myself up and gauged my ears, piercing my lip and dying my hair every color of the rainbow. I never fit in, so why pretend that I did? I took everything that was “pretty” about me and made it edgier and darker, to keep the hungry wolves at bay. I had no intention, whatsoever, of attracting another superficial asshole like Tony Paul.
In fact, I had no intention of attracting anyone. My heart belonged to only one fella, and it was the tiny boy sleeping in the back seat, clothed in footed, blue pajamas covered with yellow ducklings.
“I can get you an interview with Kathleen,” Mama said, referring to her boss at an all-night diner who had no problems with my alternative look. That meant I could work for a whole $2.13 an hour.
Yippee.
“I don’t want an interview with Kathleen,” I replied.
“Then where are you going to go?”
I sighed. “I don’t know,” I finally muttered with a shrug.
“What’s it going to take for you to abandon this stupid dream once and for all, Lacy? Do we need to get thrown out of our home or run out of town?”
“Maybe,” I snapped as I looked at her. “What’s keeping us here? Honestly.”
“This is our home,” Mama replied tightly.
We drove up to the trailer that hadn’t changed much in the last ten years. She turned off the ignition and we sat in the darkened car. “Is this really what you want for us, Mama?” I asked. “How long do we have to do time in this trailer, in this town, living her life, until your debt to Grandma is paid in full?”
She chuckled softly as she shook her head. “I swear to God, sometimes you sound just like your father.” I made a face. I always hated when she said shit like that. “So what now, Lacy? You suggest we move to Dallas, or Houston, or Branson, or New York? L.A.? How’s it going to be any different than what it is right here, right now? When are you going to learn that for some of us, the grass really isn’t any greener?”
I met her gaze. “I’m sad for you that you feel that way. Why get up every morning if all you can rely on is today’s shit is the same as yesterday’s?”
“Every day I pray that I don’t,” she confessed as she reached for the forbidden cigarettes from her purse. “If it weren’t for you and Cody, who knows? I might not.”
I hated it even worse when she said shit like that. “I’m not ready to give up yet, Mama,” I said softly. “Nothing has worked for me except the music. Can’t you see that?”
“It’s still a dead-end road, can’t you see that?”
“Admit it, Mama. The best we’ve ever had it was while I was getting paid to sing. That’s no coincidence. I’m meant to do this. I know it in my heart.”
She sighed as she looked away. “You should take Cody inside,” she said before opening her door and heading towards the house.
She wouldn’t even talk about it.
I hoisted my sleepy boy onto my hip and grabbed Cobie in my free hand, following her up that wobbly set of warped, wooden stairs. She had already disappeared into her room by the time the door shut behind me, so I knew the conversation was closed for now. I carried Cody to our shared bedroom. He slept like a rock as I tucked him in his toddler bed in the corner, under sheets covered with cartoon characters and amidst a bounty of stuffed animals, mostly green frogs – his favorite. I brushed his soft brown hair from his forehead before I planted a kiss there. “Goodnight, Mr. Man,” I murmured softly.
Southern Rocker Chick Page 16
