The Marriage Pact: A Baby Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Get the hell out of here,” I said in disbelief.

  “You debuted at number 72.”

  “This is so surreal.” I hadn’t blinked since I saw the chart.

  “Your last single reached 91,” she reminded me. “And, that took weeks. We just put out ‘Where Are You Now,’ and you’re up higher than Luke Bryan, Rihanna and Maroon 5. I’m telling you, this is going to be the hit that makes you.”

  I could feel my cheeks flushing. “You really think so? Maybe it’s a fluke. I’ll probably drop down into the 80s by next week.”

  “I’m the one that’s supposed to be pessimistic, not you,” said Leah.

  Our waitress came over to take our order. Neither of us had to look at the menu to know what we wanted.

  “I’ll have a Cobb salad with a side of avocado,” I requested. “I would like the special herbal tea with it. Thank you.”

  “Turkey and cheese panini,” Leah said. “I’ll also have a small bowl of tomato soup. And, I’m good with water, thanks.”

  As our waitress went to take care of our order, I found myself staring at my song appearing on a chart alongside some of the most popular artists and songs.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” said Leah as she watched my continued bewilderment.

  I laughed. “I still don’t believe it. Wow.”

  “It’s only going to get better from here,” she said. “Have you decided which track to release next?”

  “I just put out a single. Where’s the fire?”

  “You’re the fire, Bailey,” she said. “You’re hot right now! We need to keep the fire going so that you’ll go full mainstream.”

  “Landing this high on the charts is definitely helping with the mainstream goals,” I said. “I’m not sure which song I should put out next. I’m leaning toward either ‘Beast Coast’ or ‘Candlelight.’”

  “I vote ‘Candlelight,’ ” said Leah. “Also, we should really get your tour dates lined up.”

  “Leah.”

  “Hear me out. For starters, I’ve read lots of fan mail and comments online saying how you should tour. Not only that, but most people assume you’re touring anyway.”

  “Leah,” I said. “We’ve been over this a dozen times.”

  “And, it’ll be a dozen more until you pick some dates and commit,” she said. “You need to give the people what they want. It’ll boost you up even higher.”

  “I don’t want to tour just yet,” I said. “My fanbase is mostly here, anyway.”

  “You’re too humble,” she said. “You have fans all up the east coast. You could sell out places in Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, and Virginia.”

  “I think it’s a little premature,” I said. “We’ll go over tour dates another time. In fact, I promise we’ll talk about it if this song makes it into the Top 25.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said. “I understand why you don’t want to tour yet. But I’m telling you—not just as your best friend, but as your manager—I think it’s something you should seriously consider.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I told her.

  “In the meantime, be excited,” said Leah. “You did good. I told you that song was going to be a hit. Glad you listened to me.”

  “Excuse me,” I said. “You said to not even release that song! You told me to wait and save it for the album release.”

  “No, that’s what I said about ‘Beast Coast,’” Leah said. “But, now that we’ve seen how you’re doing already, I think you could put almost anything from the album out, and it would climb the charts.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.”

  Our waitress came by with our food in record time, catching us by surprise. While we ate, we stared down at our phones. I kept going back to the Billboard charts to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  Occasionally, I looked up from my phone and plate and noticed two girls at a nearby table looking over at me. At first, I ignored them. Then, after a while, it began to make me feel weird. I could’ve sworn I saw them taking pictures of me with their phones.

  “Leah,” I whispered. “Am I tripping, or do those girls keep staring at me?”

  She turned around to look at the girls, who both nervously looked away when they saw her looking at them.

  “I don’t know,” Leah replied. “What’s up?”

  “It’s probably nothing,” I said. “They were just kind of weirding me out.”

  The surreal tidal wave I was riding only continued. The two girls got up from their table and approached us anxiously. Leah and I both looked up at them, waiting for one of them to speak.

  Neither of the girls could summon words, so I did it for them. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” said the youngest of the two. “I might be totally embarrassing myself right now, but are you—you’re not Bailey Wright, are you?”

  And then, it was I who became embarrassed. “Uh, yes.”

  “Oh my God,” the other one said, giggling. “Wow. Okay. Yeah, we knew you lived in Memphis, but we had no idea that you went here.”

  “I did,” said the youngest. “I follow you on Instagram, Bailey.”

  “Really?” I said as I felt my cheeks growing warmer. “Well, thank you!”

  “You can totally say no,” said the other girl. “But, would it be possible, if it’s not too much to ask, could we maybe get a picture with you?”

  “Absolutely!” I said without thinking. “Sure. Get your phones out!”

  Our waitress was able to take the pictures for us. We were all happy for different reasons.

  “You know, I just have to say,” I told the girls. “Y’all are the first people to recognize me like this.”

  “What?” they both said in shock. “You’ve been making music for years!”

  “Wow, you’re real fans!” I said growing more embarrassed. “I get a lot of ‘Where do I know you from’ and ‘I’ve seen you from somewhere.’ This is the first time someone’s known who I was without me having to tell them. Y’all just made my day and made me feel like a real celebrity.”

  I hugged the girls, and they returned to their table. We all stayed smiling during the rest of our meals.

  “What did I tell you?” prodded Leah. “Go on tour.”

  “That was really special,” I said. I couldn’t believe it. “I really feel famous now.”

  Even though I wouldn’t admit it to Leah, I did get a rush from that feeling. Now, the idea of performing for a large number of fans seemed more sensible to me. I’d had a taste, and I was ready to have more.

  I headed to the studio so I could record the song I’d be dabbling with. I’d thought of calling my dad on my way over to tell him about my blossoming celebrity status.

  Before I could call him, he called me, as if he knew he was on my mind.

  “Hey, Dad!” I answered.

  “Hey there, famous pop star!” he greeted. “Heard you on the radio this morning!”

  “So did I!” I said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “When are you releasing your next song?” he asked. “I want to hear more.”

  “I’m really not sure,” I answered. “I haven’t made up my mind on which one to put out when.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “I can send you all the tracks on the album now if you want to hear them,” I told him. “You’re my dad. I think I can get away with giving you an exclusive preview.”

  “Great! Send them to me!”

  “Hey, so guess what?” I said. “I got on the Billboard Top 100. I debuted at number 72! That’s the highest I’ve ever gotten!”

  He laughed. “Hot damn, superstar! Good things I’ve got your signature on all sorts of stuff lying around the house. I’ll be sitting on a gold mine by the time your new CD comes out.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said. “If I became rich and famous, you wouldn’t need to sell my autograph. I’d move you into a big house here in Tennessee.”

  “I was thinking maybe a nice beach house in Florida woul
d be better.”

  I laughed. “You can live wherever you want! I’m actually on my way to record some new stuff at the studio right now. I’m about to pull in.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Remind me to talk to you about something. I ran into somebody at the bar yesterday, and I’d like to talk to you about it.”

  “Okay!” I said. “Also, I want you to know I’ll be coming back to Rome for your birthday next month. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Well then, it’ll be the best birthday ever,” he said. “Darling, I’m so proud of you. And, I’m so happy that you’re doing so well. I knew you were gonna make it.”

  “Ah, shucks,” I said. “Well, listen. I don’t want to rush and get off the phone, but I’m like a minute away from the studio and I need to hurry.”

  “Okay, honey, no worries,” said my dad. “I’ll talk with you later.”

  “All right! Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you too, Bailey-bug.”

  I hung up, giving myself just enough time to reapply makeup and brush my long sandy blonde hair. As I looked in the rearview mirror, I tried to imagine what I might look like on the cover of my album.

  I felt bad about only talking with my dad for a few minutes, but I was happy to have heard his voice. I planned to set aside some time the next day to call him back and have a better, thorough conversation.

  Chapter 3

  Darren

  I was lounging around my house all day on Saturday, recovering from a hard week of work and a long Friday night of drinking and sloppy-drunk sexual acts. I was either in my recliner or on the couch relaxing with Bo, my golden retriever.

  My house was small, but it was comfortable. It was a perfect fit for Bo and me. There was plenty of room for both of us, even though I was a tall guy, and he was a big dog. I’d made sure there was also a decent backyard for him to romp around in.

  My plan was to wait for Wayne to give me a call whenever he was ready for me to come on over for dinner. However, as the afternoon turned into evening and the sun had finished setting, I began to wonder if Wayne had a change of heart and didn’t want me to come over after all. I’d never known him to blow someone off without a call or text, so I tried texting and calling him. He didn’t respond.

  “Wonder what’s up,” I said to Bo. “Why isn’t he calling, bud?”

  Bo’s expression remained the same.

  I sighed. “Yeah, I don’t know either.”

  I tried calling Wayne again, petting Bo as I did. After getting his voicemail again, I grew concerned.

  “I’m probably over-thinking it,” I said. “But, for some reason, I feel like something’s off.”

  Bo cocked his head and began to pant.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said. “Let’s go over and make sure he’s okay.”

  I assumed he wouldn’t mind seeing me arrive unannounced, considering he was expecting me anyway. He wasn’t expecting me to bring a canine companion with me, but Bailey had dogs growing up, so I figured he wouldn’t mind me bringing Bo along.

  We hopped in the Focus and took off down the street toward Wayne’s house. I avoided turning on the radio for fear of what I might hear. It didn’t long to get to his road. It was unusually slow for a Saturday evening.

  His truck was parked out front, and his grill was out in the driveway. It didn’t appear to be on, but he was certainly preparing to use it.

  Bo and I both hopped out of the car and walked up to the front door. I knocked once. No answer.

  I could hear a TV on inside; it sounded like a football game was playing. I didn’t hear any activity going on other than that, so I wondered if maybe he was in a sound sleep.

  I knocked again, louder that time in case he was passed out. Bo and I waited for about a minute, but still, there was no answer. I pulled out my phone, considering making another call.

  Bo started to whimper, making peculiar noises as he stared at the door.

  “What’s up, pal?” I asked him. “What’s bothering you?”

  Bo looked up at me, keeping his whimpering going. I couldn’t read him, and my concern only intensified the longer I waited.

  I knocked again. “Wayne?” I called out. “Wayne, you home?”

  Nothing. I wasn’t sure what proper protocol would be, but I felt compelled to push my boundaries. I grabbed his doorknob, slowly twisted it, and thankfully, the door was unlocked.

  I hadn’t been to the Wright’s house in ages, but it still looked the same as back then. The house was about the size of the one I lived in, but there was music everywhere. There were posters and gold records on the walls, vinyl records and CDs stacked randomly throughout the house, and many musical instruments sitting in different corners of the living room.

  I stepped into the house, and there he was, sprawled out on the living room floor, face down in the carpet.

  “Wayne?”

  Bo padded cautiously over to Wayne, sniffing him. I kneeled down, turning Wayne over on his back. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and I was having trouble finding a pulse.

  “Wayne, wake up, man!” I yelled.

  I kept searching for a pulse and was having no luck. At first, I convinced myself that he was passed out drunk and that I was just terrible at finding a pulse.

  However, the longer I waited and tried to wake him, the more afraid I became.

  I considered calling the police, but the closest hospital was only two miles from Wayne’s house, so I decided to take him there instead. I picked him up, throwing him over my shoulder, and Bo and I moved as fast as we could to the hospital.

  I didn’t tell the doctors and nurses much. I said that I found him on the floor; not breathing, not responding, and I had no idea what to make of it. They rushed him to the ER to take care of him.

  Since I wasn’t sure how long things would take, I first waited outside by the Focus with Bo. I planned to check on him, but I hated waiting around in hospitals.

  “I hope he’s okay,” I said to Bo. “It’s a good thing we checked on him, huh?”

  Bo lay down by my feet. I went through my phone and found Bailey’s phone number, thinking about calling to tell her what was going on. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, I still couldn’t make myself do it.

  Bailey and I had a complex relationship. We’d been friends for years when both of us lived in Rome. And we did everything together—went to high school, worked the same jobs, and went out and had fun all the time. We also both loved playing and writing music together. We both played guitar and piano. I played well. She played extraordinarily well.

  The more we created music together, our friendship grew, and a physical attraction began to manifest itself. We fought it for months, never acknowledging it or succumbing to our thoughts. We each encouraged the other to try music professionally. But for years, neither of us took the recommendations seriously. Then one day, Bailey was ready to leave Georgia and move on to a place that could nurture and build her music career.

  She started putting some of her original songs on the internet, and she began to have a small cult following who adored her music. She used that as the last bit of fuel to finally make the decision official.

  Then, we finally succumbed. The idea of her leaving tore me apart, and I begged her to stay. She begged me to go with her. While the begging persisted, we started exploring our feelings and having sex regularly. It was incredible, and it made her leaving hurt worse.

  After she left, she would only return to Rome for brief stints to see her dad. I never knew when she was actually in town, and I didn’t want to know. And so, I hadn’t seen her since she moved.

  I started seeing her dad more often than she did. I never had a problem with being around Wayne, since I was always close to the Wright family. I only knew Bailey’s mom for a short time before she passed away, but I was extremely close to him and Bailey for years. In some ways, they started to feel like a second family.

  I decided to go and check on Wayne, ordering Bo to stay by
the car. I never kept him in the car while I was away, and I hated owners that did that to their pets. Bo was a good dog. He stayed when told and didn’t bother anyone.

  I went toward Wayne’s room, and the doctor met me before I had a chance to go to him.

  “Hi,” said the doctor. “I didn’t get your name. You brought in Wayne Wright, correct?”

  “Yes. I’m Darren Holt,” I told the doctor. “I’m not family. I’m a friend.”

  “Yes. I was told you’re the one who found him,” the doctor said. “Mr. Holt, I’m so terribly sorry to have to tell you this. I regret to inform you that Wayne has passed away.”

  In my heart, I knew that was what was most likely, but it still hurt to hear it. I felt like a boulder had been thrown at my chest.

  “We’re not sure of exactly when he passed, but we know it was many hours ago,” the doctor continued. “We believe it was a heart attack. There was nothing you could have done.”

  Instantly, I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do.

  I stayed in the parking lot of the hospital for over an hour, lying on the hood, letting Bo comfort me with his affection. I was reflecting on years’ past, while also procrastinating the inevitable.

  I wondered if the hospital, or maybe even the police, might contact Bailey and let her know what had happened to Wayne. I’d heard that phrase “notify next of kin” enough to believe that it must’ve meant something. I didn’t believe it was my responsibility, and so I stayed away.

  Instead of calling Bailey, I called Garrett. It rang many times before he finally answered. I hoped I wasn’t interrupting something important.

  “What’s up?” Garrett answered.

  “Can you talk for a bit?” I asked him.

  “Sure, what’s going on?”

  “I’m at the hospital, actually.”

  “What?” he said alarmed. “You serious? You okay?”

  “I’m okay, man,” I said. “You remember how I was supposed to meet up with Wayne Wright tonight for dinner?”

  “Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that.”

  “I got over to his house,” I said. “And dude, it’s so messed up.”