He blinked and Jennifer couldn’t even tell what he was thinking. “Wait a second. We can hash that shit out in a minute. How could you get pregnant? I always wear a condom.”
Jennifer started laughing, even though what Zane had said wasn’t funny in the least. “You always wear a condom when you’re sober, Zane. When you’re hammered out of your mind, there’s no telling what you will and won’t do. It’s always a crap shoot. And you’re hammered more often than you’re not.”
The hurt expression returned to his eyes. “Not lately. You know that, don’t you?”
Jennifer nodded. “Yes, I do. But I also know that we’ve been there before. It’s going to take a long time for me to know I can trust you, Zane.”
She saw him clench his jaw again. Oh, this was not good. “The feeling’s mutual, Jen. Believe me. The feeling’s fucking mutual.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
ZANE HAD BEEN seething for days and, much as part of him wanted to see Jen and Zoe, he couldn’t do it. He needed to calm down before he was around them again.
He understood why Jennifer had kept it secret from him—which made it even stupider for him to not spend time with Zoe—after all, she was his daughter and he wanted to be a part of her life. But Jesus…it wasn’t like the kid even knew who he was.
And so, in spite of the fact that he understood Jennifer’s hesitation about telling him, he was pissed off and disappointed, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He’d missed the child’s first word and first steps, for Christ’s sake. He had no idea how many other firsts he’d missed with the child—and he could never get those back.
He sat in Dr. Harvey’s office the next week trying to articulate all the emotions bubbling up inside him that simply couldn’t be contained anymore. The man had started by asking Zane how the last few days had been (something he did at the beginning of every visit), and Zane hadn’t stopped spewing since.
“So, yeah—I get why she did it. I understand. But she never even gave me a chance to step up. Maybe if she’d told me, I would have straightened out my shit sooner.”
“Had you given her any reason to believe that you would have?”
Zane tried to think of a time when he’d dried out and stayed dried out for any length of time—and there was nothing in recent history. “I usually cleaned up before we got back together.”
“And how long did those episodes last?”
When Zane was honest with himself, he knew they hadn’t lasted long at all. For him, the addict, those dry times had seemed to last forever, but—in reality—he knew they were short-lived. “Not long.”
“So do you understand perhaps why she made the decision to keep you out of the loop?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it feel any better.”
“Of course, it doesn’t. It hurts. And, consequently, it makes you angry. When she weighed what she perceived as good and bad outcomes, the bad must have outweighed the good. That is, any benefits you might have brought to the table were overshadowed by the damage you might cause.” Zane blinked as Dr. Harvey’s words sunk in. “You would have been able to benefit her and the child financially, correct?”
That hit him hard—right between the fucking eyes. Dr. Harvey’s words were like a machete, cutting through the bone and sinew of his chest before slicing through his heart. Jesus Christ. When he put it that way, it gave him a whole new perspective. Yeah, he’d understood on the surface why Jen had done it, but when the doc explained it that way—that Jennifer must have known how much she was giving up by not telling him—she must have thought he was a fucking monster.
Which then begged the question as to why she always came back. When Zane found his voice, he said, “Okay. All right. I get it. But if I was so fucking bad, why didn’t she just stay away forever?”
Dr. Harvey looked over the rims of his glasses. “Perhaps you’re not the only addict in this relationship.”
Zane let the breath out of his lungs. He wasn’t ready to process the whole codependent relationship bullshit. Just this revelation today was enough. He shook his head and then said, “Okay, so do I even stand any kind of chance? I mean…if she felt like she couldn’t tell me about my own goddamned child…?”
“Zane, the fact that she continues to let you into her life tells me you have a chance. You just need to repair the damage.”
He nodded. “I feel like we have been.”
“Good. That’s a start.” Dr. Harvey removed his glasses and set down his clipboard, leaning forward. “I know we’ve already talked about it, but you might again consider couples therapy or a twelve-step sex addiction group. The group will help you stay on the straight and narrow and also give you other people to talk to—you support each other, and it helps to know others have experienced like situations. Oftentimes, they can give you advice that has worked for them. Couples therapy would benefit both you and your girlfriend—you can work together to build a new life for yourselves.”
“I don’t know if she’d go for that.”
“Have you asked?”
He sighed. “No…but I know just getting her to go out on a date with me is sometimes pushing it.”
Dr. Harvey smiled and sat back in his chair. “Mm-hm. And where were you again when you found out about your daughter? Didn’t you say they spent the night at your house the night before?” Zane looked up at his therapist and nodded. “Hmm. That sounds like progress to me.”
Yeah…so Zane had to quit being butt hurt and continue making progress. And that would start now. He too had to find forgiveness in his heart.
* * *
“So I get it, Jen. I get it. I just need to know—do you and me have a chance?”
Jennifer was already surprised and amazed. In the past, when they’d had some kind of blow up—granted, they’d had much worse before—that was when they’d stop communicating for a long time. Zane wouldn’t call and Jennifer certainly wouldn’t make the effort. The first time—when they’d been in college—it had been mutual and they’d parted as friends, rediscovering a very deep love and passion later on when the reconnected. Since then, though, they would end their involvement every time with some sort of blow up. The first time, Jennifer figured was the last, but Zane kept coming back, and she kept taking him back, because she loved him and wanted him.
This time felt different. Zane was truly making some real changes, things she could see, but the other night felt like a game changer. Like maybe he was going to hold it against her, the fact that she’d chosen to keep their daughter from him.
“Yes, Zane. Of course. I…want us to work. And I want you to be a part of your daughter’s life. I love you.” Maybe he needed to know, to hear what he meant to her.
He was quiet for a little bit and it sucked, because they were on the phone and she couldn’t see him. She should have just texted him back and told him she’d talk to him after work, but his message sounded desperate. She couldn’t wait.
“I love you too, Jen…and I’m sorry for what’s happened. I want to move past it all and start fresh.”
“I do too.”
“I’m…considering a twelve-step type program. You know…for, uh, sexual addiction.”
“I’d never heard of those—but you need to do whatever is going to help you, Zane, and if that’s it—”
“My therapist is it. He’s helped me see things in ways I never had before.”
“That’s good. I’ve seen you moving forward, Zane, and that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”
He was again quiet for a few seconds before he said, “Maybe we should move in together.”
Okay, where the hell had that come from? “Um, Zane…not yet. I’m not ready yet. I don’t think we’re ready yet.”
“But…maybe soon?”
“Maybe.”
“Have you ever heard of couples therapy?”
She reached in her brain and found phrases like family therapy and marriage therapy. She could figure out what couples therapy m
eant by extension. But had she formally learned about it? “No.”
“It’s, uh, a kind of relationship therapy. If you’d be up for it, my therapist thought it might be one of those things that would help us both. It could help you understand my past.”
She knew it wasn’t meant to be that way, but it felt like going to therapy would be like punishing Jennifer for loving Zane in the first place. The problems weren’t hers…although, perhaps, the fact that she kept coming back for more again and again might indicate that maybe she too needed a little help. So, instead of outright dismissing the idea, she said, “Can I think about it?”
“That’s all I ask.” After a short pause, he said, “Now…when can I come see you and my daughter? She and I have a hell of a lot of catching up to do.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
THE RECORDING STUDIO. Goddamn. That always made it feel so fucking real.
It was real.
That didn’t change the fact that, on many occasions, Zane felt like he was living a charmed life. Yeah, sure, like he’d been telling Dr. Harvey for weeks—hell, months—now, he’d had a shitty start, mainly due to an abusive father who was in and out of the house until he left entirely. But Zane was ready to let that all completely go and embrace who he was now. He had solid friends, a steady and awesome job that thousands of guys would kill for, a girlfriend with whom his relationship had never been better, and a daughter who was quickly becoming the apple of his eye.
Yeah, he had it great, and life was looking better and better as the days went by and he cut the demons lose, one by one.
He hadn’t been able to appreciate it much yet, but Jen was now working full-time as Val’s PA. It felt right—kind of keeping it all in the family. It made him wonder why Val hadn’t hired her years ago, but maybe Val had never thought she needed an assistant. Well, it wasn’t like working for Val would give Jen any more free time than she’d had working for the corporate dipshits she’d had a job with before; she’d just be closer by.
And, right now, with him and the guys at the studio downtown, he’d see her even less. At least the studio treated them well and accommodated their long hours. They’d recorded the last Fully Automatic album at this place as well, and Zane didn’t think they’d ever record anywhere else again. The studio was a little pricier than other places, but they were extremely professional and did an excellent job. It didn’t hurt that they were close to home.
However, being close to home didn’t ensure that recording would be a fun process. No, the part Zane enjoyed the hell out of was sharing the music with the fans and even the creative process—the part where they put it all together. There were so many people out there who thought the bassist was dispensable—in some music forms, that might have been true, but people might not have understood how a bass guitar gave a rock band a richer, deeper, more melodic sound. The bass was the butter to the guitar’s bread. Yeah, sure, a person could sustain himself with bread, but it could get a little boring. Add some butter, though, and it was a little richer, a little tastier. Figuring out just how to make the music together was fun, and then playing it live was a rush unlike any drug he’d ever loved, but recording sucked.
But even though he hated the plodding, meticulous madness, the chance to play the same shit over and over and over in a short amount of time, he appreciated what the end product would be. And, hell, he was only kidding himself. He’d been so fucking blitzed out of his mind when they’d recorded the last album, it wasn’t even funny, so he was surprised he could even remember it. He was completely clean and sober for this one, and maybe he’d appreciate it more.
The problem was it was all making him antsy. There was only so much internet shit he could do on his phone before he felt empty and bored. Yeah, sure, he’d chat with Ethan or Nick here or there, but they were all somewhat focused on the music and, therefore, distracted and not fully invested in any conversation that might occur. Brad was completely lost, because he observed every step of the journey. In fact, he invested so much time in working closely with the folks recording, mixing, and evaluating, he was basically off limits. Zane respected that, though. Brad had always—always—had a vision, definitely ever since Zane had joined the band and no doubt long before. The guy was driven and it had paid off. Zane had often wondered how much of Fully Automatic’s success had been luck and how much of it was due to the fact that Brad never gave up. He didn’t know the meaning of the word quit. And he was just as hard a worker now as he’d been back when they were completely indie and pressing cheap CDs to sell at tiny merch booths in small local venues.
If Zane had had that much to do during the process, he wouldn’t have felt so anxious. Yeah, it was moments like these in the past where he would have smoked half a joint or popped a pill or even chugged a beer, something—anything—to fill the gap. And he asked himself why that was.
He knew, though. It was because, in those moments of silence and lack of preoccupation, that he thought. Hard. And if he’d been thinking hard about music, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but he wasn’t. Nope. He was thinking about everything. From birth to present and on to death, about his life and monumental fuck ups, and, yeah, sometimes he’d think about the good stuff too…but it was usually the stuff that made him feel bad, the stuff that made his mind paint him as an epic loser. So, even though things were looking up and he was doing great, his mind was playing tricks on him, making him feel like shit.
The only ray of light was hope that he’d see Jen during part of it. Val was doing some guest spot on this album—a duet with Brad—and, now that she was part of her own band (and Nick and Brad were part of that project as well), fans wouldn’t wonder what the hell was going on. It was a song that would probably never get any air time, but that was okay. It was a pretty mournful song, once more showing the versatility Brad had as an artist.
But no luck. Jennifer didn’t accompany Val and Zane wasn’t going to ask why not. Val was the one paying her and it was none of his damn business why Jennifer came along…or not. During a long stretch in the game, though, Zane stepped outside and called her. He needed to hear her. When she answered the phone, she sounded like an angel. “Hey, baby.”
“Great to hear your voice, babe. How’s work?”
She giggled. “Every day’s a new adventure but I love it. I’m glad I made the move. And it’s not like when I had Zoe in daycare at Edwards. I don’t have to wait till an official break to go see her. If I get the urge, I can peek in on her, but Gracie, the nanny, will sometimes let her peek in the office or come sit on my lap for a few minutes. That would never have happened at Edwards.”
“Yeah. Val was smart, snagging you like that.”
“I don’t know about that…but she’s definitely a great friend.” After a second, she asked, “You have your group thingie tonight, right?”
“Yeah. My place or yours after?”
“Up to you.”
“Oh, no. It’s up to you.” There was another pause, so he said, “This is why you need to move in, Jen. Then that’s one less decision you have to make. No worrying about packing shit up for you and Zoe to spend the night or deciding to have me over to justify why you still pay your rent.”
“That’s not fair, Zane.”
He laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way, babe. I just—think we should be together all the time.”
“Soon.”
Not soon enough, as far as he was concerned—but he was going to try to be patient about it. He knew she had to have her reasons, but he was beginning to wonder what those could really be…and he had plenty of fucking time to wonder nowadays…
Chapter Thirty
THE ROOM WAS nondescript, the chairs made of hard plastic, the room a bit too cool, but Zane was beginning to appreciate this weekly meeting. The guy who led the group wasn’t the kind of person Zane would have expected. He was a tall, gangly guy with hair that was turning gray—he looked a bit like a priest. No, not a priest. A pastor. Except this guy didn’t exude godliness
in any way, even if he had the look.
But he was a warm guy, one who made everyone feel welcome from the moment they walked in. He didn’t pull any punches, either, but he was kind and caring and he, this guy named Dustin, was likely the main reason Zane had come back to the group after the first night.
That first night, he’d felt like he was in the wrong group. Zane had impulse control. Before he’d begun seeing Dr. Harvey, he’d been having sex two or three times a day with different women, and often that impulse was driven by the woman herself—something about the way she looked or the way she talked would rev his engine. That seemed halfway normal to him. He was doing what anyone else would do, acting on his arousal…just more often—way more often—than so-called normal people did. But some of the people in the group made him feel like the poster child for vanilla sex and ordinary relationships.
There was one woman, for instance, who loved the excitement of having sex in public places, but only if there was threat of getting caught. She’d fucked in mall bathrooms, dressing rooms, and parks, been fingered in restaurants, movie theaters, and taxi cabs, blown guys in alleyways and even one time behind the counter of a drugstore. If it was risky sex in public and there was a good chance of being caught in the act, she was wet and trying to figure out how to talk her partner into it.
But even she seemed normal next to the guy who got turned on by restaurant billboards. If he saw an ad for fried chicken or drove past a sign about a new value meal offered by a fast food place, the guy was spankin’ it before he pulled off the goddamn freeway.
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 176
