Rocked Up

by Karina Halle

  The door opens and a young black woman walks in. Lael wakes up when the woman opens the blinds.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” the woman exclaims, surprised to see us. “It’s eleven a.m., you must have had a hell of a night.” She struts right over to the bed and sits down cross-legged facing me.

  “I’m Christy.” She introduces herself to me and shakes my hand.

  “Brad,” I reply groggily.

  “I know,” she laughs.

  “Christy…” Lael interjects.

  Then a little Chihuahua scurries into the room and jumps onto the bed.

  “This is Little Groot,” Lael says, introducing me to the dog who gives me the side eye. “Ok, now that we all know each other, how about a little privacy?”

  “Fine. It’s nice to meet you Brad,” Christy says with a smile and struts out of the room.

  “The door!” Lael shouts.

  Christy raises an eyebrow then closes it slowly.

  “Does she always come in here like this?”

  “I tend to oversleep these days,” Lael says. “It’s her gentle way of waking me up. Apparently I can be prickly if she tries to force me awake. How did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby, this bed is amazing, how do you ever get anything done?”

  “I figure you spend a good chunk of your life in your bed, best to get a good one.”

  “Look, I want to talk about something,” I tell her. “It’s about the events that led to you bowing out of the last shows of the tour. I know what really happened.”

  Lael closes her eyes and puts her head back on her pillow. I wait for her to say something, but silence hangs in the air too long so I continue.

  “I’m not mad, I just want you to know we don’t have to tip-toe around. Your father won’t have any control over me very soon. I’m tired of this fake business and I want to start something new. I don’t need to take over the world, I just want to do something great. I want to create something with you. A new life. The three of us.”

  Lael smiles and pulls the covers over her face for a moment, then pulls the covers away. We laugh like children playing.

  “What are you thinking?” Lael asks.

  I swing around and lie on top of her, pinning her down. I hold the back of her head and look at her with intensity.

  “I have no idea,” I answer.

  We laugh again. Lael adds, “Sounds like fun, count me in.”

  We spend most of the rest of the day naked in her amazing bed. She orders food, we watch Netflix, we are perfectly at ease. Beyond the borders of this bed the world does not exist. I know I have to take care of a few things and can’t stay here forever. The bus, for one. I do have a condo I should check on, and there is the issue of the rest of my life I have to figure out. But I know exactly where I need to go.

  After some time, I kiss her goodbye and promise to return tomorrow.

  I have a car come and take me to the old theater, the only place I seem to be able to get perspective.

  It’s a little late in the day for me to have the theater to myself. Surely there will be a band doing sound check. That’s fine. Sometimes I can’t think if it’s too quiet.

  I step out of the car and stand under the marquee of the old beautiful theater. I know every crack on the sidewalk here, I know what the rain sounds like when it hits the roof. I swing open the door and step into the foyer. The heavy door closes behind me and it’s like someone turned the volume knob of the city all the way down.

  It’s sacred. I spend some time in the foyer, breathing in the smells, beginning the process of forgetting—remembering. I can hear the familiar sounds of a band setting up. I head up the winding red carpeted steps to find a spot on the balcony. There is something about that moment, when you step into a cavernous theater from a dark hall, something inside you wakes up.

  I watch the band and their crew set up, laugh, and horse around. Behind me there is a spot above the spotlight I used to climb up to where I could watch what was happening. I have countless memories here, some are good, some are bad. I think of myself as a child and how I carried feelings of guilt and shame with me. Of course the irony is I was an innocent child and no reason to feel any shame.

  A child. Lael is going to have my child. There will be someone that doesn’t know me as Brad, they will call by my new name; Dad.

  I’m going to be a father. I’ve never had a family, have grown to accept that. I always felt that was so final, that I don’t have a family and I’m alone in the world. It never once occurred to me that it could change, I could start my own family.

  I wish I had someone I could share this news with; I can imagine what Mr. Robson would say. Surely he would be a proud grandfather.

  When Lael told me she was pregnant, there was a part of me that was a scared kid, but those feeling are gone. It made me see the child that I am and I know what I must face. I did what I had to do to get here, but it’s time for me to take control of my life. It’s time to become a man.

  If Ronald wasn’t her father, I would simply walk. I would tear up the contract and walk away. He could do his best, but I know I would be fine. Even though I hate the man, he is her father. So I’ll give him a chance to do what’s right. He’s made threats, I have to consider that he may be dangerous. I could be worth more to him dead than alive—but I don’t believe it. I’m not concerned about that, deep down I know my safety is not in jeopardy.

  “Did you come to say goodbye?” I’m startled by her voice. Ms. Sugar steps onto the balcony, an older version of the women I knew, but it is unquestionably her.

  “Say goodbye?” I question.

  Sugar takes the seat next to me.

  “How are ya kid?” she asks.

  “I’m doing my best,” I answer.

  “Well, I guess that’s all you can ask for,” she says with a chuckle.

  “Are you going somewhere?” I ask.

  “Oh, you don’t even know. It’s the theater sweetheart, it’s being turned into condos. In a couple months this will be a construction site. Money talks I guess.” Sugar’s words hit hard.

  She delicately opens a flask and takes a hit, then offers it to me.

  “No thanks,” I say, waving my hand.

  I can’t find the words, so I don’t reply. I look around the theater and feel like I’m looking at a dying friend. I take in a slow deep breath to calm my emotions.

  “I’m going to be a father,” I tell her casually.

  “Fantastic, good for you, the kid is having a kid, what do ya know?” She sounds drunk. She tries to take another drink but the flask is empty.

  “I have an eight-year-old son, ya know,” she says.

  “I didn’t know that, what’s his name?”

  “Kevin.”

  We share a moment. I have a hard time imaging Sugar as a mom, but then again I’m sure she has hard time seeing me as a father.

  “How much did they sell the theater for?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, I don’t even know the owners. I have a business card here, a realtor left it around and I grabbed it.” She rifles through her leopard-print bag. “Here it is.” She hands me the card. “I am sure I’ll see ya around kid, congratulations on being a father, that’s real swell.”

  Sugar gets up with a fraction of the grace she once had, and leaves the way she came. I look at the card, Mary Cade is the name. Her picture is on the card. I always wondered why realtors put their head-shots on everything.

  Mary Cade, I think we need to have a conversation.

  But first I have some business to deal with at Ramsey Records.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brad

  I’m in my condo waiting for him.

  His name Carlos Cortez.

  Carlos is a lawyer.

  I’ve had too many coffees and my heart is racing. I don’t love this condo but I love the view, and because of that I’ll miss it. I’m standing by the window looking out, admiring the skyline as if it were a painting.
The coffee mug in my hand begins to shake, so I put it down. It took me over an hour to find the heavy stack of papers that are my contracts with Ramsey Records and they’re sitting on the coffee table waiting for Carlos to look them over.

  I feel embarrassed at how unorganized I am. I’ve been so grateful to be able to be able to work and live as a musician that I haven’t dared question anything. I felt like if I started asking questions the spell would be broken and I would return back to the alley Ronald had found me in. A decade has passed since that day, and I have more than earned my keep.

  I’ve never looked at these papers, I’ve never had an agent, I’ve never had a lawyer. I had to think long and hard to find someone not tied to the company. I really don’t have any contacts outside of Ramsey Records. The only lawyer I could think of is the guy from the billboards and the ads on park benches. He’s everywhere. I didn’t even have to google him, his number and his tag line are etched in my brain. Call Carlos! Bright yellow ads with a picture of him giving a thumbs up. I’m happy he’s able to come on such short notice.

  Ring.

  When my phone rings I feel like it’s an alarm, it’s almost never good when someone’s calling. Who calls anymore? Friends text unless someone has died. This time it’s the doorman announcing Carlos. I forgot to let them know I had a guest coming, I don’t think I’ve ever remembered to do that.

  “Carlos, thanks for coming on such short notice.” I shake his hand aggressively, my speech rushed.

  “Not a problem,” Carlos answers.

  “Please sit down,” I say to him.

  Over the next few hours I tell him everything, perhaps even more than he needed to know. I was in a very rare mood where I needed to talk. I began with my first show, on my birthday at the old theater. I told him how I first met Ronald, how I went from the streets to where I am now. I told him about how I’ve fallen in love with Lael, I told him about the baby. Finally, I told how I want out of Ramsey Records and I need him to help me.

  “So, this is all you have?” Carlos asks, referencing the large folder on the table in front of him.

  “This is it,” I answer.

  Carlos leans over and rifles through the stack of paper.

  “Well Brad, it’s amazing what you can fix when you throw money at it. I assume you have an impressive bank account, you can probably buy yourself out of a contract. I will need some time to go through all of this,” he says.

  “I’ve never had a bank account, I don’t have a penny, I own nothing,” I say with a tinge of shame in my voice.

  “What do you mean, how do you get paid? How do you pay for things?” Carlos asks.

  “I have these, I just use them as I need them,” I say, showing him my credit cards that all say Ramsey Records.

  “The condo?” Carlos asks.

  “Not mine,” I answer.

  Carlos shakes his head in disbelief. “Okay Brad, I’m going to need time to process this. There’s a ton of information here.” He stands up and walks to the door.

  “So, what do you think, can I get out of this?” I ask.

  “I haven’t a clue,” he answers honestly.

  When Carlos leaves, the condo feels empty. I want to see Lael.

  I text her and ask if I can take her to dinner. There is a great restaurant called The Bellwether close to where she lives. Unfortunately, she is having a girl’s night with Christy, so we make plans for tomorrow evening. I tell her I love her and wish her a good night.

  My bed feels awful, Lael’s bed is much more comfortable. I fall asleep and dream deeply, I dream about her.

  ***

  Ring.

  It’s morning and my phone is making that awful sound again. It’s a siren warning me another human wants to talk to me and it’s never good. I wake up but don’t make an effort to answer it.

  Ring.

  This must be serious, I think to myself. No voicemail and an immediate call back equals some serious stuff. I reach over to see who is so eager this morning.

  Carlos Cortez is written on the screen.

  I sit up and answer the call. “Carlos! What’s up?”

  “Brad! Okay, so if I understand you correctly, you are a weird child-star that has never had a bank account, so obviously you never cashed a check. Right?”

  I take a moment to shake off the lack of respect, then answer, “Right.”

  “Okay. I’ve been up all night with this. I think we have something,” he says with some excitement.

  “Great, what’s up?” I ask.

  “Well, the bad news is I think you have the worst deal ever made in rock and roll history. I mean, this should be criminal, but your signature is everywhere and it’s as legal as it gets,” Carlos says.

  “Okay and the good news?” I ask.

  “Well, you have never been paid, like—ever. You have been treated more like a product then a person. I can guarantee almost everything you have purchased with those credit cards has been written off as a business expense.” Carlos is speaking with excitement, but I’m not sure I’m grasping the good news yet.

  “Right…?”

  “Right! So even though you have the shittiest deal I have ever seen, you still have never been paid your tiny percentage owed to you.”

  “How much?” I ask.

  “Two percent,” he answers.

  “So how much is that?” I ask.

  “I dunno, two percent of what ever And Then has made in the past ten years.”

  Shit.

  “Let’s go to the office now!”

  “What? No, Brad, this stuff will take time. We’ll have to go through his lawyers. Best case scenario is we settle out of court, but even then this will be a long battle,” Carlos says.

  “I’m putting on my jacket,” I tell him.

  “Brad, you’re going to mess it up, don’t go down there,” Carlos begs.

  “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes or I will go it alone.”

  “Ugh. Fine. I’ll be downtown, on West 1st and Olive, text me when you’re close,” Carlos says with defeat.

  I hang up and arrange for a car. This morning I’m making history. I dress in black and wear my darkest shades.

  Carlos and I walk into Ramsey Records, straight-faced and with purpose. The elevator ride to the top floor is silent, save Carlos’s remark.

  “This is crazy,” he whispers.

  I smile to myself as the elevator door slides open to the familiar top floor of Ramsey Records. I walk straight for Ronald’s office with Carlos in tow.

  “Oh Brad, we were not expecting you! You know you need to make an appointment,” Ronald’s secretary stands and speaks with urgency.

  I ignore her and open the office door. Ronald is at his desk and looks up from some papers at me with surprise obvious on his face. His secretary rushes past me.

  “I am so sorry Mr. Ramsey, I tried to…”

  She’s cut short by Ronald.

  “It’s fine, fine, leave us,” he says. “What do you want?” Ronald asks me with a blank expression, not even interested in Carlos beside me.

  “What do I want? I want out and I want what’s owed to me, and I want it to happen today,” I say in an even calm tone.

  “Shut the door. Have a seat,” Ronald says. I doubt he even realizes what he just said is the name of one of our songs. That’s how out of tune with And Then he is.

  Carlos shuts the office door and we both sit in the chairs in front of his desk. I take off my shades and fold them down one arm at a time.

  “Who are you?” Ronald finally asks Carlos.

  “Carlos Cortez, I’m Brad’s lawyer,” Carlos replies.

  “Good for you. So, Brad—you want a check, and you want out. First you knock up my young impressionable daughter and now you come here and demand money from me. I took you from nothing and made you into a star. Where’s the respect, where’s the appreciation?”

  “Where is the money?” I ask.

  “What money?” He answers.

  “I’m
a multiplatinum-selling artist that has written every note of every song. CD sales, merchandise, sold-out world tours,” I tell him.

  “Amazing, truly amazing. Do you realize this entire building works to make all that happen? Do you realize how much that costs? I have given you everything.”

  Ronald’s face is red with anger now and he stands up and puts his fists on the desk. He yells, veins protruding from his forehead and spit flies from his mouth. “You were nothing before I made you into something!”

  I stand and match his aggressive posture.

  “Two percent, you don’t think I deserve two fucking percent?” My fist hits his desk on the last few syllables.

  We stand off. Ronald has lost something and he knows it. He’s lost control over me and it’s driving him mad.

  “I’m starting a new life and I’m done with this. I’m going to be a father. I just want what is owed to me. Nothing more,” I say.

  Ronald turns his back to me and looks out the window.

  “So, you want to be a family man?” he asks.

  “Yes, I do,” I say with confidence.

  “What kind of family man starts a war?” Ronald asks as he turns from the window to face me.

  “It doesn’t have to be a war. Two percent over the last ten years, whatever that number is.” I take a step closer. “Cut it in half, write a check this afternoon, and we can part ways. We both know our lawyers will make more out of a court battle than anyone. We have one thing in common—we both love Lael, neither of us wants to hurt her. God knows she doesn’t need any stress right now. Ronald, you can think of it like you’re writing a check for your daughter and your future grandchild, because you are.”

  “Half?” Carlos asks from his sunken position in his chair.

  “Half should be plenty to start over,” I explain. “I don’t need to be a rich man. I just want to start over—with Lael. I realize you and the company have done a lot to get me where I am, but you have been well compensated for that.”

  I walk to the door. “Carlos, it’s time to go,” I call back to him.

  Carlos gets up to follow me.

  “Wait,” Ronald calls to me from behind his desk. I have my hand on the door handle and my back to him. I don’t turn around, I am still and he can tell I’m listening.