She looked around the room. “I could probably go part-time and watch the baby. We could make this a nursery.”
She walked over to the window and touched the curtains. “A nice crisp yellow that would work for either a boy or a girl.” She clasped her hands together as if she had a purpose finally. “I always wondered if I’d be a grandma.”
Funny how fast she had adjusted to the idea. I watched as she walked the room, touching things, obviously making plans in her head.
Now I had to do the same.
My phone buzzed. It was across the room on a desk. Mom picked it up and brought it over. “Is it him?” she asked eagerly.
“He doesn’t even have my number,” I said. But the listing was unfamiliar. I sat up and cleared my throat before I hit the receive button. “Hello?”
“Jenny Gillespie?” It was a woman.
“That’s me,” I said.
“I’m calling on behalf of Tellmund Rogers.”
That was Frankie’s friend from the party. “Yes, hello,” I said.
“He would like you to come in next week at your convenience to talk about some opportunities for you here at Red Bridge Pictures.”
“Really? That’s great.”
“You will meet with our Director of Human Resources. How is next Thursday, April 2nd?”
“That should be fine.” My head buzzed to remember my new class schedule for the spring quarter. “I am out of class at ten, I think.”
“Why don’t you call me at this number when you have a firm day and time?”
“Okay.” My head was buzzing. “Who do I ask for?”
“My name is June. I answer the line.”
“Great, thanks, June. I’ll call when I’m sure about my classes.”
“That will be just fine. Thank you, Jenny. Bye.”
Holy crap. Did I have a job?
“What was that?” Mom asked.
“One of the contacts calling about a job.” I was still freaking out a little.
“That’s good news, right?” She sat on the bed next to me.
“Yeah.” My head was spinning. So many things happening at once. I felt sick again and pressed my hands against my stomach.
“Are you worried they won’t hire you if you’re pregnant?” Mom asked. “It’s illegal to do that.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me, actually.
“Just a lot of change really fast,” I said.
She pushed a pile of dreadlocks away from my face. “It was always going to be, with graduation and all. You’re just adding an extra facet.”
A facet. Right. Like we were cutting diamonds. “I’m going to try and locate that band,” I said, getting up from the bed.
“All right, Jenny,” she said. “I’ll be here. You’re going to need some help. Let me know how it goes with Chance.”
Oh, that was going to go super great. Especially if he was tying one on with Vanessa Price in a story line straight out of a daytime soap opera.
Tabloids, here we come.
Chapter 30: Chance
Chesapeake, Virginia, had a lot of the same feel as Chattanooga. Lots of water. Lots of green. The pace was mighty slower than New York, for sure. I was back in the south, and even though I was still a good ways from Tennessee, it felt like home. Without actually being home, which was a good thing.
I hadn’t called Charlie in a couple days, still smarting over her insistence that I come home and fight for Hannah’s rights. But the only thing worse than talking to a pissed-off Charlie was not talking to her. I didn’t know anything that was going on, although if something big happened, no doubt she’d call.
My hand strummed an easy rhythm and I let the bridge go on for a while, bringing it back around over and over again rather than taking up the chorus.
I had scored a spot in a seafood joint on the east-side outskirts of town, playing for tips and all the fish I could eat. I mixed up the styles as the waves of people came and went. I just had a little corner of the restaurant, but it was pleasant enough. When I took breaks, people came over to chat me up.
I was packing up at the end of the second night when one of the waitresses plopped down on the floor next to me. She was young, barely twenty probably, and had a saucy attitude, like she knew how cute she was.
My trouble radar went off right away. I’d avoided entanglements since LA, and this one looked to be precisely the wrong way to get back in the game. I was betting she had a boyfriend named Buster who had a jealous streak that she liked to tickle. Having him go after any man who laid a hand on her was probably how she got her jollies.
She leaned on her arms, stretching out a long set of legs from her super-short skirt. She wore a flirty white top, off the shoulders, and her hair was every shade of blond and brown all mixed together, straight from a beauty parlor.
“So where ya from, cowboy?” she asked.
Cowboy. I had no idea where people kept getting the notion. Today’s black T-shirt had a worn image of Jimi Hendrix flaking off. Still not exactly country.
I locked down the latches on my guitar case. “Tennessee,” I said coolly.