Nothing.
As if on cue, my cell rings, but it’s the last person I want to talk to.
“Yep,” I answer.
“Have you seen social media?” Xavier asks.
“I was busy seeing the backs of my eyelids.”
“I thought you weren’t feeling good last night.”
Shit. I scrub a hand over my face. Screwed that lie up. “I felt better. Got a little restless and ended up at Bottom of the Hill.” I yawn. “What’s up?”
“That song you sang. That new material? It’s going viral. Fucking apeshit. You need to lay that track down and get it released ASAP.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll talk with Sony.”
“I don’t think you understand, Vince. It’s all over the place. I’ve got my people online pushing it too. It’s like it’s all coming together at the right time. It’s fucking gold.”
I sit up, the foil of a condom wrapper from last night floating off the bed. I can’t drum up any more excitement than this. “Gold is good. Platinum is better.”
“That might be in the cards. Look, man, you wrote that song. You spoke your words. The public is hearing them loud and clear.”
“Humph,” I say. By the empty bed beside me, I guess someone else heard the words loud and clear too. “Great.”
I need a fucking drink already.
“You should have had Jasmine and Will there last night. Would’ve been great for the documentary.”
Fuck the documentary.
“Apparently there’s enough footage on social media already. I’m sure they’ll find a way to use that.”
“Agreed.” He clears his throat. “So we’re still on for an eleven o’clock lunch, and then we’ll hop on the jet and get back. We’ll discuss strategy on how to keep this momentum going during the flight.”
“Sure.” I’m still in a fog. “Will Bristol be at the meeting today?”
“She left about an hour ago. Commercial flight back. Something about an emergency at home. Don’t worry though. We’ll get her up to speed once we figure everything out. Good?”
“Good.”
I end the call and toss my cell on the floor where I can’t reach it.
This is what I’ve been working for, right? Solo success? Charting my own territory? I should be ecstatic. I should be surfing the Internet and soaking it all in.
Then why does it feel so goddamn fucking empty?
An emergency, my ass.
Walking away is something I’ve seemed to have mastered and mastered well.
Seems you have too, Bristol.
Tou-fucking-ché.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bristol
Seven Years Ago
“You tried to call him again?” My mom stares at me, arms over her chest, concern etched in every damn line of her face.
She looks old. No doubt these past two weeks are the culprit enhancing that.
“I have. A ton of times. I’ve left messages. I’ve sent texts.”
“He hasn’t responded?”
“Kind of hard when he blocked my number.”
“How do you know that?” she asks, her cup of tea growing cold in front of her.
“Because now when I text, they don’t go through. When I call, it says the number isn’t available.” Coming to that realization didn’t hurt at all or anything.
“Huh,” she says. “What about his dad? You called him before—”
“No. Absolutely not. The man is a prick, and he’s only going to give me the same number that’s now blocked me.”
“What if we called your dad to—”
“No. Please.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “Dad can’t know who the father is. I hate saying that because he’s Dad, and I love him, but he’s also Dad. The man who can’t keep a secret to save his life. If I do this—”
“Then no one can know,” she says quietly.
“For the baby’s sake. Yes. He or she needs to know they come from a place of love, not from one of abandonment.”
“This doesn’t sit right with me, Bristol.”
I reach across the table and grab her hands. Tears well and I blink them away. My emotions are all over the fucking place with these hormones. “I know, but this is my decision, and I need you to respect it. I confided in you because I value your opinion. I told you because I can’t do this alone. I know you think I’m jumping the gun and don’t know the half of it when it comes to parenting. And you’re right. I don’t. But neither does anyone else. Isn’t that the beauty and the pain in it? All I know is that this baby was made out of a love that I’ve never felt with anyone else.”
“You’re young. You have a life ahead of you to find a love that’s even better. That’s even sweeter.”
She doesn’t understand. I saw the love between her and my father. It was subtle and understated. I know the love I felt with Vince, even at a young age. It was unrelenting and unique.
“I can’t explain it. You just have to respect it.”
“Vince has a right to know.”
“He does.” I blink away more tears and ignore the burning in my chest. The same burning that I felt when I imagined a life together with him and our child. The same damn burning that turned to utter heartbreak when he refused to call me back. When he refused to take my calls. “He’s the one who has blocked my number. He’s the one who gave that interview I just played for you saying he has no desire to have kids ever.”
“Saying it and meaning it are two different things.”
“You weren’t the one the road manager humiliated when he offered to give me a thousand dollars to use as I please—okayed by Vince himself.”
“You don’t have to keep the baby. There’s no shame in admitting you’re not ready. In making a choice for you and your own future.”
I close my eyes and quiet the tears. “I’m not being na?ve in this. I know it’ll be tough. I know it’ll derail my plans for a while, but this is my decision. I’m keeping it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Vince
Seven Years Ago
“Does it hurt being so popular?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask Mick, our road manager.
“Chicks calling me to get to you. To get with you. To—”
“Tell them he’s a lousy fuck and that the drummer is better,” Gizmo says.
I raise a middle finger at the same time I empty the rest of my beer. “You’re just jealous, man.”
“That girl you were with in . . . Jesus, what city was that?” Mick asks.
“Which fucking girl?” Hawke asks and chuckles.
“Shit, I think she said her name was . . . Crystal.”
We all burst out laughing. “The fucker calls everyone Crystal,” Rocket says and then downs the rest of his beer.
“Yeah, well. Crystal called,” Mick says, grabbing the bottle of Jack and pouring himself some.
“What fucking city was it again?” Hawkin asks. “Vince has been on a doozy of a pussy bender since . . .” He leans back and looks at me. “Since what city was it, Vin?”
Since Los Angeles. Since Shug. I’ve been trying to fuck her out of my system, so that all the women blur together, and I can try to forget her.
Call me the asshole. Call me a hell of a lot worse. Especially when I made Hawkin take my cell, block her number so it’d get lost in the fray of the hundreds I’ve already blocked, before erasing every goddamn trace of her from my contacts so I can’t call her back.
That’s what Bristol fucking Matthews does to me.
I scrub a hand over my face. “City? Fuck if I remember.”
“Perfectly said, my brother,” Rocket says and fist-bumps me with a laugh. “Fuck if you remember.”
“So what did Crystal want?” Gizmo asks.
“For you to be her baby daddy,” Mick says followed by a collective groan from all of us.
“What number is that this month?” I ask. It’s becoming a fucking weekly occurrence. And since I have a no glove, no love policy, I’m not worried in the least.
“Five. Is that five?” Gizmo asks.
“I think it’s five,” Rocket answers. “Collectively. Not just for Vin. We don’t want to give him a big head or anything.”
“Fuck off,” I say.
“That sounds like a ‘please take care of it for us’ if ever I’ve heard one,” Mick says.
“Perfect.” I rest my head back on the couch as the dressing room begins to spin.
“Maybe we leave all the Crystals alone for a few days,” Hawkin says.