Rocked Up

“Okay, off we go then,” Arnie says, while George fires up the engine.

We arrive at the airport, which is really nothing more than a runway and a hanger. There is a snow plow that just finished with clearing the runway, that pulls up close to us. The snow plow guy gets out and walks toward us, smiling with a cigar clenched in his teeth.

“You Arnie?” he asks, after taking out the large cigar.

“I am,” Arnie answers.

We are all standing abreast in front to the bus.

“Great. Chuck. I will be taking you to Denver this morning. Right this way,” Chuck says, motioning toward a small airplane.

“Right-o, come on lads,” Arnie responds, then waves bye to George.

The bus pulls away. I feel like I’m in an ocean and I’m watching my life raft float away. I can feel sweat build beneath my clothes, despite the cold air.

“It’s okay, it will be a short flight,” Lael says to me while we watch the rest of the crew walk toward the plane.

“I’m fine,” I say.

I am not fine. But I don’t want Lael to see me like this. I try my best to conceal my anxiety and walk in the snowy footsteps my bandmates made.

It’s not long before we are all strapped into our tiny seats on the tiny plane. There is not a seat left, Arnie is in the co-pilot seat wearing a headset.

Chuck gets in and slams the door. The cigar has gone out, but it’s still in his mouth.

“It will be a rough ride. Denver is the worst, stay strapped in tight,” Chuck shouts at us over his shoulder.

He pulls levers and switches and the plane shakes to life. It takes almost no time before we are racing down the runway and in the air. My eyes are closed and I concentrate on breathing. I don’t want to have a meltdown in front of Lael. I try to imagine landing safely in Denver.

After some time in the air, the turbulence begins. It feels like we fall twenty feet and then snap back up. We are moving side to side, up and down.

I feel like this is the end. I’m twenty-seven-years-old, I’m a rock star, and I’m going to die in a charter plane with my pregnant lover. It’s almost poetic. Except that I can’t feel my limbs, my hands are in tight fists and my eyes are closed tight.

I’m having a panic attack. I have lost reason. I have lost control.

“Brad, honey?” I can hear her voice but it seems like she’s miles away. “Brad,” she’s closer, she’s holding me and stroking my hair. “Don’t let the fear win,” she says, in my ear.

I think about last night when I told her the same words. I want to be strong for her, I want to be strong for our future family. Family—I’m going to have a family.

I get my breathing under control. My heart is still racing but I have to focus. I focus on her.

We touch down and I’m myself again. I smile at Lael and she smiles back. She just saw me at my weakest and I can tell by how she’s looking at me that I haven’t lost her. She calmed me down. I feel like we can take on the world together.

Chuck turns to face us and with a black-toothed grin says, “Welcome to Denver.”





Chapter Eighteen





Lael




“Lael,” my father’s voice booms from behind me.

I nearly jump right out of my skin. Shit. I’ve been extra jumpy since the damn plane landed in Denver, the last person I expected or needed to see was my father.

But there is he, the devil himself in the flesh, standing in the lobby of the Kimpton Monaco hotel.

He’s smiling too.

I don’t trust that smile.

I look around for the rest of the band. I’m a bit early. I said I would meet them down here before we went out for dinner. They wanted the complimentary happy hour that the hotel provides.

“Looking for the guys?” my father asks. “I sent them on their way. I need to talk to you about something in private.”

My heart thuds against my chest.

Shit.

He knows. Oh, he has to know.

I don’t know how but he knows I’m pregnant.

He knows Brad and I have been a thing.

He knows all.

That’s why I don’t trust that smile.

It’s the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Whatever you have to talk to me about, we can talk about it here,” I gesture to the lobby.

“I’m afraid not. You might make a scene.”

Oh, god.

“I can tell you’re already getting riled up,” he says, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I shrug him off. “You tell me here. Whether I make a scene or not, that’s up to me.”

I know it bothers him that so many guests are mingling in the lobby, trying to soak up the free booze. So many guests that probably recognize him. But I don’t care. He wants to control me? He can’t control me now.

“Fine,” he says, eyes turning hard. “You want it this way, fine. I don’t care. It’s you who will suffer, not me.” He lowers his voice. “I know you disobeyed my orders. I know you’re sleeping with Brad.”

“And how would you know that?” I ask him, wondering what else he knows.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Who told you that? How do you know you can trust him?”

“Because I can,” he says. “And it’s Marc Calvi. He’s seen you with him on more than one occasion so don’t even pretend.”

Calvi. I knew it. I’m going to fucking murder him. Then Brad’s going to want to murder him right after. A double-murder and no regrets.

“Look, Calvi is just looking out for the band. As am I. Your dalliances with Brad have been disrupting everything.”

“No they haven’t!” I cry out, attracting the attention of a few people nearby. I lower my voice, knowing I’m completely hormonal lately. “The band has been just fine, we’re performing better than ever. I mean, the tour is almost over, dad. Just let it be.”

“So you don’t deny it.”

“No, I don’t deny it.”

“Then you’re not the smart girl I thought you were.”

“I beg your pardon? Not smart? For the last couple of months I’ve been navigating the dirty, two-faced scene of live music. I’ve been dealing with the media, I’ve been dealing with expectations, I’ve been dealing with everything in order to ensure that every night I give it my all and give it my best. And I do. I’m consistent. I work hard and it pays off. And the only person I don’t have to deal with, who gets me, who understands me and helps me, is Brad.”

My father shakes his head, looking ever so disappointed. “You’re young, Lael. Young and confused. Too young to be a musician, too easily corrupted to be with this band. I should have known but I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

“I am doing what’s best for me,” I tell him, jabbing my thumb into my chest. “This was never up to you. I have control over my life, you don’t.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Lael. I have control over everything you do. And I can make it end for everyone in a second. For you. And for Brad.”

My heart starts to speed up, my face feeling hot. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it’s over.”

“Over?”

He raises his palm dismissively. “I’m not going to even give you a second chance because I gave you that already and you let me down. You let me down, kid. And that hurts. It hurts. You’ll never know a father’s pain, what I’m feeling.”