Rocked Up

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.