Chapter 22 Way Back When #2
She returned to her seat, a couple of rows ahead of Jace, Mary, and Colin.
When Jace had booked the flights, she’d seated everyone in their own row.
Tensions within the group had been high ever since they’d come back from Amsterdam.
Mary had renewed her threat to leave if she didn’t get a larger royalty from the upcoming third album (presciently called Breakage), even though she wouldn’t contribute a single lick or lyric.
Colin’s dependability was next to nil, and to ensure he’d make his flights and get to rehearsal and the performance on time, Jace had paid his brother to accompany him for the entire trip.
And even though Paloma and Jace’s professional relationship had gotten smoother, their personal life together continued to be thorny, so they kept their distance at home and on the road.
Before she sat down, she saw Jace farther down the aisle, reading a Rolling Stone magazine in blissful ignorance of what Paloma had done. Sorrow stabbing her in the gut, Paloma clicked her seat belt and closed her eyes for the rest of the flight.
They landed, and Jace sent the musicians on to check into the hotel so she could supervise getting their luggage and equipment to the correct locations, making them all swear to be at the Ed Sullivan Theater no later than two o’clock for sound check.
Unlike their earlier tours in New York, when they’d stay in a series of low-end motels in cheap, often dangerous neighborhoods, tonight they’d be at the Marriott Marquis in the heart of the city.
The Letterman folks had two Town Cars waiting for them.
Lugging her purse and her Stratocaster, Paloma took the first one and rode off alone, knowing Mary would be much happier to ride in the other car and bitch and moan to Colin and his brother about Paloma and Jace all the way from Queens to Midtown.
Paloma got to her room and deadbolted the door before she lay on the bed with arms spread wide. Before the panic could start gripping her brain and her lungs, she closed her eyes and talked herself down.
Your wish is coming true, she told herself.
You are going to have a baby, and you’ll love them more than any kid has ever been loved.
This baby is going to love you no matter what. They’ll be there when the applause stops.
It’s going to be amazing, and you can do this.
Everything is going to be okay.
Following a deep inhale and exhale, she sat up on the edge of the bed, unzipped the interior pocket in her purse, and calmly pulled out Nolan’s cellular phone, which she had packed alongside the pregnancy test.
“Hey,” he said sleepily when he finally picked up. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah,” she said hurriedly.
“I saw you’re going to be on Letterman tonight. Congratu—”
“I’m pregnant.”
There were a few seconds of agonizing silence before she heard a quiet “Oh, wow.”
“I’m going to keep it.”
She heard a rustle, like he was sitting up in bed. “Oh…okay.”
“I mean, I don’t know when I’ll have this chance again.”
“Paloma…”
“You know how I’ve wanted to be a mom since forever and now, well—”
“Let me absorb this…”
“I’m not expecting us to be a couple. And I’m not expecting you to be a parent, unless you want to be. Do you want to be?”
“Paloma, can you slow down? Please?” He sounded exasperated but not angry. “It’s early in the morning here, and I was asleep literally a minute ago, and this is a life-altering conversation we’re having, so I need you to slow down.”
“I don’t have much time,” she said, standing and starting to pace. “I’ve got to be at sound check with Jace in two hours, then I have to play on the most monumental show on television as if nothing has happened. After that, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“It’s not much different than what you told me you wanted to do back in February. Tell Jace that it’s over. Find a place of your own and separate your finances. And make decisions based on what you want, not what other people want.”
“I said all that. That doesn’t mean I can do all that.”
“You know you’re going to have to.”
She stopped pacing and looked out the window over Times Square. Colorful signs flashed for Broadway shows and restaurants and all kinds of high-energy family fun. “How are you feeling about this? Gut level?”
It was clear he was fishing for words. “This is wild. This is a lot to take in. Look, I’ve thought about wanting to be a father more than once, but I sure didn’t think it was going to happen this way. I’m guessing you didn’t, either.”
“No,” she said with a halfhearted laugh.
“You and I are going to have to figure out a lot of shit pretty quickly. You have my promise that I am not going to abandon this kid, though. I will pay my fair share, and I’ll want to be a part of their life.”
She heard him hesitate. “But…?” she prompted.
“I’m not going back to Detroit. I’ve decided to relocate to LA.”
She sat on the edge of the coffee table. “You are?”
“I just got cast in a movie,” he explained.
“Since O Brother, Where Art Thou? came out, all these roots music projects are in development, and they need musicians who can play that stuff on camera and advise the production. I start shooting in the fall, and after that, who knows? But I need to stay in California to get all this off the ground.”
She hadn’t expected him to rush to her side, and given what she’d seen of LA from performing there, she had utterly no desire to move to southern California simply to make it easier for him to be a part-time dad.
If he’d asked her to marry him, she would have laughed him off.
Still, she was disappointed that he didn’t ask her anyway; she would have appreciated the offer to step in and save her from doing this on her own.
There was a knock at the door and a muffled, “Luggage, Miss Doralle.”
“I have to go,” Paloma said.
“Call me later. We’ll figure this out.”
She knew he meant well, but it was not his job to decide. It was hers. “No, I’ll figure this out.”
They said their quick goodbyes, and Paloma let the bellhop in to deliver her suitcase and garment bag.
She called room service and ordered a huge breakfast because she was starving; eating for two was going to be an adjustment after years of grabbing food here and there.
As she waited for it to arrive, she stared at her luggage, crammed full of cosmetics, hair products, and outfits and shoes for before, during, and after the appearance.
So much stuff that meant so little to her; bags and bags of things she’d never miss.
She could leave it all behind without a second thought.
That got her thinking.
She thought through everyone she knew back in Detroit, trying to identify anyone she could call on for help who wouldn’t tell Jace.
Without exception, they were all “their” friends: hers and Jace’s together.
She couldn’t expect them to keep a secret.
She squashed the idea of calling her parents as quickly as it appeared, and she’d only call Dustin if there was literally no one else to turn to.
Her breathing began to race, and she felt clammy, like she had fallen to the bottom of a deep, cold well. She hadn’t felt this isolated and alone since her parents threw her out and she moved in with…
Of course.
Room service arrived, and she wolfed down her Western omelet as she developed a plan.
She counted the cash she had on hand then used Nolan’s phone to call Amtrak.
After chatting with a helpful representative about the cost and schedule for trains from NYC to Philly, she called Northwest Airlines to confirm she could purchase a one-way ticket at the terminal to fly from Philadelphia International to Detroit Metro.
She memorized the fastest route to walk from the theater at 53rd Street and Broadway to Grand Central Station, ripping out the Manhattan street map from a tourist magazine that was on the coffee table.
Her breakfast fortifying her resolve, she pulled up a number from her own phone’s contacts and, switching to Nolan’s again, dialed a number with a 231 area code.
The voicemail kicked in with a recorded message of a woman who sounded like she was reading from a script, as if she wasn’t sure she was using her newfangled answering machine correctly: “Hello, you’ve reached the Morries.
Please leave your name, your number, and a good time to call you back, and we’ll talk to you soon. Goodbye.”
In the middle of the boooop! a woman answered. “Hello?”
“Bobbie, it’s Paloma.”
“Paloma! It’s been ages! How are you?”
“I’m good. Say, I—”
“I was just talking to Bud about you being on that late night show tonight! That’s so exciting! We’re gonna brew a pot of coffee after dinner so we can stay awake and watch.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” Paloma said, willing herself to dial back her anxiousness and stay focused on the task at hand.
“I’m really sorry. I don’t have much time to catch up right now because I need to ask you something.
Remember how you said to call you anytime I needed a place to stay? ”
“I do,” Bobbie said. “That still goes, even with us living up in Stone Beach now. You sound frantic. Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. Yes. But I need to ask you for a huge, huge favor.”
“Okay. Don’t go anywhere.” Paloma could tell she’d put her hand over the receiver, yet she could still hear Bobbie clear as a bell as she yelled, “Bud? Get on the phone. Paloma needs help.”
The two stayed silent for several minutes while Paloma gave them a rundown of what had happened over the last few hours.
She outlined her plan, gaining more confidence as she explained it as if it were a well-considered, foolproof idea instead of running away from the mess she’d made.
She had barely finished when Bud spoke up at last.
“Bobbie, you have enough gas in your car to get us to the airport?”
—
In the midst of sound check, Paloma looked out into the empty seats of the Ed Sullivan Theater, feeling like she had trespassed into a shrine.
She was performing on the stage where Elvis and the Beatles had made fans lose their minds.
This had been the ultimate idea of “making it” when she started years ago, a promise Jace had made to her when they didn’t know how everything else in their lives was going to turn out. Now, it would be their swan song.
Once the show’s producer gave her a thumbs-up, Jace pulled them to the corner of the stage.
“All right, let me reiterate what they told you about the run of show and what I told you about the rest of our trip. There’s food waiting for you in your dressing area—and Mary, before you say something, yes, I asked about your rider, and no, they were not able to accommodate it.
” Ignoring Mary’s huff of disgust, she continued.
“Hair and makeup will come for touch-ups at four, so be dressed and ready. The show starts taping at five o’clock.
They’ll take you to places on stage left during the second guest interview, so keep your eyes on the monitors and plan your pee breaks accordingly.
Throughout the evening, do not approach Mr. Letterman.
If he wants to greet you, he will come to you.
After the show wraps, I’ll stay here until the gear is taken care of, and Town Cars will be waiting on 54th to take you back to the hotel.
If you’d like to join me to watch the show at eleven-thirty, drop by my room, but in case we don’t cross paths before then, I’ll see you in the lobby at nine a.m. tomorrow to catch the shuttle to the airport. Got it?”
Mary and Colin mumbled in the affirmative; Paloma nodded, doing her best to appear in control.
“Good.” Jace stepped in closer, like a coach in the midst of her players.
“This is a big fucking deal, and you’ve worked incredibly hard to get here.
You’re going to get thousands of new fans because of this one performance, and you’ve never been more ready.
” She looked at each of them, ending with Paloma, her sternness softening. “I’m so proud of you.”
She gave Colin and Mary brief hugs, stating, “Have a good show,” before pulling Paloma in tight. “I’ll be in the back just like always, watching you set the room on fire,” she whispered hot and fast. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Paloma whispered back, so overwhelmed it was as if she’d stepped outside of her own body and someone else had said it for her.
Just then, a PA stepped in to guide the musicians through the warren of corridors back to the green room, so Paloma didn’t have to watch Jace walk down the aisle and out of the theater, her head held high.