Thirty One - River
“And you haven’t heard from them?” Ode asks, biting the edge of her nail with suspicion.
Her eyes follow me through the entire disgusting bathroom of the bar I’m pacing through. Watching as I slowly spiral into the dark abyss of bullshit that my life keeps serving up to me on a pretty plate of fuckery. “Like, they just dropped off the edge of the earth?” Her shrill voice echoes throughout the bar bathroom, bouncing off the tiled walls.
I shrug, continuing my pacing in the small space of the bathroom.
“No. Not a fucking word,” I seethe, anger brewing like a firestorm under my skin. If I get my damn hands on them again, I'll wring their necks and make them wish they had died a slow death. “I’ve fucking called and texted, and it always goes unanswered.” Every goddamn day. Every hour. I'm desperate to get their attention or make them talk to me. Fucking cowards!
My fists curl at my sides, desperate to lash out and punch the damn wall, but I stop myself. Taking a breath, I waltz back over to Ode and shake my head.
“How the fuck does this happen, Ode?” Tears burn down my cheeks in a fury, glaring at the three innocent pregnancy tests lining the shitty countertop, all coming up positive.
Positive! How could my uterus betray me like this? I'm on birth control to prevent this kind of thing from happening! Millions of women pray for this tiny miracle every day, and I've been handed one without trying. How the hell is that fair? Especially when I'm not sure if I can handle this right now. A baby? Me? Not without a support system. And seeing as Odette and her family are the only people I have left; my options are limited. God. A hammer pounds in my skull, filling my ears with the sound of my beating heart. Panic swarms through my entire system, threatening to send me spiraling down the damn drain if I don’t get ahold of myself and process what the fuck is going on.
Ode’s eyes turn sympathetic when she pulls me into her arms. “Fuck them,” she murmurs. “You don’t need them. I’ll be your baby daddy. I’ll be a better daddy than them, anyway.” I snort into her shoulder, cursing the fucking idiots who put me in this position. “But to answer your question. You usually get a little P in the V action, and then… bam! Baby batter makes tiny humans,” she says with a sly grin, grunting when I smack her on the arm. “Ouch, bitch. I was just trying to make you laugh. No need for all that violence,” she huffs, rubbing her arm with fake outrage.
If it weren’t for Odette and her constant support, I would have curled up in a little ball on my bedroom floor, unmoving for days. Hot tears burn behind my eyes from the anger boiling deep under the surface, mixing with resentment. December 15th came and went without a word from the guys. The day we would have gone to the Battle of the Bands. My California dream sizzles into smoldering ashes right before my eyes. Not only did the guys stop texting and calling me weeks ago, but they also blocked me from every form of social media they had and changed their passwords and usernames so I couldn’t access them like I had before.
So, my nosy ass looked it up, and wouldn't you know, they were as gorgeous as ever rocking out on the big stage at The KC Club. The crowd had roared with delight, throwing their hands in the air and waving them around at the sultry sound. Much like I had before, standing in awe before the Gods on stage. Then reality crashed, and I closed out the video, refusing to see if they won. And you know, I don't give a shit. Not at all. They can win or lose or walk off a cliff for all I care. Shit.
Where was I during their performance, you ask? Wallowing in my fucking grief all by my damn self. Stuck in my lonely apartment with no one at my side—my mom six feet deep, my boyfriends MIA, and my best friend on the fringes. My only reprieve has been coming to both jobs and making up my homework. I had a lot of shit to make up after getting beat up and then processing the fact my mom keeled over and left me with all this shit. But you know what? I’ve tried over and over to get into contact with these ghosting dickbags, and they’ve never responded. I could send an SOS, and they’d wave a hand and let me die.
One day, Odette drove me to Callum and Rad's place with little success. No answer. Empty house. It's like they never even existed. Maybe I made them up, and my boyfriends were figments of my imagination, and now I’m slowly going mad.
“Babe,” Ode says, squeezing my shoulder. “You’re going to have to go find them. Or something. I mean, they’ll have to know, right? You can't just… have their kid and keep it a secret. Jesus. Their kid, Riv. Who is the father?” Her eyes widen as mine narrow into slits, and she grins. “Sorry, I'm just trying to lighten the dismal as fuck mood.”
“Odette, you bitch,” I say as a slight smile pulls at my lips. I might as well let a little humor crack through the bullshit of my life to keep me above water.
“I'm just saying! Four baby daddy possibilities!” she quips, shaking her head. “But seriously, you have to let them know.”
I blow out a breath. “I know,” I mumble, putting a hand on my flat stomach, trying to imagine the watermelon I will have in a few short months.
Images of my future with a baby flash through my mind as I pace in front of Odette. She sighs, leaning against the counter and watching me work everything out.
“You have options, you know. We'd never judge you for your decisions. Just saying, babe,” Ode says with a sad grin.
“I know,” I sigh, groaning when I put my forehead on the wet counter and groan more. “Fuck. This is bullshit! They fucking left me for weeks now! And they did this to me? Fucking Castle house on the lake…”
“Fucking sounds about right. Isn't that all you did on your little getaway? You were the main course, and they were the…”
“Please don't even finish that sentence, Ode,” I mumble, trying to keep the pressure building in my brain at bay.
“Right. We're very pissed off at them,” she mumbles with a defeated sigh. “Extremely pissed off at them.” Ode's eyes fill with tears, and she sniffles. “I thought they were so good to you. And here they went and…”
“Acted like every other Lakeview guy on the planet. Who would have predicted that River West would get screwed the fuck over by four fuck boys? They succeeded, didn't they?” Tears fall freely from my eyes again, my fingers digging into my palm. “They fucking told me they got close to me for my name, and what did I do? I got fucking knocked up by them. I let them in, Ode. I fucking…” My entire body trembles with rage, hurt, and disappointment. But mainly, my fucking heart shatters to the floor. “I fucking loved them,” I whisper through my quivering lips and shake my head when Ode tries to wrap an arm around me.
“I know you did. And I swear the way they looked at you… I thought they loved you, too. I don't understand. How could they walk away without talking to you first?” she asks, running a hand over her forehead.
“Because they didn't want to,” I say with resignation. “Maybe that was their plan all along.” And I was too blind, once again, to fucking see what was going on in front of me.
And that's the gist of it all. Callum saw something, misunderstood it, and fucking walked away with a trampled heart before hearing what I had to say. It's like that shitty misunderstanding trope everyone loves to hate in movies and books. None of this would have happened if they had just talked it over like adults. The drama would cease to exist, and they'd come back with open arms and tell me they were sorry. But this isn't a book or a movie, this is real life, and somewhere along the way, it all got twisted into this entire situation. And it's entirely Van's fault. I'm going to castrate him beyond belief for kissing me. Then, I’m going to throw his body to the damn pigs and cackle as they eat through his bones and make him disappear entirely. Ah, that would be the dream. I’m no murderer—but I’ll get my revenge if I ever see his face again. Lately, he’s been in the damn wind, only texting me instead of showing his face, mentioning something about being in Europe for some damn internship I don’t care about. I know I’ll see him eventually. He’s like a damn pest, always turning up.
“You need to go demand answers,” Odette says, pursing her lips. “You need to knock on their doors, punch their faces, and force them to listen to you!” she harps on, raising her fist in the air. Next, she'll get the pitchforks and fire, and we'll storm their castle.
“Already tried that, remember? They weren't home. Hell, maybe they stayed in California,” I say with a defeated shrug. Throwing my head back, I stare at the ceiling, letting more frustrated tears fall.
Odette doesn't say a word. Silence falls between us until I stare at her guilt-ridden face, and she huffs. “They won.” Those two words punch me in the fucking gut, and all the air leaves my system.
The groupie part of me is fucking ecstatic they're living their dreams. But the baby momma part of me wants to yank their balls through their throats and dig their graves with my bare hands.
“Of course they did,” I huff, throwing my hands in the air. “They fucking won. They're living their best life and shit… here I am. I'm knocked up and fucking fuming…”
“Direct that anger at them, babe. Take my car and go and confront someone. Maybe Kieran's mom? Ask her and see what she says. Oh shit, don't give me that look. I'm just saying,” she says, placatingly holding her hands in the air.
“Every single person in that neighborhood hates my guts,” I grumble, butterflies making my stomach swoop. “But fuck it. Someone has answers for me.”
Ode hands her keys to me and pats my back. I shove all the pregnancy tests into my jeans pocket and quietly walk out of the bathroom and into my office, grabbing my coat.
“I'll hold down the fort here, okay? It's too early for a big crowd. So, we'll be good. Now, go get them bitch!” she shouts with encouragement, shooing my broken-hearted ass away.
I bet ten bucks she's tired of watching me pace and angrily cry out my frustrations. Ode won't admit it, but she wants me to handle this before I work myself up to stab someone. Again.
“So inspiring,” I grumble, waltzing out the side door toward the parking lot, pulling my coat tighter around my body.
Chilly air smacks me in the face as a few snowflakes float from the heavy clouds from above. Shaking off the shivers, I gasp for breath. If I thought Illinois summers were awful, meet Winter, her ugly, cold bitch of a sister, delivering several inches of snow today.
I shake my head, walking past my poor Bessy, and stop dead. Last time I checked, my poor Bes was covered in a thin layer of dust, yet she sits here, cleaned up, and… What the hell? My brows furrow at the small white note tucked beneath the windshield wiper, soaked from the weather. Picking it up, I carefully open it and nearly drop it on the ground.
“Stop fucking walking.”
That’s it. That’s all it says. Clear and decisive, yet unclear about who it’s from. Shivers roll down my spine when I dig my keys out and hop into my unlocked car. Every piece of trash is cleaned up—because I’m messy, so sue me—and the inside is wiped down. The smell of cleaning products wafts through the air. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when I put my key into the ignition. Holding my breath, I turn the key, and Bessy starts without a damn fight. Quickly, I press the buttons to heat instead of air conditioning, remembering the last time I drove Bessy was at the beginning of August. Now, here in December, I’ve finally gotten her going again. Well, someone did, at least. This time, I won’t question this gift from God. Instead, I’ll take Bessy out on her maiden voyage and hopefully find some answers.
The whole drive across town, my nerves flared to life again, slickening my cold palms. As I drive through the neighborhood entrance, I stare at the sign welcoming me to Lakeview Division. I raise my middle finger and salute the neighborhood the entire time I drive down the main road, turning off toward Callum’s house.
To my surprise, two vehicles sit in his driveway and have been since the snow started twenty minutes ago. Thankfully, it’s not coming down as hard when I stomp out of my car and walk onto the porch. Anger fuels my every move, and my heart pounds at the prospect of seeing them again. Maybe they’re inside, or perhaps they’re gone. Either way, I’m letting someone know I’m pregnant and moving on with my life—with or without them. I love them with my entire heart. More than I ever thought I could. They swooped in and stole every piece of me without even trying. I could repeatedly tell myself that I wouldn’t give them my heart or love or hold tight to my reservations. But the reality is I’m a sucker for love, and they pulled me into their orbit. But I can move on and restart. I'll get over them… well, eventually.
As I raise my hand to knock on the door, it opens. An embarrassing yelp leaves my lips when I jump back, and a tall, blonde woman carrying folders against her chest stumbles out.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head.
“Oh, that’s all right,” she says, wrinkling her nose like she has a bad taste in her mouth. Hell, maybe she swallowed a lemon the way her face morphs, and then she shakes it off. “Well, Gloria,” she says, turning toward another woman I recognize standing in the doorway. “I had better get going. I’ll get this listing up ASAP. Tell Callum that it’ll fetch a good price.” She offers Gloria a tight smile, side-eyeing me when she walks back to her fancy car and gets in with a huff, slamming the door.
I swallow hard at the implications of her words and stare at the ground. Callum is selling his house after all this time, completely wiping away the memory of his family. I don’t blame him for wanting to get rid of this place and start somewhere new. His family meant so much to him. But his place was a tomb filled with the ghosts of his past, constantly haunting him at every turn.
“Well, well, well,” Gloria practically sings with glee, looking down at me with a smirk. “I was wondering when you’d show up. They don’t have any money for you. So, you can go back to the slum you belong in,” Gloria sneers, sticking her nose in the air and waving her hand.
I try as hard as I can to hold back the eye roll, but it slips through, making her scoff again.
“I was wondering if I could speak to them?” I ask with so much hope I’m practically puking it out of every orifice on my body. I shove my hands into my coat pocket when her assessing eyes stare me up and down.
“Why don’t you come in,” she says, sweeping a hand, gesturing for me to follow her through the front door.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m walking into a giant trap, and my face is about to be on the back of milk cartons everywhere. With words like ‘Local Central City girl has gone missing after attempting to speak to her baby daddies and hasn’t been heard from since December.’ Shit. Ash may have plotted my demise from the moment he laid eyes on me, and now it’s all coming to fruition. They planned to use me and then dump my body in the backwoods. I shake my head, tossing away the crazy thoughts going through my overactive mind.
I reluctantly follow Gloria through the front door, instantly relaxing in the heat pouring through the vents. Looking around, my heart sinks into my ass, and more tears burn the backs of my eyes. Where the couch and big screen TV once sat is empty, void of any furniture and life. Everything within the home is gone, except for the woman staring at me with a victorious smile.
“As you can see, they ran from you, Central girl. They don’t want you anymore. They’re onto bigger and better things,” she says with glee, practically having an orgasm at the fact I’m here and they’re…
“They’re still in California?” I ask, raising a brow, knowing in my heart what the answer is.
Keep your shit together—no falling apart now.
Fuck. Every fear I had conjured over the past three weeks is coming true in vivid detail. They’re gone. They left me here. And they don’t fucking care about me like I thought they did. Was everything a fabrication for their benefit? Were all the things they said big, fat lies to capture my heart in their grasps and fucking crush it after they left? Who the hell does that? I don’t give a shit if they thought they saw something that wasn’t true. In my heart, I know Van kissed me against my will, and Callum saw it without waiting for an explanation. It’s like they saw what they wanted to see and didn’t hang around for an answer.
“Well, they did win the entire competition and got offered a record deal, not to mention the million dollars sitting pretty in their bank account, which you’ll have no part of. I won’t have you ruining their lives,” she says, turning her nose up again.
What is with this lady and her prejudice about where I come from? Didn’t she do the same thing and bag some rich guy who wasn’t who she thought he was? She’s really projecting herself onto me, and it’s really beginning to piss me the fuck off.
“Well, I need to speak to them. It’s pretty important,” I grumble, hating to admit I need them right now. All I want to do is fall into their arms but also punch their noses into their faces. Is that too much to ask?
“No,” she says, shrugging and giving me the stink eye. “There’s no way…”
“I’m pregnant, lady,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I’d appreciate speaking to the boys responsible. You know, all of them. So, can I please talk to them or what?” Okay, so that wasn’t as polite as I had intended it to be. But my bullshit meter is flying through the damn red on dangerous levels, and I’m about to explode if I don’t get any answers quickly.
Her face pales when her arms fall to her sides, and she shakes her head. “No… You can’t be…”
“Yeah, I can be. Not that I did it on purpose. So, can I talk to them? They won’t answer my calls,” I say in a small voice, trying to reel back in all the rage brewing beneath my flesh. If Gloria isn’t careful, I’ll turn green, hulk out in Callum’s empty living room, and destroy everything.
Gloria fumbles with the phone in her pocket, turning a sick shade of green. I take it back; maybe she’ll be the one to turn green instead of me. Hers, of course, will be from sickness instead of burning rage. Or perhaps I spoke too soon. Her blue eyes meet mine in a frenzy when she brings the phone up to her ear and holds up a finger.
“I’ll contact them. They blocked your number for a reason,” she snaps, turning her back to me, and waltzes into the kitchen.
Against my better judgment, I stand in the middle of the room, taking it all in. They blocked my number? That explains the lack of phone calls and texts. They must have done it the moment Callum returned with evidence of my infidelity—or lack thereof. At this point, I’d rather pounce on Gloria, drag the phone away from her ear, and give those assfaces a piece of my mind, but I refrain. I have manners—sometimes.
“Yes, she says she’s pregnant and would like to speak to you,” she murmurs into the phone, side-eyeing me as I stare daggers through her skull. “Of course,” she says with a few head nods and then hangs up the phone, placing it in her pocket. Gloria sighs, reaches into her purse, sits on the empty countertop, and pulls out a little black book that I instantly recognize.
It’s a fucking checkbook. Anyone could see that from a mile away. But why the fuck… Every part of me slumps when she grabs her pen and writes something quickly before tearing it out.
“Here,” she says, waving it in the air until I snatch it from her hand. “The boys send their regards but want nothing to do with you or it. Kieran says to go ahead and get rid of it,” she sniffs, putting her nose in the air again. “Something about Van being the real daddy?” she asks, raising a haughty brow. A victorious smile spreads across her face, and she nods. “That’s probably right. They caught you red-handed slutting around, didn’t they?”
“Slutting around?” I gape, rearing back. “Wow. For a grown woman, you sure speak like a catty teenager. Just wow, Gloria. Thanks for the check, but you can shove it up your tight ass and maybe knock something loose, like that haughty attitude you parade around with. Have a good life, bitch,” I hiss, staring at the amount on the check and laughing. “Seriously? Nine hundred bucks for what? An abortion? Get fucked,” I say, tearing it into pieces and throwing it like confetti around me. “Although, you probably don’t care right now. Someday you’ll see this child and want to be in their life, and I’ll tell you the same thing. Get. Fucked.”
Redness coats her cheeks when she vibrates with the same rage fueling my words. With stiff movements, she reaches into her purse again and slams down four separate envelopes with another grin.
“These are for you then,” she says, tapping each envelope with her long nails. “They wanted to ensure you didn’t follow them out there and ruin their lives again. So, here are your restraining orders forbidding you from ever contacting them again. No calls. No texts. No social media messages. The moment you do, they’ll report you to the authorities. They will be famous, and they don’t need the trash of their past slipping through the cracks. It also notes that you’re not allowed to mention them on any form of social media and slander their name. Your hands are officially tied, Miss West.” Her smug look makes my head rear back.
Anger builds more, and tears fall down my cheeks at her words. Restraining orders? Christ on a cracker, they’ve lost their fucking minds. But fine. Fine! If that’s how they want to fucking play it, then so be it. I’ll work my ass off for the rest of my life to forget about them and the fucked-up games they played with my heart. My only hang-up is the constant reminder they left me with. The one they want nothing to do with. Whatever. Odette and I will give this baby as much love as they need without the help of the four idiots who helped create him or her. They can brainwash themselves for as long as they want with whatever lies they want to.
I know the truth.
And one day, they will too.