Chapter Twelve
Tired from the late-night flight back from Miami, Dred hit the snooze on his alarm clock, for the seventh time.
While exhaustion settled deep into his bones to the point they physically hurt, it was worth every moment of seeing Pixie again.
Something about the time he spent with her made him forget what was going on around him.
Never one prone to deep introspection, he found himself trying to figure out if there was a way past the turmoil his mother had created in his young life and a way to permanently shake the son-of-a-dead-junkie mantle he wore.
Dred sat up in bed and turned the alarm off. After a quick shower, he wandered downstairs. As he approached the first-floor landing, he could hear the murmurs of conversation.
“Think about it, that’s all I’m suggesting,” said Sam.
Dred took a step or two further down the stairs so he could hear better.
“You are on very dangerous territory my friend,” Nikan said with a low growl.
“I’m trying to look out for you. You’re the most talented member of the group, I’d hate to see you held back because—”
“Because what?” Nikan hissed. “Because I put my brothers and their needs above any kind of profit you might be able to scrape up for me? Because you don’t have a solid plan for us? Because we bounce from one short-notice event to another?”
“Those events are planned. And yes there are a lot of them, because that is how you build momentum. I’m just saying consider the fact you might get more achieved with a different lineup.”
“This kind of talk is poison. Go fuck yourself, Sam.”
Dred heard the door to the recording studio slam shut. What the hell was that about?
He jogged down the rest of the stairs and found Sam in the kitchen, seated on one of the breakfast bar stools. “Hey, Sam,” he said as though everything was fine and he hadn’t overheard a word.
“Dred. How was Miami?” His fake interest grated on Dred’s last nerve.
“Great.” He grabbed a coffee and muffin. “Wish I was still there.”
And that was the truth. He had Pixie and Petal in his life, and he needed to figure out how that was all going to work.
Could you get a passport for a baby? He had no clue.
Which reminded him, he needed to call his lawyer and follow up on the hijack he’d walked into when he’d last gone to see Amanda and Petal.
He faced Sam across the breakfast bar. “Look, Sam. To be honest, I need some space. I have to figure out what to do about Petal and deal with lawyers and shit. And I want to be able to fit Pixie into my life whether you like her or not. Is there any way to rearrange all this shit? Like keep the album and the tour, but get rid of all the crap, like those weekend-festival events and some of these public appearances. Let’s focus on those two things, because I’m worried some of the things we’re ignoring are going to snowball. ”
Sam scowled. “That ‘crap’ as you put it, is what pays your bills in between releases and tours. It’s what makes people want to buy your music.”
Dred wished he’d started this conversation with the rest of the guys around, but he knew they all felt the same way.
“We don’t need money, Sam. We have plenty.
And let’s face it, the income from a random festival in Germany isn’t that high after you deduct all the expenses.
It doesn’t feel like it’s worth the trade-offs we are making.
And second, we have a massive fan base. If it didn’t grow, our albums would still go platinum.
I know we can’t take that for granted forever, but we’re fine. ”
“I disagree. You know how this business is . . . no one can predict your longevity.”
“Agreed. But that’s our risk to take, not your decision to make.
So please go through all the activities you have lined up for the next six months, review the contracts we’ve signed.
List what our penalties will be for no-shows.
And do it quick, because I’m sure those penalties go up the closer we get to the event date.
Bring that back to us tomorrow so we can decide what to do with the rest of the guys. ”
“Fine.” Sam stood. “But this is the kind of decision that can end a band. I’ll also highlight which of the events your label is expecting you to attend.
You should at least know that before you commit career suicide.
” Sam marched toward the hallway and disappeared from sight, but the slam of the door told Dred he’d left the house.
That went well. Dred let out a short huff of breath. It was time for rehearsal. He picked up his muffin to take a bite when there was a knock at the door. If it were Sam, he’d use his key.
Dred put his muffin down and walked to the door. He heard the baby’s cry as soon as he hit the hallway. Yanking the door open, he was shocked to find Amanda standing on the doorstep with a screaming Petal in her arms. The temperatures had turned a bit milder, but Petal wasn’t even wearing a coat.
“I need to go out of town and can’t take her with me. If you can’t take her, I’ll leave her with a friend.”
Without a second thought, he reached for Petal. “Sure, I got her,” he said, his heart melting as he looked down at her sweet face. It had been less than a week since he had seen her, but she had already filled out so much. He bounced her in his arms gently and tried his best to calm her.
“Okay. One second.” Amanda went to her car and pulled out several bags and returned, dropping them to the hallway.
“Diapers and stuff are in the red bag, clothes in the brown one. Formula and bottles are in the plastic backpack. You need to sterilize them before you use them and you’ll need to buy a car seat.
I put my cell number in the diaper bag.”
Amanda turned to head back to her car.
“Amanda, wait.”
She stopped. “What? I’m in a hurry.”
Dred grabbed Lennon’s scarf from his hook and wrapped Petal in it. “I appreciate the chance to spend time with her, but why now? What changed?”
“Nothing changed. Don’t think it’s going to be like this all the time.”
“When are you coming back for Petal?”
“Tomorrow sometime.” With that, she hurried down the path, got in her car, and drove away.
Dred looked around at the mess by his feet and the small baby in his arms, the enormity of what just happened hitting him in the stomach. How the hell do you sterilize a bottle? And where do you buy a car seat?
Lennon ran into the hallway, his face ashen. “I thought I heard a baby scream.” He stopped a few feet shy of them.
Nikan followed Lennon. “So this is Petal?” he asked, stepping around Dred to pick up all the bags and close the door.
“Yeah,” Dred said, a lump in his throat. “This is my daughter. I guess that makes her your niece.”
Elliott joined them. “Holy shit, she’s got pipes like her old man.”
Dred looked down at the scrunched-up little face, all red and wrinkled.
“Can I?” Jordan gestured for the baby. Dred carefully transferred her into Jordan’s arms.
Jordan began to sing. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner . . .” The haunted lyrics to “Under the Bridge” had always left him in pieces. But seeing Jordan sing it to his daughter ripped out his insides and put them through a shredder.
There was no way she would ever feel the kind of loneliness he had.
He’d make sure of that with every fucking breath in his body.
* * *
Pixie closed the internet browser and leaned back in her chair.
There had to be an explanation of why Dred looked so cozy with that Brazilian supermodel.
He’d warned her that the paparazzi had an incredible knack of capturing the most innocent moment in a way that made it look sordid and cheap.
There was no need for her to worry. Right?
He was a rock star and he was bound to meet beautiful women wherever he went. Worse, he was likely used to those women throwing their perky D-cups is his face.
Pixie stood and walked to the condo’s balcony doors.
She needed to show Dred she could deal with it while convincing herself that she wasn’t merely being na?ve.
The sky was an unusual mix of thunderous gray and deep purple.
The air hung heavy with anticipation of the storm the forecast had promised. It reflected her mood.
She pulled out her phone and looked at the photos Dred had sent her over the past two days. What kind of mother dropped her child off with someone saying they’d be back the next day, only to remain conveniently out of touch for seventy-two hours?
A photo of Petal asleep on Jordan’s chest. Petal lying on a giant play mat with little animals dangling overhead. A picture of a bottle sterilizer with the message What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?
And the funniest one was Lennon, Nikan, and Elliott, each standing behind a different shopping cart packed to the brim with stuff, and Jordan stood in front of them holding Petal.
The accompanying text said This is what $3,567.
84 buys at Toys R Us . . . the rest is being delivered . . . Petal 1: Daddy 0
Her favorite was a picture of Dred and Petal. It was taken from the side and Petal was asleep on his shoulder. Dred looked straight at the camera and the look on his face was the closest she had ever seen to contentment.
This man wouldn’t cheat on her, she was certain, but somehow the tacky article had gotten under her skin, and not in a good way.
The buzzer to the condo sounded. Pixie walked to the door and checked herself out in the mirror.
She’d dressed deliberately to face him. Her face was wiped clean of makeup.
She was wearing a pair of nondescript boyfriend jeans and a washed-out gray hoodie that had a small hole under the arm.
And her purple hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, making it impossible for him to grip the small hairs and the base of her neck. Yeah, she was dressed to meet Arnie.