Sticks (Black Addiction #2) (24 page)

“Kenzie, listen to me.” Brandon dropped to his knees beside me. “Please, you need to speak to someone first. You have no idea what you’re dealing with and anything you say right now could be used against you for their case.” He put his arm around me as I tried not to lose what little composure I was hanging onto. “You lawyer up before you talk to that asshole again. If this is a big misunderstanding, then I’ll be the first to say I was wrong. But if it’s not, then you need to make sure you and the baby are protected. You can’t honestly tell me I’m being unreasonable now, can you?”

“No, you’re not being unreasonable. I just don’t want to believe he would do that. And as for a lawyer, I don’t have that kind of money.” I shrugged, knowing I was probably going to have to give up eating just to get a consultation.

“I’ll pay for it; you’re my sister and I’m not letting anyone mess with you.” Brandon hugged me closer. “Just do not call him until we’ve got this sorted. And if he calls you, let it go to voicemail.”

That was going to be hard when all I wanted to do was pick up the phone
and
talk to him. Ask him why? I needed to hear it from him, that he genuinely wanted this. And then I needed him to explain how he could just crush my heart.

“I can’t just stop answering his calls; he will think something is wrong.”

“So. Fuck. Him.” Brandon gritted out. “Did he come to you like a fucking man and tell you about all this stuff or did he send one of his people to do his dirty work? He sweats it out for a day or two, too bad. That’s the least of what he deserves.”

“Please stop being so angry; I’m at my limit of what I can take and I can’t stand the hostility even if it’s not directed at me.” My head fell back into my hands as I once again lost the battle with my tears.

“I’m sorry, Kenzie. I just . . .” He stopped midsentence and kissed the top of my head. “I’m a hot-head. Runs in the family, but you’re right. Nothing is more important than you and my little niece or nephew in there.”

“That’s the first time you referred to the baby as something other than a mistake.” I lifted my head, the tears coming a little harder now.

“Yeah, well I was an idiot. Older brothers are allowed to be from time to time.” He laughed.

At least something good had come out of this mess, even if it was just a sliver of a silver lining.

My phone rang obnoxiously from on top of the kitchen counter, its vibrating body gyrating across the surface.

“I should get that.” I slowly rose to my feet, Brandon joining me at the counter as we looked at the display.

Joey.

“Kenzie, please don’t.”

I looked as it buzzed, the screen lighting up, calling attention to itself as my hands stayed by my sides.

I wanted to answer.

Desperately.

But I didn’t.

And finally the screen went dark.

“He didn’t leave a voicemail.” I watched as the notification that no message had been left flashed across the glass.

“Maybe it’s easier that way, Kenz. Just for now.”

I’m not sure I agreed with my brother, in fact it made it harder.

“Call someone, find me a lawyer. I need to know where I stand.”

It felt like my world had been turned upside down and inside out, and I wanted things to go back to the way they were. But what I wanted wasn’t important anymore. It was about the little person inside of me whose heartbeat I’d heard for the first time.

As I tried to rein in my breathing, I felt a flutter inside my stomach, a strange sensation I wasn’t sure wasn’t my imagination.

“What’s wrong?” Brandon asked as my hand flew to my belly.

“I’m not sure, I think I felt the baby.” I waited and sure enough, another flutter.

“Like a kick?” Brandon’s eyes dipped down to my stomach like the baby would suddenly rip through it alien style.

“No, it’s too soon to feel a kick.” Or so I’d been told. “But it was something.”

Ironic that it would be
now
that I would feel the baby move for the first time. Crap. Now I was going to cry again.

I’d never have this moment again. There would be other movements, kicks, heaps of other milestones—but this one I’d never get to share. And I think that’s what hurt the most.

While I knew I could do this all on my own, I just didn’t want to.

Another call rang out,
diverting to her voicemail.

“Hey, Kenzie, it’s Joey. Ummm haven’t been able to catch you the last few times so I guess you’re busy doing something. I’m getting ready to get on stage so I won’t be able to check my phone.” Why did I sound like such a fucking loser? “Anyway, I was just checking on you. How you’re feeling, how everything is, the baby. Yeah. So. I guess we’ll talk soon then. Okay, bye.”

If that wasn’t the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails then I’d be fucking surprised. I hated talking to a stupid machine, and I really needed to hear her voice.

“Hey dude, you almost ready?” Max gave me a nod as he pointed the way to the stage.

It was the last thing I wanted to do right now but there weren’t a lot of other options. Our name on the banner meant I pretty much had to turn up.

“Yep, good to go.” I switched my phone to silent and slipped it into my pocket.

Even though I knew I wasn’t going to be able to answer on stage, I wanted it close by. At least if she called back I’d feel it vibrating, giving me some peace of mind. Or maybe she’d send a text and I could read it during one of the bits Angie was talking or when Rusty or Max were doing a solo. No one would even notice if I pulled it out to check while I was behind the kit.

“What’s up?” Angie and Rusty were already standing beside the side of the stage, just killing the last few minutes before we had to step out into the spotlight.

“Kenzie isn’t answering her phone.” I didn’t even try and bullshit my way out of it. They knew me well enough to see through when I wasn’t honest and I didn’t have the energy to front.

“Maybe she’s hanging with the band, or maybe she’s just wiped and getting some sleep,” Rusty offered, trying to be helpful no doubt.

“Joey, I remember when I was pregnant and sometimes I would switch my phone off and just forget about it.” Angie injected her version of what she thought was happening. “Sometimes it was intentional, just to get some peace and quiet but other times, I’d just forget. I’m sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, we’ll play this gig and by the time we get off the stage she will have called you back,” Max added, all of them probably wondering why the hell I was freaking out over of a couple of missed calls.

“You’re all right, I’m overreacting. It’s nothing. We spoke yesterday, it’s only been a day.” I tried to shove down the instinct that was telling me something was wrong.

“It will be fine, dude. Don’t stress.” Max wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked out to a deafening crowd.

It was show time and I had to sideline any other BS that was weighing me down and do what I needed to do. These people weren’t paying to see a half-assed effort, and I wasn’t going to give them one.

I sucked it up and pulled it together, taking out some of the frustration and punished the hell out of the skins. Everything I had was funneled into the songs, the distraction my ultimate saving grace as I played one the best shows of my life. I almost didn’t notice when Angie raised her hand in the final goodnight, Max calling for me to step back from behind my kit.

Shit, we were done. I raised my hands and tossed the sticks I’d been playing with into the crowd as I joined the guys in front of the stage. A final bow, a bunch of waving and we were heading back through the corridor toward the dressing room.

My phone hadn’t shown any signs of life the entire time. No messages, no calls—nada. I fished it out of my pocket just in case I had missed something, but the black screen confirmed that there’d been nothing to miss. Then I did a full power down and restart, because that was going to suddenly make a difference. And yet I was surprised when my cell didn’t immediately start singing with activity the moment it turned back on.

I didn’t even care how desperate it made me look—I was desperate—as I dialed her number again, my heart thumping through every second she didn’t pick up.

Nothing.

Voicemail.

“Hey, Kenzie, it’s me again. Listen, I know you’re probably tired but if you can give me a call back or a text I’d really appreciate it. Okay, miss you. Bye.”

Wow. I’d hit a new low, because that message was even worse than the last.

“Dude, you going to come into the dressing room or hang out in the hall?” Max stuck his head out the doorway realizing I’d stalled in the corridor.

“Yeah.” My feet managed to get me inside the room even though my mind was still lingering outside.

“Still no answer?” He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes, and collapsed into an armchair.

“She could be sleeping, right?” I started rationalizing; maybe she hadn’t seen the missed calls or the messages and then went to bed. It was eleven o’clock, not late but if she was tired? “Or forgotten her phone on silent like Angie said.”

“Exactly.” Max nodded. “Last thing she needs is you getting crazy because she missed a few calls. I’m sure there is a perfectly good reason for it and she’s going to think you are a complete tool.”

Yeah, well she already knew that so there wasn’t much danger of that now, but he was right about needing to cool it.

“Okay, I’m going to let it go. Shower, get on the bus and head to the hotel.” Just hearing the plan out loud made me feel better. Besides, by morning all this shit would probably be a non-issue.

So, I went through the motions. Let the spray of the water wash off the grit and sweat from the show, toweled off and got into some clean jeans and a T-shirt. Max did the same and we headed for the bus with Rusty while Angie took a little bit longer. And with the band all together, the bus dropped us off at our hotel for the night.

I said my goodnights and went up to my room, the idea of crashing not even entering my mind. As tired as I was, my brain still churned a million miles a minute, so closing my eyes and getting some shuteye probably wasn’t going to happen.

Instead I took another shower—for no other reason than I felt antsy—and ordered room service. With enough carbs to send Dr. Atkins into cardiac arrest, I sat up watching cable and drinking beer. And God help if anyone monitored the channels I was spending my time with. No, not because it was porn—that would have been acceptable—I was chilling with The Disney Channel.

The thought of watching porn bored me and at this point, I wasn’t even sure I could get hard. That right there should have been a problem, and yet I couldn’t make myself give a shit, happy to let the beast have a night off as I watched reruns of
The Wizards of Waverly Place
. Honestly, I had no idea what I was watching, it could have easily been some other overacted kid show and it would have done just as nicely.

Of course not to be outdone by my earlier stalker behavior, I sent Kenzie a few emails and Facebook messages. It not only helped balance out the crazy but also meant I’d covered all bases of communication, just for a little extra something to do in between my food coma and mind-numbing television watching.

And so was my night, the half eaten pizza shoved to one side of my king-size bed—too lazy to even put the tray outside my door—while the glow of the screen lulled me into some weird catatonic trance. I assumed at some point I fell asleep because when I peeled open my eyes the sun was streaming through the drapes I had neglected to close. Like a big asshole alarm clock, hitting me over the head with its morning cheer, the daylight also highlighted that it had been almost two days since I’d heard from Kenzie.

Like a kid on Christmas morning, I grabbed my phone and commenced my game of phone tag. I didn’t even give a shit how pathetic it was, I just kept calling. Of course, I gave it an hour between each because obviously anything more would be bordering on stalking. As it stood now, I wasn’t sure that by the time she did
eventually
call, she wouldn’t demand a psych evaluation. Once again, care factor was zero.

Voicemail.

Again.

This was one of the rotations where I actually left a message, as opposed to the few times before where I didn’t. Not like she wouldn’t have seen the missed call even
without
the message, but common sense wasn’t rating high currently.

“Babe, look I’m kind of freaking out a little. Trust me, sanity left the station about seven hours ago, so whatever you’re thinking is probably right on the money. Pick up the phone and tell me what an asshole I’m being and how you are allowed to have one day where I don’t call. Text me and tell me how pathetic I sound. I don’t give a shit if you think I’m a loser; all I know is right now I have no idea why I can’t get in touch with you and my hands are fucking tied. Kenzie, call me.”

If she had any doubt on where my mental status was at, that message was the final nail. And to top it off, I was so frustrated I threw the fucking phone across the room, the shiny piece of Steve Jobs’ legacy skirting the carpet like the useless piece of crap it currently was. Which sent me into a whole new set of panic as I rushed to see if I hadn’t broken the fucker.

Still in one piece. Thank you, Jesus.

I sunk my ass back on the mattress, the phone—which I had little hope would actually ring—beside me and closed my eyes. Had I forgotten some kind of date or something? Did I accidentally say something stupid and now she was mad? Did I sound too excited about being away from her? What the hell was it?

And around and around we went. The party trick where I tried to recall or remember every fucking interaction I’d had with her in the last few days to try and pinpoint the moment where it could have potentially gone downhill. And with nothing to do today until the show tonight, I had all the time in the world to let every bad thought marinade and get good and festered. I didn’t even leave my room, ordering more shitty room service as I sat pondering every worst-case scenario.

Had I been smart, I would have asked for her friend Sara’s number. But I hadn’t anticipated needing it, and didn’t want anyone thinking it was for the wrong reasons. Was I desperate enough to call Dom XXXL? I still had his number from when I’d recon’d him when he and Kenzie were working together. And we did have our little gentleman’s agreement where he’d keep an eye out for her. Lord knows if shit had gone down, he wasn’t doing much of a job. Ah, fuck it. Who am I kidding? I should have called him hours ago.

I scrolled through my contacts till I got to his name—Big Ass MoFo—and let my fingers do the walking.

“Dom here.” He answered after only the second ring. If only my girl would do the fucking same, we’d all be a lot happier.

“Hey, Dom. It’s Joey.” I wasn’t sure if he needed more of an introduction. Not entirely sure which one I’d go with, Kenzie’s boyfriend? Drummer from Black Addiction? Dude who showed up on your doorstep and acted like a lunatic? Take your pick.

“Hey, Joey, how’s the tour? You guys still in New England?” The extra intro not needed as he threw back his hello-how-are-ya.

“We’re actually in Philly at the moment, tour is going well. Listen,” I’d done pleasant chit-chat for as long as I was going to. “I’m having a hard time catching Kenzie and I’m getting a little concerned. Nothing I should know about going on back home is there?” Translation, do you have any idea what the fuck is going on with my girlfriend? Of course he might not have gotten all of that from what I’d actually said, so I was fully prepared to fill in the blanks if needed.

“I saw Kenzie last night actually, just briefly. She was hanging with Sara and they had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Ran into them getting my own chow. She looked fine when I saw them.”

So she’d been out with Sara, I started to piece together the information like a forensic detective.

“Did you talk to her? Do you know if she had her phone with her?” Yeah, because the dude would have noticed shit like that while he was waiting for his order of wildebeest or whatever the fuck the dude ate.

“I don’t know, she didn’t really say much. Sara did most of the talking.” The laugh at the end meant it was probably not to be repeated, not that I gave a shit what those two got hot over.

“Can you think of anything? Anything that might have been weird?” Like a neon sign above her head that spelled out what the fuck was going on, although that probably wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

“She was wearing sunglasses inside, I guess that was sort of weird. I didn’t think that much of it at the time, but Sara had pulled hers off when she said hi and Kenzie kept hers on.”